Chapter 9: Remedy

A/N: Hello folks! Just watched the episode when I started writing this chapter, I believe the name of the episode was Fury. Without having spoilers in this A/N note, I have to say that I was biting my nails throughout the episode and nearly died with feelings during a couple of *cough* Sterek moments. *Faints*. Stay for the emotions... Yes you should, but why not stay for all of it ;D

Soundtrack: Bound to you by Christina Aguilera. (P.S. By the end of this I'll have the soundtrack fully listened and assigned to the appropriate moments within the story, or at least that's my hope.)

Previously on Harmless: He closed his eyes, sated, his anger dissipated. In his drunken state he crashed into sleep, quickly unable to keep his eyelids open, even though he wanted to. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, his lover's aftermath still on his chest, and his breath still laboured. He fell asleep.

"There is a Kanima out there," Gerard said. Even though he was in his later years he was still menacing just by the way he appeared. His face was stern and his eyes were cold and calculating; there was an evil about him that was unquantifiable and every time he popped those pills those who knew of his darkest deeds, feared him, or knew of him and desired his death, rejoiced, hoping that by some act of God, he would die. None of them knew whether or not those pills were for something fatal or something serious. He unsheathed his sword, the silver craftsmanship, with it's cross hilt and rounded tear drop pommel. "If we cannot control it, we will destroy it. I've already said damn the code; we hunt to purge this world of them. For Kate." The light caught the glimmer of the silver, it's blade sharp and stronger than the eyes could tell. "Tonight, we're going to patrol! Alert Chris and I if you spot it. Go."

Meanwhile beyond the Argent house — beyond the epicentre of malicious and injustice that resonated from within and tainted the entire town, night was going to break. What was good to balance the bad? It was not the werewolves, within neutrality they were a questionable middle ground considering that some kill, on purpose or otherwise, but those that didn't out numbered those that did, therefore they remained neutral. The hunters, even with their code, were murderous — that gave no mercy to werewolves and given the chance, would give no mercy to any other creature. Blood was on their hands and damn those who killed without reason, without proof of murder, without proof... Just vengeance; an element of pride that Milton gave to Evil. You are not allowed to affront justice without paying a price nor can you unbalance it.

The sun had yet to rise, but not everyone was sleeping. The veterinary clinic had its back room's lights on and from outside one could see movement from within. The back room, the operating room was alight and the vet, Alan Deaton and Ms. Morrell were speaking.

"I was wondering when you would come and see me," Alan said.

"Everything takes its time, I took mine."

"We have much to discuss, but I believe we have an old friend intruding on our reunion," Alan said as the back door of the practice opened. Ms. Morrell went into the front of the building.

In stepped a boy. He was twenty one or may closer to twenty-three, it was hard to tell with the way his eyes conveyed an age far greater than what was apparent. He was pale like paper and dressed in a flattering black suit that flaunted his body. His thin, seemingly expensive, black tie was held against his dress shirt with a silver tie engraved with filigree. He entered the room with a certain power in his step, the leather shoes on his feet giving his sets a certain ring.

"Well don't you look sharp," Alan said.

"I'm preparing for my new job in town," The mysterious man said.

"And what are you calling yourself this time?" Ms. Morrell said as she entered the room.

"Ah, mademoiselle Morrell, quelle surprise. Enfin, j'ai espéré nous nous réunirions encore," said the boy.

"Your french is still sharp, but that wasn't an answer," the lady said.

"I go by Aidan, Aidan Knight. I'll be taking over the English department at the high school, working along side you, I believe Ms. Morrell."

"Why are you here?" Alan asked.

"I thought you'd be happy, Alan, to see another friendly face," Aidan said. Ms. Morrell gave a melodic laugh.

"I believe Ms. Morrell has summed up our general disbelief, isn't the rumour true that you were the one who originally gave the Argents their start," Alan said.

"You left out forged the very sword that Gerard uses to this day," Aidan said.

"Alan we should at least give him the benefit of the doubt."

"I've made my mistakes, foolishly I thought that I had to do something, but I've created a monster with many heads. At the time they threatened my family, but I should have done something once she was safe."

"Argents are not the only hunters," Alan said.

"No, but they have the most gumption," Aidan said.

"Enough of this, did you bring me anything," Alan asked.

Aidan went to the door and retrieved a bag he had left outside the door. He withdrew an antique wooden box, engraved with many symbols, seemingly celtic. Inside were vials of dried herbs and ashes that Alan thanked Aidan for before they finished their conversation.

"I warned Gerard to keep away," Aidan said.

"I doubt he'll listen," Morrell said.

"For as long as I've known him, I agree with Ms. Morrell. There is no chance in hell he'll stop."

"We've got made promises, Alan," Aidan said.

"We best keep them," Alan said.

The sun brought forth the beginning of the new morrow. Although no windows were in the lower levels of Derek' den, there was an understanding that morning had come. Isaac awoke before his Alpha and Stiles. He removed his earplugs, he had been thankful for them. He was no homophobe, but the way the noises reverberated around the den was awkward to listen to, maybe it was time to find a new home, one that he could bring a lady-friend to without the obvious creepy rundown warehouse motif and where their sounds would not be heard by one other than himself and whomever he brought home. He wondered why Derek hadn't just renovated his old familial home — maybe there were too many memories there, whether it be the fire or otherwise. Derek could at least afford a decent apartment, closer to town, or maybe another home somewhere on the other side of the forest. He supposed that the obscurity of their den was important, there was enough room to keep four werewolves tamed during the full moon, and enough room to easily lose a hunter within the walls and not to mention the maze of buildings that surrounded this place. No hunter was likely to follow anyone here, not without guidance by a werewolf or some other scent-following creature. Isaac walked into the main room of the building, the one with the subway car. He stretched before he went towards the exit, maybe Erica would be up, it was only eight, but she was surprisingly an early riser. Oddly enough Isaac found a certain kinship with Erica, not just because they were pack, but something he just felt. He left den, looking out for anyone, sniffing the air to ensure that no one was around. He left and headed towards Erica's.

Meanwhile, Stiles arose his head rattling, his hangover providing a headache and nausea. He let an exasperated sigh, he was so very glad that the room was lightless, and that there was practically no other noise besides Derek's steady breathing and his own. Fully awake now, he noticed Derek's arms had secured themselves around him and the werewolf's legs around his own. They were not confining, and yet he couldn't move away, and he loved that feeling, the feeling of being bound to Derek, physically. Stiles, with the utmost grace and delicacy, moved so that he was facing into Derek, the arms and legs that held him in place allow him to. Warm, against Derek's flesh, Stiles' headache was drowned by his werewolf's scent; impulsively he wanted to drag his tongue down the peaks and plateaux of his body, retrained only by the sound of his lover's breathing — that steady exhale, inhale, that would drag him back into sleep if he wasn't carful. Why the hell not, Stiles thought. He let his tongue glide across Derek's chest, starting delicately from his pectoral and going until the werewolf's bellybutton before going back to his lover's pectorals, encircling each nipple before taking the left into his mouth and applying suction. Stiles nipped at his prize, which only then produced a groan from between Derek's lips. One of Derek's eyes opened, glowing red from the blood pressure Stiles had undoubtedly caused to rise. Stiles glanced up, his eyes so innocent and seductive, which was an odd yet delirium-lust-inducing look that pulled blood toward his loin. Stiles was already semi-erect and it pushed into Derek's burgeoning manhood.

"Not even nine and you've already planned a sordid day," Derek said.

Stiles licked his lips, smirked, and went back to suckling Derek. He paused to take a breath, "I don't know what your talking about sexywolf. Since we're dating—"

"We're dating?"

"What else would you call this?"

"Then we're dating. Gonna bring me home to your family?"

Stiles blushed and became flustered, "Well. Ah. Do you wanna meet my dad? I mean. Sure. Ah."

Derek laughed, "If I knew asking you about this would cause you to squirm I would have asked soon or maybe kept it on reserve for later."

Stiles calmed a little, he really needed to take an Adderall. He was having trouble focusing. "No. No. I'd be glad to introduce you to my father."

"You do realize that your 17 and I'm 24, the age difference will put your father on edge. Who knows he might even charge me."

"In Canada the age is 16, and I'm sure if I tell him how much I love you, he'll just give you warning to be good to me forever or he'll crush you."

Derek laughed, "Back in New York, the age is 17. Each state is stupidly different."

Stiles licked across Derek again. "You don't talk about New York at all. Did you like it there?"

Derek sighed, "The only time I had a life was in Beacon Hills, and as it happens, my life is starting over again where it ended." Stiles smiled into Derek's chest.

"So you know about my crush on Lydia. Tell me, Derek, I get the feeling you're not so new at this," Stiles said.

"New at what—"

"This." Stiles bucked into Derek, pressing their nakedness against each other.

Derek for once blushed, or at least his cheeks for just a moment looked slightly pinkish. "When I was your age, someone about my age now, took advantage of me... And I just hope that isn't what is happening here." Stiles glanced up into Derek's eyes, there was a sadness there he couldn't place.

"Not at all Derek, I chased after you, remember."

Derek smiled, but gave no answer. It took him a moment to say, "So how are you going to introduce me to your dad?"

Stiles tensed, "Good question. Can you give me a couple of days to think on it?"

"As long as I eventual do meet your dad, I don't want to be the sketchy older man hitting on the teenager behind their parents backs."

Stiles giggled under his breath before drawing himself closer to Derek and lifting himself into an embrace. Derek's arms kept him secure, while Stiles arms were close to his chest. The werewolf brought his face close to Stiles', sharing each other's breath before Derek took hold of Stiles mouth with his own.

"Can I be the sketchy teenager then, who seduces the older man for a mature... 'Time'."

"I thought it was always the younger sketchy man that was a gold digger?" Derek said, smirking.

"Well you do have money," Stiles said, goading his lover.

Derek laughed, "I've known you long enough to know you don't want anything."

"Well there is one thing I want," Stiles said.

"What is that?"

Stiles took Derek's mouth with his own, opening his mouth for his werewolf's tongue. "You," he breathed into Derek's mouth.

"Is that all?"

"Besides having you all to myself?" Stiles asked, his words sparking a possessive-seductive rumble from Derek's core. Stiles figured that Derek liked that he took possession of his werewolf, and maybe, just maybe, that meant that he was Derek's. His head ached, but he was going to press onward.

"Well you've got that, are you sure there is nothing else?" Derek had such a coy smile plastered on his face, and Stiles couldn't help but blush.

"You could get a cellphone. Now. Before you say anything, I know you trashed Scott's cell once and he's always had an obnoxious ringtone, but at least have one while you're here. I've got one, it gets reception down here, and because of dad and a little of my own, it's not traceable. We could even get you a disposable cellphone if you'd like. Although I'd prefer the ability to text you. And. And. It wouldn't be such a bad thing, so long as you only use it here, right? It wouldn't be a distraction like it was for Scott."

"So long as it can't be traced, that'd be alright. It would be good for the pack to be connected."

"Bring me a phone tomorrow and I'll have it prepped within the hour; now I do believe you and I have unfinished business," Stiles said, pressing himself closer to Derek.

"I believe we do," Derek said taking Stiles' mouth softly, their lips pressing together delicately. "But first I wonder, how is your hangover?"

"I didn't intend to get so drunk before coming here, I was angry and I wanted to stay that way."

"Did I really upset you that much?"

"Well at the time you pissed me off, you could have told me. I'm not sure it was the right thing to do, but now we know who it is... I suppose I'll let it pass; but from now on, trust me."

"I—I'll try."

Stiles smiled, so long as Derek tried to trust him there was something to hope for. He didn't expect much from his werewolf, he knew that their current relationship was formed from a hotbed of lust, and watered by their continuing emotional and situational similarities; but both knew it would grow, it would become lasting and the first step for them both would be to trust each other unconditionally. Trying was a start for Derek, Stiles knew that. Derek wanted honesty, maybe one sided honesty from Stiles and that would explain why his werewolf wanted to meet the Sheriff, his father. So that they could have a relationship that was sanctioned, even though Stiles was old enough to make his own decisions, by the authority that Stiles remained under. The age gap between them may be approximately seven years, but what was seven years to an adult, nothing. Stiles felt that at seventeen he could make the decision on his own, but maybe Derek needed this confirmation, and Stiles would give him at least that.

"Well good." Stiles freed his legs from Derek's loosened legs, giving the teen the ability to wrap his legs around his werewolf's waist. Derek's manhood pressing against his rear, and hardening as Stiles slid back and forth as he got comfortable.

"Well aren't we the little sketchy teenager," Derek said, wrapping his hands around Stiles' and forcing the teen's head to get close to his own. He pressed their lips together, sliding his tongue across Stiles' lips before forcing entrance into his lover's mouth. Derek let go of Stiles' head, guiding himself into Stiles. A whimper escapes the teenager's mouth, the tip of Derek's manhood opening him very gently. Derek stayed there, gave Stiles a kiss, giving his lover time to adjust to him. Derek thrusted deeper, whimpers from Stiles came forth, but the teen lowered himself into Derek, their chests flat against one another. He wrapped his hands arounds Derek's neck, lifting his head momentarily to looking into Derek's eyes conveying his approval to continue and unbeknownst to himself making Derek aware of just how desperate Stiles was for his affection and for him. There was something in the way he looked at him that made Derek realize that Stiles needed him. That Stiles wanted Derek to trust him, wanted Derek to trust someone.

Derek put a stop to the flood of emotions, his body tensed and he picked them both up, rolling over so that Stiles had his back pressed against the bed with Derek fully pressed into him. A moan flew from his mouth, engulfing Derek's hearing before he began plunging himself in and out. He turned his emotion into a kind of rage that urged him forward, pounding into Stiles mercilessly, enjoying each sound his lover made as he did so. It had been that rage that had made Stiles' bite so indescribably provocative; it was animalistic and so very similar to his desire, his wolf's desire to devour Stiles whole. Derek had a high tolerance for pain, he was a werewolf after all — he was used to it, and so when Stiles had bit into him there was this surge of endorphins and dopamine that sent his body on edge. He let his blood pressure rise, his eyes flashing red as Stiles blushed, the teen's eyes full lust and wanton desire. Sweat graced Stiles' body, beading on the teenager's flesh. He arched his back, deepening Derek's increasingly quick thrusts. He let out a moan that resonated through Derek's body. Stiles' nails dug and dragged along Derek's back, bringing forth a growl that just made the teen dig deeper. His hands wondered down Derek's back, tracing the tattoo before making way to his werewolf's spines that under the pads of his finger was slick with sweat, which made it easier for Stiles to made his way to where he wanted them to be. He squeezed Derek's arse, a roar rumbled in his chest, Stiles hands slid as Derek moved in and out. Each time he was close he would grab at Derek, every time a growl was given.

Their chests rose and fell with each thrust and breath, a synchronized dance between them. Fitting together perfectly, Stiles' hardness rubbing achingly between them, Derek's cock pressing into his prostate, sending raptures that curled Stiles' toes and a gasp to pass through his lips. Stiles traced Derek's scratchy jawline with his tongue, dipping below onto his clavicle , before making his way up, trailing his tongue as he did so. He took Derek's earlobe into his mouth, biting occasionally for the sheer pleasure of enjoying his werewolf's grumbles. Along with increased stamina, Stiles was learning and Derek was eager to test his lover under his... Unique brand of scrutiny.

He moved Stiles head aside and clamped his teeth as gently as possible into Stiles' wounded shoulder. The taste of bandages was unpleasant, but the sensation and Stiles' vocalized reaction was near far too much. There was this cross between a moan and scream that drove Derek's wolven-animalistic mind close to the break. He tried anger, but he couldn't bring himself to harm Stiles, not even bite down a little harder there was far too much risk. The bite was a gift, he couldn't force it on Stiles (even though he had a hunch Stiles would accept it to be closer to him) it hadn't been a choice for Scott (that didn't turn out well, he hated it) and even though he didn't want to admit it, he was born werewolf, there was no choice there. He wasn't going to force anyone to take it, nor was he going to have someone so enthralled by him — whether it be because of him or because of the sex — do anything, say anything because of him. He wasn't going to be like her.

Back to reality; he thrust deep into Stiles, bringing their mouths together in a squabble of tongues. After their duel, Derek took another nip at his lover's shoulder, being gentle. It was so odd for him to be so, for as long as he could remember after the fire his life was a violent streak. He would get his way through violence and through intimidation, and yet here he was, feeling something he hadn't felt for a long while. Was it real? He thrusted continuously, taking his lover for what he was worth, replacing emotion with sexual desire. Derek bit down harder, not breaking the skin, but the tension was there and with any more pressure the skin would fall to his molars. His werewolf was persistent in his drive, more sweat formed between the two and in the rush of all motions, Stiles came hard against Derek. Soon after Derek pulled out from his lover, a whimper and a panic-stricken look took him. Derek ground between them, his erection pressing against Stiles', the teen's aftermath slicking their way. Derek growled, coming between them in a haze of animalistic desire and something he had been experiencing all along. He kissed Stiles on the cheek, laying on top of him, the teen's smaller body seemingly caged by his werewolf's much larger frame. Derek, still in the throws of sex rubbed his head into Stiles' face, his hair meeting his lover's clean-shaven face. Every movement seemed to be about marking him with his werewolf's scent. It was a possessive move on his part, and Stiles for once was very proud of his research had proved to be fruitful. Wolfs marked their territory through urine and he was very glad that Derek was choosing another method because that was not his thing. Derek was arched into him, he was so close to Stiles, pressed close enough that the teenager could swear he was being crushed. Derek quickly eased up, picking the teenager up, so that Stiles was on top of him.

Stiles gazed down into Derek's eyes, the postcoital moment between the two of them spoken without a word, but in between each laboured breath. And what pray tell was between those breaths? A smile, a chuckle, and Stiles pressing himself into Derek, hugging him. A moment passed between them, Stiles with his head resting on Derek's shoulder, his eyes closed, his nose tucked into his lover's neck. Derek looked blankly forward, the moment not lost on him. He was tense, until he let his head rest on Stiles' shoulder, his eyes following the line of his lover's spine. They rested there.

But unfortunately time was no on their side. Ten minutes had passed and they had yet to move, until, of course, Stiles' cellphone rang. Derek let Stiles slid through his grasp, a frown grew on the teen's face, Derek had just simply let him go. He found his cellphone amongst the detritus, and answered it quickly.

"Dad, what's up?"

"Have a good night?"

"Y-yah," Stiles said, blushing as he thought back to the other evening and that morning. "Although," Stiles added as he was drawn back to reality, "Scott's couch was a little lumpy, but we did get a lot of studying done. I even made him notes."

"Good good. Gonna be home for lunch?"

"Probably not, gonna go get some coffee with Scott and his girlfriend before coming home. Although Scott's still asleep. Not sure how long it'll take him to actual move."

"Coffee? That can't be good for you. You left your Adderall here, do you want me to bring it to you?"

"N-no d-dad, I'll be fine."

"Stiles."

"What..." Stiles groaned, and made a face.

"I thought you said you got over the fact you have to carry Adderall, and you said the kids weren't giving you a hard time."

"Naw, it's just as of late I'm not having such big problems."

"Okay, but if you need me I'll be around."

"Okay dad, thank you. Love you."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Stiles hung up the phone, he turned toward Derek, "He sounds off," Stiles said.

"I'm sure everything is fine," Derek said. He inched closer to Stiles, unsure of how to act around his lover other than the obvious talk and sex. This was intimacy he was unfamiliar with. The werewolf put his hand flat to Stiles' back and the other by Stiles' knee.

"I'm gonna visit him regardless, you don't mind?" Stiles asked.

"No, no of course not," Derek said, he could feel and hear the lie. "You could talk to him about me." Stiles flustered at Derek's words. His werewolf smiled, enjoying himself far too much.

"S-sure," Stiles said. "Let me take my time with this, but I promise I'll tell him soon." Stiles grew sheepish, "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now on more pressing news, it seems you've torn my shirt and my pants are not fit for public viewing, how I'm supposed to get clothes? Let alone get out of our den?"

"You could borrow some of mine," Derek said, a smile-grin plastered on his face, both with his demand and that damn word, our. He grunted before speaking clearing away emotions that were surging again. "I think I've got some old jeans that are slightly too small for me, a belt, but you'll have to deal with a loose shirt, alright?"

"Alright."

Derek got up from the bed, his body sticky from sweat and aftermath of their union. He towered over Stiles as he stood and went to his dresser. He rummaged through his drawers and withdrew a hand towel and knelt down between Stiles' legs. With his towel, Derek wiped across Stiles' body before spending far too much attention of Stiles' manhood. He was gentle, but not aggravatingly slow as to cause arousal, although his lover was frustrated wanting maybe another hour of them together, but there was far too much to do.

"At this rate," Stiles said. "I might be irritable all day."

"I'm just making sure you're clean, I don't think anyone would like to leave feeling sticky and/or debauched," Derek said. He fished under his bed, withdrew a bottle of water. He soaked a corner of the cloth in water, going over every part of Stiles with it. Derek picked himself up and went through his drawers taking out everything Stiles would need. The teen dressed quickly, finding the fact that Derek's clothes were clean odd as he fit into Derek's clothes. Everything was loose, thankfully the belt tightened his waist, the t-shirt was baggy, not that anyone could see because Derek had also given him a black hooded zip up sweater. Stiles bunched his lover's sweater closer to his face, inhaling the scent he was so familiar with, that oh-too intoxicating cedar and forest. He let this sweater drop before Derek approached him and encaged him with his strong arms.

"You smell good with me on you," Derek said.

"Possessive are we?"

"Very," Derek said, as he took Stiles' mouth with his on. "Now, don't be late, I don't want to get in trouble with your father so soon." Stiles let out a small laugh that really didn't sound very much like a laugh, but more of a puff of air. Derek could feel the tension, but he let it pass and he separated from Stiles to move the dresser out of the way. "Go, tonight I'll find you. I promise."

Stiles went through the passage, looking back to see Derek with a halfhearted smile on his face as he pushed the dresser back into place. His last glimpse of Stiles was met with a melancholy that forced him to sit down on his bed. Why had Stiles said he was going to go directly to his father? His possessive nature wanted him to follow his lover, and so he took off. He went through the main passage and then watched as Stiles jeep pulled out of the storage unit before he popped back out to close it and lock it. Derek followed from the shadows of buildings, he was proud, proud of Stiles' effort to conceal the den's location. He was glad the woods surrounded a great portion of the town and it made it easy to follow Stiles. Eventually as the path became clear, Derek's stoic face grew into a frown. His eyes, unreadable let a glint of recognizable distress pass as he jumped over a fence into the cemetery. A lot of his family had been buried there, most of them had died in their human form. For that he was glad. He hadn't visited since his arrival in town; a part of him believed his parents would want him to visit to mourn them and yet whenever he thought back of his mother, or to the rest of his family, they wouldn't want to him to forever mourn their loss. Even Peter, corrupt and ignoble would not want him to bear the weight of the fire alone.

Stiles pulled through the winding road and parked. He walked slowly, Derek knew that his lover knew where he was going. It took him a moment, a moment longer than he would care to admit, to realize — no to remember — that Stiles too had lost his mother. From the trees he watched Stiles sit near a tombstone, and with his wolven hearing, unbeknownst to the teen, he heard what Stiles' was saying.

"Hey mom," Stiles said, a regretful smile graced his face and for once Derek could see just how injured Stiles was behind the sarcasm. "I wanted to come by, I know you can't answer me, but being here helps me think." He laughed. "Look at me. Dressed in his clothes. I feel so comfortable in them. Like he's always by me." He paused. His eyes shot toward the sky, the sunlight catching the tears. "Mom, you wouldn't mind would you? So long as I was happy? What would dad think? I mean with surrogacy his line wouldn't die... Isn't that what all fathers want? Is that what dad wants?" Tears fell, "I don't know how much he loves me, but I love him mom." Stiles drew his knees to his chest and wrap his arms around them. "He's older mom, seven years... Will dad care, do you?... Does Derek?" There was a pause as Stiles sniffled back tears and wiped them away with his balled up fist. He placed his hand on his wounded shoulder, the layers of clothes a barrier. "Derek wants to meet dad... I plan on letting it happen. I hope he doesn't over react."

Derek moved from the woods, running to be behind Stiles. The teen could sense a presence, he didn't turn, he just sniffled and went silent. "Uh." Derek said not sure how he was supposed to talk to the dead. "Hello Mrs. Stilinski. I'm Derek, Derek Hale." There was a pause before the werewolf spoke again. "I'd like to be with Stiles. A-Ah. To date your son." His words were quick, seeming as if they were said out of the spur of the moment, or at least were unprepared. He sat down next to Stiles and wrapped an arm around him, bring his lover closer. He struck a silent promise there, I will protect him.

"Derek," Stiles breathed out.

"You know we both have something in common. We've both lost people we love. The others don't know that feeling."

"I'm sorry Derek."

"I'm sorry too Stiles."

The teen sniffled back for the last time and let out a little chuckle. "You know I think she would have liked you."

"I believe my mom would have liked you as well. She always supported the purpose who didn't seem like much, but in reality they were the mainstay."

"Derek?" Stiles put an arm around Derek and tightened his grasp. "Thank you."

A/N 2: So I ended this chapter a little early. The ending just felt right. It is rather long too, but obviously the episode of Teen Wolf that corresponds with this chapter is not over, so I'll continue the day (or rather the episode) in the next chapter. I might also combine another episode with it. Regardless, I'm trying my hardness to give myself time to see what happens in season 2. My ending may not work out with canon nor the way I want the story to go right now, so if it doesn't work I'll post it as a separate one shot. Tell me if you folks have any interest in this potential alternative ending? Or just leave comments in general, I think hearing the people who read my story. Thank you 3