"Oh Stiles, what have you done?"
Deaton's breathless question was not what he'd been expecting when they entered the Beacon Hills Animal Hospital a few hours later. He really should have, he supposed. After all, it was always Deaton who knew before hand what was going on with their little pack. Always had the enigmatic answers to questions they had yet to ask, so of course he would know as they entered that something very off had happened. For what little normalcy that surrounded them anymore seemed to be a blessing and his disruption of that was no exception to the long list of strangeness they faced on an almost daily basis.
Stiles, though, barely paused, moving forward to slump against the wall and into a rather retro plastic chair. At least the room was familiar. It hadn't changed in all the years they had been coming to Deaton, even the kitten poster on the wall was vaguely reassuring in its presence. Carefully drawing in his breath, Stiles lifted his eyes to meet those of the now rather flustered Veterinarian's. The man knelt before him, requesting Derek lock the front door to ensure privacy.
"If you are indeed who I believe you to be, I'm assuming that we really shouldn't alert anyone else to your presence at this time, Mr. Stilinski, am I right?"
"Hale." Stiles choked out, sliding his hand to clutch at the inner thigh fabric of his pants.
As he'd anticipated, that gave both men pause, Derek's head turning from the glass door where he stood watch, snapping his gaze to Stiles' face even when he didn't meet them back, instead still focused on Deaton, who's eyes were widening just the slightest. The crouching emissary's eyebrows rose just the slightest, showing his curiosity at the unexpected answer. "Excuse me?"
Stiles could feel Derek's eyes on his neck like a brand, hot and demanding. He was always so intense, that never changed. Never faded. No matter what it was in regards to, Derek was always at the center of needing information whether he had to demand it by force or not. That was one thing that Stiles adored about him. One of many. The intensity of his gaze followed their relationship everywhere. Watching when he was baking or cooking, when the pack was running under a full moon and their gazes met, when he was looming over him with bare shoulders drawn taut in the heat of the moment, his eyes were always intense and full of need.
He cleared his throat, speaking soft but firmly this time. "Hale. It's not Stilinski anymore, it's Hale. "
Another silence greeted him and he could see the quick exchange between Deaton and Derek's glance. The vet stood, motioning for the both of them to follow him into the back, ushering Stiles to take a seat up on the table while Derek stood blocking the light from the doorway. The cold metal of the bench was strangely calming. It could have been because this was where they always felt sanctuary. Before everything had fallen apart. Before he'd drawn the energy from his friends, their very life and with that thought he felt his stomach turn and a wave of nausea overtake him. Right. So much for calming. Pushing it away, Stiles forced himself to meet Deaton's gaze again, trying desperately not to look at Derek for fear he may lose his grip on his emotions once more.
"When are you from, Stiles?"
Well, so much for beating around the bush. He didn't have to look at the werewolf in the doorway directly to know the expression on his face would have gone slack with confusion, realization already sparking in the synapses of his brain. The tension rolled off of him in waves. This wasn't how he should do this, but if Deaton was asking then apparently it was alright to break that oh-so-important rule of 'don't tell the past you're from the future'. Guess the whole butterfly effect could be bullshit?
Resisting the urge to dart his eyes towards Derek, Stiles shifted slightly on the table. "Two-thousand twenty." He breathed. He didn't have to be a werewolf to notice the shift in the room. A heavy weight of worry and tension flooded his senses. In the corner, Derek's shoulders were stiff, but his eyes were unmoving on the doorframe in front of him. There was the pretense of watching for intruders to their conversation but Stiles knew he was all ears.
"I'm not certain if I should first ask you how…or why you are here. It's obvious that a strong amount of magickal energy was used, of that I have no doubt. But the type of energy it would take to displace you is what concerns me the most. So I'm going to ask again, Mr. Stil-Hale," he stated pointedly, ignoring Derek's shifting arms at the correction, "Stiles. What have you done?"
"There was-" his voice broke and he took a moment to breathe, grateful to the two men in the room for saying nothing, in fact barely responding, to his pause before he continued, "there was another pack, upstate. They had been having their run of things near San Francisco and that was fine but they started coming farther south nearer to our territory and stirring up things. They had three alphas in their pack, the whole thing was super unorganized but Derek he-"
At the break, Derek's gaze finally turned to him, eyes unreadable when they settled on Stiles' face. Deaton gave him a moment before pressing a hand to Stiles' shoulder, urging him on. "He said they just needed direction. That we could form an alliance and teach them how to live like we had, working with humans and being a productive part of the world. He said they were just lost. They weren't lost-" Stiles choked on his words again but forced himself on, nearly sobbing the words out. "They weren't lost, they were fucking rabid! They wanted it all for themselves and thought we were weak and pathetic. They lied through their damn teeth and told Derek they wanted to meet us, to meet our pack. They wanted to form an alliance and learn from our alpha." He sneered, his words mocking theirs as the memory echoed through his mind.
He was silent for long minutes after that, gathering his thoughts and staving off the ever present need to cry, the pain of holding it back welling in his chest and throat like a cold burn. Deaton didn't push and neither did Derek but he could see his face still, even from the corner of his vision and knew what he was thinking. Knew the other man could already read the end of this story.
"I was supposed to go with them." His voice had grown soft and it ached to continue. "But we fought that morning. Over the dumbest thing. Over a goddamn pool because I was being a child or woke up on the wrong side of the bed or had a stomach ache or some stupid unforgivable excuse. For no reason at all, really. I didn't want to go, I knew that, but I also knew how important it was that I was there.
"I could have protected them. I could have protected him. Instead I take a phone call in the afternoon, thinking it'll be him, thinking I'll apologize and everything will be alright. But it wasn't. It wasn't alright because he was ripped to shreds by those fuckers for trying to be the bigger wolf. He saved them- Scott and Isaac. Sacrificed himself and told them to run. He's the only reason that anyone in our pack is still alive. And I'm the reason he's dead."
Again the all encompassing silence came and his irritation grew with each second that passed before the doctor's voice intercepted his self-depreciating thoughts. "Stiles, you couldn't have known that was going to happen. It wasn't-"
"Don't say that!" he cried, flitting his eyes back up to meet the darker man's, lips pulled taut in aggravation. "Don't fucking tell me that it's not my fault! Don't do that! Because it is! It was my responsibility to protect my pack and my husband and I failed! I let him die and every day I feel like I'm suffocating without him! Don't you understand I couldn't breathe, I can't breathe without him-"
He felt his voice breaking in his throat, words harder and harder to release, feeling so utterly alone. The panic spiraled back up and instead of fear, he felt exasperation. When would it end, when would they break away so he could find the air, so he could let go. Slamming his eyes shut, Stiles gripped tightly to the edges of the table, feeling the ache of his grip take hold, something physical to keep him steady as he tried to breathe through once more. He felt Deaton's hand on his arm, telling him to breathe steady but it swam in the back of his hearing like his head was submerged underwater once more.
Then, the feeling broke, a relief beginning to wash over him and he realized that Derek had moved. He was standing to the side of the table, hands firm on the younger man's shoulders. The pressure of his fingertips dug into the bones of Stiles' shoulders, a firm grounding point. But then Derek had always been that for him, even back when they were disagreeing and barely friends at all. A firm, steady grip that always helped him keep his hold on the world, on each situation that they faced. He was a force stronger than any other and Stiles had held no doubt that it would never change, that he would never lose that rock.
"What happened to the other pack?"
Derek's voice was unexpected and it jolted Stiles in his seat, though the hands on his shoulder's didn't loosen, keeping their firm grasp.
"A week after the pack came back, I went up north. I found them celebrating their victory like wild animals, laughing around this huge fire and I couldn't stand it. They didn't even let me claim my mate's body. They just burned him like he was peat for the flames." He huffed, bringing a hand up to scrub at the back of his nose roughly, pushing away the tears that fell. "I lost it. I saw them laughing at our pain, our loss, and I couldn't handle it." He paused again, wishing he could bring himself to glance up at Derek, over his shoulder and have some sort of strength. "I don't remember everything that happened but when it was over, when it was quiet and the only sound I could hear was fire, there were bodies everywhere. I didn't even care, either. I just left them there."
Deaton stepped away, moving to take a seat on the tall doctor's stool next to the wall of tools. He didn't speak, but continued to watch Stiles, letting him take his time before he continued. "Scott and Isaac knew when I came back. They could smell it on me but they didn't say anything. I think they didn't agree with what I did but they weren't going to question me on it either. Those wolves, they took him from us, from me.
"I never told my dad. Never told the others, either. But everyone already knew about Derek. Scott had called me when they were leaving the city. I remember he was crying so hard I could barely hear him." He whispered the last words, tapering off and taking another few deep breaths. The longer he spoke, the smoother the words came, not easier, but quicker, spilling from him like a fountain.
"I thought it would get easier as the weeks went on. We even had a funeral at the preserve but it didn't help. Nothing did. I couldn't go home anymore; I've been sleeping on my dad's couch. I can't even sleep in my old bedroom because it's too much. There are memories everywhere. Every person I looked at was another memory, another reminder that I would never see him again. Every smell, every sound, everything was just this horrible looming cloud. It never got easier. It never has. Every day is harder than the last.
"I had been practicing different types of magick over the last few years and I just figured that maybe there was something, anything that would help. Help me get over it, help bring him back, anything to make this constant smothering pain just go away. So I went back out. I went out to the woods just outside our house. I don't know how they knew, probably Lydia, she's always known what was going on in my head. They followed me out but it was already too late. I just thought…I thought if I could draw just a little bit of life from everyone else, surely, surely I would have enough energy to bring him back or to even just see him again even if for a minute. So I pulled and I pulled and I couldn't stop. It was out of control before I knew what was happening and I could hear them yelling but I couldn't stop and I didn't want to and all I wanted was Derek-"
Thick corded arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him backwards awkwardly towards a warm chest. Solid and real it was like an anchor had been cast allow Stiles to keep from drifting, holding firm to there here and now. Slowly his fingers lifted, carefully touching the soft hair of Derek's forearms.
"The next thing I knew I was standing in the woods just outside our house but everyone was gone and I just…I knew what had happened. I don't know how but I knew that I wasn't there anymore. The world felt lighter, it felt better and I saw the old house and…"
"I found you." His back rumbled with the words and it soothed him far more than it should have.
"Yeah. You found me. I thought it was you, my Derek but then you looked so confused, so young and you weren't him. But it didn't matter. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I get home, that I fix this if I can. I need to make sure they are okay. I don't even know where I left them."
Deaton sat quietly, Stiles' words rolling over him. It took him a few long minutes before he spoke again, his words low and soft. "It will take me a day or two to know exactly what happened and how to fix it. In that time you are welcome to stay here, there's a small office in the back and I can get you some blankets-"
"He'll stay with me."
Stiles' head whipped around, gazing directly at the younger Derek for the first time since he'd broken down. He wasn't looking at him, however, but at Deaton. "I'll tell the others to stay away for a few days, they won't question it if they think their safety is involved and I'll be able to keep an eye on him. You have my number if you find anything out." He offered, finally dropping his gaze to Stiles.
He wanted answers, he thought, answers that he really shouldn't be given. But Stiles already knew he couldn't deny Derek, even this younger version of his husband, anything he asked for. So he nodded his ascent slowly, turning back to Deaton who seemed to hesitate at the idea. "I'll be alright, I trust him with my life, obviously." He sighed, feeling the loss of a familiar heat as Derek pulled away. In all honesty, he hadn't expected him to offer. In fact, he'd expected nothing less than difficulty and judgment from this younger version of his mate, but as usual, Derek would always surprise him. Maybe it's because he could hear his heart, knew he was telling the truth. Maybe he was curious or maybe he was too shell shocked to do anything but concede. Whatever it was, Stiles was not going to question it or look what may just be a gift horse in the mouth.
Two hours later found Stiles sitting in Derek's nearly empty loft on a ridiculous looking leather couch (he'd made him get rid of it before they moved back into the house after his thighs kept getting stuck to the seat) eating slowly from a bowl of canned chicken noodle soup. Derek sat across from him on the rickety coffee table with his hands clasped between his knees. He'd been watching him since Stiles had taken the food from him as though searching his face would reveal all of his secrets. It was hard to meet his gaze when all Stiles wanted to do was hug him and tell him how much he missed him. It was hard enough looking at his handsome young face without wanting to kiss him.
Once his bowl was empty, he sighed, finally glancing up with a courage he didn't know he had to meet those intense eyes.
"Why the hell would you want a pool?"
Stiles blanched, setting the bowl down on the table next to Derek's leg before he dropped it and shook his head. "Seriously? Of everything you could be asking me, that's what you want to know? You know, that's exactly what you said then, too." He chuckled humorlessly, lips quirking to the side. Derek raised an eyebrow, obviously wanting a real answer and for a moment Stiles lost himself in familiar interaction. Throwing his hands up, he gave the taller man an incredulous look. "Pool parties! Pack pool parties, dude, how is that not cool?! We already barbecue half the weekends of the year and host movie nights and I know the beach is great and all, don't get me wrong, but a pool would be awesome. Plus, pool sex. How is that not a reason in and of itself."
He caught himself too late, forgetting momentarily where and when they were but the panic didn't well up in his chest this time when reality came back. Instead, calm kept over him and he was grateful for the reprieve. He was also grateful for Derek in either form, for this one kept his cool as well as his own ever had, only a slight quirk in his lips, brows furrowing slightly in thought as he took in the words.
"If you're curious you can ask, you know. I'd never keep things from you, even if it's kind of breaking the whole time travel unspoken rules or whatever." Stiles offered, shrugging one shoulder and raising a hand to scrub through his hair. "I mean, I know how to block memories so it won't really make a difference. One of the many things I've picked up over the years while studying with Deaton. I can block short term memory for a while, long enough so when things happen as they should it won't matter or interfere. I'd probably have to block yours anyway so that I don't affect anything in the future, right? I know Deaton would throw one hell of a fit if I let you remember all of this."
"So you don't think it's smart for me to remember? Maybe I should. I could change things. Do better than last time, fix what was wrong over the last seven years." Derek offered and for a long stretch, Stiles was inclined to agree. But there was too much in between, too much that had to happen that he couldn't know, or at least couldn't remember. And then there was them.
"If you remembered though, if you knew…it wouldn't feel real. When everything between us happened, it would feel like you were obligated and I would constantly question us. You know me, you know I would. And I wouldn't want how everything happened to change, not one bit of our lives together."
He knew by the look on Derek's face what he was thinking. He wanted to know if Stiles could go farther back, back to before the fire, save his family, get them out and he didn't know how he would answer that. This alone had been a fluke, an accident caused by grief and desperation. Derek had lived for years now without his family and though his regret and sadness wouldn't dissipate, it had faded, as had the guilt. Stiles knew it would fade to only a vague memory later, leaving only good memories of his family from before. Memories that helped his new family grow.
"I couldn't. Even if I wanted to and believe me I'd love nothing more than to change that but I can't. I can't hurt anyone else for my selfishness." He said softly, watching as Derek's shoulders relaxed slightly, drooping in resignation. He sat up a bit, shifting.
"Right. So. This, huh?" he raised an eyebrow, smirk playing along the drawn line of his mouth, moving a finger back and forth from his chest to the general direction of the other man. Stiles bit back his own gentle smile, glad for the ease at which Derek seemed to broach the subject.
"Yeah. This." He chuckled, repeating the motion with his own hand. "Believe me, it was as unexpected on this end as it was on yours. At least, in the beginning." He sighed, leaning back into the uncomfortable squeaking of the couch. "I remember being so nervous you would find out that I felt more than friendship for you that it didn't occur to me at first that you would have, too. We didn't rush it though and I think that really made a difference. We must have danced around each other for almost two years before anything actually changed."
Derek snorted, obviously expecting an answer along those lines. "Sounds about right. " he paused, glancing at his hands for a long moment before meeting Stiles' hazel eyes again. "Are you-" he cut himself off, looking frustrated before he decided on his words, then continued. "Were you happy? Were we happy?"
Stiles watched his face. He knew his husband well enough by now to realize what emotions were clouding over him. "Yeah. Yeah we really were. From the moment you kissed me I knew that we would be. They always say that you know when you find your soul mate. Like…like they complete you and you just know that you belong together and no matter what you face you'll never fall out of love with them. That's what it felt like. I mean yeah, sure, we fought sometimes, but the longer we were together the less it mattered, you know? It was like no matter how much we disagreed on stuff, we never went to bed mad and we always woke up just happy to be lying there together. I know that sounds like some cheesy lifetime movie crap but it's the truth. We were so happy it fucking hurt, dude." He smirked so hard it made his face ache but was relieved to see Derek with his own soft smile pasted across his face.
Derek hesitated again, "And the pack? Are they happy? We've had some difficult weeks this last year. They deserve a break."
Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. "They're always a handful. We have all these extra bedrooms and even though everyone has their own places and stuff, there will be weeks everyone will just come over and stay." His smile was fond, love for their friends obvious. "Isaac stays with us a lot. His apartment is so small and I know he doesn't like being alone there. Sometimes we'll make pancakes in the morning. I tried to make you breakfast in bed once but I spilled coffee all over the sheets so you banned food from the room for good. Well, specific foods anyway, but that's another conversation." He laughed, scrubbing at his hair and enjoying the ease with which he could still speak to his husband, even if he wasn't exactly "his husband" yet. Derek, when he relaxed and let down his walls, always had a way of letting him just talk. It was a trait Stiles appreciated greatly. "Isaac, Scott and Allison come over on Sunday mornings with my dad and we have a family sit down breakfast. It's sort of become tradition. Then you and my dad watch whatever game is on, though I'm pretty sure it's just for his benefit. We have cookouts a lot. And we go to the beach. Things have really calmed down over the last few years and we haven't had to fight much. I mean, Beacon Hills is a beacon so of course things are in and out but you've always had a good run of your territory and with all of us working together it's been pretty good. Just last week Lydia ran another Banshee out of town, it was actually pretty funny. All she had to do was snap her fingers and flip her hair and the other girl just about fell over herself to get away. Lydia has pretty much become the brains of the operation. Between you and her, the town is locked down pretty well. She's like…human alpha."
Derek snorted, obviously already having a good sense of Lydia in this time to know what she was like. A force to be reckoned with. And over the years she'd gotten even better at her skills. She was sharp and quick and never let anyone or anything run over her. Stiles was glad to call her a friend.
"I'm sure Erica just loves that." Derek snarked, standing and moving towards the open kitchen and a steaming pot of coffee that called his name. He was halfway through pouring a cup when he noticed the silence. He finished placing the pot back into the holder, stirring in two tablespoons of sugar then made his way back to sit down, this time on the couch next to Stiles. The human didn't meet his eyes at first, staring at his hands as though they would be able to answer for him. Derek got there first, however. "What happened to her? You said Isaac is still around. And Boyd, you haven't mentioned him either. They didn't just leave, did they." The last was obviously a rhetorical question and Stiles sighed, raising his eyes to meet.
"No. No they didn't leave. They died. Quite a while ago now. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if they were still with us but it wasn't our fault." Derek frowned, sensing the vague tone in Stiles' words but saying nothing. "There wasn't anything we could have done more than what we did. That was the roughest year. It really tested who we were and where our loyalties lay, but I think most of us came out for the better." He offered quietly.
He wanted to ask. Wanted to know what had happened, what they'd done, what he'd done to leave them less. Maybe he could change that too. Maybe he could hold on to those memories, do something to save his growing pack from any more grief.
Stiles must have known what he was thinking (which was a true testament to their future relationship) when he spoke up. "I'm blocking your memories so I guess it doesn't matter what I tell you, huh?"
"Probably not."
He wanted to say more. How it wouldn't help, wouldn't make a difference. A lot of him didn't want to know. What if he was a part of the reason they were dead? Did he really want that knowledge, even if it was going to be taken from him. The decision was removed, however, when Stiles spoke.
"There's an Alpha pack coming. They're strong. Really freaking strong. Freakishly, freaking strong-"
"Stiles."
"Right. Anyway, they show up next year. And it's not good. They want you and then they want Scott and the guy in charge is a creepy asshole. Like, creepier than Peter, who by the way becomes just slightly less creepy once he takes a year or two off in Florida. A lot goes down. With the Argents, with the pack, school, just a lot. But it gets better. There's um..there's a short period where you kinda went off for a while and I won't get into that because I really don't want to relive it, but you came back after a couple of months. I guess that's really when things started to change."
Derek nodded, feeling a strange gratefulness for the sugar coated version he was certain the other man was giving him.
"Maybe…" Stiles began again and he focused his gaze on the floor before continuing, "Maybe you could just, I don't know, half ass remember to send them away next year? Or lock them up somewhere or something. And also don't trust any hot high school teachers. Yeah let's go with that. Maybe I can just leave notes in your brain." He chuckled mirthlessly, looking up to Derek again, a hand reaching out almost desperately to touch the line of his jaw. "I know I can't. But that's how these things work. This is how this life was meant to play out and I was wrong to try and change it. So maybe…maybe I can just take this as a second chance. Maybe we can just…spend these few days together and when I go back maybe it'll be easier. Knowing that somewhere you're still you and you're still alive and okay."
His voice was soft and Derek felt no need to pull away when the gentle hand braced on his neck. Stiles leaned forward almost hesitantly, pausing for a moment before their lips met. It was probably wrong, but who was to say that he couldn't let this older Stiles have this moment. He'd been through a lot, it sounded like they all had and if the future was as perfect between them as he'd made it out to be, there was no harm in testing the waters. The kiss was soft and unrushed, just a gentle brush of lips against lips. Nothing and everything all at once and strangely not enough.
Stiles was a bit surprised when he felt a hand brace against his shoulder, pressing their mouths closer. He'd expected nothing less than Derek to pull away. After all, this wasn't who they were now. Not at this point in time. But he wasn't going to complain, taking every good memory he could wholly and selfishly.
Long minutes passed before Stiles reluctantly pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. "Thank you." For listening. For understanding. For still being you even when you aren't yet; the words went unspoken.
Two short days passed before the call came. They'd spoke more of their future, mostly good memories between the two of them. Holidays and evenings watching movies and playing in the snow with the pack when a rare thick snow fell one year. The hours had been too short for Stiles' taste but he relished every second he had. Derek, for his part, was far more tolerable than he'd anticipated he would be. They ate meals together, watching a couple of old (well they were old to him) movies and spent the long crisp afternoons walking in the woods by the old house or talking quietly in the loft. Stiles couldn't imagine having better spent the short amount of time he was allowed.
When Derek answered the phone, it was almost reluctantly, eyes finding Stiles' over the back of the couch. "Deaton. Yeah…alright yeah. We'll be there in the morning."
And as quickly as that, it was over and Stiles felt his stomach sinking. This was it. Deaton explained that he could indeed send him back and with Stiles' help, he would likely arrive in place of his future self in the same location he'd been, moments after the shift. Tomorrow he would go home and face his future again. A future without Derek. But maybe it wasn't the end of the world anymore. Maybe now he had something to take back with him. Memories he would never let go of, consequences to live up to and hopefully a pack to reconnect with. But God, would he miss those green eyes…
I just want to throw out a quick thanks to everyone for reading this! First hand at Sterek which i've completely fallen in love with. I've got another couple of stories lined up but we shall see how it goes!
Reviews are LOVE
