The jet's engines are a welcome presence, rumbling beneath his feet as Derek wraps his hands round a mug of coffee that Isaac slides in front of him, Stiles's voice floats through the speaks on the iPad in the middle of the small table and John squints over the top of his glasses at Derek. John had done exactly what Derek thought he would, given Derek an out. An out which Derek would never take because this is about him, no matter how much people want him to think otherwise, this whole case is about him.
Stiles checked before they left that Kate was safe and sound and still locked up. She is, but the fact that there is someone out there doing exactly what she did doesn't make Derek feel any better. She may as well be free.
The chatter of the rest of the team fades into the background, John dividing up jobs as soon as they land and Derek vaguely hears his name being mentioned with Lydia's before it fades out again and all Derek can see is Stiles's face on the iPad. He waves, a little half-heartedly and then disappears and Derek snaps back to reality.
They come to the conclusion, Isaac going off on a tangent about something Derek cant follow, that the unsub is probably a male, most pyromaniac's are. Kate was an exception John points out, flinching slightly as Derek looks up at him.
"This is a massive step up from firebug," Lydia pipes up from the other side of the plane, her strawberry blonde hair piled expertly on her head. More than once she's had to exert her superior strength on guys that have taken her slight frame and love of anything girly to mean she was weak. And Jackson's death has done nothing except make her stronger. She flickers a gaze at him and then looks back at John.
"We'll get Stiles to look into previous offenders when we land," John says, making a note on his phone.
"And what's this all about? To get Derek back to Beacon Hills? Or just some psycho who's obsessed with Kate Argent?" Lydia asks and Isaac flinches beside Derek. It's what Derek loves about Lydia, she's to the point, sometimes brutally so but always honest and deep down kind.
"Surely there are easier ways to get Derek back into town…" Scott pipes up from the other side of the plane, mug of coffee in his hands, "like…I dunno…phoning and going 'hey Derek…fancy coming back into town?'"
Erica hides a smile behind her files and John rolls his eyes. John has known Scott for nearly as long as Stiles, and after Scott's dad left, John became his substitute dad, just like Scott's mom became an almost mom for Stiles. Scott's brilliant at empathising, can put himself into the shoes of unsubs without a second thought, can separate work and private life like no one Derek's ever seen. He does however have the occasional moment when you want to smack him upside the head. Scott shrugs innocently.
"Somehow," John says, pulling his glasses off his nose, "I don't think that would have cut it."
Deaton catches Derek's eye across the table and raises one eyebrow. Derek nods once back at him. Deaton's been in Derek's life for years, helped him work through some of his issues about Kate and his family, trained Derek up and helped him get into the BAU. Stiles has on more than one occasion called Deaton Derek's very own Yoda. Stiles thinks its hilarious. Deaton is brilliant at what he does, calm and easy with a kind face that has lured more than one unsub into a false sense of security. Derek knows later on Deaton will corner him and try to get out of him his feelings, but right now, Derek has the armour of an active case and a jet getting ready to land between him and the inquisition.
Derek steps off the plane and it hit with the overwhelming sense of loss. He's here, in his childhood town, and his family aren't. He briefly wonders how Peter feels about this whole case, it must have passed his desk. But his uncle has been as stoic as ever, not even mentioning anything to Derek as he came to wish them good luck. Stiles had been practically vibrating with barely restrained anger next to Derek.
He hadn't had a chance to call Laura either and he really doesn't want to have to do that just yet. Laura lives a few miles outside of Boston, with her husband and two kids and Derek sees them as often as he can, as often as his guilt will let him. But she does need to know what's going on, despite the fact that this will just dredge up old wounds for her. Derek sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he climbs into the back of the car and is driven across Beacon Hills to the police department. He almost wants Stiles to call Laura, to tell her but he knows he'll get an angry call from Laura that way.
Derek introduced Stiles to Laura a few years ago, and not surprisingly, they had got on like two peas in a pod. Laura is beautiful, even Derek can see that his own big sister is gorgeous, and despite the proclivities in Stiles's sex life, he stared at her like she was Aphrodite. Laura had instantly taken to Stiles's wide, genuine smile and Derek has, on more than one occasion, walked into Stiles's office at work to find him on the phone with Laura.
It's a cop out, wanting Stiles to do his dirty work for him, he knows that, but telling Laura he's back in Beacon Hills because someone is burning families alive is not a conversation he wants to have right now.
His phone vibrates against his thigh. Stiles's face glaring at him because he was pissed at Derek pointing the camera in his face looms in front of him.
"Hey baby boy," he answers and he hears Stiles's sigh of relief.
"How you doing big guy?" Stiles asks and Derek sighs, staring out of the window as the familiar streets of Beacon Hills fly past.
"Ok," he replies simply and Stiles snorts. There's faint tapping in the background and Derek can practically see Stiles sitting at his desk, surrounded by screens, his headset plastered firmly to his head and fingers flying over the numerous keyboards.
"Yeah…sure you are. You spoken to Laura yet?"
"No…"
"Want me to?" Derek closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Yes…but no."
It's a testament to how well they know each that Stiles doesn't even question his internal struggle. Because no matter how much Derek wants Stiles to call Laura, he knows he has to do it himself. Stiles sighs down the phone and Derek can imagine him running a hand across his buzzcut. His hair's been longer before, it fluctuates between short and long and Derek cant decide which he prefers.
"Ok," Stiles laps into silence and Derek welcomes the gentle noise of static over the phone. They've done this before, back when Stiles suffered from nightmares, Stiles would call him and just lay the phone next to his head and Derek would listen to him breath for most of the night.
It's a few minutes before Stiles breaks the silence.
"You want me there?" He asks and Derek has to smile to himself. "I can get Danny to hold the fort here, pack up the essentials and be with you in a few hours."
"I love you," Derek replies and Stiles lets out a small laugh.
"How could you not?"
"You stay there, I gotta go baby boy, ok?"
"Ok…look after yourself," Stiles hangs up first, because he always does. Once Derek hung up first and Stiles didn't speak to him for two days. Derek smiles at his cell and looks up as John comes into the room.
"You ok to go to the Morgue?" John asks, leaning back against the door as a ward to anyone else who might come into their makeshift office in the Sheriff's Department of Beacon Hills. Derek nods, stands, and shoves his cell back into his pocket.
"No problem, Lydia coming with?" he asks and John nods. "We should probably get Stiles to look into possible suspects, check up on anyone that ever visited or wrote to Kate." Just saying her name makes this all seem more real, the fact he's here, people are dying and its all because he couldn't keep his hands off a crazy person.
"Uh-oh," John says, "I know that look." He points at Derek's face. "That's a look of guilt. None of this is your fault, you know."
"I know, doesn't make it any easier to believe though." Derek admits and John claps him on the shoulder briefly.
"Kate who have done what she did to anyone, you just happened to be the victim. This is her fault, not yours."
"So we are going with the copy cat angle?"
"It's a possibility, I know you're thinking it," John nods at him and Derek sighs.
"There are just too many coincidences, we'd be stupid not to follow it, but then again maybe I'm being blinded by my own experiences," John frowns slightly.
"Don't profile yourself, Derek, you're a great profiler, follow your gut, it usually leads you right."
The Morgue in Beacon Hills was just like any other Morgue. Cold, stainless steel, void of any identity. The ME bustles about in her scrubs, pulls open the right drawers and leaves Lydia and Derek to inspect the bodies of the Hill family. There's nothing unusual in the reports, all members died of smoke inhalation, and Derek grimaces as he remembers his own family, lying down here in the Morgue, with Uncle Peter coming to identify all 10 bodies.
"There's nothing here," Lydia says, scanning the reports and hauling Derek out of his guilt ridden past. He looks up as she tosses her hair over her shoulders, "no drugs in their systems, no ligature marks on the skin…nothing. What stopped them getting out of the house?"
"He blocked the doors," Derek says and Lydia frowns briefly, her perfect eyebrows drawing closer together.
"Derek…this isn't your case ok, this isn't the same person who did this to your family," Lydia walks around the body of Father Hill and curls her fingers around his wrist.
"How else do you explain the families not getting out?" Derek asks and Lydia blinks, backs off and pulls out her cell phone.
"Hey Stiles…yeah he's with me…can you do us a favour?" Lydia smiles at something Stiles says and Derek has the urge to grab the phone just to hear his voice. "Can you check all case of fire in the last couple of years, random dumpster fires, abandoned building fires, ones where no one was hurt…thanks babe…" Lydia hangs up and points her cell at Derek, "he wants you to call," she says it in an off hand manner like Derek and Stiles always ask other people to pass on messages. Derek nods. "This guy didn't start with home fires that wipe out families. He's worked up to this, we'll find him Derek."
"There were chains across the doors," Isaac says as Derek and Lydia join the rest of the team. Lydia glances over at him and Derek grits his teeth. The dreams back from when his own family burned coming back to haunt him. He wasn't there, he didn't hear the cries, the screams, the crack as the house gave up its form and collapsed around his family. He wasn't there but he imagined it, back all those years ago, waking up covered in sweat as Laura held him tight and cried with him. He shakes his head to rid himself of the cries of his dreams and concentrates back on Isaac. "Low grade, your average, buy in a hardware store chain, nothing we can trace. The fires were started with gasoline, poured through the letter box." John nods as Isaac sits back down around the large table. Derek traces patterns in the dark wood top and listens to the voices around him.
"Are we thinking he's a normal arsonist?" Scott asks and John shrugs slightly.
"As normal as any arsonist can be, perhaps. But there's still the similarities between Hale, Hill and Hall, and the fact that these fires are occurring here, of all places. He more than likely stood back to watch though, that's pretty much a certainty." Derek feels a rush of fury at the person responsible for burning these two innocent families alive. And a rush of guilt at the same time.
"I think someone needs to go speak to Kate Argent," John says and the hush around the table falls to an eerie silence. Everyone looks at Derek as if asking his permission to volunteer for him. Derek looks up at John.
"I'll do it."
"No you will not," Stiles's voice comes from the door way, his laptop bags slung over one shoulder and a parade of local police behind him holding all his thing. He looks pissed at everyone, but more so Derek and Derek cant even get over his shock at seeing Stiles before Stiles dumps his bags on the floor and points a finger at Derek. "You will not go because that's exactly what she wants."
"What the hell are you doing here Stiles?" John demands, looking tired at his son. Stiles seems to remember there are more people than just him and Derek in the room and snaps his gaze to his father.
"Danny's manning the office, I am here, to offer whatever support is needed, and by the looks of things, a well needed reality check. You're going to send Derek to see the woman who killed his family?" Stiles demands and the local police officers slink away. Derek is dimly aware of the rest of the team following suit and Lydia shuts the door quietly behind them.
"Not that I need your permission on how I run my team, Stiles, but no, I wasn't planning on it."
"John, I can…" Derek starts and both Stilinski's turn to glare at him.
"Not alone anyway," John finishes. "Derek…son…this may be the best opportunity we have to find out anything we can about this guy, Kate might well know him, or have some insight into what motivates him. But you take Erica with you," Derek nods and Stiles looks like he's about to have a stroke. "Right, now I am going to explain to the local police why my son feels the need to disobey a direct order and fly all the way over here." John sweeps out and Derek's left with Stiles glaring at him like he's about 2 seconds away from launching into a tirade. Stiles takes a breath and Derek cant deny the pleasure that seeing Stiles in front of him brings.
"Stiles…"
"Don't you Stiles me," Stiles says, holding up at finger again. "I'm going to be the one that has to pick up the pieces once Kate's trampled all over your heart again," Stiles says and Derek flinches at Stiles's obliviousness.
"I don't have any feelings for Kate except anger Stiles, you know that," Derek says, sighing slightly and wanting to pull Stiles close. Stiles wrinkles his nose and takes a step forward.
"I worry about you," he says and Derek manages a quick smile, nudging his knuckles against Stiles's stomach briefly, just the ghost of a touch but it's almost enough. Stiles is home, he's safety and normality, structure and home all in one and Derek wants to hold him close and just forget about everything right now. "Dad's pissed, huh?" Derek lets out a laugh and steps back.
"You could say that," Derek replies and Stiles grins, reaches down to his laptop cases and pulls one out. "Why are you here Stiles?" Stiles stops and looks at Derek.
"I didn't want you to be alone," he says likes it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"I have a whole team to lean on if I need," Derek points out and Stiles snorts, waves a hand dismissively in the direction of where the team went.
"Please, we both know they don't count, wolf man," Stiles grins and pulls out a power cable. "Do they have WiFi here?"
"I love you baby boy," Derek says, open and so completely honestly that it takes him by surprise. Stiles grins again.
"Right back at ya, big guy."
Derek ignored the almost overwhelming desire for that statement to be true and leaves Stiles setting up his makeshift work station.
Stiles stared at his screen. Danny was in his office at the BAU, tapping away down the open phone line, trying to find anybody in the past of Beacon Hills who had had trouble with the local law for fire starting.
Stiles himself was trying to narrow down the list of people who had been to see Kate at Beacon Hills Institute for the Criminally Insane because apparently Beacon Hills had enough criminally insane residents to warrant its own Institute. Derek had only just managed to get the Director on the phone and was busy trying to get an appointment to see Kate. Stiles was worried, Derek could see that in the way his jaw twitched and he kept glancing at Derek. Derek was just content to watch Stiles's fingers fly across the keyboard.
"Yes, I'm still here," he says into the phone and Stiles clears his throat, eyes back on his screen.
"It's highly unusual," the Director is saying but Stiles is making faces at him across the room and Derek's not really paying much attention, "but if it's part of an active investigation I suppose I can let you see her tomorrow."
"Much appreciated, Sir," Derek replies, sticks his tongue out at Stiles and then concentrates back on the conversation. "The similarities between the crimes Kate committed and the ones being committed right now are too much of a coincidence to ignore," the Director hums down the phone like he doesn't really care as long as he gets to keep Kate behind bars. "I assure you, we will not be asking for temporary release."
"That's good," the Director replies, "because it wouldn't be granted. Kate is too much of a danger to herself, let alone other people, to be released right now."
"What would be helpful is if you could provide us with a list of visitors she's had over the past few months," Derek says and the Director is silent for a few minutes before replying he would get them over to Stiles as soon as he could. Derek thanks him, hangs up and rubs circles against his temples. There's heat at the back of his neck and he leans into Stiles's touch as Stiles's long fingers press into tight muscles.
"I still don't want you going," Stiles says and drops a kiss to the top of Derek's head before moving away. Derek rolls his neck.
"I know, but you're gonna have to get used to it," he grins up at Stiles and Stiles raises an eyebrow.
The light is fading and orangey sunlight streams through the window. Derek feels a tension headache building behind his eyes. Stiles cocks his head to the side.
"Ok, we're going back to the hotel, and you're taking a bath," he slams the lid of his laptop and Derek jumps.
"We've got work to do Stiles, this guy…"
"This guy wanted you back here, he's got you back here so I think you can take one off to just at least try to chill out…yes?"
"He's right," John comes through the door, "maybe you can skip the bubble bath and head straight of a whiskey instead, but for once, my son is right," Stiles sticks his tongue out and shoves his laptop into the case.
"Dibs on sharing with Derek," he calls into the rest of the station as he walks through the door and leaves Derek with John. John shakes his head at his son and then fixes his pointed, knowing gaze back at Derek.
"Go back to the hotel, try to get some sleep and try to remember that this isn't your fault," John says and Derek swallows.
"I cant help thinking that it is, though, Boss," he replies and John lays his hand on Derek's shoulder.
"It's not."
Derek's hands are shaking by the time Stiles pushes the door to their hotel room open. Shaking and there's sweat beading across his forehead. Stiles pushes him to the bed and crouches between his thighs, his palms warm and grounding on Derek's knees.
"Derek?" Derek looks down into Stiles's face, suddenly so painfully aware of how in love with this brilliant kid he is. How Stiles has been his ground since he can remember, how he's so heartbreakingly in love with him that nothing else matters except Stiles. He wants to kiss him, to pull him close and run his teeth across that lower lip but his hands are shaking with anger and guilt and Stiles covers them with his own, pulls them in between them both and runs his thumbs across Derek's knuckles. "You with me big guy?"
Derek can hear screaming, the crackle of fire, the groan of the wooden beams as they finally give out. His breathing speeds up and Stiles, it's always Stiles, always there when Derek cant see anything, Stiles presses his thumb to Derek's pulse.
"I…" he starts, his throat closing up against words, he doesn't even know what to say anymore. He's brought this destruction down on this town, again. He brought fire and raised hell and he shouldn't have come home. He shakes his head. Stiles lifts a hand and cups at Derek's face.
"Derek…this isn't your fault, look at me." He demands and Derek can no longer refuse anything he asks. "This isn't your fault. I'm right here." He stands, keeping Derek's hands in one of his own, long fingers wrapped around them and crawls onto the bed next to him. He tugs and Derek can no more refuse as he can stop his heart from beating right now. Stiles pulls them both down, curls himself around Derek, tight and safe and Derek feels his whole body shaking as Stiles presses a hand to the centre of his shoulders. "I'm right here." Stiles kisses him, the hand not pressed to Derek's tattoo sliding down his jawline. It's just a press of lips, comfort where comforts needed and Derek wants to kiss him harder, wants to press Stiles into the mattress but his hands are shaking and he still hears screaming. "I got you." Stiles's lips move against his own and Derek lets out a choked sob, balling Stiles's too-big t-shirt in his hands and he rests his head against Stiles's shoulder and just holds on.