AN: I do not own Teen Wolf or the Bourne movies.

They loaded themselves into the Jeep, Derek hauling himself into the passenger's seat this time. He grabbed the GPS before Stiles and wordlessly tapped in an address about twenty miles away. Stiles looked over at him and started the car. They left without checking out.

The Jeep chugged valiantly on the highway, heading towards the deeper Virginia woods. "Culpeper, huh?" Stiles raised his eyebrows. "I've never been. Do you like living there? I'm originally from California but I came out here for med school. I got into George Washington School of Medicine," he finished proudly.

Derek raised his eyebrows and looked at the GPS. "It's a place with a bed," he shrugged, not commenting of Stiles' clear intelligence. "I don't need more than that." It was a lie. "We just need to stop to get cash and some supplies. Another car."

"I'm not stealing a car." This was already an old argument, and they hadn't been together for more than three hours.

Derek rubbed his face. "You don't have to steal a car," he said. "I will be stealing a car."

Stiles smirked disbelievingly as he moved into the fast line. The Jeep groaned but sped up, reaching a respectable seventy. "Don't go for another Camaro, alright? We'll get so caught it that. They're basically rolling speed traps, at least that's what my dad is always complaining." The pained look on Derek's face made Stiles' smile falter. "I mean, I'm sorry about your car. It was a cool car. I didn't -"

"It's fine." Derek looked out the window, walking the grey countryside and grey buildings and grey advertisements flash by. "It doesn't matter."

They were silent for another five miles.

"So, remember when I said I was going to be a godfather?" Even though the subjects of his friends and family clearly hurt Stiles, an effervescent sense of joy still clung to him. Derek almost couldn't be in the same room with someone who had such a constant source of happiness. He even smelled joyous, like a candy cane. Derek inhaled deeply, reminded of himself once, a long, long time ago.

"Yeah, well, my buddy Scott and his wife Allison have been together since we were sixteen. I mean, they are the perfect couple. Even when her dad threatened to shoot him – and that is a hilarious story in retrospect, let me tell you – he still wanted to be with her. He's a stubborn asshole but when he is in love, boy, he is in love.

"Anyway, they eloped in college. His mom cried and cried when she found out because she hadn't been invited – they only invited me as their witness at the city hall, which, I mean, I was beyond honored, you have no idea – but after we all graduated they had a big frou-frou wedding, tuxes and frilly dresses and all that good stuff. The only time I ever got to dance with Lydia Martin, except for that one formal dance in sophomore year, but that doesn't count, right?"

Stiles looked to Derek for confirmation but Derek was still staring out the window.

"She died though," he hesitated. A lot of sadness threatened behind those words, and Derek staunchly kept from looking at him. "Yeah, right after that. Car accident. I mean, I didn't think anything could hurt Lydia – not her parents' divorce, or Jackson leaving her, hell, she was attacked by a mountain lion in school and fucking walked it off. But she was drunk, she kinda took to drinking after school even though she was almost done with grad school by twenty-one – did I mention she was fucking brilliant? She was the final push I needed to apply to med school. I mean, I always knew I wanted to do something like that, but just knowing her mind wasn't going to be out there anymore, I almost lost it. I was really in love with her once, but I think that was just because she was so smart and beautiful – she fucking defined feminine beauty, okay? But when I went to college I, uh, discovered new things and people and we ended up just becoming great friends."

Silence had never been more awkward.

"But my godson!" Stiles cleared his throat and backpedaled. Their exit was rapidly approaching. "Yeah, I mean when Scott and I became friends in middle school we would say we were going to name our kids after each other, although I'm pretty sure he was lying, cause he didn't know my real name until we were seventeen -"

"Stiles isn't your real name?" Derek's face was open with confusion.

Stiles couldn't contain his laughter. He affably pushed Derek's shoulder. "Did you seriously think there were people out there who would name their child 'Stiles Stilinski'? You sound like my old lacrosse coach."

Derek shrugged, falling inward on himself again. "I don't really know."

"Dude, it's okay. I'm not going to tell you what it is though."

It took a moment for Derek to spit out, "I don't really know what people do. I'm... kind of a loner."

Stiles couldn't respond to that.

They drove off the highway exit in another uneasy silence and the GPS commanded they turn left. As they left the highway behind, Derek turned again to Stiles and said quietly, "So what about your godson?"

"What about him?" Stiles was concentrating on the road, and trying not to say anything else that would make Derek so awkwardly uncomfortable.

"I... want to hear more."

Stiles turned to look at him then. "Are you sure? Cause I am getting really distinct 'lone wolf' vibes from you and I don't want to weird you out anymore. I mean, hell, I've been talking since before Manassas."

Derek reached out, slowly, tentatively. His hand landed on Stiles' shoulder. "You're the only person I really know," he said bluntly, but with the barest warmth. "We might have only met this morning, but..."

This part was harder to put into words.

"What do you know about real wolves? Normal ones?"

Stiles thought for a second. "I feel like this was something I decided to research one night hyped up on Adderal." He flashed Derek an apologetic grin. "They have a pack structure," he kept on, "a mated pair at the top, the alphas, then their beta wolves, their children, and one or two omegas, the lowest on the totem pole."

Stiles looked at his hand first, then at him. They reached an empty four-way intersection.

Turn right, the GPS reminded them.

"I wanted to stop all this because," and Derek took a deep breath, "because I realized in twelve years, I had become the werewolf equivalent of an omega. I have no pack. I have nothing besides the occasional order to hunt and kill. I make money, I sleep, I watch Community -"

Stiles snorted.

"It's good!" Derek defended.

"No, I'm aware," Stiles smiled. He finally turned right. "You just don't look like the type."

Derek rolled his eyes. He removed his hand from Stiles' shoulder. "I don't really live in this world anymore," he continued, faltering slightly. "But having something to protect, to care about, to have a pack again, it gives me purpose. You're my friend," he said, surprising himself. "And I want to protect you. You're pack." He turned back to the window. This much emotional display was so foreign to him, he might as well be in a foreign country.

Stiles didn't look at him, for which he was thankful for, but the small smile tugging at his lips was genuine. "You're not imprinting on me like a duck, are you? Just because I saved your life?"

Derek's eyes were already tired of rolling and they weren't even out of Virginia.

Stiles finished talking about his godson, barely two months from being born, just as they pulled into the shabby apartment complex. They both exited quickly and Derek shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around. The hedges were dying and the buildings were all in need of a coat of paint. The entrances had faded brass numbers on them. He wouldn't be sad to never come back. He stood still and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and matching each scent he breathed in to his scent memory.

Stiles nudged Derek's foot with his own, almost begging for attention. "What are you doing?"

"Shush," Derek admonished with a growl. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Stiles looked around nervously, and asked, "Shouldn't we go inside?" When Derek didn't answer, he said louder, "What, are you smelling the air or something?"

"Yes. My senses are twenty times better than yours." Stiles made a face, half awed, half confused.

Stiles looked around again and asked quietly, "What do you smell? Are we safe?"

Derek opened his eyes and looked in Stiles' direction. "I smell an annoying med student. Other than that, I think we're safe."

"Did you just make a joke?" Stiles gaped like a fish and giggled. He clapped Derek on the back, disregarding the man's sudden tenseness. "You did! That – that is awesome, man.

"Nothing really gets you down, does it?" Derek was cautiously curious again. He pulled his key out and walked to the door marked four, looking back to Stiles the whole time. The younger man hadn't moved.

"I'm aware of the gravity of our situation," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets in a mirror image of Derek. "It's not like I don't realize we're in danger. Do you want me to stop?"

Derek was unaware of how much he didn't want Stiles to stop laughing until he felt just how vehemently his head was shaking no.

"Hello Spartan living."

Stiles peered through the doorway of Derek's apartment. The floors were bare of carpeting, and almost totally bare of furniture. The door opened into a small living room, which looked far more spacious than it really was since all it contained was one futon against the wall and an older TV in the center. On the left was the kitchen. Like-new pots and pans hung from an iron rack on the wall. A gas stove, an old, off white refrigerator, and painted cupboards completed the setup. To the right was a dark bedroom with a large, pristinely made bed in the center.

Derek immediately stepped off into his bedroom, pulling off the tight orange striped shirt as he went. A red duffel bag flung itself out of the dark. Stiles flinched melodramatically as it landed harmlessly three feet away. "Go into the kitchen and grab as much food as you can," he called. Suddenly there was a loud crashing and the sounds of a wall being ripped apart. Stiles threw himself into the bedroom, disregarding the red duffel bag, and watched Derek, claws extended, rip into the drywall and pull out a dirty backpack. He caught a glimpse of green paper rolled with rubber bands as Derek opened it briefly to check the contents.

"Whoa," he breathed. "Dude, you are never getting your security deposit back. But I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

Derek huffed out a small chuckle. He glanced at Stiles and his eyes flashed the tiniest bit blue. "Didn't I tell you to get food?"

"Right." Stiles backed up and was nearly in the kitchen before he turned his back on Derek. He began opening cupboards at random, grabbing ramen, chips, a few apples he found in a bowl, and the entire case of bottled water he found next to the stove.

"Hey dude -"

A sudden knock on the door startled both of them. Derek's eyes flashed his way as he came out of the bedroom and Stiles understood; he crouched behind the counter and listened

"Hey neighbor." A young man, somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, stood at the door. He had an easygoing smile and curly brown hair. "I'm Isaac; my mom and I just moved in a few days ago."

"I had no idea." Derek crossed his arms and took a step forward, trying to intimidate the kid. "What do you want?"

Isaac smiled again and crossed his arms too. He clearly wasn't the easily frightened type. "My mom just wants to make some pancakes," he said. "And we don't have any milk. Could we borrow some?"

Stiles could almost feel the growls reverberating from Derek deep in his chest.

"I don't have any." Derek grabbed the door to close it. "Goodbye." He slammed it brusquely, nearly catching Isaac's face.

Stiles stood, swearing under his breath to release the tension. He gave Derek a reproachful look as he kept backing the duffel bag. "Not that I'm faulting you for being careful, but you didn't have to be so rude to the guy. Besides, you have milk. It's barely expired too."

Derek shot him a glare. "We don't have time for shit like that. We need -"

The door exploded inward.

Stiles thought it might be Isaac again, but he couldn't say for sure. For one, when the shattered door came flying into the apartment, he'd dropped to the ground again, covering his head. For another, when he looked again, the easygoing young man was gone. In his place was something feral with glowing gold eyes. His ears were pointed. A Cro-Magnon like brow had sprouted around his eyebrows and his nose was flattened and wided. Fangs glistened through his lips, which were twisted in a triumphant smile. His fingernails were claws, just like Derek's had been only a few minutes before.

Derek roared, his own fangs lengthening and his eyes bright blue. He shook his head and Stiles watched with mixed horror and awe as large splinters loosened themselves from his skin and it healed over. New pink scars began disappearing even as he watched.

"Alpha 1." The beast wearing Isaac's clothes was smug as he stood from his crouch. "I've been waiting a long time to meet you."

Derek roared again and took a swipe at him. Stiles groaned inwardly as Isaac sidestepped easily and cuffed Derek around the back of the head. Though it looked like barely more than a friendly love tap, Derek fell sideways to one knee. His head began to bleed freely.

"Don't you know me?" Isaac was almost embarrassingly proud of himself. He circled around again and kicked Derek's leg out from underneath him. When Derek fell to his back, he lunged forward and wrapped his hand around his throat, picking him up off the ground and smashing him down again. One of the windows in the living room cracked with the force. He did that a few times, harder each time, until Stiles was sure Derek's back was broken.

Derek rolled over and spat blood on the floor. Isaac, or Alpha 3, as Stiles had finally recognized, leaned over and grabbed him by the back of the neck. But Derek growled and spun, almost too fast to see, and suddenly Isaac was flying over the kitchen counter to land with a crash against the cabinets. Stiles scrambled up, skidding on the cheap linoleum, and ran behind Derek. Without thinking he put his hand on Derek's back and curled it into the wife beater. Whether it was an action meant to comfort Derek or him, he didn't know, but Derek glanced back at him with an expression not unlike gratitude.

Isaac stood up chuckling. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand and smiled. "You're not bad," he conceded, "but you're still an omega, and I'm still a beta. I outrank you." He stalked around the counter into the entryway and stopped a few feet in front of them. Derek took an involuntary step back and pushed Stiles into the wall, covering him with his whole body. "I'm going to kill you. And then," Isaac grinned wolfishly at Stiles, who stared back hard, "I'm going to kill your boy. Slowly. You won't be there to protect him."

"I'm here now." Derek shoved Isaac away and roared again. He grabbed Isaac's shirt and threw him again. This time he hit the futon. It collapsed under his momentum. Derek went after him, grabbing him by the shirt and tossing him against the wall, the plaster cracking. Isaac growled ferociously but Derek hit his face, nearly ripping off his ear.

Stiles backed into the bedroom to hide. His feet caught on the money-filled backpack and he stumbled, falling onto his ass. Wincing slightly, he looked at the backpack and saw something he recognized instantly: a SIG Sauer P226.

A loaded handgun.

Being a sheriff's kid had its advantages. He'd learned to shoot at six years old, much to the despair of his mother. He was a great shot.

Quickly, hearing Isaac's laughter and a whimper from Derek, he grabbed the gun and checked the clip. The bullets looked like handmade hollow points but it was definitely loaded. He turned the safety off and chambered a cartridge with a snap.

Looking deftly through the door, he watched Isaac pin Derek down and break his arm with a flick of his wrist. Derek howled and tried to get him again, but Isaac danced away. His back was to Stiles.

"Why are we even still fighting?" Isaac grinned and kicked Derek in the ribs. He rolled over and the whining got louder. "You're beneath me. Literally now. Submit, and I'll kill you quickly."

"Submit to this." Isaac didn't have time to turn around before Stiles shot him in the heart.

Derek whined, winded, on the ground. He felt the bones in his arm try to heal, but Isaac was right; he was a beta and Derek was barely an omega. He was outranked and his body couldn't keep up with the damage the higher-ranking wolf was inflicting on him. He was going to lose.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stiles come out of the bedroom. He was clutching Derek's service pistol. Stiles kept it pointed down as he slowly approached Isaac.

Vaguely he heard Isaac taunt him. "Why are we even still fighting?" A sharp crack sounded and Derek felt his ribs break. "You're beneath me. Literally now. Submit, and I'll kill you quickly.

Stiles pointed the gun with the wolfsbane bullets at Isaac's chest. Derek felt a strange rush of affection as Stiles growled, "Submit to this."

The crack of the gun echoed in the apartment. Isaac was still smiling, but Stiles saw pain in his eyes. Black lines began to crawl in his veins of his neck and bare forearms. He fell to the floor next to Derek, whimpering and clawing at his own chest. The bullet wound was trying to heal, but the black ash left behind by the bullet seemed to prevent it.

Stiles immediately offered a hand to Derek and hauled him up. They loomed over Isaac.

Derek cocked his head at the younger wolf and said simply, in a low, angry voice, "No."

No, I won't submit to you.

No, you won't be killing Stiles.

He reached down and used his claws to slit Alpha 3's throat. The sickening, gurgling sound died quickly. Derek sighed and extended a hand to Stiles. Wordlessly he handed the older man the gun.

They rushed around grabbing all the supplies they needed. The dead body in the living room was studiously ignored. Derek slung the food and clothing stuffed into the red duffel bag over his shoulder and Stiles carried the lighter backpack. Derek locked the door as they left and they started hurrying away.

"Derek!" A high, reedy voice called after them. Stiles began to panic but Derek turned willingly to face a tiny, old woman holding a cane. Her hair was caught in a hairnet and Stiles thought she smelled like cats. She wobbled towards them, barely coming up to Derek's shoulder.

"What was all that crashing I just heard?"

"Nothing, Mrs. McCready," and to Stiles' astonishment Derek was smiling. He extended his arm and helped the old woman back to her door down the hall. "We were just watching a movie. You have a good day now."

"You're a good boy, Derek," she patted him absently on the cheek and closed her door.

The look Derek gave him allowed no comments. They got back into the Jeep and Stiles started it with a rumble.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Derek murmured, "I carry her groceries sometimes."

Stiles snorted.

AN part 2: The plot will definitely get moving after this! Also expect a chapter that goes more into Derek's past. I hope I'm not updating too quickly for you guys!