Last chapter!

Stiles was getting pretty tired of white, in fact, he would even go as far as to say it was his least favourite colour ever. It was just so tedious and blank and it made his teeth itch if he stared at it for too long. It sucked.

He was back in the nothingness, vertigo spiking through him every time he looked down and realised he couldn't see solid ground beneath his feet. He felt like he'd been there for hours, standing at first, calling out till his throat was sore and his legs ached, and when that had gotten too unbearable, he had sat cross legged on the 'floor', and chewed on the string of his hoodie, letting his mind wander.

He wondered how long he'd been away. He wondered whether he could ever go back. He wondered if there was something, anything, he could or would have done differently had he had the chance. He wondered what Derek was thinking, what he was doing. He wondered, somewhat indulgently, whether Derek missed him. He wondered what would happen to his friends now that he was dead and had obviously not succeeded in steering them off of their darker path.

He'd tried, he really had. It just hadn't been enough in the end.

He could imagine Derek calling the pack together, telling them everything Stiles had kept from them when he was alive. He could imagine Scott's face as Derek's grunted words sunk in, he could imagine the looks of shock and disbelief on the other betas' faces as they took it all in. And Jackson, oh Jackson, so adamant in his bullying when Stiles was alive, would sob over Stiles' demise, admitting with tears streaming down his face that he had never meant any of his cruel words and taunts, and that he'd done all of it because he had always been jealous of Stiles' awesomeness.

Ok, so maybe that was unlikely to happen, and Jackson was more likely to frown a little, as if the situation were sad but a massive inconvenience to him, before making a snide comment about having to bury Stiles again, and how he was a burden even after death.

Fucking Jackson.

The others would mourn though. And someone would have to tell his father, although what they would tell him, he had no idea. He hoped his dad managed to get over it eventually, maybe someone would look out for him now that Stiles was dead, make sure he didn't drink too much or eat too unhealthily.

It was hard to think that he had nothing left. He'd lost his parents, his sister, his wife, and now his son. It was a true testament to the man that he was still standing, it was the reason he was Stiles' hero. He wished now that he'd told his dad that before he'd died.

And Scott too, he'd never get to tell Scott what his friendship had meant to him. How much he loved him, and missed him, but he hoped that Scott knew that already. They'd been through so much together, Scott's dad leaving, Stiles' mum dying, werewolves, Peter, the Alphas, their's really was a bond that boggled the mind, brothers in everything but blood. He wished his friend the best, wished him happiness in his pursuit of Alison, hoped he managed to survive the wrath of Chris Argent when he inevitably found out about the relationship. It was so utterly Romeo and Juliet that Stiles was certain it would work out, hopefully without the dying, and he could see it now, 10 years in the future, Scott and Alison McCall watching their little brood of werewolves run around the yard firing arrows at each other, scratching with tiny little claws, and biting with pin pricks of teeth as the pair laugh and pull each other close, happy in the life they made. Stiles likes to imagine they named one of the children after him, that they spend evenings recounting the adventures and sacrifice of Uncle Stiles, the boy who ran with wolves. At least his legacy would live on.

He doesn't really know what will happen with Derek. Part of him doesn't want to. He supposes that the wolf will move on, find a mate, and settle down with a broodier brood of his own, and that should be a good thing, but it really doesn't feel like it to Stiles. His throat tightens uncomfortably, so he moves away from those thoughts as quickly as his hummingbird mind can.

Jackson and Lydia will probably end up together, but their relationship will undoubtedly be chaotic what with their clashing natures. Stiles doesn't envy them the rollercoaster, and that's strange because Stiles has always envied Jackson for his claim on Lydia, but apparently not anymore. Closure, he guesses, his timing is superb.

Erica, Isaac and Boyd, they'll be good wolves once they learn to control themselves. Erica in particular needs to settle down, find her place in the pack, but when she does, she'll flourish. She'll make a good mother, in Stiles' opinion, non-judgemental, and just rebellious enough to seem cool and interesting to her kids, but strict enough that they won't run riot.

Stiles is doubtful that Isaac will have cubs, at least not until he is much older. It is obvious to anyone who looks that he worries about what his own father became, worries that he may follow in his footsteps, and no matter what anyone says, he will carry that fear around for many years to come. It is his burden to bear until he chooses to give it up. But Stiles has faith that he will flourish in other areas, perhaps he'll pursue his dream of being a vet.

Boyd is trickier, reserved to the point that he fades into the background slightly, so Stiles never really got a chance to figure him out as well as he did the others. But from what he has seen, Stiles knows that Boyd is strong and resilient, and he has no doubt that whatever path he takes, Boyd will succeed.

The pack will be fine. They never really needed him anyway. He has no doubt they will miss him, but he does not pretend that the world will stop without him.

'Mr Stilinski.'

Stiles startled, string dropping from his mouth as he gasped and fell backwards. It was the same voice from before, the stern but kind sounding woman he'd 'met' last time he had died. He pushed himself off of the ground, back to a seated position, and rubbed at his shoulder which was throbbing from its collision with the ground, wincing as in pulled slightly.

'Sorry Mr Stilinski, I did not mean to startle you. I also apologise for making you wait, I was not prepared for your visit.'

It was odd to think that the fates had been taken by surprise, that he had caught them off guard. It was in a way, strangely satisfying. He allowed himself a small smile, imagining the woman rushing around in a nightdress, shouting down a telephone about the Stilinski boy as she pulled curlers out of her hair and told her husband to go back to sleep. A fate's work is never done after all.

'Anyway,' the voice continued, 'I suppose you already know why you are here, so we do not need to go into that, so I'm afraid all that is left are the formalities, verbal signatures and the like. I'm sure you understand, even we have paperwork.'

It was all so… different. Different to the last time he had been there. Last time he'd come everything had been so mysterious and frustrating, now it was all clerical and formal. It was unsettling. His death – even if it was his second – shouldn't feel like filling out a form at an insurance company, it was a complete let down, underwhelming to the point that it was almost boring. He frowned in disappointment.

'Yeah, that all sounds fine I guess.'

He sighed and rested his head on the knuckle of his hand, waiting for his orders, eager to leave the limbo he was in, even if it did mean entering the unknown – that was how much he hated the white.

'Mr Stilinski, you do not seem as happy about the arrangement as we had expected, is there something wrong?'

Stiles laughed, bitterness flowing out of him in waves.

'No, no, it's fine, I'm fine. It's just that I miss my friends and my dad, and I kind of regret not jumping Derek earlier, but hey, what can I do about that now? Can we just not talk about it please; this whole thing is still kind of fresh.'

'If that is what you wish, of course, but I still do not see where this pain is coming from, you shall see your friends and family soon enough.'

'I don't think that thought is as comforting as you think it is, it gives me no pleasure to think of my friends joining me one day in the land of the dead, thank you very much, although it is nice to know that we can see each other in the afterlife. Maybe I can find my mum. Ooh, maybe I can meet Derek's family, will they still be werewolves? I've always wondered about his parents, oh and Laura and – oh wait no – will Peter be there too? Because I can't promise I won't punch him in the jaw for the trouble he has –'

'Mr Stilinski, you are not dead.'

Stiles froze, hands resting in mid air from where he'd been using them to gesture wildly during his babble. His mouth hung open inelegantly, but no words were forth coming. All he could do was stare ahead as his mind tore itself apart trying to work out what was happening. After a while he realised he was getting nowhere and managed to force out a strangled, 'What?'

'You are not dead Mr Stilinski. Whatever gave you that idea?'

Throwing his palms out to the side, he pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a pointed look, and gestured to his bland setting before allowing his hands to drop back to his knees with a huff.

'Ah I see.'

The voice tapered off, tutting under its breath as it determined what to say next.

'It seems out wires have crossed somewhat, and we have given you the wrong message. You are not here because we are reclaiming you as one of the dead, you are here because you managed to complete your task and we have to release you from your bond and send you back permanently.

'You look shocked. Did you not realise what you were doing when you were doing it? I'll take that dopey look as an affirmative shall I? Ok, what an utter mess this is.'

'Wait. What did I do? How did I complete my task? I mean I thought I got what it was, vaguely enough, but I never managed to follow through. You guys whisked me away before I could. I thought I had run out of time or something.'

He was breathless, mind still racing, and heart pounding as he clenched his hands into fists, the sharp tips of his fingernails cutting crescents into his palm. Every inch of his body thrummed with hope and excitement that he refused to latch onto, refused to accept until he had heard what the voice had to say.

'The moment you bonded with Mr Hale, the moment you allowed yourself to let go, and he returned the sentiment you offered, you changed the path your friends were travelling. That was all you needed to do to brighten their horizons, and yours too, and thus you fulfilled your requirement, and gave us justifiable reason to have sent you back.'

'So, you're telling me that all I had to do was make out with Derek Hale, and this would have all been over a lot sooner, without all the frustration and hair pulling?'

'It is not simply about the kiss, rather the feelings behind it, but in essence yes, the kiss represented your admittance to your feelings, which was what was required for the bond to form between you.'

'Alright, if you say so, I'm so not going to argue with the results.'

'That does not sound like you, but I too am not going to argue with the results. From what I gather silence is not often expected from you.'

Stiles laughed at that, happy to the point that he was verging on hysteria. His heart would not stop cracking against his ribs, and his fingers twitched as if they couldn't stand still. He dazedly went through the process of following all the orders the voice gave, listening with a spinning mind to the process of his return and giving his agreement at the end, all with very little focus at all. At long last the voice sighed and said,

'Seeing as you aren't even listening to me, we might as well send you home now. Are you ready?'

A quick nod from Stiles seemed to do the trick, and the next moment the whiteness trickled into his mind once more and washed though his thoughts. Before he succumbed he just about managed to hear the voice say,

'Goodbye Mr Stilinski, be safe.'

When Stiles came back to, he was sitting in the same worn out chair in Derek's house that he'd been in when the whiteness had come. And wasn't it a rush to think that the whiteness was never going to come again, to know that he was safe, at least in that moment?

He rested his head on the back of the chair, and breathed in deeply, smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt, but he really couldn't bring himself to care all that much.

The sound of voices made him sit up again, intrigued that he could hear them, even though he was pretty sure they were not in the house. Following the sound, he realised the voices were coming from outside. Stepping onto the porch, still concealed in the shadows, he took in the sight before him with his eyebrows drawn and a frown settling on his face. Derek and Scott were standing toe to toe, both wolfed out and growling, ready to pounce. The other betas were further away from the house, watching the fight with worry and trepidation, Isaac backed up slightly further than the others, shielding himself behind Jackson who had an arm out protecting the other wolf, though it wasn't clear if the action was completely conscious or not. It took Stiles a moment to realise that Scott and Derek were actually talking rather than growling like he had originally thought.

'You should have told us Derek. We could have helped. What gave you the right to –'

'He didn't want you to know, I respected his wishes. Do you seriously think this is what I wanted?'

'I don't know, you never liked him much, perhaps this is exactly what you wanted.' Seconds after the words left Scott's mouth he was lying on the ground, Derek looming over him with red eyes and a snarl, hand tight around Scott's neck.

'You don't know anything. You have no fucking idea what this is doing to me. This is the last thing I wanted, the last thing I can handle, and you have the nerve to presume that this is what I wanted? I would kill you right now if I didn't know how much he'd hate me for doing that.'

Derek let go of Scott and rose to his feet, turning his back on the beta as he got his wolf back under control. Scott too reverted to his human form, still knelt on the ground massaging his bruised throat. Without turning around Derek continued talking.

'Now that he is gone, you will be the new Alpha, Scott. I can only hope that the responsibility will encourage more restraint and maturity than you are showing me right now. It will be up to you to keep the betas in line when I am gone, to encourage their loyalty and to deal with threats to the pack. Can you manage that?'

At that Derek turned around to look at Scott, his eyes dark but human once more. Scott stared back wide eyed and confused. A glance at the other betas showed similar expressions on each of their faces, their eyes flicking from Derek to Scott and back again as they tried to make sense of the situation. Stiles understood their confusion, confusion didn't even begin to cover it.

'What are you talking about?'

Running a hand through his hair, sighing deeply as he did, Derek gazed down at where Scott was still knelt.

'He's dead.'

'I know that. But that doesn't make me Alpha. You're still here.'

The whole world seemed to thrum with anticipation and expectation, waiting to hear Derek's response, desperate to understand what was going on. Derek himself seemed reluctant to answer, but eventually he managed to force out a few words, enough to make the clearing still, enough to make Stiles' blood run cold.

'I won't live without him, I can't.'

Scott inhaled sharply, and Erica whined in the back of her throat, hand clenching around Boyd's bicep where she had it in a death grip.

'You can't kill yourself Derek, it isn't what he would have wanted.'

Derek turned to look at Erica, glaring at her until she took a step backwards, head bowed, cowering under the intensity of his gaze.

'He's dead,' he spat the word out, as if it hurt to say it. 'It doesn't matter what he would want.'

Scott shuffled back to his feet and brushed his jeans off. The action seemed to attract Derek's attention back to him, and when he looked up they locked gazes. Scott cocked his head to the side in an oddly canine manner, and appeared to try and decipher Derek's look. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and cold.

'What I don't understand is why you even care.'

Fists tangled themselves in the material of Scott's shirt as the boy was hauled off of the ground and towards the snarling face of an Alpha.

'Because I loved him.'

The words seemed to shock even Derek as he froze on the spot, Scott still dangling in front of him, equally as taken back. Coming back to himself, Derek dropped Scott to the ground and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as his elongated nails scraped against his jeans. No one knew what to say, and no one wanted to be the one to break the silence. Well, almost no one.

'I'm sorry what did you say?'

Heads snapped up at the sound, eyes darting around in panicked confusion. Stepping out of the shadows of the porch, Stiles grinned at the startled looks on their faces, looking from each one to the next, desperately wishing he had a camera, Jackson in particular was sporting a particularly accurate fish face. Before he could say anything scathing however, he was tackled to the ground, the air vacating his chest in one big exhale, leaving him gasping and breathless and looking up into the shining face of Derek Hale.

Derek seemed to be trying to touch every part of Stiles he could, as if he refused to believe that Stiles was there, alive and breathing again. Laughing as Derek's feather light touches against his ribs tickled him, Stiles grabbed Derek's shoulders tightly, bucking slightly, trying to remove the wolf from his hips.

'Hey, hey, stop that, it tickles. And wait, you never answered my question either.'

Halting in his movements, Derek frowned, his cheeks blushing faintly, and Stiles couldn't help but bring one of his hands up to brush against it, cooing lightly at Derek's embarrassment, much to Scott's disgust who gagged in the background. Derek growled softly in Scott's direction before returning his attention to Stiles, pushing into the hand on his cheek slightly as he muttered sullenly, 'I said I loved you.'

'Loved?'

Nipping at Stiles' fingers, Derek glared at the younger boy incredulously, but answered all the same.

'Love.'

Stiles smiled, wriggling beneath Derek in happiness and he brought his other hand up to Derek's neck, using it to pull him down closer. Just before their lips touched, he managed to pull back just long enough to whisper,

'I love you too… Sour Wolf.'

Scott's whine melted into the background as their lips finally met in a long overdue kiss.

So cheesy, but hey, I hope you liked it. We've reached the end my friends, thank you so much for reading. There may be an epilogue, so keep watching, but if there is it won't be any time soon, and if you have any ideas as to what it might contain, feel free to give me suggestions.