Chapter Seven, Dreaming is Believing

He had an abrupt flash of consciousness forcing him awake to see a dark shadow over him. Stiles jerked, but strong hands shoved him back against his bed. He opened his mouth to shout out for help, his father's name instinctually on his lips before the shadow attempted to shove something in his mouth. He snapped his jaw shut so quickly he cold feel his teeth jar against each other uncomfortably. Attempting to roll over turned out to be futile with that impossibly strong grip on his shoulders keeping him bedridden –he jerked his legs back, shoving at his attacker. It was a moment of intense struggle as the clawed hand left his mouth, scooping his legs together before crushing them against the bed with their body weight. What Stiles didn't account for was their speed, on top of the strength, because he had just enough time to inhale and formulate the first syllable of "help" before there was something stringy and dry being shoved back into his mouth.

No amount of coughing, squirming or resistance was enough to stop his attacker from shoving the food into his mouth. Stiles would have spat it out but the bastard was as cunning as he was quick, pinching his nose off. Stiles spat out the plant, the bitter taste still coating his tongue but his attacker shoved it back into his mouth easily. It wasn't like Stiles had much of a choice. He chewed and swallowed reluctantly, only to have darkness swallow him back up.

When Stiles came to, he was somewhere unfamiliar. He was lying in a heap in what looked like a spacious nursery.

There was a crib in the center of the room, bathed with sunlight. Above the crib was a mobile, it had a full moon and around it were four adult wolves, two of which were howling, and there were three cubs running around them. It was adorable.

Stiles got to his feet, more clumsy and awkward than even he was used to. He froze when he turned, realizing that he wasn't alone

–there was a young toddler standing on her tiptoes, peering into the crib with a bright grin on her face. Stiles glanced over to see a small infant there, a few strands of black hair on the top of his head. Best guess said it was a baby boy though, considering he was surrounded by a tide of blue. The little girl giggled, waving her fingers at the infant.

And suddenly a sea of darkness was swallowing Stiles up only to spit him back out shortly after. It was a rough, unforgiving, churning sea that threw him far and wide before he crashed onto smooth tile with an agonized yelp as the wind was knocked out of him.

He recognized the parlor of Hale Manor.

There was a middle aged woman sitting by the fire, practically bowed over a letter in her hands as her shoulders shook.

"What is it?" Peter asked worriedly, moving to stand beside her.

"David… they-they have David," she whispered, peering up at him.

"Shit," Peter swore softly, moving to stand beside her, rubbing a comforting hand along her back.

"I hadn't thought they would take notice quite like this," she mumbled despondently.

"I know… I didn't either. We can make it through this."

"What do I tell the kids? What am I supposed to say?"

"The truth," Peter offered wearily. "There's no other option."

"Derek's too young," she started to protest.

"He's mature for his age and he has us. It'll be okay."

She touched her stomach gingerly. "This changes everything…"

"We're good at adapting. Come on Talia, we… we don't know anything for sure yet."

The darkness swarmed around him and Stiles was seriously beginning to wonder what the hell was going on –he wasn't in Harry Potter. What the fuck was going on here? It felt like he was going to get whiplash soon if this didn't stop soon. He stumbled as he landed this time, tripping down a flight of stairs to land in the parlor again. No one took notice of him. He sat up, hissing in pain.

There was a little boy there, no more than ten years old with messy hair standing by his mother. At his side had to be his sister, a few years older with reddish hair. Peter was standing to the side, a faceless woman beside him.

Stiles frowned at that, staring as though he could discern her identity but he couldn't.

"Derek, Laura," she began haltingly. "Your father… he's… he's not coming home." She swallowed tightly, keeping the tears back just barely.

With a shock Stiles realized that this had been another time jump. If what he was seeing was true, anyways, then he had jumped sometime ahead of what he had last seen. Maybe it had something to do with whatever his attacker had given him. In which case this had to be the weirdest acid trip in the world.

"They took him?" Laura asked quietly, scrunching her face up adorably. "Didn't they?"

Their mother –Talia? –nodded warily.

"Are you going to go away too?" Derek asked.

Stiles watched as her resolve cracked. "I have to, baby. I don't want to. I'm so sorry."

"What are we gonna do without you?" Laura pressed. "Cora's too little to be alone. You said so yourself!"

"We don't have a choice," Peter snapped. "Your father isn't the only one missing in case you've forgotten."

The woman beside him stepped forward, her hand settling over his shoulder in reassurance. Peter turned away with a silent huff.

"And if we don't go you guys will be in danger. I can't let that happen. I won't be leaving Cora alone either. Auntie – staying with you."

Stiles jumped at that –it wasn't natural, it was as though the woman's existence had been erased or something.

The faceless woman stepped forward at that, kneeling down in front of the children. Judging by the rapt attention of the pre-pubescent Laura and younger Derek, the woman –their aunt? –was speaking.

"…rine will still be here too. She's a great tutor."

"Yeah so we don't have to worry about our education," Laura growled. "Only about whether our family is going to come back."

"Laura!" Talia barked with a stern glare. "I have to leave tomorrow. So does your uncle. I'm sorry it has to be like this."

Stiles yelped as he was deposited into a new year entirely. And to his displeasure he was stuck in a stuffy room holding Derek and an unfamiliar woman who seemed to be going over homework or something. Impatient with how out of control he felt, he unconcernedly walked out and explored the manor. It was different to the present time –it was brighter, for one, like the happiness of the occupants had seeped into the walls. Some objects had been moved around, many of the rooms had been shifted around it seemed. The room that Stiles knew was Derek's –in his own time –was a young girl's room. Stiles' own room seemed to be Derek's current one.

He stumbled across Laura in the library. She flicked her hair over her shoulder with a sigh as she glanced over the letter in her hands. Stiles ran towards her in fear that if he was too slow he would miss out on what the contents of the letter said.

March 28, 2005

Dearest Laura,

Katherine's advice was not badly given. Indeed the Argents have welcomed us quite warmly. Please tell her they send their regards. I know you don't trust her, but she has done nothing to deserve these suspicious. The Argents have said they would be happy to let us stay for as long as needed. Gerard would like to see his daughter though, so if you could pass the word on? I think the man's ill but he does hide it well from the rest of his family.

We found the remains of David, today. I'm afraid this must be the worst way for you to learn of it, but I can't risk being overheard. Your uncle will take this letter and send it to you as soon as he can. I don't think the Alphas will pursue us any longer as we never gave in. Peter killed the last of them today. It won't be long until we're home.

I know this seems cruel, but could you not tell Derek just yet? I want to surprise him that we're coming home with all this good news. He doesn't write me back anymore. But I can't blame him for that. I have a lot to remedy between us, all of us.

How is your aunt doing? I can't wait to be home again. I think Peter's even missing it at this point. We're going to stay another two days, to recuperate. Also to make sure that we have dealt with all the Alphas. I refuse to lead any of them back home. I hope you understand. I've told this to your brother too, but I don't think he'll take the news as well as you.

If it's not too much trouble, knock some sense into the boy.

XOXOXO, Talia Hale.

Laura's shaky exhale drew Stiles' attention back to her as she pulled out an article from the newspaper.

WEEKLY HILLS NEWS

NINE CONFIRMED DEAD, ONE CRITICAL CONDITION AFTER FIRE

April 12, 2005

Written by Miranda Talbot

"April Fool's Day joke gone wrong," say authorities. "It's the only thing that makes sense about this case –nothing." Early last week there was smoke reported at the Argent property where their guests were staying. By the time the Beacon Hills fire department had arrived, the blaze was already out of control. The fire continued to burn on late into the night with their expert intervention and they came across Peter Hale –the only survivor –badly burned a few miles from the fire in the undergrowth. Peter is currently in critical condition at Beacon Hills Memorial. The Argent property has thirty acres to its name, of which is private property.

"I didn't even know they had guests," recalled one neighbour. "They're very friendly people, I just hadn't been aware there was anyone staying. I can't imagine what they're going through. Simply awful."

Authorities have been able to contact Christopher Argent, son of the property owner Gerard. "I wasn't aware that was father was hosting any company," he responded. "Last I heard from my father he was going out on a hunting trip with my sister and they won't be back until next week."

Authorities are looking to contact Gerard and Kate Argent about the fire. It is unknown whether they were involved or not. Witnesses reported seeing them leave the Sunday before the fire and no one has seen them since. If you have any information please contact the Beacon Hills Police Department immediately.

When Stiles pulled away he was in an entirely different room. Derek was standing there –not the young Derek he had been seeing flashes of, but Derek-as-he-knew-him. Scowl and eyebrows and all.

"No," he growled, whirling to face Stiles. "No. You can't see this."

"I-I don't have control of this!" he yelped as the ground beneath his feet seemed to fall out.

Freefalling was not a feeling that Stiles was accustomed to nor was it one he liked when there was no end in sight. Derek was falling with him, directly across from him, panic sweeping across his features.

"Stop it!" Stiles cried desperately. "Just let me see it! Whatever it is! I swear it doesn't matter, it won't change anything!"

"It'll change everything!" he bellowed.

"We could be trapped in here or I could die! You could die! We could both fucking die Derek –now is not the time for your bullshit!"

Abruptly they landed. It was painless and uncomfortable, disorienting as Stiles stumbled back onto his feet. He still felt dizzy, like the world was spinning around him as he fell. Derek got to his feet, shooting Stiles a glower and the emptiness around them opened up into Derek's bedroom where a much younger, less scowl-y Derek sat beside his much older tutor.

Kate Argent laughed at something he said and reached over, brushing his hair back tenderly. The teenaged Derek blushed, but he didn't duck away shyly, instead turning towards her as the two kissed.

Beside him the present Derek snarled out furiously and the moment shattered before them. Just as abruptly Stiles found himself crashing onto the parlor floor with Derek.

"Happy seventeenth Derek," Kate laughed, strutting over to him.

A younger, somber looking Derek froze, looking up at her in fright. "K-Kate?" As quick as that, his reaction changed to anger as he launched himself at her.

She laughed gaily as Derek unexplainably soared past her and tumbled against the landing. It didn't stop him from getting back on his feet, blood trickling down from his nose and lip.

"Why are you here?" he growled, watching her guardedly. "The police want to talk to you, you know. You have a lot of things to answer for."

"Like your family's death?" she giggled. "I don't have to answer for that, kid. It isn't my problem."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Stiles winced at the hope in Derek's voice, the sheer hope. Beside him, his present Derek had his back to the scene and was standing as straight and still as a statue. This was not going to end nicely. Not that Stiles had ever expected it to end in any other way.

"I didn't do anything! It was all my father, you know how he is." She pouted at that, flattering her eyes comically. "He just gets these ideas sometimes. And I couldn't stop him! I've spent the last month hunting him down, and I finally found him. For you. I know how much it would mean to you."

It was painful to watch the way Derek believed her. Stiles wanted to turn away, but he found that he was unable. Beside him, Derek dropped to his knees.

"Oh my god! You ate that right up!" She laughed. "You're so fucking dumb Derek. I took some gasoline and I doused the place with it while they were having dinner with my dad. Your uncle would have died if he hadn't thought something was weird –I threw a match and the place lit up like you wouldn't believe. Ah, god it was gorgeous. So then I went out back and met up with dear old Dad and we went for a nice hunting trip. And now here I am."

Derek stared at her, frozen in place. "W-what?" he stuttered weakly.

Kate scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You think I was interested in you? Wrong. You have got to be the least interesting person on the planet. And your emotional range is worse than a teaspoon, you know. It's pathetic, really."

"W-why?" his voice cracked and he ducked his head shamefully.

"Why the hell not?" she asked blithely. "Your mom was a bitch." She reached into her leather pocket, pulling out a key. "I needed one fucking book, it really wasn't much to ask." As she spoke, she spun the key around her finger idly. "But no, she said that area was off limits." Abruptly she let go, the key flying towards Derek –he caught it one handed, staring at her in alarm.

"Oh don't worry Derek, babe," Kate cajoled. "I know you said you would get it, but I couldn't wait that long."

"Yo-you only asked… just… I was waiting for her to come home."

"I told you to write that letter," Kate sneered. "But no. You had too much pride for that, didn't you? Now look at where we are."

Derek jerked to look back towards her; the hurt across his face was branded there like a slap. His eyes took on a glassy sheen as tears threatened to win the battle against his will.

"You're a monster," she sang. "A terrifying, ugly little monster Derek. I mean really, you got your whole family killed. Because you couldn't even ask for a key. And you know what? I think there's only one way to deal with your kind of monster.

"Human on the outside, monstrous on the inside. Let the wilde beast come out to play in moonlight's shadow, until thy thirtieth birthday or death befalls. Should one of kind heart forgive your wretched soul, they must suffer your hideous hide until you forgive yourself. Ask every night after midnight's bell for forgiveness until you can ask no more –then ask yourself. Thus I give you your just desserts –monster on the inside to be the monster outside, from dusk to dusk shall you be a wolf-man begging forgiveness for your sins. None shall leave once they set foot on Hale'd ground until my price has been met."

Derek screamed, dropping into the fetal position as convulsions wracked his small, lithe body.

Kate rolled her eyes. "If I could, I would let death be your only escape. It's all you deserve. Fucking spells."

As Derek writhed in agony, Kate walked back out of the Hale Manor, her high heels clicking across the smooth tile.

Stiles gaped in horror. He had a million questions on his mind, and one burning statement but Derek waved them away with a flick of his hand and suddenly a different kind of darkness enveloped them. It was more natural. They barely stumbled, fumbling in the underbrush. Derek grabbed his arm, dragging him ahead.

"Where are we?" he asked in annoyance. This endless blast of memory was exhausting.

"Not in my head," Derek bit out. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters! How are we outside?!"

"It has to be someone else's memory –probably Peter."

"Peter?"

"He shoved something in my mouth and I woke up here," he admitted.

"Someone attacked me too," Stiles gushed. "It must've –maybe it was one of the herbs?"

They hit a clearing abruptly that stumped Stiles into silence.

"You idiot!" Peter roared, shoving Derek back.

Derek let himself fall, hitting the ground hard. He turned away from his uncle's burning gaze.

"You let them die! For some whore! And now you involve me in your mess?" he laughed mirthlessly. "You want me to say I forgive you? I fucking well don't. I lost my family, I lost everything! I was there, Derek. I heard them scream and cry and beg until there was nothing left. I could smell them dying, you idiot! And you spent all that time fucking around with some homicidal bitch who killed them!"

"Uncle Peter, please," Derek whimpered. "I didn't- I didn't know."

"You deserve this. It's your mess. But I'll do one for you. I have until midnight? I'll kill the bitch." Peter walked away.

And just like that, they were pulled into another memory that consisted of a strangled scream and gore splattering through the night. Peter's howl was chilling and terrifying as he raced back towards Hale property, his blood drenched claws still dripping her warm blood. He seemed to relish it, the way his eyes blazed and the energy soared through him.

Stiles woke up with a yelp, crashing his skull against Derek's. They were piled together on his floor, the bedroom door left wide open as Stiles caught sight of a disappearing socked foot. Peter, no doubt making his escape. Worriedly Stiles looked at Derek, watched as he blinked slowly and turned away from Stiles. The events earlier that morning were forgotten in the wake of the revelation their shared memories had brought.

"Dream root," Stiles mumbled. "That's probably what did this."

"If you bring me one more fucking herb, I will tear your throat out with my teeth," Derek growled, sitting up as he rubbed at his forehead subtly.

"Sorry, I didn't… I was just trying to help," Stiles offered cautiously.

Derek avoided his gaze. "Not your fault. I'll talk to Peter."

"I don't think he's going to want that."

"I don't care!" Derek growled, his red irises flashing dangerously. "He isn't going to get away with this."

Derek got to his feet with a growl, clawed hands clenched into fists, blood slowly dripping down them onto the carpet. It was clear he had every intention to chase after Peter –and it wasn't as though Peter didn't deserve it. This had been memory rape –forcing Derek to share what he clearly wasn't ready to. Maybe he never would have been ready to, not that Stiles could blame him, but this was not going to make anything easier. It was a bit of a surprise actually, that Peter hadn't told everyone in the household to turn them against Derek.

Stiles knew what he was going to say, had the words on the tip of his tongue, but at the last second he changed them. Derek was at the doorway. "Isn't Allison an Argent?" he asked tentatively. "And her father, Chris?"

"She was his sister," Derek snapped.

"Did you – did Peter know –that they're -?"

"No," Derek snarled, whirling to look back at Stiles. "You think -?"

"It could have been Peter!" Stiles defended himself. "If he knew. He didn't – he isn't exactly the most sane person around here, Derek."

"Well your friend Lydia doesn't seem to feel the same now does she?" he sneered. "It would be better if everyone just left Peter alone."

"I agree," Stiles offered. "What he did –now and before –totally out of line."

Derek stopped, staring at Stiles in something akin to shock. Stiles managed a smile. Derek rolled his eyes, shook his head and walked away.

"Hey Derek," Stiles said softly, once he was sure Derek was too far away to hear him. "I forgive you."

So a couple of things...

The dream sequence is meant to be abrupt and jarring and awkward. I kind of decided to write it like that.

Additionally I never meant to write these scenes. I was going to have Derek eventually describe what had happened. But Peter decided to get the dream root and be creepy so he dragged Derek to Stiles' room and joined their memories via dream root.

Also, I finished writing this at about 3:30 am. I apologize for any mistakes.