He didn't feel better after a shower. Not exactly. But Stiles' shirt was safely tucked away and he was resolutely not thinking about it. The last thing he needed was everyone picking up on Stiles' scent draped across his skin anyways. It was one thing for his parents and Will to know. He didn't need the entire pack, a lot of wolves he'd never even met, knowing too. He was pulling on a shirt when his door creaked open and Derek turned quickly, shocked to see Annabelle standing there. She smiled at him toothily stepping into the room and pulling herself onto the unmade bed.
"You snuck up on me," Derek accused softly.
"You let me," she said, smile never decreasing.
"I was thinking," he finished pulling his shirt down and crossed to sit next to her. "Why are you alone?" he asked as he realized the house was silent around them.
"I told Mama I was going," she returned easily.
"You came by yourself?" Derek demanded, chest clenching up. She laughed.
"Of course I did. It's only seven miles Derek." Derek couldn't even think of a response. She was so carefree about it. About traveling seven miles of wilderness alone. Annabelle listened to his escalating heart rate attentively, smile finally falling. She took one of his hands in both of hers. "I know something bad happened when you were young," she told him. "But something like that can't happen anymore. Things are different now."
"How do you know?"
"Because my daddy told me." Derek wasn't relieved by this.
"Annabelle you always need to be careful. Always. Even when you don't think you do. Okay?" She smiled softly and Derek could tell she was only humoring him.
"Okay Derek I will."
"What are you doing here anyways?" he questioned eager for something else to think about.
"I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a run," she said hesitantly. "Before tonight."
He hesitated and Annabelle really was too smart for her own good. "I'm going anyways. I just thought I'd be polite." Derek sighed at her. He really didn't know when she'd gotten so clever, especially when she was spoiled rotten by everyone in her vicinity.
"When you put it like that I don't suppose I have much choice." She smiled at him again.
"Good. We'll see if you can keep up." She was off the bed without another word and Derek barely heard her leap down the steps. With a growl that was only part irritation he followed, jumping right over the railing and narrowly missing a lamp. The front door was still open in Annabelle's wake and Derek stayed on all fours to shoot out as well, forcing it open with his shoulder when he didn't fit. He cleared the stairs easily and his chest swelled as he dragged in a deep, sweet inhale. Annabelle was still close and he'd catch up with her easily so Derek took a few moments just to stretch his limbs comfortably, still enjoying the pure air.
Derek had never felt much for cities, he'd spent more than enough time them, but there was no better air than there was here in Maine. At least if there was he hadn't found it and he severely doubted it existed anyways. But he supposed he'd always have his heart set here. It was where he grew up and all his memories of Laura were attached to it. She'd also died here and Derek felt a pinch in his chest as he thought about it. He was fairly sure he could still go to the place where it had happened. He wondered if he'd smell her blood if he did. Hear her scream again. Be pinned down by the same helpless feeling from all those years before. Dread thickened in his stomach as he realized that if he was going to stay here, part of him wanted to, he'd have to go back. He would have to try and accept it. Derek shook his head, heels digging in as he pushed harder. He didn't want to think about it. He could face down those demons later. Right now he needed to keep an eye on Annabelle anyways. That thought firmly in mind he let his fingers rake through the dirt, launching himself through the air. Annabelle growled as he tackled her and rolled them, one arm wrapped carefully around her ribs. He dragged his tongue along her cheek, crossing his eyes for a moment. Annabelle snarled at him, eyes glowing and even tiny fangs dropping down. Derek nearly gasped, surprised by her petite ferocity. Her foot landed solidly, very close to his crotch, Derek took the hint and let her go. She howled a quick victory and Derek gave chase again, wondering why no one had warned him about her. Vicious little angel.
They had traveled nearly thirty miles before Annabelle stopped, plopping down in some grass and brushing wild curls from her face.
"We're nearly to the border," she explained quietly.
"What border?" She shot him a strange glance and he scooted closer before plucking a twig from her hair.
"Our border what do you think Derek?"
"What do you mean our border?" Derek tugged her closer, lifting her quickly by the hips and dropping her right in front of him. He settled in to pull more foliage from her hair, smacking the backs of her hands when she tried to scratch him.
"The border where our territory ends. Duuuuuuuh."
"We're still on Hale land?" She twisted around enough to stare at him with an expression he immediately associated with Stiles.
"Yes. It's not exactly the safest outside." Derek was still trying to push thoughts of Stiles away so he went back to her hair silently. Annabelle looked more like a wild child raised by wolves than anyone had a right to. Ever. "You have so much to learn Derek," Annabelle sniffed, tone superior. Derek simply rolled his eyes, choosing this time not to answer. He made a mental note to try and keep her with her mom. She was much tamer. But then again maybe he just needed to win her over. He could hope.
"Well you two are pretty far out," a voice called. Derek whipped to see a man making his way towards them, shirt hanging from the waistband of his jeans. His skin was shimmering with sweat in the sun and Derek all but bared his teeth as he approached them.
"I wanted to prove something," Annabelle said, sounding awfully proud of herself. She huffed and pouted when Derek didn't release her. The other werewolf seemed to take the hint, stopping his progress and smiling.
"I'm Landon, resident guard dog. One of them anyways." Derek felt his eyebrows move up.
"Guard dog?" Landon's lips twitched, a smile blossoming as Annabelle sunk her teeth into Derek's wrist and burst from his grasp.
"Not that this little one needs it," he said, catching her easily and swinging her up.
"I tried to tell Derek that," she giggled, scrambling up and settling on his shoulders.
Derek pushed to his feet slowly, brushing himself off. Landon examined him a moment before sticking out his hand. His hand hovered between them, pink palm tilted up just slightly.
"I know what you're thinking," he offered as Derek caught his hand, "I didn't grow up like this either."
"Is it really safe?" Derek questioned. Annabelle rolled her eyes.
"We work hard to keep it that way," Landon told him, tickling the sole of Annabelle's foot and narrowly missing a kick to the jaw. "At any given time there's four of us patrolling the perimeter."
"And what do you do if someone crosses it?"
"Observation first. Always observation. If we see them more than once and don't know who they are…we find out." Derek didn't ask what he meant. There was no need to. He wondered how often it stopped at finding out and how often it didn't. "We don't have much trouble," Landon added calmly. "Most hunters operate under a code. Those that don't…" Derek had a feeling they didn't really need to censor the conversation for Annabelle but he appreciated it nonetheless. "The hunters you have experience with are few and far between. Once they check out that we're not hurting anyone they move on. And from what I hear your hunters…well they got theirs. Slowly," he added significantly. Derek bared his teeth, unable to stop it and barely able to catch the growl. "Your family can tell you more about it," he said after a long, quiet moment, "I just thought you should know that we know what happened. And we are all committed to it never happening again." His eyes flashed and the tension seeped from Derek's frame suddenly. He only wondered for a moment who Landon had lost. It wasn't his place to ask. Annabelle was rubbing her hands over the hair that Landon barely had.
"Come on mush, I need a bath before the meeting tonight." Landon's eyes dimmed and he smiled up at her.
"You've been watching Balto again haven't you?" he asked dryly.
"No," she laughed, rubbing his hair again.
Derek and Landon got lemonade and fresh cookies for the chore of bringing Annabelle home. She was sent straight for a bath and after a few moments Emily joined them on the porch.
"Is she being rough on you?" she questioned lightly, brushing a hand through Derek's hair. Twigs clattered to the porch and he fought the urge to blush.
"I think I have to say yes," he sighed.
"She's just jealous," Emily offered sagely, "you're getting a lot of attention. Probably only going to get more for a few weeks." Derek winced and Emily laughed. "It's probably good for her. You can only be the baby of the pack for so long."
"Shhhhh," Landon let out, shaking his head and biting into another cookie. "She'll run out here buck naked and push his face in the dirt you keep talking like that." Emily laughed again and Derek found himself smiling too. He could picture Annabelle doing it too so he wasn't even sure why he was amused. He probably shouldn't be.
"She has her father's spirit," Emily admitted.
"And your charm," Peter called from the driveway. Emily rolled her eyes, frighteningly like Annabelle. She pushed her chair back and crossed the porch, meeting Peter on the steps and kissing his cheek. Landon shifted to tug his shirt on, the thin cotton sticking in several places. Derek spiked a brow but chose to say nothing. Peter had always been territorial.
"Derek, good to see you out and about. How are you feeling?" Derek shrugged.
"Just trying to adjust."
"Yes we're a bit more…tense than your Washington pack."
"I don't know about that. There's no fence here." Peter's lips pursed briefly.
"I suppose you're right. But everything will come in time. Tonight is for celebration."
"Papa!" Annabelle yelled, hurtling out of the house and right into his arms, water spraying out in her wake.
"Belle," Peter returned, scooping her up and touching a finger to her nose. "You look magnificent," he told her, touching their foreheads and smoothing the pink of her dress.
"She'll look better once her hair is braided," Emily countered, pulling Annabelle from Peter's arms. "You could use a bath too. And a shave."
"Whatever would I do without you," Peter sighed. Emily patted his chest with her free hand before turning and disappearing inside the house. "I suppose I'll see you two tonight then."
Derek was surprised to find himself sticking close to Landon through most of the meeting. His family gave him a pretty wide berth, understanding that other members of the pack needed time to scent him and in most cases meet him. But Derek felt a connection with Landon. He couldn't fully understand it but he certainly wasn't going to ignore it. Landon's mate, Eden, had a quiet strength to her. She was all kind smiles meeting Derek and didn't seem to mind that he more or less trailed after them for the evening. He didn't handle being the center of attention well. At least it was less pack meet and more pack party. There were a few small fires going, enough food to feed the entire county, and even music playing quietly somewhere. It was good. It felt like home. Not that Derek was used to pack meetings like this. It was similar to Ross' pack but he never made a habit of going to those and he wasn't used to his pack being so large. He wondered if expanding and taking care of all these people had been his father's, perhaps his family's, catharsis.
"I've been waiting to get you alone!" Grace launched herself at him, arms tangling around his neck. Derek stayed firm; if he stumbled she'd be letting him hear about it forever.
"We're hardly alone," he pointed out with half a smile.
"Yes well if we were actually alone your brother would get all jealous and try to drag me off somewhere by my hair."
"He would never do that."
"Yeah," Grace sighed, flipping some hair over her shoulder, "you're right."
"He can be pretty vicious though, you might be surprised."
"I grew up with him remember?"
"Yeah but you missed most of him growing up." An awkward moment passed before, "Just saying."
Derek didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to push the conversation from where it was to somewhere that was actually pleasant. "But when you left I was still in my Little House on the Prairie braids and Curt couldn't go a day without pulling some sort of immature prank." Derek's lips twitched. He couldn't help it. He still didn't know how Curtis had managed to steal her entire underwear drawer and string every piece of it from trees throughout a six mile radius. Well he'd helped with the stringing. It was the stealing he didn't understand. Grace smacked his shoulder, hard, and Derek thought she was thinking about the same thing he was. "I really thought my father was going to kill him," she allowed. "Though why he stopped me from doing it I'm really not sure."
"You weren't exactly as kind as you could have been," Derek reminded her. "Still aren't from what I hear."
"What I owe him sex because he's not cutting off random clumps of my fur every full moon these days?"
"Hey don't try and turn this around on me," Derek said quickly, holding up a palm. "You know what I mean. He's never had eyes for anybody else and you've never enjoyed torturing anybody else." Her lips curled barely.
"Aren't you supposed to be on his side?"
"Nobody's side. Perfectly neutral."
"Yeah sounds like it."
"Okay maybe I'm a bit fonder of you."
"When'd you become such a romantic anyways?"
"I suck at romance. I've been told."
"Hm," Grace let out. "I don't know how much I believe that."
"If I was good at it fate has a pretty sick sense of humor."
He was so very done then. He was surrounded by a shit ton of people he didn't know and yeah a few he loved but the person he wanted to see was across the entire fucking continent. Too many smells were shoving into his nose and scraping across his tongue. His teeth were grinding. Grace didn't say anything else. She didn't call him back when he stalked off either. He passed Landon headed for the trees and heard Landon follow him for a few feet before stopping. Derek didn't turn back, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets hard. His wolf was all but circling under his skin, whines tugging at his throat. He just needed…well he needed to run. Derek nearly jerked to a stop as he realized that he could run. There was a perimeter. There were guards for fuck's sakes. He was as safe as he was ever going to be. His hands were tearing at his jacket then, yanking it from his shoulders and throwing it to the ground. He was still in full view of the pack and he didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Running anywhere but here sounded like the only thing that could keep the heart beating in his chest. The shift surged through him, stronger than he was used to, faster too. Of course he'd forgotten what being near pack was like. Somewhat funny that he should be reminded as he was running away from them. But he wouldn't go too far. Not this time.
Plopping down into the silt by a creek Derek released a heavy sigh. Water slid down his body slowly and he resisted the urge to get up enough to shake off. Instead he laid back, one arm under his head. He was more wolf than he was used to too. Being near his pack and drawing from their strength again he supposed. His claws dug into the silt, all four paws, and he breathed in slow and deep. He'd run until he scented the perimeter and then changed directions, hitting it again and changing directions again. He'd hunted and then gone for a swim to clean off. There was something so pure about letting his wolf out. He hadn't done it in so long. He'd let his wolf out certainly. You just couldn't keep it buried absolutely. It would drive you insane. But he hadn't just let go. Not since… Not since he was a boy. Listening to the woods around him Derek was sort of surprised no one had come after him. Not even to make sure he was okay? But then he remembered his father asking him if he was going to attend the meet. Asking. It had never been an option. Ever. There was a meet you went. You did whatever your pack required of you. That was the end of the story. His family was giving him space. They must really want him to stay if they were this afraid of scaring him off. He sighed and a flush of guilt washed over him. Derek hadn't even really been part of the pack in Washington. He'd been a guest. A trespasser to most of them he was sure. Why Ross had bothered taking him in he didn't know. Then again he'd been on his own so long. Ross must have known. He was always creepy smart like that. Like he could read your mind as if you'd just laid it out for him. He'd even been right about Stiles. Derek's lips curled. I thought no one would ever fit you so well as him. He didn't even know if he wanted Ross to be right. What if he was? What if he wasn't? Derek bit at his lip, the tiny flare of pain a sorry attempt at distraction. He wondered if Stiles had made it home yet. If he was okay. When he was going to laugh again. When he was going to forget about Derek and move on. He was running again with the next breath.
Smoke was just barely lingering in the air when Derek finally made his way back home. The meet had broken up hours ago and while he wondered if anyone had bothered to gather his clothes he certainly wasn't worried about it enough to track back and pick them up. There was always tomorrow and a little water wouldn't do them any harm. All he wanted to do now was sag into bed. Maybe curled around Stiles' shirt. He knew he shouldn't. He should make the scent last a long fucking time because he'll only want it more once it's well and truly gone but he was feeling weak and lonely and he wanted it. He wasn't expecting Will to be sitting on the top step. There were no words exchanged, and why would there be Derek was still on all fours, Will just stood and stretched, waiting for him. Derek huffed out what would have been a sigh, what was very nearly a whine, and approached the steps. He climbed them slowly, a whine escaping when Will's fingers dragged between his shoulders.
"You can bunk with me tonight," he offered, pulling the door open and holding it. Derek managed a quick nod before creeping into the house and starting up the stairs. He listened as Will closed the door softly and paced into the kitchen. The fridge opened and shut and then Will was on the stairs too, a hand straying to Derek's shoulder as he caught up. "Your room or mine?" Will gave a quick scratch and Derek huffed in return. "Whatever's closest right." Derek waited impatiently for Will to open his door, which was ridiculous really because if he just got back on two feet he could do it himself; the rest of Derek's brain was unimpressed with this observation. He didn't feel like doing it himself. He still just wanted to crawl into bed. That was all he wanted. Sleep didn't sound half bad either.
He was on the stairs before he realized that he was awake. He was also naked but that wasn't his first concern. He'd been dreaming. A dream. Just a dream. His heart wouldn't quiet in his chest and he had to force himself to turn around and go back to his room. Sweat was sticking to his skin and his chest ached with how hard he'd been breathing. He knew, he knew, that Stiles was okay. It had just been a dream. But he crossed to his dresser anyways. The screen of his phone glared to life and Derek squinted against it. He dialed Ross.
"Derek?" he sounded alert and concerned and Derek was biting his lips against a whimper just like that.
"How is he?" his tone was pleading and Derek's free hand curled, cautious of how fragile his phone was. Ross was silent a long moment.
"He's sleeping. We gave him some medicine. He'll be okay."
"Sleeping," Derek repeated. He sagged against the dresser and exhaled. "Okay yeah."
"Derek," his tone was hesitant and Derek tensed again. "You can't do this. When Stiles leaves here there won't be a way to contact him. You won't be able to check on him. You have to let him go." It was like a solid punch to his gut, or more accurately a few claws digging right into his gut, and Derek gritted his teeth.
"I know," he managed, eyes burning. He sucked in a quick breath and held it, trying to calm down. "No. I know. I didn't mean to. I won't. Okay." He ended the call and closed his fingers around the phone, working to breathe.
The quiet
"Derek," behind him wasn't enough to hide the crunch of the plastic. He set the mangled phone back on the dresser carefully. For several moments he didn't move, forcing himself not to tug open the bottom drawer. He was being ridiculous. Stiles was fine. He would be fine. It wasn't like Derek even had a right to hurt this much. He'd done the right thing and he knew he had. Plus he hadn't really lost him. Not like he'd lost Laura. And he had no business hurting what felt like the same amount. But maybe it was just because it was fresh. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad in a few more days. The full moon was coming. It would get better. Derek forced his hands to move, opening his top drawer and slipping into boxers. He didn't feel anything as he did it. Each motion was mechanical. Only done because it needed to be done. He walked back to bed and climbed in, sliding his arm under the pillow before looking to Will. "Okay?" Will questioned, watching him closely.
"Bad dream," Derek said, not letting the thoughts in. He never wanted to relive that.
"Laura?" Will asked very softly. Derek shook his head. "Oh."
"Yeah."
"I'll go with you…to see her…if you want," Will offered haltingly; as if each word was pulled lose with pliers.
"Thanks," Derek breathed. He didn't know when he was going or if he wanted anyone there when he did. He'd have to decide later. "It's really weird having someone to lean on," he admitted.
"I don't mind you leaning on me Bro."
"You're supposed to be able to lean on me."
"We're pack," Will told him sternly, "we lean on each other. You know that. You're not alone anymore Derek." He didn't say anything. He knew he wasn't alone. But he couldn't help it if he still felt that way.
Footsteps padded down the hall and Amelia slipped through the door, not pausing to ask permission before climbing in bed too. Will grumbled, Derek stayed silent, but they both moved over for her. There were more footsteps before she'd even settled and then Aaron was there too.
"What the hell?" Derek mumbled. "Were you both eavesdropping?" Will half curled at the foot of the bed, smacking a few feet.
"You were whining," Aaron informed him sleepily. Derek's chin ducked to his chest all on its own and he felt his face heat.
"It's fine," Amelia told him, looping an arm over his waist and kicking at Aaron lightly, "we're here." She wiggled her head until her hair resettled before sighing quickly. "And you will tell me all about him. Just. Later. When you're ready." Derek's eyebrows moved up in shock and Will was quick with a,
"I didn't say anything."
"Course you didn't," Amelia sighed, "fucking werewolf remember. I have good ears."
"You weren't even in the house."
"No I wasn't," she agreed and Will looked strangely guilty. Derek rolled his eyes and settled back into his pillow.
"Wasn't like it was gonna stay a secret forever anyways." Derek didn't even think of the pictures until he'd said it. Of course Amelia would just act like she already knew. He closed his eyes instead of rolling them again. He didn't need to see Amelia's smirk to know it was there.
…
"You don't have to," Ross was saying and Stiles forced himself to tune back into the conversation.
"Yeah," he agreed, blinking slowly.
"It just might…make things easier. In a weird way."
"Yeah," Stiles repeated, guts doing a sickening flip. It was the day after Aiden's visit and Ross had come this time. Stiles felt bad for it, but he was relieved to see him. "My dad would definitely go easy on me if I'm not like…well when I get back." He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and let it drop. Ross' plan made sense and he knew it did. Still Stiles was loathe to really think about it because how was he supposed to leave? He didn't know most of the pack but they were Derek's pack. What if he did come back? And Stiles wasn't here? Stiles swallowed around a sigh. It wasn't as if staying was an option anyways. Staying wasn't an option when Derek was still here. He definitely couldn't justify staying now that he was gone. If he left today the remains of the bond would make him cold, weak, possibly despondent. Ross had already assured him that it wouldn't be bad enough for drugs. Not to mention, going home to his dad and Scott and even Mrs. McCall would help. They were his pack and werewolf or not they would be able to offer comfort and support. If he left now an escape attempt would be more believable. Well escape success he supposed. Ross suggested staying as close to the truth as possible. Stiles could see the wisdom of that. So kidnapped yes. Drawn into a cult yes. Maybe even met someone, Stiles would decide that later. He'd already decided he'd be as vague as possible when describing his escape. Or he could even say he'd been helped. By the man he met. Just a corner of Stiles' mouth curled at the thought. He liked the thought immediately. That way he could tell his dad about Derek. It would make sense that he missed him.
Stiles closed his eyes briefly and breathed out. He was fine. He just had to remind himself.
"So what I tell my dad is completely up to me?" Stiles wasn't sure why he just felt the need to ask again. Ross folded his hands in his lap, observing Stiles silently. Obviously. Stiles could all but hear it and rolled his eyes. "I mean I could tell him you guys are up here and every full moon," he paused to howl softly.
"If you want," Ross allowed.
"Really? Shouldn't there be like a gag order or I don't know 'keep your mouth shut or you'll sleep with the fishes?'"
"No offense Stiles but our lawyer is quite expensive and we're not mobsters."
"Well just werewolves!" Stiles protested, "You're werewolves! Shouldn't that require like the utmost secrecy?!"
"If secrecy was that desperate for our survival we wouldn't be bringing humans in at all."
"Oh," Stiles let out quickly. "Yeah that makes sense I guess."
"There's simply the fact that he might not believe you. Think you're trying to protect someone. Or you could feed him half truths and actually try to protect us. But I highly doubt that the downfall of this entire pack could ever rest on your shoulders. It's exceedingly unlikely. I mean they'd have to burn the forest down around us." He paused to pick something off his slacks as Stiles stared at him.
"Well when you put it that way…" Ross didn't respond, calmly folding his hands again. "You're such a manipulator," Stiles complained halfheartedly. "Alright so I don't tell my dad that werewolves exist. I suppose he'll sleep better at night not knowing anyways. Back to the cult thing?" Ross nodded once.
"There are some crazy cults on this side of the country."
"Tell me about them," Stiles murmured, scooting up the bed before leaning back and closing his eyes. "I'll need some good material."
Stiles supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised by the pack's organization. They had been living in secret and even dragging humans to live with them in secret, for years now. So he shouldn't have been surprised. But he was. It barely seemed possible to be gathering his things later the same day. The sun was still up, near the middle of the sky. Stiles was tired and thinking too much, wondering if he'd be able to sleep in the car. He hadn't been sleeping very well. Mostly he tried very hard not to think of Derek. To think about leaving without actually thinking about leaving. He wasn't leaving. He was going home. It was a small, very important distinction. It made everything a bit easier to swallow and Stiles actually cracked a smile when presented with his book bag. "Jesus," he exhaled, having totally forgotten it'd been on his back when he was grabbed. "I never did my chemistry homework," he remembered suddenly. A slight laugh found its way out. "Guessing Harris won't accept it late."
"I'm sure things will work out," Ross told him. Stiles had the uneasy notion that he wasn't talking about chemistry. He swallowed a sigh rather than letting it out. He was never going to leave if he didn't just do it.
"So it's time right?"
"Yes," Ross agreed quietly.
"Right." Stiles' teeth clicked together and he slung his book bag over one shoulder. It was an alien feeling and he ran his hands through his hair quickly to try and dispel the butterflies in his stomach. Everything would be alright. He was going home. Maybe if he just believed that it would be okay it really would be. It was a childish notion but it made him feel better so he'd take it anyways.
He was only partly surprised to see pretty much the whole pack gathered once again. He hadn't been pack very long but he supposed this was tradition. Taylor and Aubrey hugged him at the same time, making him jump.
"Good luck Stiles," Aubrey breathed, smoothing his hair before stepping back into Chase's arm.
"Sorry it didn't work man," Taylor told him, hugging him tighter for just a moment. He was gone before Stiles could sag into him like he really wanted to. Brennan was right there too, looping an arm over his shoulders and rubbing his cheek along Taylor's. Stiles felt his eyebrows inch together in confusion but let it pass.
"Stiles," Aiden stuck out a hand, eyes observing Stiles. "I'm gonna miss you," he offered when Stiles took it.
"Yeah," Stiles agreed. He was reasonably sure he'd miss everyone. It wasn't as if he'd been treated badly here. And it was only so long before the memories would fade and become even more important to him. Aiden stepped back too, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Stiles frowned, yelping when he was yanked into the air by Shane. It felt like his entire torso was wrapped up in massive arms.
"Little man," he sighed, hauling him even higher. Stiles patted at his bicep awkwardly, gaping when Shane pushed closer to his neck and growled.
"Good wolfie?" he tried, voice cracking. Several wolves were pulling them apart then, Shane shaking his head as if he had to clear it. Stiles was released, Shane wasn't.
"Sorry," Shane said, "I know. Sorry."
"Um," Stiles managed, glancing around uncomfortably.
"We can smell the claim on you fading," Ross explained quietly. "It's somewhat like blood in the water."
"Oh," Stiles said, as if that explained everything.
"It just makes us a bit…shifty."
"Oh. Well sorry." Ross smiled at him, guiding him forward with a hand on his shoulder.
"It's fine Stiles."
The interior of the van didn't look nearly so threatening this time and Stiles got in all by himself. He waved as the door shut, biting at a grimace when the gesture was returned.
"Here," one of the wolves in the front offered, tossing fabric back to him. Stiles realized it was the comforter from Derek's house and sighed quickly.
"Thanks," he managed.
"It'll help," she added. Stiles wasn't sure what exactly it was supposed to help with but he unfolded it anyway, wrapping it around his shoulders as the engine started. He couldn't help the surprised little sound he made as he caught just a hint of Derek in the fabric. Stiles buried his face deeper, tugging the fabric tighter around him at the same time. He shuddered just once, the good kind of shudder where everything just feels amazing for about two seconds. Stiles rolled to his side before struggling to get his book bag out from under the cover. It was another few moments before he was completely wrapped inside the blanket. He felt warm and safe and Stiles knew it was all an illusion but he didn't care. He hadn't actually been cold enough to feel it. It was one of the things you didn't realize until it wasn't there anymore. He could finally relax. Inhaling slowly he let it back out just as slow. Yeah this was okay. He could handle this. But he'd been telling himself that a lot lately hadn't he? Stiles curled tighter, one hand worming under his shirt for the scratches still lingering on his skin. Fingertips skittering over them Stiles forced his breathing deep and calm again. Warm. Safe. Okay. He dozed off still clinging to the feeling of being okay.
Stiles felt weirdly groggy when he woke up, tongue too thick in his mouth. It took what felt like an hour to realize that it was too quiet. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, swallowing with some difficulty.
"Damn when did you guys drug me?" he questioned, glancing out the windows before looking to the people in the front.
"Just after you drifted off," the blonde woman offered with a smile. She folded her magazine closed before turning back to him. "We wanted to make sure that you got some rest in case there was any lingering anxiety with leaving, coming home."
"I feel okay," Stiles said eventually. But that was a lie. He felt shaky. And scared. His stomach was tightening up and he wanted his medication if for nothing more than the soothing pop of the lid.
"You okay to walk?" the guy in the driver's seat questioned, glancing at him through the mirror.
"Uh." The blonde smacked him with her magazine and growled quickly.
"I'm not going to run off with him unclench Zach." Zach crossed his arms over his chest, falling silent. "We can't actually drive you into town," she explained after another moment, "cameras you know. Plus your father has taken to random stop points on the main drag."
"Wait what?" Stiles questioned, feeling himself frown.
"Trying to make the town safer." Stiles smiled even though it felt like a solid hit to the gut too.
"So how far do I have to walk?" he questioned as it finally occurred to him.
The blonde woman, Ella, helped him out of the van. She looked sort of sad and Stiles had the urge to hug her but resisted, remembering Zach. It was hard to remember that he'd actually become whatever the werewolf version of catnip was, not that the irony of it was lost on Stiles. He wanted to drag the comforter out with him but how would he explain that? Blowing out a sigh he did one of the last things he could think of to stall. "So like…no werewolves are gonna be drawn to me or something equally The Vampire Diariesish?"
"We'll keep an eye out until you're in the clear."
"I thought you couldn't come into town?"
"Not with you no." She smiled enough that her nose wrinkled and Stiles laughed just once.
"Yeah that makes sense I guess."
"Plus we probably won't actually go into town. We should be able to scent if anything gets close."
"That's reassuring," Stiles told her, tugging on his backpack so he had something to do.
"You know the sooner you start walking the sooner you get there," Zach offered, glaring at both of them.
"Real charmer you got there," Stiles told Ella. "I mean no offense but aren't I a bit too young for you anyways?" He glanced to Zach. "Seventeen bro."
"We're hardly any older than-" Ella cut off, realizing the thin ground she was on. "Anyways," she said brightly, "that's not the point."
"It's okay." But his stomach was twisting again. "I really should get going anyways," Stiles added quietly.
The goodbyes were brief after that and with one last tug on his book bag strap Stiles set off. He counted his steps to keep himself from freaking out, pausing in intervals when his lungs were working so hard they burned. He was not going to have a panic attack on the side of the road. He wasn't letting himself. Absolutely not. Sweat was clinging to his shoulders and he estimated he was only about five minutes out of town when he had to stop again. He was trembling and he couldn't seem to breathe deep enough. He curled a hand over his mouth trying to slow down; it only increased the panic pressing on his chest. Dropping to the dusty ground he tucked his head between his knees and tried to remember how he'd felt wrapped up tight in the blanket. "You're fine, you're fine," he mumbled to himself. "You've been fine without the meds you don't need them it's all in your head you're fine just breathe. Breathe." Curling up into a ball on the ground had never not worked but Stiles was still a bit shocked it did this time. He took the time to brush himself off before starting again. Everything was going to be okay. He was going to see his dad. He was going to go home to his room. Sleep in his own bed. Get back on the internet. Go back to school. Yeah okay that wasn't the greatest thing. Play video games with Scott. Have their stupid sleepovers that still resulted in drawn on mustaches. Everything was going to be okay. Great even. Everything was going to be great. Eventually. "Great," Stiles told himself, the word falling hollow. He kicked at the dust, almost satisfied when a pebble went flying into the grass. "Fucking sucks," he admitted, pausing again to wallow in self pity. He just needed to get it out now. He couldn't go back to his dad and be missing Derek. No. When he saw his dad again he didn't want to be thinking about anything but his dad. His dad was what mattered now. It didn't take long to gather himself once he shifted the focus to his dad. He wanted to see him so badly. Wanted to hug him. Stiles' eyes burned and he inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly. Fingers ran through his hair, and he really needed a haircut, digging into his scalp to distract him. "Okay just keep walking you're being pathetic."
Goosebumps shot across his skin with a vindictive tingling as he passed the sign announcing Beacon Hills. It was really just…weird. Of course the Sheriff's office was close to the center of town and he still had about two miles to go. For the first time Stiles wondered if anyone would see him on the way in. What would happen if they did? But he was already too on edge to worry about that. Stiles forced thoughts away and started counting steps again. It was an easy cadence and Stiles was somewhat soothed just watching his feet eat up ground. He was turning onto Main Street before he really knew it, pausing to gasp in a quick breath. So far so good. Then again it was early evening, probably supper time. Most people would be in their houses or in the few restaurants. Come to think of it Stiles had hardly eaten breakfast and his stomach gave a growl that had him lurching forward. "Stupid drugging werewolves don't even feed me," he grumbled half heartedly. But there'd probably be food at the station. Especially if his dad was eating dinner there. Stiles had the sinking feeling that he was. Keep going, keep going, keep going. Don't stop. Don't think. Just walk. He made it another block that way and Stiles knew any minute, any second really, the station was going to come into sight. The most unexplainable fear gripped him. For two paralyzing seconds Stiles couldn't move, not even to breathe. What if his father wasn't there? What if he hadn't been eating right? What if he'd been working too hard or stressed too much? What if he'd had more 'chest trouble' and refused to go to the doctor like Stiles had to hound him to do? "Dad," Stiles let out, voice cracking on the tiny word. He moved. His feet shoved off the ground and his body fell forward so fast his book bag slapped into him as it was yanked along.
Absolute silence fell as he shoved the door open and Stiles froze in reaction to the freezing. One hand was still flat on the glass, the other holding his book bag. He panted for air as his eyes raced over the deputy sitting at the front desk. His jaw moved as if he was trying to speak. Nothing came out. "I'm just gonna," Stiles said, motioning vaguely and stepping forward. The deputy still didn't manage anything, a vein starting to throb in his neck. Silence fell again as he stepped into the main part of the station and Stiles swallowed as a ridiculous case of nerves assaulted him. A file fell to the floor and Stiles watched the papers swirl and spread before looking back to his father. He was smiling then, stupidly, and crying, but only a little.
"Stiles?" And his father sounded so…haunted. Stiles started moving forward, only swiping at one of his cheeks because who even had the time to pretend they weren't crying at a moment like this.
"You're okay," he managed, still out of breath, words rasping over his tongue.
"I'm okay?" his father demanded, moving towards him too. "What the hell do you mean I'm okay Son?" He pulled Stiles to him roughly, arms wrapping around firmly, hands gripping his back tightly. "You're so ridiculous," his dad laughed, voice wavering.
"You know I worry about you Dad," Stiles told him, tears falling quick now.
"So ridiculous," he repeated. "You get kidnapped and you worry about me. You know you're not forty seven right?"
"Hey I spent a lot of time worrying about me too okay? And I'm fine," he pulled back just a bit, "fine look, look at me." His father's hands framed his face warmly and he smiled briefly.
"I could wring your neck you little delinquent." Stiles laughed and tried to wipe at his cheeks, mostly blocked by his dad's hands.
"This actually was not my fault. I promise."
"I love you," his father told him, eyes intense as he looked at Stiles. Stiles more or less fell into him, hugging him again.
"I love you too Dad."
"What am I chopped liver?" Stiles jerked up to see Scott over his dad's shoulder. His jaw flapped open.
"Scott! What are you doing here?" Scott looked wounded shortly before smiling again, like a puppy.
"What do you think dumbass? I'm helping find you!" For a second he tried to worm between them, flinching back when Stiles' father grunted at him.
"You can hug the other half. I'm not done with this one." Stiles wanted to laugh so badly his chest burned with it. Scott was enveloping him from behind then and Stiles couldn't breathe properly. He half turned towards Scott, a smile breaking over his lips.
"So what you've been like…volunteering here?"
"Yeah. Pretty much every day. Some guys from the team too. Occasionally. And you just missed my mom. She had to go home and sleep before the night shift." So much for being done crying.
"You guys," he tried to say, except it came out more like you g- as his voice fell off. He reached one arm back to hug Scott the best he could, slapping his back twice.
"Love you man," Scott offered. Stiles tried to mumble a reply, garbled by his father's chest and his tears.
"We should get you to the hospital," his father said, pulling back, "get you looked over."
"What? Dad I'm fine…well actually I'm half starved but-" His father's eyes narrowed and his mouth pinched.
"You look skinnier," he allowed seriously.
"Well yes but…it was voluntary. I promise." His father's eyebrows shot up in a look of pure disbelief and he opened his mouth before snapping it shut again. He started moving them both towards the door, Scott still tangled up in Stiles and following after a moment's confusion.
"I'm gonna get him home," his father tossed over his shoulder, as if he'd finally realized they were in a room full of law enforcement. This was received with more dead silence.
Stiles had never been so glad to smell the greasy, stale interior of his father's cruiser in his life. Scott went into the backseat with a few moments of pouting; Stiles followed his father's lead and ignored it. "Drive thru then home, hospital tomorrow."
"Dad I swear I'm-" he was silenced with a look. Okay. His dad had his serious face on. Actually it was his I'm arresting somebody face but no one was being arrested which only put Stiles further on edge. At least it wasn't his somebody died face.
"Wait we are talking about where he was and what the hell happened right?" Scott questioned, fingers poking through the grating as he leaned forward.
"Sit back," the Sheriff ordered, taking a sharp right turn. Scott yelped as he was thrown to the side, fingers slipping right off the worn metal. "We will be discussing it yes. You will be going home and doing your homework."
"What? Sherriff Sti-"
"Scott. If I ever have to perjure myself that is one thing. I will not be letting the same thing happen to you. Granted you're still a minor and would probably get off with a slap on the wrists but it would make my charges worse in any case." Stiles' jaw dropped open and he all but whined as his father turned into a restaurant. Drool pooled on his tongue and he swallowed quickly.
"Wait perjure? As in perjury? Dad that is so not even necessary I can't even think how that would ever be necessary. Like. Ever."
"Son. Stop talking." He rolled his window down and ordered rapidly before glancing back. "If you need to talk about something talk about something else." His tone was very close to affectionate and Stiles almost expected a quick head rub. He didn't get one.
"But I really don't understand," he pressed as they rolled up to the window. "How could you possibly have to perjure yourself?"
"Stiles you've been hanging around the station long enough to know the answer to that." Stiles huffed out a quick breath, brain unwilling to cooperate with him.
Perjury was lying in court, under oath. So this was assuming his father would be in court. Okay. He would have to lie in court. This was something Stiles couldn't even picture. But he was the one who presented the idea so clearly he could picture it. So his dad committing perjury. He'd have to be testifying then. Which would mean…Stiles would be on trial. Stiles frowned deeper. That. No. What? What would Stiles be on trial for? His thought process was thrown off the rails as his dad handed him a hot bag, one corner already soaking in grease.
"Oh god fooooooooood," he let out, drool pouring into his mouth again.
"At least that hasn't changed," his father let out quietly, reaching over to rub Stiles' head affectionately then. Stiles grinned at him before tearing into the bag. He whimpered as curly fries burned his tongue but kept chewing anyways.
"I want chili like well not tonight but tomorrow okay? I've been thinking about that." His father looked mildly surprised but nodded anyways.
"Hey wait can I spend the night?" Scott was clinging to the grating again.
"No." Both boys whined in sync and he visibly softened. "Tomorrow."
"Sweet." Stiles fed him a curly fry through the grating in victory. Scott chewed happily and Stiles shoved more fries into his mouth. His mind dragged back to perjury as he ate, somewhat like a slug. Stiles resisted associating the salt he was licking from his fingers with slugs and slow painful deaths. Barely. Instead he went back to perjury. There was a pit stop at purgatory but that was okay. So his dad would have to lie for him.
"I didn't run," he said softly as it finally occurred to him. "I didn't run away. I swear." Not that it was even likely he'd be arrested for it but then again Stiles didn't know what had happened in his absence. If lots of valuable time and money had been used to search for him it could be a difficult situation. Maybe his father was just being as cautious as he felt he needed to be. The last thing he wanted was to lose Stiles again. Stiles knew because one of the last things he wanted was to lose his dad again.
It was about twenty minutes later; Stiles and his father were on the couch and Stiles had the feeling it was going to be one of the most comfortable interrogations ever. He could still see Scott camped out on the hood of the cruiser, so they were all sure he didn't hear something he wasn't supposed to hear.
"Okay I've fed you and taken you out of the station where we're supposed to be having this discussion. Actually I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be asking the questions here but we're going to ignore that right now. I'd say my parental duties have been filled?" Stiles smiled quickly.
"Yeah probably."
"I already know when and where you disappeared. The phone call. As well as half a dozen sightings various places in Washington. Only two confirmed. Start when you were taken." Stiles nearly rolled his eyes but at the same time he was panicking because holy shit sightings? How was he supposed to deliver the whole 'kidnapped by a crazy cult' bit now? Why hadn't he thought of this? Of course there were going to be sightings! Of course his father was going to report him missing and launch a search for him and he'd already known all of that stupid, stupid, stupid! His dad was the sheriff for fuck's sakes! How was he supposed to lie to him? Stiles' tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Son?" Oh god he was half a second from having a panic attack. "Stiles! Breathe!" His father gripped both his shoulder tightly and Stiles sucked in a huge gasp. "Just tell me the truth," his father pressed. Expert interrogation skills. He was so fucked. Stiles closed his eyes and focused just on breathing. His father let him. But he'd known Stiles all his life. He knew when to push and when to back off. Screwed. So screwed.
"Okay here's the thing," Stiles exhaled. "I don't have any proof."
Stiles nearly started a tally for how many times his father stopped him to ask if he was kidding. He nearly started a tally for how many times he thought he should start a tally.
"Oh my god Dad!" Stiles threw both hands over his eyes and groaned. "This is not the time or place for kidding do you really think I would be telling you this if it wasn't true come on!" He glanced out the window and hoped Scott wasn't too cold. The sun went down about forty minutes ago. "I'm not even supposed to tell you this so the least you could do is at least consider the fact that I'm telling the truth!" His father leveled him with a glare that frankly had nothing on Derek's. It was so non-intimidating at this point that Stiles almost laughed. Clearly that would be the wrong reaction.
"You're telling me you were kidnapped to be a werewolf mail order bride Son." Stiles was really close to laughing again even though this was not nearly as funny.
"Not my words!" Stiles yelped.
"I really don't want to revisit your words," his father muttered. "So they just let you go? Why?"
"Yes they let me go. Well. Like. He-" Stiles paused and tried to breathe. "He didn't want to like…make it permanent." He knew the hurt was plain in his words. Even he could hear it.
"Well then he has shitty taste." Stiles barked out a surprised laugh.
"No it's…he wanted me to be able to come home Dad."
"So he didn't," his father leaned back slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose before popping another button open and tugging his collar even looser. "God I need a drink," he sighed. "Okay so he didn't mate with you so that you could come home." Don't lie, don't lie, don't lie he'll know!
"I wouldn't be here otherwise," Stiles said carefully.
"Do you want to be here?" There was no accusation to the words. It was just a question. Stiles teeth tugged on his lip anyways.
"Yes…mostly."
"I preferred when you were in love with Lydia," his father told him plainly. Stiles rolled his eyes.
"Yeah I mostly do too."
"Okay tell Scott to get his ass in here. I know you guys missed each other." Stiles did his best not to flush guiltily. "I'm gonna go have that drink." His father pushed off the couch and Stiles followed, hugging him tightly again. "This is a lot to take in," his father admitted. "I don't know what to make of it. We'll talk more tomorrow. Get you to the doctor. Don't argue."
"We're gonna have to figure out what we're telling everybody else," Stiles mumbled.
"We'll figure it out." His father rubbed his back soothingly and Stiles sighed.
"I love you."
"You too Son."
A/N:
Um yeah I reserve the right to edit this chapter later because it is not even funny how much I need sleep right now.
I'm hoping I got everything right time/fact wise but honestly I'm too tired to check everything.
If I got something massively wrong I'll be back to edit.
Thank you all.
As always sorry if this is horrible and yes I really do worry about that.