The crash echoed down the hallway outside the room, metal rending and clanging, rocks falling and smashing, dust falling. A loud roar reverberated off the walls, shaking everything, rattling the table. Stiles felt it all the way to his core and he cringed, tugging at his still trapped arms to try and cover his ears against the awful racket. Part of him wanted to submit to it, to whoever was making that noise—because there was no doubt in Stiles' mind that it was an alpha, no one else was capable of roaring that loud and that fiercely—but he didn't want Peter to get the wrong idea, to think Stiles was submitting to him.
Not a chance in hell.
Peter let out a growl of his own at the commotion, turning his head to the door as his fangs lengthened and Stiles felt the prick of claws around his wrists, pressing into his throat. "I hate being interrupted," the alpha snarled, turning his attention back to the omega he still had pinned beneath him. "My apologies. Please forgive me as I take care of this minor inconvenience." A saccharine smile formed on his face before he released Stiles and rose to his feet, facing the door and letting out an answering roar of his own.
Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, gasping so hard it hurt his throat. He quickly scrambled closer to the wall, pressing his back to it as he sat up, trying to stay out the way as whoever broke in raced closer. He could hear the thunderous sounds of several footsteps, more than one person rushing to the room. He hoped like hell it was the S-Dubs, that someone had figured out he'd gone missing and Derek was... in whatever condition Derek was in. He needed something to go right for once in his life.
With wide eyes, he watched as a figure charged into the room, barreling straight into Peter and tackling him to the ground. Snarls filled the air, the snap of jaws and slash of claws and it took Stiles a long moment for his stunned brain to process the fact that it was Derek who was currently on top of his uncle and slashing at his chest. He was in full beta shift, ears pointed, sideburns elongated, brow more pronounced—and strangely enough without eyebrows. His jogging clothes were covered in blood, shirt ripped to shreds at the front, more blood splattered and smeared and dried on his face where minor injuries had already healed.
Derek was more animal than man, slashing at his uncle, roaring and snarling. Peter tried pushing him off but to no avail, overpowered by an alpha in a rage, almost feral in his attack. Wrapping a clawed hand around his throat, Derek slammed his uncle's head against the ground once, twice, Peter's eyes crossing in a daze as his mouth opened and shut. Choked sounds were coming from him, bitten-off begs and pleads for it to stop, but Derek was having none of it, slamming his head down once more. Peter went limp as he began losing consciousness and Derek lifted him up to deliver another blow...
"Derek, stop!"
The alpha's head snapped to Stiles at the sound of his voice, confusion on his animal-like features before he recognized the person who'd called out to him, what exactly it was that he'd said. Slowly he lowered his uncle to the ground, features shifting back to normal, blood still crusted and splattered on him. He was panting hard, chest heaving, and he looked down at the groaning man beneath him with disgust and disbelief and a strange sort of detachment that Stiles wasn't entirely sure what it meant.
Footsteps charged into the room, slowing down as they entered and Stiles looked over to see Boyd, Parrish, Aiden, and Jackson taking in the scene before them. Derek slowly rose to his feet, kicking his uncle in the side and making him groan again, coughing and sputtering up blood, glazed over eyes looking at the newly arrived S-Dubs.
"I want him arrested for assault," he croaked, raising a shaky hand to point at his nephew.
Parrish cocked an eyebrow as he stepped closer to him, glancing back and forth between the two Hales. "I didn't see anything. There's no proof he assaulted you."
"Listen, you son of a—" Peter began, rolling over to try and grab at the beta's ankle, but Parrish quickly stepped back out of his reach, staring down at the alpha as he fell onto his stomach with another groan of pain.
"Yeah, yeah," the S-Dub muttered, waving over one of his co-workers, Jackson and Aiden rushing to his side. The three of them managed to haul Peter up, Parrish slapping cuffs on his wrists. "You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Stiles Stilinski, unlawful imprisonment, and endangering the welfare of an omega."
Derek watched it with that same detachment, before quickly striding over to Stiles, ignoring Parrish as he read the other alpha his rights. Crouching down, he carefully cupped Stiles' face, concern etched in every line on his face and completely saturating his scent. "You okay?"
"He's the alpha," Stiles informed him, voice as shaky as he felt, gripping the older man's forearms. "He's. It was him."
His green eyes went wide before narrowing in anger and he peeked over his shoulder to the others. "Add the murder of Stuart Stilinski-Hale to the list of charges," he order gruffly. "Call Fenris, have him meet you at HQ to get a DNA sample."
Parrish nodded and gave a curt "yes, sir", doing exactly what he was told. Taking charge, he had Jackson and Aiden haul a sputtering and objecting Peter out the room, Parrish sliding his cell out and dialing as he followed behind them.
Stiles watched them leave, relief flooding him at the knowledge that Peter was gone and couldn't get him. Only for that relief to dissipate as he felt a pop by his right ankle and he cried out in pain as he felt his skin pulling and tearing. Peering down his body, he noted Boyd prying the bear trap open, blood caking the metal. Stiles' skin had began healing around it, new wounds ripping open as it was pulled from around him, fresh blood dripping out from his leg. He felt woozy, dizzy, stomach rolling with nausea at the sight of it, black dots swimming in his vision.
"Stiles?" Derek called softly, turning the omega's head to him. "Stiles, stay with me, all right? You're gonna be okay."
He shook his head, feeling wobbly, new footsteps entering the room. Someone grabbed the bear trap and slid it to the side but he couldn't see who. His vision was blurring, distorting, everything wavy and he felt like he was on a rocking boat in the middle of the sea during a storm. He felt adrift, his limbs floating, head too heavy to hold up on a noodly neck, and when someone jerked his leg to line the pieces of his broken bone up, he let out a howl of pain and promptly lost consciousness.
It was his second visit to Oak Creek General Hospital in...
Yeah, Stiles had no clue how many days, what day it even was, nothing. Dim light was shining through the window of the room he woke up in, leading him to think it was maybe morning, possibly evening. He wasn't sure. The clock on the wall said it was about six-thirty so he went with believing it was morning. Six-thirty was too early in the evening for the sun to set in summer.
With a groan, he tried to sit up, only to feel dizzy once more and change his mind, slumping on the slightly raised hospital bed. He looked down at himself, noting the very attractive johnny he was in, the bandages around his wrists. His right leg was out from under the covers, ankle in a splint, bandages thankfully still white so the bleeding had stopped there. Feeling around, he noted a bandage around his head and a couple butterfly closures on his neck where Peter's claws had dug into his throat. He shuddered, the action causing bruises to twinge in pain, thinking of how close to death he'd come.
Inspecting the rest of the room, he noticed an IV drip attached to the back of his wrist, a band-aid on the crook of his elbow, and he wondered if they'd had trouble finding a vein on him. Then again, given how veiny his hands were, they probably hadn't. They should've just started there.
Then why the bandage there?
He shoved the thought aside, taking in the rest of the room. Standard beige walls that were clinical yet warm. Heart rate monitor beeping steadily beside him. TV hanging in the corner, couple chairs tucked against the left wall under the window, door to the bathroom on his right. He squirmed in bed, wondering if he had the strength and ability to go to the bathroom, only to realize that issue had been handled for him.
Thank god he'd been unconscious when they put that catheter in. Not something he wanted to experience.
The hallway door opened, momentarily allowing the sounds of the hospital flood in, sneakers softly padding against the linoleum floor as the new arrival stepped closer. A dark-skinned bald male appeared around the corner from the bathroom wall, goatee surrounding a dulcet smile, white lab coat covering green scrubs, metal clipboard in his hands.
"Good morning, Mr Stilinski," he greeted his patient in a warm tone, stopping at the end of the bed. "My name's Dr Deaton. How are we feeling today?"
Stiles frowned in confusion, wondering if this guy was for real. He was in a hospital. How the fuck did he think he felt? "Sore," he answered honestly, random bruises throbbing dully with pain throughout his body.
"Mm, I imagine so. You went through quite an ordeal last night," he stated the obvious, making the omega snort as he read the file on his clipboard. "Your ankle was broken by the bear trap that was around it, but luckily it was a clean break and should heal within a couple days. You had a mild concussion, a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing that won't heal by the end of the day." He flipped the front page back, eyes still locked onto his clipboard as he continued reading. "You did however lose a lot of blood, but got lucky once more. Seems Captain Hale was a perfect match to donate." Flipping the page back, he gave the patient the same dulcet smile, clasping his wrist in front of himself.
Stiles resisted the urge to snort and say "duh" at that last remark, remembering it wasn't supposed to be a "duh" thing. Fated pairs were always the same blood type. It was another reason why Mates were so perfect for one another, so they'd always have someone to donate blood or an organ or whatever.
But at least having Derek's blood in him now would explain why he smelled so strongly of the alpha and lower any suspicions.
Clearing his throat, he began fiddling with the edge of the blanket. "He's my twin's Mate," he croaked out, throat sore from screaming and howling only hours before.
"Yes, I do believe that was noted in here somewhere," Deaton stated, checking his clipboard once more before giving up. "Other than that, you're physically okay. We want to keep you one more night for observation though and to make sure that ankle is well-rested before we discharge you. You won't believe how many wolves believe they're fine after being released, only to push themselves too fast too soon and rebreak something."
Stiles let out a non-committal "hmm" noise, knowing full well he was one of those wolves. But every kid out there believed themselves to be invincible and tested the limits of their healing abilities at least once. Wasn't his fault that he wanted to see if the splint would stop him from breaking his leg a second time when he jumped out the treehouse in the Stilinski backyard. Again.
Deaton gave him a knowing smirk, chuckling softly. "We'll definitely be keeping you an extra day."
"Yeeeah," Stiles stretched out the word, rubbing the back of his head. "Probably a good idea, Doc."
"In the meantime, are you feeling up for visitors? There's someone here who wishes to talk to you."
His heartbeat kicked up a notch at that, stomach filling with butterflies and anticipation at the hopes that it was Derek coming to check on him, to see how he was. Nodding his head rapidly, he coughed a couple times, then gave a "yeah. Yeah, sure."
The doctor looked and smelled amused, checking the read-out on his heart rate monitor and making sure the IV drip was still working as it should before leaving, announcing he'd send them right in.
Stiles shuffled where he sat, smoothing down his johnny and the blankets, tugging at his hair to give it some semblance of style before realizing it was probably futile. His hair did its own thing on the best of days. Unstyled, after jogging, and after being pinned to the ground by an attacking alpha, and there was no hope in trying to contain it.
The door opened and his heart lurched with nerves. His fingers tangled among the edge of the blanket before he smoothed it out once again, scenting the air to try and get a whiff of who was entering, not smelling much past the disinfectants and clinical smells of hospital.
His heart sank when he saw who it was, Isaac rounding the corner, and he slumped back on the bed in disappointment before putting a weak smile on his face. "Heeey, buddy," he greeted with a lightheartedness he wasn't entirely feeling.
Isaac gave him a "get real" expression, rolling his blue eyes as he grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the left side of Stiles' bed. "I know I'm not who you wanted to see. You don't have to try and hide it."
"Yeah, no clue what you're talking about. I'm excited to see you." Reaching over, he punched the other omega in the arm, getting an entirely unamused look in return.
"Bullshit," he called it, lowering himself onto the seat, slipping a notepad and pen out of a pocket on his thigh. "I get it, all right? I do. He acts differently with you, like for the first time he feels okay being himself or something. Same thing happened with Boyd when he met Erica, then when Jackson and I met each other. I get it, it's cool."
A frown formed on Stiles' face and he ducked his head to hide it, staring at where his hands began tangling in the blanket once more. He honestly had no clue how the hell he was supposed to react to that. The polite thing to do would be to thank him for understanding, but... But he and Derek had agreed to pretend like they were nothing to each other but brothers-in-law, that their Mate connection didn't exist. In this situation, he was supposed to deny it, to continue to act clueless about what Isaac was referring to. Only he'd get called out on it again and risk annoying the guy when he was being pretty cool about the whole thing really.
So he sat there awkwardly, staring at his tangling hands, wiggling the toes of his left foot and rolling his ankle around, fidgeting in discomfort at the situation he was put in.
Isaac let out a sigh, slumping in the seat, legs splayed open. "Yeah, I'm not gonna pretend like I understand why you guys are both being all—" He waved a hand around as though that was supposed to explain what he was trying to say. And strangely enough, it did. "But whatever. That's your deal. I'm here to talk about what happened with Peter."
A relieved sigh left Stiles and he nodded, licking his lips, glad for the subject change. Was weird as hell to think he'd rather discuss the trauma he'd been through the past however many hours than talk about his and Derek's...whatever, but there he was, there it was.
Getting comfy, he went through the entire story, starting with Derek suggesting they go for a jog through the forest of the second ring to get rid of nervous energy leftover from the funeral—a lie, but he managed to cover it smoothly and keep his heart rate steady, years of telling tales to his dad about recent shenanigans coming in handy. He went through every moment, gave every detail, told every word Peter had said to him about his plan to take down his sister and become State Alpha. He made sure to include his claims about being behind the attack of thirteen years ago, why he killed Stu, what he was planning to do with Stiles.
When he was finished, he slumped back on the bed, feeling drained. Residual adrenaline and nerves from retelling it had him shaking as he reached up to shove his hair back, his wolf whimpering in his head, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep for another day or five.
Isaac blew out a breath as he stared down at the notes he'd taken, flipping his notepad closed and shaking his head in bewilderment. "I dunno if the stuff about the attack on the Alpha Family will hold up in court since it's mostly hearsay," he stated, slipping his notepad back where it belonged. "But I'm pretty sure they're still gonna try and tack that on to the list of charges Peter's facing. Which just got a whole lot longer after this."
Stiles nodded to show he understood, hoping Peter would be in jail for a long, long time. Then again, prison seemed too good for him. He highly doubted an asshole like him felt remorse, not when he'd willingly killed his Mate in order to kill his twin sister. But death seemed like an easy way out, too.
Fuck, he was glad he didn't have to make that decision.
"Where is Peter?" he asked, fuzzy memories of the alpha being hauled out that dungeon-esque room playing in his mind. "What happened to him?"
"He's locked up in a secret location with armed guards watching him twenty-four-seven," Isaac said with a proud smirk, like he was personally responsible for making sure that happened. "He's not going anywhere until his Hearing. But considering all the evidence against him and with your and Derek's testimonies, he's not getting away with anything."
"Good," he replied, eyes narrowed, jaw working in anger. He hoped Peter rotted away in solitary for the rest of his existence, slowly becoming a shell of a man as he went insane from the loneliness, only his own thoughts to keep him company.
A small laugh huffed from the other omega as a knock sounded on the door and Stiles told whoever it was to enter. His wolf began yipping, tail wagging excitedly as someone padded closer, and he looked over just in time to see Derek appear at the corner, leaning against the edge of it. His heart stopped at the sight of him, noting a couple butterfly closures above his right eyebrow, a faded bruise on his jaw, random nearly healed scratches along his arms. His clothes had been changed, now sporting a set of borrowed scrubs, hair damp and disheveled from a shower and Stiles barely held back the jealousy he felt that Derek had been able to wash up but he couldn't yet.
Although he did feel less sticky. Maybe someone had given him a sponge bath?
Yeah, that wasn't awkward at all.
Isaac cleared his throat, reminding Stiles he wasn't alone with Derek, his head snapping over to watch the other omega rise up off the chair. "I'm gonna head back to HQ and type this up," he stated, glancing at his boss momentarily before focusing on Stiles. "Glad you're okay, man."
A small smile formed on his face and the two exchanged handshakes, Stiles thanking him before the curly-haired one left.
And left Stiles alone with Derek.
Speaking of awkward...
The alpha cleared his throat, pushing away from the wall before shuffling his way around the bed to the chair Isaac had just vacated. He pointed at it, wordlessly asking if he could sit, and Stiles nodded, wondering why he was even asking at all. It was like they were back to being strangers, like they hadn't spent two nights in bed together, like they hadn't been naked together, like they hadn't solved a murder and gone through a pretty fucking traumatic attack together.
He fucking hated it.
"Your dad called," Derek began, bent over his knees, eyes fixated on where his fingers were steepled between his spread legs. "When you hadn't sent him any text updates or anything. Laura explained to him what happened and he's on his way here."
Oh shit.
Stiles slumped on the bed, nervous breath leaving him. His dad was gonna be pissed. He already was for Stiles sneaking out to Oak Creek in the first place, but now he'd missed text check-ins and nightly phone calls and had nearly gotten himself killed because he was sticking his snout where it didn't belong, just like his dad always told him not to do. He was seriously fucking in for it.
But at the same time, he felt incredibly relieved. Because his dad being on his way to Oak Creek meant his dad was okay, that nothing bad happened at that Meeting, that he'd been paranoid for no reason. Because he'd really fucking missed his old man and was desperate to look into the eyes of a family member, one that was still alive. Because he was homesick and since he couldn't leave yet, he'd have to have home come to him.
Because he was feeling pretty fucking childish stuck in that bed with his injuries and he wanted his daddy.
It hit him then just how close he'd come to his dad traveling to Oak Creek to identify his body, to take it back to Beacon Hills for a funeral pyre. He'd been seconds away from either being raped or using Peter's claws to kill himself, neither of which would've been a good outcome, but Derek and the S-Dubs had managed to arrive just in time.
With a curious frown, he turned to the S-Dub leader, noting how he still wasn't looking at him. "How'd you find me so quickly?"
Derek lifted his head, sad smile on his face, brows pulled in remorse and apology. "You're my Mate," he rasped out. "I'll always be able to find you."
Something clenched inside his chest, his heart beating faster. But he refused to let it go any further, refused to feel any joy out of the statement. Because it was Derek, the man who was still lying to everyone about who his True Mate was, the man who had told him repeatedly that they couldn't be together in that way, the man who once said he never wanted to meet his Soul Mate, much less actually get Mated to him.
Swallowing, Stiles licked his lips, fingers tangling in the covers once again. "But it still changes nothing, huh?" he mumbled, feeling slightly petulant and not really giving a damn.
The alpha nodded and scratched at his jaw, smelling reluctant and remorseful. "It's for the best."
He let out a humorless snort, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Their previous conversation over that very topic came back to him, Derek's reasons for thinking Stiles deserved better, the story he'd told about Kate and his belief that he'd helped her attack his family.
A belief Stiles had argued with.
A belief Peter had...
"It wasn't your fault," he reiterated, hearing Derek scoff, watching him straighten up in his seat as he readied himself to argue. "Peter told me," he burst out, cutting him off, stunning him quiet. "He told me that he'd teamed up with Kate, that the two of them were working together to kill your mom so he could become State Alpha. He was gonna Mate her or something after so she could share the glory, I dunno, but it was all their doing, all their planning. Peter's responsible for the deaths of your dad and Paige. Not you."
Derek stared at him, gaping, shocked. Relief had flooded into his scent, followed by disgust at his uncle's actions, then grief over those that'd been lost. He sniffed as he turned to the side, scratching at his scalp as he let it all sink in. The room was silent save for the steady beep of Stiles' heart rate monitor and the rhythmic drip of his IV, a long moment of nothing happening, before the older man nodded and turned back to him.
"It still doesn't change anything," he murmured, not making eye contact again. "You're still better off with me not in your life."
Stiles opened his mouth to argue, only to realize there was no use. And not because Derek was too fucking stubborn and there was no way to change his mind, but because he was right. There was no point in them starting anything because it would never go anywhere, never really happen.
"We'd never work," he stated lowly, frowning at his own hands, seeing Derek nod out the corner of his eyes. "There's no way I could leave my dad or Beacon Hills, plus I got school in Palo Alto. We'd never be anything more than long distance and that's no way to have a relationship."
"I'm sorry," Derek rasped out, sniffing once again, scent full of sadness.
Stiles' wolf whined loudly in his head and he fought his every instinct to curl up in the alpha's lap and comfort him. Because it wasn't his place, never really was. And he'd known that from the get-go, that anything that happened between them would be temporary and just that moment. They weren't built to last, never had been.
"Mates don't always mean happy ever after."
"Don't be," he croaked out, clearing his throat of the lump that had formed, feeling his eyes water at the knowledge of what this conversation was, of how it was more than just words and sentences. It was goodbye, it was everything that couldn't be said, it was all the things that never could be. "It's both of us, and neither of us at the same time really." With a sigh, he scratched at his forehead with a finger. "It's the universe giving us one last middle finger. The asshole."
A small laugh left Derek, his lips twitching up in a semblance of a smile before it disappeared. Rising to his feet, he stepped closer to the bed, leaning over to press his lips to Stiles' forehead. The omega's eyes drifted closed as he grasped onto the older man's tee, as he inhaled his scent and held it in his lungs, trying to burn it into his memory. Derek pressed his forehead on top of Stiles and the younger man felt wetness hit his cheek, unsure whose tear it was.
"Goodbye, Stiles," he choked out, sniffing. "Take care."
"You, too," he breathed in response, biting back three little words that would change everything and nothing at all. "Bye, Der."
With one last kiss to the top of his head, Derek left the room, and Stiles' life.
The sheriff showed up sometime after Stiles was served breakfast, immediately wrapping Stiles up in a bear hug that twinged some of the bruises on his torso. But the pain was worth it as he nuzzled his face into the crook of his dad's neck and inhaled his familiar scent, that comforting mixture of home and dad and alpha that only belonged to him.
"Thank god you're okay, Kid," his dad murmured against his ear, kissing his cheek roughly before hugging him tight once more.
He clung tight to his dad's polo shirt, sniffing as relief flooded his every pore. His dad was okay, was safe, was alive. Stiles had no clue exactly how worried he'd been over his old man until that moment, the emotion having gotten swept to the side as he was busy dealing with everything else. But he didn't need to worry, not anymore. Because his dad was there and he was there and they were together again.
Half the Stilinskis, reunited and safe.
They slowly pulled apart, his dad taking the seat that Derek had previously been in, and Stiles didn't hesitate to ask how the Meeting went. The wince that his dad wore was more telling than anything and he felt his heart drop in worry.
"Turns out you were right about it being a trap," he admitted, bottom teeth on display as he told his story. "Myself and a guard named Kinkaid had been discussing our shared concerns and apprehensions about the whole thing before deciding to sweep the place and we found a bomb hidden in the basement beneath one of the ballrooms, set to go off during the finale speeches that Alpha Hale was set to speak at. Turns out the whole thing was a ruse to lure all the Alphas away from the safety of their walls and fences. We were just lucky it was found before it was too late."
Stiles let out a relieved breath, nodding in agreement, silently wondering if Peter had been behind that, too. At that point, he wouldn't put it past the asshole to try to have a plan E going while attempting plan D with Stiles. After all his failures, he needed to have the safety nets.
"So," his dad began, drawing his attention. The sheriff sat back in his seat, arms folded casually over his chest. "Wanna tell me all about your adventures here in Oak Creek? Starting with how you managed to forge paperwork to leave town."
"I plead the fifth on that one," Stiles stated, innocent grin on his face before telling his dad everything, starting with his arrival at the first gate. He left out the part about Stuart's rape and his own near sexual assault, as well as him being Derek's True Mate and all the intimate details that came with it, but told the rest, including what he'd learned about his mom's death.
His dad looked torn apart at the mention of his late Mate, lips pressed into a hard line, brow furrowed, jaw set stiffly as his blue eyes became shiny with unshed tears. He cleared his throat and roughed a hand over his mouth, sniffing loudly before speaking. "We may have to reopen that case," he croaked out, clearing his throat again. "Do some more digging, see if it wasn't as accidental as it seemed. Sounds like a case of negligent homicide."
Stiles nodded, determination setting his features. "I'm ready to help with that," he declared, bracing himself for an argument from his dad, for orders to keep his snout out of official police business.
The sheriff rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh, giving his son a nonplussed look. "How 'bout you worry about getting back on your feet first?"
The omega rolled his own eyes right back, huffing. "I'm fine," he argued, ignoring the way it felt like a lie, especially as his wolf whimpered in his head.
As promised, Stiles was discharged the next day.
The night he'd spent in the hospital was uncomfortable and he'd gotten zero sleep thanks to a combination of the shit bed, lack of his pillow, and the broken ankle that made it impossible to roll over onto his side—which was how he happened to sleep, of course. His dad had slept like a baby—well, one that snored like a bear all throughout the night—making good use of a cot that a kind nurse had brought in for him.
Another x-ray had been taken of his ankle, Deaton declaring that it was healing well, but he still needed to stay off it as much as possible, which led to him being carted out the hospital in a wheelchair.
Completely undignified, no matter how much the doc insisted it was standard procedure. Guy could've at least given him some crutches.
Then again, given the last time he'd had crutches and the fact that he'd managed to further incapacitate himself with them, it was probably for the best that he not be given any.
All the S-Dubs plus Laura and Kira had gathered around outside the hospital exit to bid him farewell, Laura walking over with his duffel and pillow.
"I gave your dad the urn," she stated lowly, sad smile on her face before she handed over the duffel. "Derek packed it up and gave it to me, but you might wanna check everything's there."
His heart plummeted as he realized that Derek hadn't been amongst the crowd not because he was running late, but because he wasn't coming at all. Not that Stiles should've been all that surprised. They'd pretty much given their goodbyes to one another the day before and there wasn't really anything left unsaid—aside from a couple cheesy words that usually came at the end of every rom-com. But still, he'd been hoping he'd at least be able to see him one last time.
He'd forgotten who he was for a moment and what shit luck he had.
Giving Laura a grateful smile, he unzipped the duffel and rifled around inside, finding everything was there. Including a manila file folder of all the info Stu had left and he'd printed off and highlighted. He wondered why he'd been given it, wasn't it needed for evidence against Peter, only to realize the flashdrives weren't amongst the things. Derek kept the original copies.
Still didn't explain why he'd given this set to Stiles. Unless he figured he'd want it to reopen his mom's case. Which he sure the fuck did. It might not have been enough to convict Peter of any wrongdoing, but it was enough to warrant further investigation.
Zipping his duffel back up, he sniffed and nodded, peering up at Laura from his position on the wheelchair. "Yeah, it's all here."
His dad stepped closer and grabbed the duffel and his pillow, taking them to Lydia's car to pack it all up, and Stiles gave him a small thanks.
Laura still remained there, thumbs hooked in the back pockets of her dark skinny jeans, lips twisting in annoyance. "Derek said to tell you goodbye," she ground out before crossing her arms and cocking a hip out. "Despite my repeated insistences that he do it his own damn self, but he's a hardheaded idiot and there's no getting through to him."
Half a smile formed on his face and he let out a small huff of laughter. "Yeah, you told me something like that before."
"Well, it still rings true," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Her features grew sad then, eyes turning down as they peered at him, lips twisting in a sad smile. "Good luck with everything, Stiles. And call me whenever you need something, okay, no matter what. And come visit us sometime, all right?"
He simply nodded, not wanting to lie to her by agreeing out loud to any of it, not when he knew he'd never follow through. At this point, Derek was essentially an ex and talking to his family would be awkward as hell. Not to mention he really didn't have any connections to the Hales anymore, not now that Stu was dead. He'd pretty much broken up with all of them and any communication would just hurt, another reminder of all that could've been had his and Derek's situations been different.
Laura gave him a small smile before surprising the crap out of him by bending down and enveloping him in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Stiles."
"You, too, Laura."
With a final pat to his shoulder blade, she pulled away and straightened up, stepping to the side as she surreptitiously wiped beneath her eyes.
Erica was the next to walk up to him, ruffling his hair and handing him a familiar set of playing cards. "For when you get bored all laid up with that ankle," she explained with a wink.
"Those are mine!" Cora objected from the sidelines, Erica rolling not just her eyes but her entire head, the brunette then just waving the whole thing off. "Whatever, I'll buy another pack." She shook Stiles' hand and told him to take care before heading off to find her sister, Erica blowing him a kiss then stepping back, too.
Kira bounded over with Malia in tow, bright smile on her face as always, and Stiles wondered if anything ever got that girl down. "Good luck, Stiles," she beamed, before her eyes widened and her face fell. "Not that you need luck or that anything bad is gonna happen. I just mean to take care. Not that you weren't already gonna take care of yourself, because I'm sure you were. It's not like you're constantly getting kidnapped by lunatic alphas who try to force you into their evil plan, but I still hope that everything goes well for you and that—"
"Basically," Malia loudly interrupted, her Mate shutting her mouth with an audible click. "Goodbye, Stiles. Have a nice life."
A sheepish grin formed on Kira's face as she shrugged a shoulder and nodded, slight flush on her face that she hid in Malia's shoulder as they walked off hand-in-hand.
Boyd, Aiden, and Braeden all shook his hand and wished him luck, Isaac doing the same and adding that it was nice to meet him. Jackson playfully punched his shoulder with a grin on his face before it fell, his scent growing serious.
"I'm sorry again, man," he stated genuinely, getting a nod in return. "Tell Danny I said 'hey' for me? And have a good life, Stilinski."
"I will," Stiles replied, fully intending on passing the message along to the beta—as well as giving the guy an earful for not telling him Jackson was in Oak Creek and not a lunatic asylum like he'd been lead to believe. "And you have a good life, too."
Jackson peeked over at Isaac at that, dimpled smile forming on his face, the omega ducking his head as he blushed and grinned right back. "Already do."
Parrish was the last to approach him, dragging himself away from Lydia long enough for a goodbye, shaking Stiles' hand and saying it was a pleasure to meet him. Stiles wondered when exactly it was that everyone got over their aversion to touching him, wondering why it was suddenly okay to make physical contact with the unclaimed omega. He wondered if it had anything to do with the light layer of Derek's scent he was most likely still sporting, if everyone figured that now the boss man had touched Stiles, it was okay for them to engage in a little friendly physicality. Or maybe the fact that Derek had donated his blood to him and even his dad had mentioned that Stiles now smelled different, so maybe all the S-Dubs were drawn to him more than before because of Derek's scent being enmeshed with his own—although Stiles had to figure that would've worn off by then, the alpha's blood having fully mixed in with his. No matter the case, Stiles shoved it aside, treating it as the non-issue that it was.
"Nice meeting you, too, man," Stiles told him as they released their hands, pointing a finger at Parrish in warning as he gave the beta a stern look. "Make sure you don't do anything to make yourself unworthy of Lydia, alright?"
A grin formed on Parrish's face at that and he quickly glanced at the redhead over his shoulder, waving at her sweetly before turning back to Stiles. "I'm already unworthy, but I'm gonna spend the rest of my life trying to make myself good enough for her."
An impressed pout formed on the omega's face at that and he nodded, thinking that was good enough for him. From what he'd seen, Parrish was a good guy and if he already believed he was unworthy of Lydia, then he was definitely approved by Stiles.
"Sounds good," he stated, serious look on his face as he peered up at the beta. "Tell Derek 'bye' for me?"
Parrish's smile faltered a bit before he plastered it back on, the genuineness of before long gone. He clearly knew something was up, that something was wrong, but he was trying his best not to show it and Stiles respected the guy even more for that. "Sure thing."
With another nod, the twosome said goodbye and Parrish stepped to the side to join the others in their group.
His dad helped him up out the wheelchair and over to Lydia's car, the back passenger side door already open. Hanging on to the door itself, Stiles balanced on one leg, glancing at the line of people who'd come to wave him off, people he barely knew but had meant so much to his brother. Not only were they saying goodbye to him, but to Stuart as well, to their last connection to their fallen friend. He gave them all a weak smile and a small wave, the gesture returned by every one of them, before he lowered himself onto the seat.
He scooted back until he was against the opposite door, his pillow there to ease the ache of the armrest digging into his spine, leg stretched out comfortably across the seat. His dad shut the door before getting in the passenger seat, Lydia behind the wheel and starting up the engine. Without further ado, she pulled the car out of the lane and towards the exit, Stiles staring out the back window at all the waving people, mind focused on the one person who wasn't there with them.
He headed back to Beacon Hills with his dad and his best friend, his wolf whimpering in his head and an empty feeling growing in his chest.