A/N: So...I'm a firm believer in letting your characters lead you, so you can totally blame them for all the angst. I was originally planning for this to go very differently, but I think I like it. Rest assured, there is still at least one more chapter after this. :-)

Stiles hummed as the warm water from the shower rushed over his sore muscles and sticky skin. He and Derek had more or less wiped themselves clean the night before, then had finished their night with a few more issues of Marvel Zombies and some True Blood episodes, since Stiles had promised Joe Manganiello all those days ago. Finally, they had fallen asleep early, before Stiles' dad had even gotten home.

Sure, his dad had probably checked in on them and noticed that 'Joe' was sleeping in Stiles' bed again, but his dad was currently still asleep while Stiles got ready for school, so there was always that chance he could avoid the coming 'talk' until another day. Not that he felt guilty, or regretful—not at all. That kind of surprised Stiles, but…he really didn't feel anything but contentment.

He spent his time in the shower thinking of how they could make this sixteen-year-old Derek transition more permanent. It couldn't be too hard to get Derek enrolled at school. It's not like Stiles hadn't forged paperwork before. Derek could stay at the den some nights and…probably with Stiles other nights, and they could make it work. They'd all be legal adults soon enough anyway. And, in the meantime, the pack would be that much stronger, Stiles was sure of it. Besides, weird as it still was for Stiles to think about most days, there was always Peter to be the adult in the pack, once he returned from dealing with the Alphas.

Explaining the situation to Peter was going to be…interesting.

But Stiles didn't want to think about that right now, or any other hurdles. He felt amazing. His chemical balance was still highly skewed in the 'pleasure zone' direction, and he was fine with that. He had actually had sex last night. With Derek. Life couldn't get any better.

Stiles was still all smiles when he returned to his bedroom, changed for the day, with his short hair already almost dry. Then he saw Derek, who had showered first and was wearing yet another borrowed outfit from Stiles, sitting on the edge of the bed holding Stiles' phone.

He wasn't smiling.

"What's up?" Stiles prompted, hurrying over to the bed and letting his damp towel slip from his fingers to the floor. "Who—?"

"Scott…texted you," Derek choked out—choked, like there was something caught in his throat. He kept his hazel eyes on the carpet. "Chris found the witch. Well…not found, but…they know she's in the woods, near my…what's left of my house. They're going to try closing in on her today. I…I'm supposed to meet them out there."

Stiles' happy homemaker daydream crumbled around him and he felt a leaden weight settle in his chest and stomach. He had honestly thought that the witch was gone, that this might actually turn out to be permanent. He was such an idiot.

With as little strain as he could manage, Stiles pulled on a smile, slipping his hand to rest over Derek's, which were both still clutching Stiles' phone. "Hey…it's okay. Finding her doesn't mean—"

"It doesn't mean I'll change back," Derek finished for him, finally glancing up and to the side at Stiles, low from beneath his long, dark lashes. "I know. And even if I do…" He sat up straighter suddenly, and let Stiles' phone tumble to the carpet as he grabbed Stiles' hands in his. "I'll remember. And it'll matter. This matters to me. So much…I…I refuse to believe anything else."

Derek had seemed so sure last night, but Stiles' wasn't surprised to find that he was a little worried, too, that maybe this could all unravel.

Stiles grabbed the front of Derek's T-shirt. "And hey…if it turns out otherwise…I'll just key your Camaro."

Derek's eyes scrunched, then widened as he chuckled. "Wait…that Camaro at the den is mine?"

Stiles laughed, but it was strange how the sound and action didn't really bring much humor with it.

They went for each other at the same time, Stiles tugging Derek closer by the grip he had on Derek's shirt, and Derek grabbing either side of Stiles' face, until their lips met. It shouldn't feel this desperate, this intense and Broadway musical easy—people didn't really fall in love like this, did they? Maybe with wolves, with mates, it was different, Stiles didn't know, but he knew that kissing Derek felt like breathing, and being without him felt like drowning, and he'd had enough of Derek Hale and drowning to last a lifetime.

It was clearly a conspiracy—time was moving at half-speed today, no joke. Stiles tapped his pen against his Economics book, watching the clock, like he had been all day. He hated that Chris Argent was so much better at this crap than they were. He had insisted that only Alison, Scott, and Derek join the hunters in the woods, because all of them being missing from class at the same time would garner too much suspicion.

Well…yeah, but damn it, Stiles wanted to be there. He could tell that Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all felt the same way whenever he saw them in class or in the halls, but there was nothing any of them could do until the bell rang.

Stiles had been receiving periodic updates from Scott or Alison all day, which didn't tell him much, other than that they were closing in, but playing it safe to make sure the witch didn't get away. It was taking all freaking day to track exactly where she was in the woods and corner her effectively, and Stiles was already losing his mind over thoughts about just what would happen if and when they caught her.

Finally, the last bell rang, and since Stiles had no plans to attend lacrosse practice, no matter what Chris had said, he bolted for his jeep. He wasn't really surprised that all three passenger doors open and slammed shut again with the arrival of the wolves before he could pull out of the parking lot. Seeing their eager faces was comforting—it felt right for the whole pack to be in on this together, even if they had to suffer the complications of teenagerdom.

Derek needed them, and that was just the end of it.

Stiles knew the road to the Hale House woods so well…it was kind of creepy actually how naturally he drove there without even really thinking about what turns he was taking. He knew just where the hunters would have parked, too, and found them easily, spotting Chris' SUV as the most familiar, and parking alongside it.

No one was around to tell them where the hunting party had gone, but before Stiles could question the wolves on what might be the best course of action, they all shifted into their snarly selves and went dashing into the trees in opposite directions.

The most awful sense of déjà vu surged through Stiles as he stood there by the cars, alone, wondering where his pack was, and having no real assets he could offer in this fight. He wasn't a wolf or a hunter. He didn't have any skills that could aid in a fight like this. But he couldn't just hold back, either. He wasn't the freaking getaway driver!

Stiles paced in front of his jeep, thankful that it was still light enough out that he could see through the trees a ways, but he didn't see anyone heading his direction. They were all deep in the woods somewhere, and once again, he was the odd man out.

Screw that.

Hurrying around to the back of the keep, Stiles threw the hatch open and grabbed the baseball bat he had tucked under the seats. Weapons of choice in hand, he made a quick circle to get his bearings, and then dove into the trees. He knew the road to the woods well enough, but the woods themselves were a labrynth, and yet…somehow he felt assured that he was going the right way—toward Derek, though not necessarily toward the witch.

Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket. He paused to look, finding a message from Alison that they were certain they were only minutes from having the witch. Stiles texted back that he and the others were there and heading into the trees, so if anything bad went down…yell. Stiles didn't bother to check his phone again, even after it buzzed a few more times. He could feel Derek only a few yards ahead.

That realization brought Stiles up short. He could feel Derek—where Derek was. He had never experienced that before. They hadn't really discussed much more about the whole mate thing, but Stiles was starting to wonder if…consummating the relationship came with a few extra perks—and the initial perks had been pretty damn awesome all on their own.

Dismissing this new revelation, Stiles barreled ahead, toward the dull pulse of Derek urging him through the trees. He rushed through a final dense patch into a small clearing…and there he was—Derek, alone, sniffing along the perimeter in all his wolfed out glory.

He turned with a start toward Stiles, as if he had been sniffing out him, seeming just as stunned by whatever new connection this was between them. Then he smiled, and even though the grin held fangs, it was gorgeous.

"Stiles," Derek said in a hushed tone as he shifted human, "what are you doing here? We almost have her."

"I know. Alison told me, but…I needed to be here."

They met in the center of the clearing, and Derek glanced down at Stiles' bat in amusement.

"Hey, some of us don't have claws," he shrugged.

Derek nodded, like it was a good idea, regardless of how it had made him smirk.

A part of Stiles wanted to embrace Derek, or maybe steal a quick kiss, but that was just the kind of distraction that would end them up in a boiling cauldron, so he thought better of it.

"Chris had everyone make a wide perimeter, and we've been slowly closing in. I can smell her now, not far from here." Derek looked unsure as he spoke, though not unsure of his senses.

Stiles gripped Derek's arm and squeezed, just for a moment. "It's okay," he said, and a million other words bubbled up in his brain, but none of them were really all that comforting, so he just smiled and stepped back, gesturing for Derek to lead the way.

Stiles held the bat at the ready, and Derek returned to his wolfish form, as they made their way along the clearing's edge and then into the thick of trees again. They soon came upon a natural winding path, narrow, but wide enough that there was room for another two people between them, as they walked on either edge to better keep their eyes open for any signs of the witch.

Of course, Stiles had no idea what she actually looked like. It had always been just a sense of her, and that one brief moment when Stiles had heard her voice. If he saw her through the trees, would he even know her versus one of the random hunters Chris had brought along?

Another clearing started to open up in front of them, and just as Stiles was stepping into it, he heard Derek hiss, "Stiles, stop!"

A chill raced up Stiles' spine as he froze in place. He looked ahead…and there she was.

"So you're the cause of all this trouble," she said, just standing there in the center of the new clearing, arms folded. She looked so normal. She looked like she could be an older sister or cousin of Lydia's, actually, which Stiles tried really hard not to focus on, but he couldn't help it whenever he saw strawberry-blonde hair.

Her reddish curls hung long about her shoulders, her blouse bedazzled pink with a pink leather jacket, and jeans—which were thankfully blue. She really did paint a sort of modern portrait of Glinda, which made Stiles wonder if the whole look was on purpose, a ruse, and not how she really looked at all.

Derek and Stiles both slowly entered the clearing, parting at the opening to come at her from either side, without even having to explain anything to each other—Stiles just knew what Derek wanted him to do, which was seriously awesome.

"Uhh…aren't I supposed to be saying that to you…Glinda?" Stiles shot back at the witch, holding up his bat as menacingly as he could. He was careful not to get too close to her, and made a quick sweep of his eyes to see if any of the others were nearby, but it was too dark now to see very far through the thick trees.

Glinda grinned—since Stiles had decreed that that should officially be her name from now on. "Now, now…I was only trying to help." Her green-eyed gaze flicked from Stiles over to Derek on her other side. "I think you've learned enough now…Derek Hale. But will it stick…?" She raised a hand toward Derek, who looked feral and menacing with a snarl on his face and his red eyes flashing. But he immediately clutched his chest and began to scream as she curled her outstretched fingers into a fist.

Stiles instinctively flinched forward, meaning to move to Derek's side, but the witch turned back to him and shot her other hand in his direction.

"I don't think you want to interfere right now, sweetheart."

Stiles hesitated, but Derek was hunched over on the ground now, still screaming, keening out this awful howl. Stiles didn't know what to do, but he knew he couldn't just stand there, so he rushed forward toward the witch with his bat, and started to swing.

She waved her outstretched hand like swatting a fly and, before Stiles could get the bat all the way around, he flew backward, landing hard against a tree before crumbling to the ground, winded. He struggled to roll over onto his back, gasping up at the dark sky and the dizzying sway of leaves, the bat lost somewhere nearby.

"Stiles!" Derek called after him, his voice a strange mixture of that pained howl, the way younger Derek normally sounded, and…a little bit of older Derek too.

Stiles' vision continued to blur around him as he blinked skyward, trying to force his breath to return and his mind to clear so he could sit up and do something. Distantly, he could hear Derek still whimpering in pain, then there was a disturbance of leaves, and thuds, like Derek and the witch were fighting, but Stiles still couldn't quite move.

When Stiles finally thought he could roll over and push up onto his knees, he heard a louder thud nearby and suddenly…Derek was rolling into him, half like he had been thrown there, and half as if he was trying to protect Stiles. Derek ended up sprawled over Stiles' still prone body, hands on either side of Stiles' shoulders, holding himself up.

Stiles gasped as his vision began to clear, and the first thing he saw was hazel, and then…stubble. He realized just how much of the sky was being blocked by Derek's larger body, and the otherwise déjà vu of the moment suddenly cleared up like his vision.

"Derek…?"

Derek's adult face looked down at him and, for a moment, his expression looked relieved and anguished all at once. Some part of him still looked so young somehow, like maybe younger Derek was looking out from behind those older eyes.

Then Derek turned his head toward the witch, and his face fell into a familiar snarl of rage, eyes flashing red again as his fangs lengthened. Derek moved off of Stiles into a crouch between him and the witch, guarding Stiles with claws, fangs bared, and eyes blazing.

Stiles could move, but now he was too stunned, too in awe to do more than turn his head.

"People have to earn your trust, Derek, I understand that, but once they do…you are allowed to give it to them," said the witch, no longer looking upon them with any sense of aggression. Her hands hung limply at her sides.

Stiles forced himself to sit up, looking around Derek to see how casually Glinda was standing there. Her smirk fell away and she looked entirely serious as she spoke on.

"You are not prepared for what is coming. None of you are. But…with a strong enough pack, if you can be a strong enough leader…you might get there. Tell me, little wolf…" she said, with a single, confident step forward, "…have you learned enough from your past yet?"

Stiles moved his attention up to Derek to watch for his reaction, but he couldn't really see Derek's face from his fallen position. He was surprised when Derek's claws retracted and he stood up straighter rather than defensively low, though he didn't move from standing guard in front of Stiles.

"You did all of this…just to…" Derek shook his head. It was so strange to hear his deeper, older voice again, and that familiar, brooding tone. "I remember, okay? I get it. But you're not getting a thank you."

Glinda huffed and crossed her arms again. "Didn't expect one. But if I think you're ever starting to forget this lesson…I'll be back." With a quick glance down at Stiles, she smiled, then turned on her heels to walk away.

"Wait! Who the hell—"

She faded away—literally vanished from sight like a phantom—before Derek could finish his accusing call.

Stiles sat there in the grass, inches from Derek's legs, wondering if his life had actually been put on pause, or if it only felt like everything had gone still. He didn't dare move, or look up again at Derek—older Derek, who was back now, and right there, and damn it, Stiles needed to calm down or he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Stiles…?"

Stiles closed his eyes tight a moment, but he knew he couldn't will this away. Slowly, he lifted his head.

Derek had turned to look down at him, but his expression was…blank, unreadable. He held a hand down to Stiles without saying anything more, and gripped it tight as he helped Stiles to his feet. Stiles had to marvel for a moment at how much more Derek's hand encompassed his own, and he found himself staring at that simple connection, that…change, until Derek cleared his throat and pulled his hand away.

A tree had collided with the back of Stiles' head, so he felt a little dizzy, and nauseous, but he wondered if that might be because of something other than a concussion.

He looked up slowly again, this time finding Derek's familiar but…different now…hazel eyes staring back at him, looking down at him again rather than up.

For a brief, ridiculous moment, Stiles wondered if Derek would just kill him now for everything that had happened, out here in the woods, without any of the others around to bear witness. But Derek, standing there in jeans that had popped their top button and a borrowed T-shirt that was stretched and pulling at the seams, moved in closer to Stiles, leaned down to rest his forehead against Stiles' forehead, and breathed in.

Stiles shuddered, reaching up without thinking to grip Derek's arms tight. All at once the contact seemed to shock something inside of Derek and his eyes widened. He gasped, backpedaling suddenly like he hadn't meant to do that, like he wasn't sure what to do, and shaking his head, his gaze distant and his expression…raw.

"Please," Stiles said, not even really thinking, just seeing it all coming apart at the seams like that damn stretched T-shirt Derek was wearing, and he couldn't bear to let it happen if he had to witness it. He reached for Derek, who was too far away now to touch. "Derek…"

"I…" Derek tried to speak, faltering as he stumbled another step or two backwards, eyes swimming with moisture and indecision and memories…

"Stiles!"

"Derek!"

"Hey!"

A chorus of voices preceded the appearance of the others—all of them, the whole pack, as if they had sensed as one when Derek changed back. Isaac, Erica, and Jackson came from one direction, and Scott and Boyd appeared from another, fulfilling the rest of Stiles' déjà vu, like maybe the last few days had been nothing but a wonderful dream.

This time, Stiles stepped back, away from Derek, giving him room as the others came in closer to surround them. The wolves—Derek included—seemed to forget Stiles then as they sniffed the air. Derek looked so silly, straining within Stiles' clothes, and Jackson even dared to snort as he took in Derek's adult form. But Derek didn't glare or reprimand. His face took on a brief expression of completeness as he breathed in his pack.

It wasn't childish for Stiles to feel a wave of jealousy over that—he was entitled—but he tried to hide it as his fists clenched tight at his sides. A small, terrible part of him almost wanted Derek to just…yell at them, be the old Derek again, if he was going to push him away. Then, when Isaac did the brave, foolish thing he had done once before, and pounced on Derek with encasing arms, seeing Derek melt into the touch and allow it…just made Stiles feel empty.

They could have him. Just not him.

The pack came together like an inhale of air, and Stiles was pulled in with the others, forming an insane pack group hug around Derek like they had all those days ago. And, like before, Stiles heard Derek's breath hitch, though the sound wasn't followed by any sobs. The pack was bonding without need for words, just with scent and touch. Stiles was there too, but he was still on the outside looking in, not really pack in quite the same way, and a part of him wanted so desperately to pull out of the others' hold.

When he caught Derek turn toward him and steal a whiff of his short hair, only for Derek's brow to scrunch up in anguish and…regret, Stiles couldn't take it anymore, and the exhale out of the mass embrace couldn't come soon enough. Stiles fumbled backward on unsteady feet when they all finally parted.

Before, he couldn't look at Derek; now, all he could do was stare at him, and he knew his stare was accusing, much as he struggled to hide it.

But Derek wouldn't look back at him.

"O-Okay…enough of this," Derek said to the others, pulling himself together with a deep breath, and looking to each of them—other than Stiles. "Everyone…good?"

The others all seemed so content, since Derek had allowed the intimate contact.

Then Jackson said, "Sure…as long as we can have a few more lessons like we did the other day. I kind of liked the younger you."

Stiles watched closely, but Derek didn't betray himself with any more waves of regret—not toward the others. He attempted a smile. "I can do that. I can do…better. Just don't expect…everything to be the way it was." Derek wasn't looking at Stiles as he said that, but Stiles felt the words in his gut like a punch, meant only for him.

He felt numb, and dizzy again, and he could feel the panic creeping up his spine, the air deflating from his lungs…

There was a rustle in the trees, and each of the wolves turned and dropped into a defensive stance, but the witch wasn't coming back. Chris, Alison, and a few other hunters appeared out of the darkness. There was a moment of silence, then Chris and Derek locked gazes, and for the first time, neither of them looked challenging toward the other. Instead, they shared a nod of understanding.

Even Chris got that much.

Stiles was in a daze, not really aware of how long the hunters remained before taking off again, not really seeing how Alison stayed behind to join Scott, nor did he hear when Derek told the others that it was time to go home.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't…see, he realized, moments before the full brunt of the panic attack overtook him, and he passed out onto the ground.

tbc...

Just trust me. :-)