Author's Note: I'm gonna go ahead and apologize for the way this chapter ends. I'm a horrible person, I know.

I still love you guys, though!

**Edited to add: So, I'm a dumb ass. When I originally published this chapter I left out the entire first section and am now kicking myself repeatedly. I added it for those who are interested in seeing Derek's reaction to Stiles rebuff at the end of the previous chapter.**

No matter what Stiles said, Derek was not running away. Just because he was in fact running, didn't mean that he was running away.

Leaving the Stilinski house, he didn't even try to pretend he was calm enough to do anything at all other than head straight for the preserve. Peeling out in the Toyota wasn't anywhere near as satisfying as it had been in the Camaro but Derek gave it his best shot, regardless.

He was so frustrated with Stiles' attitude, his reluctance to cut Derek even just an inch or two of slack, that he was already struggling to hold back the shift before he reached the border of Hale land and the relative safety of the forest. That, in and of itself, was enough to ratchet up his anger another degree or fifty.

Fighting for control wasn't something Derek had a lot of present day experience with. The last time he'd really had to, he was just a pup. Growing up in a houseful of other wolves- Older, more experienced wolves who were there to offer not only support but tips on how to reign in the wolf even when he was raging -control had been easy enough to learn. Since puberty and the swell of hormones that ushered it in, the only times Derek actually had to put significant effort into control were the full moon, especially the last few, and those days when he was feeling particularly wolfish and Stiles came around reeking of, well... Stiles. Other than those occasions Derek's control was second nature, something he didn't really even have to think about.

Reaching the preserve, Derek didn't hesitate to slam his way out of the car, stripping as he went. He tossed his clothes back into the driver's seat, turned on his heel, and in the very next moment his body exploded into the shift. His bones cracked and rearranged, putting him down on four legs with a fleeting sense of pain and a shudder that rippled beneath his pelt, zinging from the soft velvet of his inky black snout to the very tip of his tail.

Derek let his legs carry him deep into the forest while he tried to lose himself in his instincts instead of drowning in the undertow of his thoughts. He hadn't been able to escape the dark snarl of his thoughts since the second he'd stepped foot into Stiles' bedroom, climbing through the window like he'd done from the very beginning. The moment the scent of a strange wolf reached his nose, soaked into every crack and crevice of Stiles' space, Derek's body had been pulled tighter than a bow string. His muscles refused to uncoil, bunching and straining as if preparing for a fight. Something about the scent was almost familiar, teasing at his senses until his wolf howled in frustration, unable to place it. It was like his mind identified the scent but there was a disconnect somewhere inside his head that wouldn't allow the information to actually be read, like his brain was encoding it for some unfathomable reason.

Even now, tearing through the trees at speeds no normal wolf was capable of, Derek couldn't outrun his thoughts or the dark cloud that followed him, taunting him with the memory of the frigid look Stiles had leveled him with.

Stiles was pissed, Derek knew. He'd known all the while he was gone that coming home wouldn't be all welcome parties and warm greetings. Derek fucked up and he knew it, didn't see a point in trying to pretend otherwise. Leaving with nothing more than a simple text was a terrible way to handle leaving, of saying goodbye. But, while Stiles thought it was because Derek simply didn't care enough to say goodbye in person, Derek knew he couldn't have left if he'd tried had he let himself do it face to face.

Being that close, smelling Stiles' intoxicating scent, the scent that Derek had come to associate with family and trust, home and an emotion so consuming he was terrified to even name it, Derek knew he never would have been able to tear himself away, not from that. Not from Stiles, the one person in the world who sometimes looked at Derek like... Like he was more than a pawn, more than a weapon, just... More.

So, Derek took the cowardly way out and sent the text, then hauled ass out of town before he changed his mind, not taking calls from the pack for the duration of his absence just to avoid the inevitable confrontation his cowardice would eventually lead to.

Going to see Cora had been good for him. Spending time with her, running through the rain forest with her in the full wolf form, had been exactly what he needed to get his head together. Cora helped him let go of his anger toward Peter and what he'd done, helped Derek find a way to accept that the uncle they both loved was long gone and the sadistic monster locked up in Eichen House just wasn't the man they knew.

She'd teased him mercilessly when she found out that anger was no longer his anchor, and the taunts got so much worse when she realized Stiles was his new one. He tried to explain that it wasn't how it sounded, that they were still just friends, but Cora didn't buy it for a second.

"Who'd have thought." She'd smiled their mother's smile, making Derek's stomach twist. "My big brother found himself a mate. A lanky, sarcastic, dubiously moral mate, but a mate nonetheless."

"He's not lanky." Derek snorted, shoving her sideways on the blanket they'd spread out beneath the sky. "You should see him now. He grew into his limbs."

"Maybe someday he'll even grow into his mouth." Cora deadpanned and then cackled, Derek unable to stop himself from laughing with her.

Coming home was never going to be easy, but Derek had hoped that maybe things could be different when he got back. The whole drive up from Mexico City he flirted with the idea of telling Stiles how he felt, putting all of it out there the way Cora suggested.

"What's the worst that could happen?" She'd asked seriously, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

"Besides blatant rejection and causing a rift within the pack?" Derek snarked, dodging the slap she aimed for his head.

He'd considered it, even managed to convince himself that being honest with Stiles about his feelings wasn't going to ruin his own tentative relationship with Malia, something he very much wanted to avoid if at all possible. She was the only blood relation he had in Beacon Hills now and he didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize that.

But then everything changed with that single scent, the new wolf. It wasn't just that the scent existed in the first place, or that it hovered around Stiles like a fog. The fact that the scent was everywhere within the house, layered in like it belonged there, was what had Derek and his wolf gnashing their teeth as they darted across a stream, splashing as they went. Stiles wasn't supposed to smell like wolf, not unless that wolf was pack. Worse, Derek couldn't even object to Stiles spending his time with a strange wolf, not if both Malia and Scott, Stiles' girlfriend and Alpha, respectively, were aware and accepting of said wolf.

Roaring out his frustration, making the forest around him erupt in the sound of scurrying feet and flapping wings as every creature within several miles rushed to safety, Derek launched himself over a fallen log, his claws gouging deep marks into its bark, and barreled through a dense thicket of trees.

It was a long while before he felt in control enough to shift back. He'd already made several circuits of the woods, ran all the way to the northern border of their territory and back by the time he ambled back toward where he'd left his SUV and found the presence of mind to let the wolf slip away. He redressed on autopilot, drove home feeling drained but better than he had before his run.

He chugged an entire bottle of water while standing in the middle of his kitchen, trying with all his might to ignore the lingering scent of Stiles still drifting around his loft. The moment he'd stepped into the loft that morning he'd been bowled over by Stiles' scent, hanging in the air like a warm greeting and a delicious torture all rolled into one. Opening every single window in the place had been good foresight on his part, he couldn't help but think. If he'd come home after his confrontation with Stiles, the teen's scent still heavy in the air, he might have lost his mind all over again.

As it were, he was so distracted by the scent that had long ago woven itself into his very DNA that he didn't notice the faint trace of wolf until he was already on his way upstairs, intent on collapsing into bed rather than on the couch as he'd done earlier that morning, too exhausted to drag himself up the spiral staircase.

Falling into bed turned out to be more of an exercise in restraint than the relief Derek had been hoping for, however. It was hard enough to relax with Stiles swimming through his bloodstream but it became nearly impossible when he reached his bedroom only to find Stiles' scent clinging to his sheets, the same wolf scent that cloaked Stiles and his house there as well, making Derek's wolf snarl and thrash. Still, the overwhelming scent of Stiles was dizzying, had Derek's cock plumping against his thigh and straining to be touched.

If Derek caved and jerked off in those sheets, covering the other wolf's scent with his own and breathing in the high inducing blend of his and Stiles' scents combined as one?

Well, no one was there to see.

"What is wrong with you?" Erica posed the question, curled into Boyd's side on Stiles' couch, the Sheriff on the opposite end with his feet propped up on the coffee table and the TV remote in his hand.

"I've been trying to figure that out for years." John winked at her, shrugging at the indignant squawk his son let out.

"You guys are supposed to be on my side!" Stiles protested indignantly.

Boyd chuffed a soft laugh, grinning over the top of Erica's head. "Over Derek? Think that through, Stiles."

"Just because he was your Alpha? That was, like, forever ago. I thought you loved me!" He wasn't pouting, per se. He was just baffled by Erica and Boyd's eagerness to side with Derek when he was so clearly in the wrong.

Erica snorted."We do love you, Batman." she assured. Some of the comfort of that statement was dampened by her eyes rolling in their sockets. "But, we also love Derek. Like it or not, he was the one who turned us, the one who taught us how to be wolves. Derek saved us, in more ways than one. If anyone understands loyalty through all the bullshit, it should be you."

"But-"

"Besides." Boyd added, narrowing his eyes at Stiles. "Don't you think you're being a little hard on the dude? So he took off again. Big deal. He came back, didn't he? He always does."

"That's not the point!" Stiles informed them bitterly.

"What is the point then, Stiles?" John asked, brows lifted expectantly.

Erica mimicked the expression, her eyes glinting wickedly. "Yes, Stiles. What is the point? Are you pissed off at him because he left? Or, could it maybe be because he left you?"

John's eyebrows might as well have been migrating with how far south they dipped at that. "Derek? Really?" he questioned.

"Thank you, Erica." Stiles sneered, flashing his eyes.

She beamed at him, gleeful at his misery. "You're welcome, boo."

Stiles sighed, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. "Maybe." he told his father, watching for his reaction.

The Sheriff frowned contemplatively, pondering that information. "Well, I can't say I didn't see that coming." he muttered after a minute.

"Excuse me?" Stiles balked, shooting forward in his recliner.

Lifting his shoulders just to let them fall, John smiled slightly as Erica muffled her laughter in Boyd's massive chest. "Kid, anyone that can't see the way you two look at each other is blind." the Sheriff informed him.

"Not true." Erica tossed in and Stiles could have kissed her. "Deucalion was mostly blind, and even he noticed the eye-fucking."

Stiles took back every nice thing he'd ever said about her and replaced them with the most vicious insults he could think of, including, "You are the Devil and I denounce you as my Catwoman."

She stuck her tongue out at him as Boyd laughed and John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as though trying to stop his brain from even registering Erica's words.

"None of this is relevant." Stiles ground out, irritated and embarrassed. When had his entire pack decided to stop ignoring his feelings in favor of taunting him with them instead? "Derek coming back doesn't make up for the time he was gone, okay? He can't just strut back into town and pretend that nothing's changed."

Erica's eyes softened as realization dawned, her smirk replaced with a sympathetic frown. "You mean because you've changed."

Thankfully, Stiles was saved from having to answer when his phone rang. He gratefully snatched it up from the arm of his chair, an apology already on the tip of his tongue when he answered, "Hey Isaac. Look, I'm really sor-"

"It's already forgotten, Stiles." Isaac chuckled in his ear. "But listen, Scott wanted me to see if you were busy?"

Stiles looked around the living room, Erica and Boyd having drawn his father into a conversation Stiles wanted absolutely no part of. "No, man, I'm free. What's up?"

"Looks like there's a faerie ring out by Winslow Lake, causing all kinds of ridiculousness. Nobody's gotten hurt yet but Parrish got a call about half an hour ago, something about weird lights near the highway. Scott wants to check it out."

Stiles was already out of his chair, tossing a short "See you later." over his shoulder on his way out the door. "I'll be there in fifteen." he told Isaac, hanging up and swinging into the Jeep.

Scott, Isaac, and Parrish were already waiting when Stiles pulled up, parking behind Parrish's cruiser along the side of the road.

"Faeries, huh?" he called cheerily, walking around the cars to meet them.

Scott grinned. "Apparently."

"We talking Tinkerbell or...?" Stiles asked, eyes scanning the woods and nose lifted to scent the air.

Parrish nodded, gesturing over his shoulder at the line of trees. "The caller said there was an odd light formation moving through the forest at a good clip. By the time I got here, all I caught was the tail end of what looked like a group of faeries celebrating the moon." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "So, I called Scott."

"What's the plan?" Stiles queried, excitement thrumming through him at the idea of getting a chance to shift so close to the full moon without worrying whether or not he'd be able to shift back.

Okay, maybe finding out Derek was his anchor wasn't all bad.

Scott grimaced slightly, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "We're just waiting for-"

"Me."

"Seriously?" Stiles whisper-shouted at Scott in favor of avoiding looking at Derek who was stepping out of the woods like the Creepy McCreeperson that he was. "Of all the people you could have called?"

"My senses are stronger." Derek shrugged, raising a brow as though challenging Stiles to argue. "The full shift puts my wolf more in control, lets my instincts take over. I can see, hear, and smell things that not even an Alpha can."

"Fabulous." Stiles rolled his eyes, trying for cool and collected while his wolf bounced around the inside of his head, yipping excitedly and itching to stretch his paws in front of Derek. Stiles tried not to be disappointed that he wouldn't be able to shift, choosing to focus on the task at hand instead. "Plan?" he repeated, a slight sharpness tinting the word.

Scott huffed an amused laugh but put Stiles out of his misery. "Spread out, find the circle. I want to try to keep this as civil as possible and just ask them to try to be more discreet, so no attacking unless they make a move first. Stiles?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." he huffed, not meeting the confused look Derek shot him.

"Alright, let's go." Scott motioned for them to set off into the trees, and Stiles was grateful for the opportunity to put distance between he and Derek.

It was already late and the woods were almost one big shadow, the moon's light blocked by the canopy of trees, giving Stiles no choice but to let his eyes shift. He picked his way through the dense underbrush, paying careful attention to the sounds around him so he could switch them back if Derek got close.

Twenty minutes later, Stiles was just beginning to wonder how far into the forest they'd have to venture in order to locate the faerie ring when a glowing yellow light caught his eye and the sounds of celebration drifted toward him. From where he was he couldn't make out anything beyond the dome of glittering light and the tinkling sound of flute music, but how many luminescent parties could there realistically be in the middle of the forest?

Stiles pulled out his phone to text Scott, leaving him distracted and allowing a tiny ball of fury to collide with his sternum, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending him flying back onto his ass with an "Oomph". He rolled with the movement, back on his feet with a snarl, the little winged bastard flapping at him angrily. The faerie looked mad, his teeny eyebrows drawn together in outrage and his little fists clenched at his sides.

"Listen, dude." Stiles tried, pulling the wolf back and lifting his hands in a placating gesture. He fixed the faerie- A small man all of maybe six inches tall, who was sporting an impressive set of shimmering, gauzy copper wings and a halo of messy brown curls -with a hard glare and rubbed at his chest with the heel of his hand. "I'm not here to hurt you or your people, okay? My Alpha just wants to talk."

The faerie narrowed his slightly-too-big-for-his-face emerald eyes, fluttering in place several feet off the ground. "An Alpha werewolf does not simply talk to the Fae." he said, his voice clear and high, and in no way indicative of his size.

Stiles wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a threat or a simple statement but he felt his hackles rise, either way. "Yeah, well, he's not your typical Alpha." Stiles tried to explain, only to be cut off by a growl that vibrated in his chest like a mini earthquake and had his hair standing on end.

Derek slunk out of the darkness at Stiles' right side, eyes burning blue as he padded forward on massive paws. Stiles' heart thudded heavily at the sight of Derek in his wolf form, his oil dark fur glistening even in the barely there moonlight that managed to filter through the canopy and actually reach the forest floor. He'd forgotten how beautiful Derek was like this.

"Derek, relax." Stiles ordered softly, one eye on the faerie who watched Derek with nervous aggression. "We're good here, right?" he asked.

Derek's growl lost some of its edge when he managed to position himself between Stiles and the faerie. It kept up, a rolling sound of warning even as he settled on his haunches in what Stiles guessed was an attempt to seem less threatening.

"He is yours?" the faerie asked, hovering a little closer while casting a curious look between them, his anger seemingly forgotten when faced with an actual wolf.

"No?" Stiles ventured, annoyed that it came out as a question rather than the statement he'd intended.

Derek's growl rose a decibel but he stayed put, practically sitting on Stiles' feet to keep him rooted in place. Without thinking, Stiles reached down to stroke a hand over Derek's neck, his fingers carding through the thick, silken fur there. He was startled by not only the hum of magic he felt at the contact, but also the way Derek's growl shifted into a pleased rumble.

The faerie lifted his feet up under him, hovering in the air as though he were a toddler waiting to be read a story. "Are you quite sure about that?" he asked, his voice teasing and amused as he quirked a brow.

"They're both mine." Scott's voice cut through the night. "And your Court is in my territory." he said evenly, his voice powerful even without the growl behind it.

The faerie turned to watch as Scott emerged from behind him, flanked on either side by Isaac and Parrish, their eyes Gold, Red and Burnt Orange flames in the darkness. "Alpha McCall, I presume." the faerie gave a deferential nod.

Scott gave a short dip of his chin in acknowledgment, his eyes taking on a flicker of wariness at being addressed by name. "And you are?" he asked, gesturing with his head at Derek and Stiles, a signal that he wanted them to align themselves with their pack.

Stiles kept his eyes on the faerie as he shuffled sideways, almost tripping over Derek in the process since the wolf had apparently deemed it necessary to continue acting as a buffer. Derek pressed against Stiles' legs and half-herded him toward the others, a soft chuff of irritation escaping him when Stiles tried to resist. The faerie chuckled heartily as he watched them and Stiles had to bite his lips to stop them from rolling up in another snarl.

"Humans nor werewolves can pronounce my given name." the faerie told Scott, returning his attention to the Alpha. "You may call me Prince, however, should it make you more comfortable."

Stiles snorted, earning himself a sharp nip to his hand from Derek's teeth. He shot him a dirty look but quieted down just the same.

Scott took a few steps forward, addressing the Prince with as much respect as he could infuse into his voice while faced with a tiny, fluttering, naked man in the middle of the darkened woods. "My pack and I don't want to fight. Your Court is welcome to keep using our forest for your celebration, as long as you adhere to a few of our rules."

The Prince looked Scott over as though weighing his worthiness, his bright eyes seeming to glow faintly as he appraised. Apparently finding whatever he was looking for, he nodded his assent. "Very well, Alpha McCall. What rules have you?"

Derek had barely finished buttoning his jeans when Stiles stalked up behind him, radiating anger as he asked, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Having seen this particular conversation coming from a thousand miles away, Derek merely sighed and pulled on his shirt, turning to face Stiles with a bored look. "Could you be a little more specific?" he asked, eyebrows as sarcastic as Stiles had ever seen them.

Stiles scowled, his eyes shining with anger, his body practically vibrating with it. If Derek didn't know better he'd think Stiles was fighting back a shift, the way his muscles bunched and strained beneath his skin.

"Do you really think that protecting me from a six inch tall guy with wings is going to get you back in my good graces?" Stiles bit out as the others stepped out of the woods, watching them as though waiting for the moment one of them would have to step in and break up a fight. "I did just fine while you were gone, Derek!" Isaac cleared his throat deliberately but Stiles just held up a hand to silence him and kept going. "I don't need your self-sacrificing crap, got it? I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."

"I know that." Derek informed him, shrugging into his leather jacket. "But until you spontaneously sprout claws, you're still better off with a wolf on your side." He didn't say that he'd still try to protect Stiles, even then, but the thought definitely existed inside his own head.

This time it was Scott who cleared his throat roughly, adopting a look of pure innocence when Derek shot him a curious look. Stiles gave a frustrated roll of his neck, grinding his teeth and flexing his fingers in frustration.

"On my side, and between me and the threat are entirely different things." he gritted. "I don't need you to save me, Derek."

"Since when?" Derek asked, voice softer than he intended it to be. Saving each other is what they did, what they'd always done. When had that changed without him noticing?

Stiles' eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving with labored breaths that sounded painful as they rushed through his lungs. When he opened his eyes again there was something lurking in their depths that made Derek's wolf whine and his ears droop.

"Since you weren't here the last time I needed saving." Stiles snapped, the force of his words knocking Derek back a step and forcing his wolf into a cower.

"Stiles." Scott called softly, a gentle reprimand in his tone.

Shoving hard past Derek on his way to the Jeep, Stiles ignored Derek's stunned expression, ignored the way his heart hurt to see the crushed look in Derek's eyes. He was halfway inside his car when he stopped, standing with his feet on the lip of the Jeep's floor so he could look at Derek over the roof.

"Don't worry, Derek." he assured darkly. "Scott was there to pick up your slack."