Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm really sorry that this chapter took so long to get out. Last week was a rough one and I didn't get a lot done, to be honest.

But!

Here it is :)

"Do you think maybe the Kearney's are waiting for the full moon?" Erica questioned the possibility from her perch on the edge of Deaton's desk, her long, jean clad legs tucked up and crossed beneath her. "They could be hiding out until then, trying to stay under the radar."

She and Boyd had still been at the clinic, holding vigil by Isaac's side by the time Stiles and Derek arrived, meeting Allison and Scott in the parking lot on the way in. The six of them were crammed into Deaton's office discussing their current situation while Stiles guilt tripped Scott and Allison into at least attempting to eat, all of them listening for even the slightest fluctuation in Isaac's heartbeat in the next room.

"Maybe?" Stiles shrugged, frowning. "They, of all people, should know what a seriously flawed plan that is. I mean, attacking an entire pack on the one night a month when we're at our strongest? It's practically suicide." he pointed out, flipping distractedly through one of the musty old tomes Deaton kept on his bookshelves, an ancient encyclopedia of mystical flora.

Scott, looking more haggard and exhausted than Stiles had seen him in months, scratched distractedly at his unkempt stubble while Allison dozed lightly with her head in his lap, both of them sprawled out on the couch Deaton had pushed up against one wall. "Yeah, that doesn't make a lot of sense." he agreed.

"Maybe they're just trying to psych us out." Boyd supplied from where he was leaning beneath a window, arms crossed over his chest.

"Mission accomplished." Stiles muttered to himself, chewing the inside of his bottom lip as he skimmed over an entry on Hellborne, absorbing what he could while simultaneously trying and failing to ignore the new awareness settled beneath his skin.

Stiles had woken up with it, this feeling inside that seemed to coordinate to Derek somehow. It was a phantom feeling, an imprint of Derek's general state that Stiles only recognized as anything at all because it didn't seem to be coming from himself.

Where his own emotions were in their default state of much too bright and far too intense, the ones that weren't his own, the ones that appeared to be Derek's were placid and content, oddly calming in their absoluteness.

Along with the apparent ability to now pick up on Derek's overall mood came the nifty ability to feel him like a tangible, physical presence even when they weren't in the same room together.

It was a surprising knowledge to come across accidentally, having discovered it when he left Derek in line to order breakfast for the pack while he slipped outside to call Parrish, wanting to check on his dad. Stiles was in the parking lot, phone pressed to his ear and back to the door when he felt Derek behind him. He could feel the heat of Derek's body, could almost taste the familiar wild and earthy scent that clung to Derek's skin tighter than the jeans he poured himself into on a daily basis. A slow smile had curled Stiles' lips as he turned, ready with an eye roll and a bit of sass only to find himself completely alone.

When Derek stepped outside a few moments later their faces held duplicate expressions of awed surprise, telling Stiles that he wasn't alone in this newfound connection. Derek seemed to take it in stride, however, saying only, "My parents said it happens, sometimes." with a shrug and a pensive but pleased quirk to his lips.

Stiles decided not to question it for the time being, vowing to go with his tried and true method of not dealing with it until absolutely necessary.

It wasn't as though he hadn't expected it, honestly. Stiles had seriously done all the research in the first year after Scott was bitten. That research turned up tons of information even Derek hadn't known about, up to and including the mythology of mate bonds. At the time, Stiles was just covering all of their bases, wanting to be as informed as humanly possible in order to prevent Scott from accidentally doing something he wouldn't be able to undo. The idea of Scott unintentionally mating Allison, or something else equally as horrifying, drove Stiles to compile as much werewolf lore as he was capable of getting his hands on.

Thanks to all of the time Stiles spent with his head buried in research, mate bonds weren't an entirely foreign concept. He and Scott had gone through the lore a number of times, discussing at great length the possibility and likelihood of such bonds being a legitimate thing that existed. Scott himself had scoffed at the idea, chalked it up to embellished stories passed down through the generations, tall tales told by emissaries and pack elders in order to scare the younger pack members into keeping it in their pants. Stiles wasn't so sure, but Scott was adamant in his denial. Right up until he'd felt Allison's pain from halfway across the forest when she'd twisted her ankle during a sparing session with Erica. After that, Scott found it much more difficult to brush of the reality of mate bonds.

As it turned out, at least from what Stiles gathered through research and the tidbits of information Deaton shared, mate bonds could be formed one of two ways:

- Gradually; Wherein a werewolf and their mate (or in Scott's case, mates) developed a bond through simply being together, being committed and dedicated to one another for a significant amount of time.

Or

- All at once; Wherein a werewolf and their mate developed a bond through an act of claiming or intent.

Stiles wasn't one hundred percent sure which of the two applied to he and Derek, considering both situations could be somewhat applicable. If he had to venture a guess he'd say that it was probably a whole lot of the former amped up and intensified by the latter, but that was just a highly educated guess.

Leaning against the table Stiles had hauled himself up on, Derek bumped his hip against Stiles' leg where it dangled over the side.

"We'll be ready no matter when they come." Derek assured calmly, confidently. "Eight werewolves are hard enough to eliminate on their own. Throw in a werecoyote, a kitsune, a phoenix, a banshee, and a pair of hunters, and our odds look pretty good."

"Seven wolves." Scott yawned as his hand trailed through Allison's hair. "Six, depending on what kind of shape Isaac's in when he wakes up."

"Why seven?" Derek asked, brows drawn down in confusion as he ran through the pack members again in his head, trying to figure out if he'd accidentally counted someone twice.

"If the Kearney's attack on the full moon, Stiles doesn't count." Scott said, eyes closed and face turned up toward the ceiling.

"Hey!" Stiles protested with a squawk even as Derek asked, "What do you mean he doesn't count?"

Opening his eyes to meet Derek's gaze, Scott explained, "Without an anchor, he can't control the shift. Deaton usually sedates him and he spends the night in the vault."

Stiles glared hard at the book in his lap, cheeks darkening in embarrassment. He knew he shouldn't be embarrassed by his lack of control, not when it wasn't his fault. A wolf without an anchor, especially one as new as Stiles, had no hope of controlling themselves on a full moon. The lunar pull was too strong to resist, the power too tempting to fight against without something to fight for, a reason to hold onto his humanity.

"You've been locking him up?" Derek nearly growled, his tone angry. Just the thought of Stiles trapped away in the vault where Erica, Boyd, and Cora had almost died made Derek's instincts flare to life, his wolf emitting a low, rumbling snarl somewhere deep inside his chest.

"Der." Stiles interjected, putting a hand on Derek's shoulder to draw his attention away from Scott. "He had no choice, okay? I didn't give him one."

"But-"

Stiles tilted his head, smiling softly at the concern in Derek's eyes. "I never would have forgiven myself if I hurt someone, Derek. Knocking me out and locking me up was the only option. But," he turned his attention back to Scott, his smile morphing into something proud, "it isn't anymore."

Scott's eyes were broadcasting his confusion almost as strongly as his scent. Stiles let him work through it on his own and couldn't help but snort with laughter when Scott finally seemed to comprehend what Stiles was saying.

"You found your anchor?" he asked excitedly, almost dislodging Allison from his lap. "When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Yes. About a week ago. Because I wasn't ready to deal with it yet." Stiles answered the questions in the order they'd been asked, ignoring the smug smile Derek aimed at him.

Erica was grinning at them both, her expression knowing and fond. "Well, it's about fucking time." she said before rolling her eyes at Scott's furrowed brow. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Scott."

Scott looked from one face to the next, trying to puzzle out what he was missing that everyone else seemed to understand. Stiles fought to keep his expression neutral, struggling with the laugh dancing in his throat while Derek just grinned at his own feet and Boyd rubbed at his smirk with the palm of his hand in an effort to wipe it away.

"It's Derek, Scott." Allison sighed, not even bothering to open her eyes. "Derek is his anchor."

"Oh." Scott nodded, his eyebrows still knotted and a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. After another beat his eyes went wider and his mouth fell open, "Oh."

Stiles couldn't help it. The laughter in his throat snuck past his lips and out into the room. "Don't sound so shocked, Scottie." he chuckled, "Even you had to have seen this coming."

Scott grinned his crooked grin, the stress around his eyes melting into happy crinkles. "I knew there were feelings, but I didn't know it was like that."

Derek coughed to cover his own laugh, smiled into his fist while Stiles flipped Scott the bird, the curve of his lips never bothering to straighten out.

"I didn't know, either." Stiles admitted. He shrugged one shoulder, turning to throw a smile at Derek. "But, it really, really is."

All of them froze in place, even Allison who was reacting instinctively to the wolves' cues, when the hoarse, "Told you so." carried in from the room next door.

Scott was rushing for the door before the rest of them even had a chance to move, banging through into the exam room to throw himself onto Isaac's cot. Isaac made an oomph sound when Scott's weight knocked the wind from his lungs, but he tightened his arms around him all the same, holding Scott close and huffing a croaky laugh when Scott buried his nose in the curve of his neck.

Allison didn't wait for Scott to release Isaac, just climbed over the mini puppy pile to fit herself into the narrow space left between them and the wall, nuzzling her face into the other side of Isaac's neck and throwing her leg over Scott's back.

"How do you feel?" she asked, her words muffled against Isaac's throat.

"Squished." Isaac grunted, though he made no move to free himself. He actually seemed to settle even more comfortably in between and beneath them, all three of them radiating relief and affection. "And not at all optimistic about this cot's ability to hold all of our weight."

Stiles smiled fondly at them, leaning into Derek's side and smiling wider still at the way Derek's arm slipped around his waist as though it were an automatic reaction. "At least you haven't lost your sense of humor." he noted, catching Isaac's eye. "That's gotta be a good sign."

"I feel okay." he assured, shifting around until Allison and Scott let him sit up, stationing themselves on either side of him like gargoyles set to protect him from any and all attacks. "I feel really weak." he admitted quietly, as though saying it out loud took more strength than he could muster. "I'm starving and my head is killing me, but other than that..."

Stiles had to admit, Isaac looked pretty good for someone who'd been unconscious for the last thirty-some hours. He was still a little on the pale side, but he was no longer ashen and gray. He had some color back in his cheeks, his complexion warm and pink despite the deep bruise-colored circles beneath bloodshot eyes. Over all, it was a hell of a lot better than just a few hours before and Stiles figured they'd take what they could get.

"Oh!" Erica exclaimed suddenly, ducking out of the room only to return a second later with a paper bag full of breakfast sandwiches and a bottle of water. "Eat." she instructed, pushing her loot into Isaac's hands.

He smiled his thanks as he cracked the cap off the water. "So, what did I miss? How long have I been out?"

"About a day and a half." Scott informed him with a dark look.

Stiles sent out a mass text to the rest of the pack, letting them know Isaac was awake while everyone else filled him in on what happened in the time he'd been unconscious. Isaac listened, scarfing down a few sandwiches and nodding his understanding while his pack mates talked over and around each other.

"My dad and Parrish have the entire station keeping an eye out for the Kearney's." Stiles threw in, drawing Isaac's attention as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "So far, none of our leads have panned out. It's slow going, but we're working on it."

Isaac's eyebrows drew together, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.

"What is it?" Allison questioned softly, running soothing fingers through his hair.

Isaac frowned, thinking hard. The pack fell silent around him, waiting patiently for him to find the thread of whatever he was trying to dredge up.

After a long while he seemed to grasp it, his mouth curving down further. "I think I remember something. It's sort of fuzzy, though."

"It's okay." Scott assured him, threading their fingers together and holding their joined hands in his lap. "Take your time."

After another few moments Isaac nodded, eyes lifting to address the pack. "I heard the hunters before Malia did." he told them. "I thought that I could circle around, catch them off guard while they were focused on her. I think I heard them talking about Carrick. Something about a check-in, maybe."

"Can you remember where?" Scott pressed gently, not wanting to push too hard but eager for more information.

"East, I think." Isaac supplied hesitantly. "Beacon Point? That's east, right?"

"Yeah." Allison confirmed. "It's out by the old ironworks, just above Winslow Lake."

Scott glanced sideways at Stiles. "That's a lot of ground to cover."

"It's a place to start." Stiles told him, his mind drawing up a search grid for the pack to follow even as he spoke.

Scott looked hesitant to stand, his gaze lingering over Isaac and Allison before turning back to Stiles. Having known Scott for pretty much the entirety of his existence, Stiles was well versed in the plethora of emotions Scott could convey with nothing but his eyes. The torn expression haunting his face added to the pleading in his eyes and Stiles was quick to jump into the leadership role just to force that look away.

"I'll take care of it." he said determinedly. "Lydia and Deaton are on their way. They'll want to look you over before you get back into the thick of things." he informed Isaac. "So, you three stay here. The rest of us will split into teams and comb the border. There's gotta be something out there, something we can use to find these assholes before they get another shot at us."

Derek was already heading for the front door, phone out and dialing up the rest of the pack. Boyd and Erica weren't far behind, each of them itching to get back into the woods, back on the hunt. Scott had banned all of them from stepping foot in the forest until they knew for sure that they weren't going to walk into a trap. They still didn't know for sure that that wasn't the case, but at least now they had a direction to go, a clue to follow.

"Thanks, bro." Scott muttered softly as he pulled Stiles into a hug, arms banded around his shoulders just this side of too tightly.

Stiles slapped him companionably on the back, not even resisting when Scott rubbed his cheek against his. "Of course, dude. Isaac's gotta come first right now. Derek and I have this under control." he promised.

"I know." Scott smiled tiredly, pulling back to hold Stiles at arms length, squeezing his shoulders. He seemed to argue with himself for a beat, his eyes searching Stiles' face while his mouth opened and closed silently a time or two.

"Spit it out." Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes.

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. "You just... You're different. Both of you. Not in a bad way!" he amended quickly when Stiles tried to protest. "You're just more... Settled, I guess? It reminds me of-" he cut himself off, eyes flicking back to where Allison was tucked into Isaac's lap, her face pushed into his neck.

Stiles' heart clenched and skipped, his stomach fluttering like he'd swallowed a net full of butterflies. The idea that him being with Derek was on any kind of level even remotely reminiscent of the relationship Scott shared with Allison and Isaac made Stiles' lungs feel tight and his throat raw.

"I'll text you when we find something." he choked out, backing for the door in a way he prayed was subtle but knew wouldn't be nearly subtle enough for Scott to not notice.

Scott shook his head again, his smile reaching his eyes. "Yeah, you do that." His smile was small and private when he turned and made his way back to the cot.

Derek left Stiles at the clinic, opting to ride with Erica and Boyd rather than swinging by the Sheriff's station before heading for the eastern border. Stiles offered to pick up Parrish mostly so he could harass his father into accepting a ride home, not wanting him to drive after having worked almost as long as Isaac had been comatose. The Sheriff bitched halfheartedly but acquiesced when Parrish bribed him with the promise of coffee and a donut on the way. Stiles probably would have objected if not for the euphoric sense of freedom filling his chest, telling him that Derek was shifted and running.

It only took about an hour for Stiles and Parrish to meet up with the rest of the pack, all of them ready and waiting by their cars when Stiles pulled up in the Toyota, Parrish in the passenger seat. Stiles tossed his jacket into the backseat before they climbed out, heading for the loose huddle near the trailheads.

"Can we go now?" Malia asked, practically vibrating with the need to hunt. Kira ran a hand down the center of her back to calm her, but Malia just continued to shiver in place, her claws already poking though the tip of her fingers.

Pulling the gun Jackson retrieved when Isaac had been shot from inside his jacket, Parrish handed it to Derek. "There should be enough of the hunter's scents on this for you guys to track."

"We already have it." Jackson informed them, jerking his thumb toward Malia.

"Which is why I'm splitting you up." Stiles said. "Jackson, you're with Erica. Boyd with Derek, and Malia with Kira and Liam." he told them as he sent out texts, each of them containing a specific section of the terrain for each team to search. "Parrish and I will take the rest. Chris and a few of his people are out there, too, so make sure you know who's who before you make with the fangs and claws."

"This coming from you?" Jackson snarked, snapping his teeth playfully when Stiles flashed his eyes at him.

"Don't attack unless you have no other choice." Derek told the pack. "Avoiding a war should still be our main focus."

"What do you expect us to do when we find these assholes?" Erica asked, one brow cocked over eyes already glowing Gold. "They're hunters, Derek. They've certainly made it clear that they are not interested in peace talks."

"Text me or Stiles, and stay on them. We need to know where they're hiding and we can't do that if you kill them." he said pointedly, eyeing Erica and Malia. "If you find Carrick and can manage it without getting yourselves killed, detain him."

"Keep your eyes open." Stiles added, meeting the eyes of each pack member. "The Kearney's have already proven that they're not above shooting to kill. Watch each others backs and stay in contact."

Everyone dispersed, breaking off into their assigned groups and heading off in the direction their maps dictated.

Before Stiles could move to follow Parrish into the forest, Derek grabbed him by the elbow and spun him back around to face him. His face was a hard mask of determination, but Stiles could feel the worry below the surface.

"Be careful." Derek said, his voice low. "Parrish might be able to regenerate, but you can't."

Stiles smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to Derek's mouth. When he pulled back he cupped one hand to Derek's neck, rubbing his thumb gently into the fleshy hollow beneath his jaw.

"Don't worry so much, Der. You're gonna give yourself wrinkles." Stiles teased, trying to alleviate some of the weight pressing down on them.

"They'll match all the grays you've given me." Derek growled, pushing forward to steal another kiss before taking a step back, fixing Stiles with a glare that didn't hold any heat. "I'll see you later."

"You bet your sweet ass you will." Stiles grinned lecherously as he walked backwards toward Parrish, eyebrows wriggling exaggeratedly.