Chapter Text
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Derek looked up into whiskey-colored eyes and felt his breath hitch. He leaned as far forward as the cuffs would allow, his eyes flitting between the teens’ and his lips. There was something…
“Stiles!”
The Sheriff bodily pulled the teen – Stiles? – out of the cruiser by the back of his blazer’s collar and away from the police car. Not that the few feet would stop Derek from hearing what they said, especially with the door open, but still, he didn’t like the teen being away from him.
“What are you doing here?” the Sheriff hissed angrily.
“He didn’t do it.”
“What? Stiles, you and Scott were the ones who said he did do it.”
“I didn’t say that, Scott said that, because Scott’s a jealous idiot. Derek didn’t kill her.”
Derek and the Sheriff froze at the sound of his name. How had the kid known?
“Derek?”
“Derek Hale, as in his burnt-out house standing not five-feet behind us, Derek Hale.”
Derek couldn’t stop the full-body shiver at the words. He’d forever smell smoke and burning flesh when he looked at his childhood home. He shook his head when Stiles started speaking again, his voice a faint murmur of sound that both agitated and soothed Derek’s wolf.
“He’s Derek, dad, and you found…you know who you found. He didn’t do it. Derek could never have hurt Laura.”
It was the conviction in his voice as much as his sisters’ name that pulled the whine out of the back of his throat. Within seconds the back door was being yanked open and Stiles was there unlocking his cuffs, pulling him in against his chest; one long-fingered hand carding through his thick hair while the other rubbed up and down his spine.
“Shhh,” he soothed awkwardly. “I got you, Big Guy, you’re gonna be okay. I promise. Dad’ll find out who did it. Shhh…Der, it’ll be okay.”
Derek buried his nose in the kid’s throat, taking deep, gasping breaths. The scent was familiar, but something he couldn’t place. How did the kid know him? Who was he to Derek that his wolf immediately sought comfort in his arms? He hadn’t even let Laura hold him since the fire. He was too unworthy for that.
“You’re not,” the boy said softly. Just soft enough the humans couldn’t hear him and it struck a chord inside Derek. A memory he’d long forgotten.
His head shot up, eyes glowing blue as he stared into orange eyes. “Mischief?”
Stiles nodded faintly, lips curled up into a small grin, even though his eyes were sad. “Got it in one, Der-bear.”
Derek scrunched up his nose. “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled.
Stiles laughed softly as the orange faded from his eyes. It had never been overly obvious, his natural color already a little unnatural, so few had realized the boy was anything other than human.
Cora had known. She’d seen him punch some kid out for being an ass to a boy with asthma and had brought him home, practically throwing him at their mother and saying ‘He’s magic, so he’s ours, right?’ Talia had had a hell of a time calming the little boy down. In the end, he hadn’t stopped crying until Derek had wandered down from upstairs asking what all the noise was about.
The boy had stopped mid-tear, which was impressive enough, but then he’d turned and full-body thrown himself at Derek, who only managed to catch him because of his wolf. The minute he’d touched the boy he’d felt an overwhelming urge to protect him, even from his family.
‘Interesting,’ his mother had said, a contemplative smile on her face. ‘Why don’t you take him into the living room, while I call Claudia, dear?’
Derek had taken one look into orange eyes and melted. He knew then and there that he’d never be able to deny the boy anything, which scared him. He didn’t like strangers. He didn’t like change and this child, ‘Mischief,’ he’d called himself, was the very embodiment of change.
“I’m sorry, Der,” the teen murmured, breaking into Derek"s memories. They were kneeling in the dirt, his arms lose around Derek’s shoulders. Derek should have felt confined, restricted just as if he was still wearing the handcuffs, but even though he didn’t know the man Mischief was growing into, he still knew him. He knew he could trust him.
“It’s okay.”
“Lie,” Stiles said easily, then leaned in and rubbed his nose along the hinge of Derek’s jaw. God, how much did the kid remember of running with a wolf Pack?
“Most of it,” he said gently. “I remember most of it, which is why it hurt so bad when you left.”
“You still reading my mind, Mischief?”
Stiles gave a breathy little laugh. “Your eyebrows,” he corrected. “They always said more than you did.”
Derek gave a little sub-vocal growl. “Brat.”
Stiles pressed their foreheads together. “Your brat, Der,” he breathed. “It was always you. Auntie Talia explained it once, you know? What she thought it might be. Why our connection was so strong.”
Derek stiffened in his grasp, attempting to pull back.
“Don’t,” the teen commanded, eyes flashing orange. “Don’t run from me again, Derek. I know you. I know what losing everyone did to you, and now Laura? No. We aren’t playing that game. So, you’re staying right here and we’re dealing with things. We’ll find out who killed Laura and then you and I are sitting down and figuring us out, because I refuse to give you up again.”
Derek swallowed harshly, eyes flickering between jade and electric blue. He heard the Sheriff move closer, their private time apparently over. Finally, he sighed wearily and slumped within the boy’s hold. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You win.”
Stiles gave him an inscrutable look. “You should remember I always win, Der, but this isn’t a game. I’m serious about what’s between us. We aren’t like the others, we aren’t human. You can’t keep thinking about me in those terms.” He stood, drawing the older man up beside him, glancing over at his dad then back at Derek. “I never was.”
“Derek coming home with us, kiddo?” Noah Stilinski asked mildly.
“Yup!”
“Good. That means we can start eating proper food again. This kid’s all skin and bones.”
Stiles made a sound like a dying cat and reached out to poke one of Derek’s muscles. “Which part is skin and bones?!” He shrieked indignantly. “You can’t possibly be taking about the freaking Greek God the asshole turned into!”
“Language,” Noah responded absently, rolling his eyes as he held out a hand for Derek to shake. “Son,” he said. “It’s been a long time. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it was you.”
“Sheriff?”
Noah smiled, “It was Deputy Stilinski back then. I was the first responder to the fire. You actually stayed the night with us.”
Derek’s face paled. He remembered very little of right after the fire, but he did remember Mischief wrapped around him crying silent tears, his face screwed up like he was in just as much pain as Derek and Laura had been at the loss of the Pack bonds. Oh hell, he thought, head whipping around to land on Stiles’ down cast one…
“You felt it too, didn’t you?” he gasped. Stiles swallowed thickly and nodded; his eyes watery when he looked up. Derek opened his arms and Stiles ran into them, thick, hot tears welling up to spill over his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Mischief,” he growled. “I didn’t realize. We never should have left you like that.”
Stiles rubbed his face back and forth against Derek’s chest. “Wasn’t your fault. I never said anything. Auntie Talia and Uncle Peter were the only one’s who knew; and mom, but she…”
Derek held him closer. He remembered Claudia dying around the time he’d met Paige. Stiles had been away a lot, first at the hospital and then he’d been sent out of the country to stay with his grandparents. It had been a bad year for both of them.
Derek took two fingers and raised the boy’s chin, eyes searching his for something…he wasn’t sure what. “I should have been there for you more.”
Stiles shook his head again. “No, I wasn’t…” his eyes flickered orange once. “I wasn’t right…wasn’t safe for anyone to be around.”
“It might have helped, having someone to anchor you,” he acknowledged, realizing what the feeling was he’d had ever since hearing Stiles’ voice in the woods the day before.
Stiles eyes went soft, “You didn’t need to be here to do that, Derek.”
Derek sucked in a breath, swallowing the whine building in his throat. He nodded once, sharply, and tucked the teen in closer against his chest. The deep rumble impossible for human ears to hear.
The Sheriff cleared his throat pointedly. “Well, now that you boys have reacquainted yourselves, perhaps we can move this reunion somewhere without half my deputies watching? And I get steak tonight, Stiles, no arguments.”
Stiles huffed out a little baby-growl of annoyance making Derek chuckle. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Stiles’ ear. “What was that, Little Red?” he murmured. “All those years and that’s the best growl you’ve got? I know I taught you better than that.”
Stiles shivered at the sensation of warm breath ghosting over his flesh, his nails digging into the hard planes of Derek’s back. He turned so his lips were pressed against Derek’s cheek.
“I’ll show you a damn growl, Big Bad,” he rasped. “’course, dad might really arrest your ass then.”
Derek chuckled lowly before pulling back. “Jacket.”
Stiles cocked his head like a confused puppy at him. He raised his eyebrows and held out an expectant hand.
“Oh!” The boy blushed furiously and handed him the leather jacket he had clutched in his hand. He didn’t even remember grabbing it out of the cruiser.
Derek gave him a fond smile as he slipped it on, surprised when Stiles stepped forward to settle the collar correctly.
“It was your dad’s, right? I remember Uncle Mike wearing it.”
“He hated when you and Uncle Peter called him that,” Derek said.
“We knew,” the teen answered blithely. “Why do you think we did it?”
Derek snorted, “Of course you two did.”
Stiles stepped back out of his space and twisted his fingers together behind him, rocking on the balls of his feet.
“Come on, boys,” the Sheriff called out, drawing their attention. “Stiles, I’ll meet you two at home.”
“’Kay.” He nodded, spinning, and walking towards a baby blue jeep. Derek frowned as he walked behind him, not quite sure when a distance had appeared.
He studied Stiles as he walked, the tightness of his arms and shoulders, the white of his knuckles and had a moment of clarity. Reaching out, he snagged one of Stiles’ hands, tugging the boy back beside him close enough for their shoulders to touch. Immediately, they both relaxed.
“I…I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” Stiles said as they stood beside the jeep.
“I didn’t think it’d ever happen, so you’re one up on me.”
Stiles shook his head, gnawing on his bottom lip. “It’s going to get worse,” he warned. “I’ve done a lot of reading and it’ll just get worse until we deal with it.”
“Get in,” Derek said as Noah very pointedly slammed his car door closed. “We’ll talk on the drive.”
Stiles climbed in, more a flailing of arms and legs than anything else and God, Derek had to be gone on the kid to find that level of awkward endearing.
“Rude,” Stiles muttered around a small, worried smile.
Derek smirked as he placed his hand on the boy’s bouncing knee, making him jerk at the sensation. “What?!” he squeaked.
“You need both hands to drive,” he said easily. “This keeps the connection in place.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, good idea, except I’ll probably crash from lack of blood flow, but sure, good job smarty-wolf.”
Derek growled out loud for that one, making Stiles laugh. How did he do it? How did the teen manage to make everything better just by being there? He’d found his sister’s corpse, half of it actually, just hours ago and in less than an hour Mischief had managed to help push the crushing guilt and anger and sadness back enough for Derek to function like a semi-normal member of society. He’d done more in an hour than Laura had managed in six years.
“Don’t do that,” Stiles said sharply.
“Do what?”
“Compare us. It’s not fair.”
“You reading my mind again, Red?”
“You’ve been an open book to me since I was six, Big Bad, no supernatural powers needed.”
Derek huffed out a sad sigh. “Six years. How did you not go crazy?”
“Who said I haven’t?” Stiles countered, shifting as he took the turn onto Main Street. “I lost everyone I loved except for my dad and Scott in the space of a year. Mom, you and the Pack, my grandpa. Everyone I cared about seemed to go away. Then I get back and my dad’s a damn drunk and Scott’s dad is an asshole who hit him and Melissa. I dealt with Rafe and Melissa got dad sober, but things haven’t been the same. Not really. I’m not normal, Der, and I’m not the same. I…it broke something, inside me, when you left. I knew it was going to happen and I couldn’t stop it and I still broke.”
Derek turned in his seat to stare at the young man, his wolf pacing and whining inside him. God, he hated how broken Stiles sounded. How resigned.
“I don’t blame you,” Stiles continued. “Not really. I mean, not anymore. I did. I knew you were going to leave. I could feel it. That night, I asked you to stay, do you remember? I asked you and you gave me this look and I knew you wouldn’t. You lost most of your family…I lost my entire Pack. Worse, I lost my mate. I didn’t know what that meant back then. Not really. I was too young. Too shocked by everything that had happened, but once I figured it out, I was so angry. I…dad sent me to Eichen House.”
Derek growled, eyes flashing. “What the hell?!”
“It wasn’t his fault. Not really. After you left I went sorta catatonic and when I came out of it my magic was completely out of control. I’d get pissed and stuff would shatter or fires would start. When I got sad all the faucets would turn on and flood the house. It got bad. The doctors thought I might be bipolar or have ADD or something. They tried a bunch of different drugs and each one reacted with my magic in a new and more horrible way. One caused me to spontaneously bleed. I had a seizure in the school bathroom and was covered in blood. The nurse thought I’d tried to kill myself, so they sent me to Eichen on suicide watch.”
He flicked his eyes to Derek’s, which were glowing fiercely. He reached down and squeezed his fingers before shifting gears. “I’m not telling you this to upset you, or make you feel guilty, but to explain. My mom never told my dad about the magic. She didn’t think I’d be as strong as I am, but that’s because I"d had my anchor and mate beside me since I was a kid. You kept me in check. Let my magic develop slowly in a safe environment surrounded by people who cared about me.”
“When she died and then you left, I couldn’t control it anymore, and things went bad. Really, really bad. It took almost a year, but I finally figured out what was wrong. Once I did, I could start to work on ways of dealing with the violent mood swings.” He snorted, “Ironically, the Adderall they gave me for the ADD helped. It’s not 100% of course, and it blocks my magic in weird ways, but I’m figuring it out. If you stay…”
He stopped speaking so abruptly Derek frowned. “If I stay, what?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
Derek sighed, “Red…”
“No. If I tell you, you might do something that’s not right for you. I’m okay, Derek. I haven’t blown myself up in years. Whatever you decide to do needs to be for you.”
They pulled into the drive of the Stilinski house beside the cruiser. Derek could hear the Sheriff going up the stairs and assumed he was going to change. He pulled himself out of the jeep, rounding the hood to help Stiles out. In the shadow between the two vehicles, he caged Stiles against the door, his hands settling heavily on the teens’ hips.
“I’m not leaving, Mischief,” he swore. “I was a mess back then and never realized what was happening. I met Paige,” he stumbled a bit over the name before continuing, “I met Paige when your mom was sick and you stopped coming by as often. I was lonely and she…God this is screwed up, but she reminded me of you. I never meant to get her involved in any of this. She didn’t know and I wasn’t going to tell her, but then Ennis bit her and…”
“And you had to finish it.”
Derek nodded jerkily. “Yeah. I was so upset. I went to your house.” He nodded up at the home behind them. “I was looking for you and I got here and your dad was on the phone. He said he’d just dropped you off at the airport. That you should arrive in Poland in fifteen hours. I lost it. Went completely feral. I don’t even know how long I was gone, but my mom found me curled up on the Nemeton. I refused to shift back for weeks. When I finally did, I felt hollow inside. I went to school, practice, but I wasn’t the same. I was empty and then…”
“Then Kate showed up,” Stiles finished, his eyes glinted dangerously, but his arms around Derek were understanding, loving, even.
“She…you know what happened?”
“I put it together.” He gave a little smirk, “Son of a lawman, remember? First case I ever broke into his files for was yours.”
Derek gave a weak laugh, “Of course it was.”
“I’m sorry, Der.”
“Wasn’t your fault, Red. You were a kid. It’s not like you could tell your dad no.”
“Oh, I did. Often and loudly. I told him he was wrong. That I wasn’t sick. I think they all thought I had what mom did. That I was losing it or schizophrenic or something. Not like I could just tell them I was going crazy because my magic was on the fritz.”
“That night, you weren’t manic though.”
“Nah,” he drawled. “See, apparently the Gajos’ are all magic users. Something they call iskra. Closest English translation I can come up with is a ‘spark’. Babcia sat me down and explained what was happening. I, uh, I told her about you. About the Pack. She said some very unkind things about my parents being idiots and then told me all about iskry within Packs and how they are almost always mates or emissaries. That we’re drawn to other supernaturals as a way to balance the magic in us. Then I got a crash course in mates and everything fell into place.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Iskry are unbalanced by nature. We have a pool of magic inside us that is dawanie życia – life giving – we can manifest new life...plants, animals, healing, etc. but when we start big magic, we can’t stop. We don’t have an off switch. So, we look to those that can force us to stop when we start to put too much of our magic, of ourselves, into the spells. Packs are really good, because the family structure allows for an innate bond and mates or Alphas can force the iskra to stop. There are some other supes that work well too and this weird thing called a lis śmierci, a death fox, that can apparently bond with an iskra, but those are like super rare and dangerous to control.”
“So, being part of the Pack actually kept you balanced?”
“And being with you, yeah. When you weren’t there, mom balanced me, or, we balanced each other, but then she started getting sick and it screwed everything up.”
Stiles bit his lip harsh enough for a drop of blood to bead up. Derek didn’t even think about it, he just leaned down and licked the blood away, making the boy suck in a sharp breath.
“I…fuck, Derek, you can’t do that.”
Derek jerked back as if he’d been slapped, “Sorry.”
“No!” Stiles grabbed his arms, digging his finger tips in to hold the wolf still. “I don’t mean I don’t want you to do that, I just mean I still need to tell you something and afterwards, fuck, afterwards you might hate me forever.”
“Not likely, Little Red,” he muttered wearily.
Stiles shook his head, his eyes shinny with unshed tears. “I might have been the reason for Kate.”
“What?” Derek went stock still.
“I…with my magic going nuts and not being around you, it might have messed your wolf up too. It might have made him lash out and…”
“No. God, no, Mischief, Kate was not your fault.” Derek pulled the boy in tight, nuzzling against his temple with a stubbled chin. “I was messed up from you leaving and Paige’s death, but no one is to blame for Kate but me. I let her get close and she killed them, that wasn’t on you.”
“Not on you, either, Der. You were fifteen and she was almost thirty. She’s the fucked up one, not you.”
Derek leaned back to look Stiles in the eyes. “And you were nine, Mischief. Nine. There is no way that whatever magic you had, or even if we were mates, would have made you responsible for any of that. You can’t blame yourself.”
“If I can’t, you can’t.” he mumbled stubbornly. “And we are mates.” Derek gave him a look which he just shrugged at. “Just saying. It wouldn’t have manifested as anything sexual back then anyways. I was too young.”
“Jesus,” Derek breathed, starting to understand just how twisted together their fates were. “Your dad’s standing at the door debating when to break us up.”
Stiles snorted. “At least you don’t have to worry about getting shot. He doesn’t have any wolfsbane bullets.”
Derek rolled his eyes. Stepping back, he twined their fingers together. “We need to tell him about all this, you know.”
Sighing heavily, Stiles nodded. “Yeah. I know, I just hate that he’s going to be in danger now.”
“He’s a cop, Red, he was in danger the minute he took up the badge.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re going to have to start calling me Stiles, you know that, right?”
Derek huffed as the Sheriff opened the door and ushered them in. “Stiles is even weirder than Mischief.”
“Hey! You can’t blame that one on me. Blame Pops over there for giving me some unpronounceable Polish monstrosity.”
“Don’t drop that mess on me, kiddo. That was all your mom.” The two Stilinski"s stopped dead in their tracks. This was probably the first time they"d mentioned Claudia casually since her death.
“I don’t think I ever knew your real name,” Derek said into the loaded silence that followed.
Stiles snorted, “Yeah, and it’s going to stay that way. I’m taking that mess to my grave.”
“It’s Mieczyslaw,” Noah said. “He was named after Claudia’s father. Mischief was the closest he could pronounce for a long time. You want a beer, son?”
Derek blinked, “Um, no thank you, Sheriff. I don’t drink.”
“Noah, please, and if you’re going to be hanging around Stiles, you might want to reconsider that.”
“Dad…” Stiles warned, eyes flickering between the beer in his father’s hand and the locked liquor cabinet.
Noah’s fingers tightened on the neck of the bottle before he slid it back into the refrigerator. “Coke or Pepsi? Stiles prefers that God-awful Mt. Dew crap, so we’ve got both.”
Derek smiled faintly. He ran a hand over Stiles’ shaved head and neck as he followed Noah into the kitchen. “Pepsi, please.”
“Got it.”
“If we’re doing red meat,” Stiles said, shaking himself free of whatever spell Derek’s touch had over him. “Then you’re eating a salad and lots of veggies.”
“Fine.”
“How did you get the name Stiles?” Derek found himself asking, settling slightly into a kitchen chair.
“Dziadek, Dad’s dad. That was his nickname in Vietnam. They screwed up his dog tags and Stilinski was pressed over the E in his first name. It kinda stuck. After the fire…I couldn’t stand being called Mischief anymore, so I refused to answer to anything other than Stiles.”
Derek stood and rounded to table to press his shoulder against Stiles’ where he was standing at the counter. “I’m sorry, Red.”
Stiles shrugged. He handed Derek a chopping board and the vegetables. “Make the salad, Big Guy, and all’s forgiven.”
“You two going to tell me about this?” Noah asked, waving a hand at the pair of them.
The two exchanged a glance and Stiles nodded at Derek, then turned to his father. “Go put your gun in the safe.”
“Stiles – “ Noah warned, standing.
“It’s nothing like that, pops, but you’re going to need to be sober and unarmed for this and…” the video chat chimed from Stiles’ laptop in his room. “Der, can you go get Babcia and bring her down here?”
Derek nodded, already looping out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“Stiles, you can’t know that’s your grandmother.”
“Sure, I can.”
Derek returned to the kitchen at a dead run, his ears blazing red and eyes terrified. He slid the laptop across the table as Agnieszka Gojos’ cackling laughter peeled out from the tinny speakers.
“Oh my God, Babcia, what did you say to him?!” Stiles asked as Derek bodily moved the teen in front of him, blocking most of the older woman’s view of the wolf.
“Ja nic nie zrobiłem! Wilk jest po prostu wrażliwy. Jest bardzo przystojny, wnuk, rozumiem, dlaczego za nim tęskniłeś.” [I did nothing! The wolf is just sensitive. He is very handsome, grandson, I understand why you missed him.]
“OH MY GOD!! BABCIA! TATA is right here!”
“Eh, Noah would need to know eventually. Now, sit down and let us deal with this.”
“Teściowa.”
“Noah, twenty-years and you still call me mother-in-law,” she sighed. “Claudia would hate that.”
Noah cleared his throat, feeling incredibly chastised. “Agnieszka, jak się masz?”
“I am good, Noah. Now, I see the little wolf has returned, so let us sit. Mieczyslaw, make sure there are drinks. No alcohol.”
“We’ve got them, Babcia. Der, sit, dad’s not going to shoot you.”
“Explain, someone,” Noah warned.
“Mom was a witch.”
“What?”
“Mieczyslaw!” his grandmother chastised. “Like a sledgehammer, little iskra.” She shook her head. “Noah, do you remember telling us you thought Claudia was magic?”
“When I asked permission to propose, yes,” Noah choked out remembering.
“You were not far off, syn [son]. Our family are iskra. It is a type of magic user, but we do not need spells or magic potions, just our belief and stubbornness.”
“Oh hell,” Noah said, staring straight at Stiles.
“Yes,” Agnieszka said. “Our Claudia was strong, but she was nothing like your little urwis [mischief-maker]. He’s the strongest iskra the family has ever seen and part of that is because of the young man sitting beside him.”
Noah frowned. “What does Derek Hale have to do with this?”
“The Hales were born werewolves.” Agnieszka explained, nodding to Derek to show Noah his beta shift. Noah cursed, flailing out of his chair and automatically reaching for his gun, which was luckily locked in his office. “Settle down, Noah, the wolf is not dangerous,” she censured.
After Noah had settled heavily back in his chair, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Wait, the fire…” he started, head snapping up in dawning understanding.
Derek nodded to his conclusion. “Hunters. They targeted my family and used me to find out how to kill us.”
“But you and Laura got out?” Noah asked.
“I had basketball practice and Laura was on a date. She picked me up afterwards, but was running late. If she hadn’t been, we would have been in the house with them.”
“Peter got out…”
“That was dumb luck,” Derek said. “He’d been in the library, which had magical shielding. He couldn’t get out, but staying in meant he’d eventually die from smoke inhalation. He managed to break a window and was half-ways out when the roof collapsed, pinning him. Fire and Rescue pulled him free, breaking the mountain ash line that had kept us inside.”
“Okay, we’ll come back to all that. How does you being a werewolf help Stiles?”
Stiles and Derek exchanged a look.
“That!” Noah said, narrow eyed. “That right there. Explain how a 21-year-old-man and my 16-year-old-son can have whole conversations without words.”
“For the record,” Stiles said, “I was 6 and he was 12 when we met, so it’s not like you’re making it out to be.”
“And I’m 22, sir.”
Stiles groaned. “Not helping, Der.”
“Stiles…”
“I got mad and punched Jackson.”
“What?”
“Remember when Scott and I met?”
Noah frowned. “That Whittemore kid pushed Scott on the playground.”
“Right, and I punched the jerk in his stupid face. Except my eyes sort of flashed and Cora, that’s Derek’s youngest sister, she saw and dragged me back to the Pack House. I was an honorary member from that point on.”
“Your mother…”
“Mom knew. She and Auntie Talia met up twice a week at the library for story time and talked while Cora and I played and Derek semi-baby-sat.”
“And when I picked up Cora after school, Mis…Stiles, would come back to the house with us if you and Aunt Claudia were busy.”
“I was probably over there more than home until mom got sick.”
“Why do I feel like there’s more you aren’t telling me?” Noah asked shrewdly.
“Because there is,” Agnieszka said. “For iskra, we need bonds to keep our magic in check. When Claudia was alive, she kept Mieczyslaw in balance. Being part of the Pack with an Alpha and his mate, gave him control over his magic in ways most of us never experience. It allowed him to access his powers faster than if he’d been alone or with just you and Claudia.”
“How? And what do you mean, mate?”
“Calm yourself, Noah,” she said sternly. “Think of it like this. Mieczyslaw had a support system built into his life. A loving family and close friends that knew what he was and could control him and the magic without fear of being hurt. The wolves have a hierarchy. Talia Hale was their Alpha, their leader. She had the power to stop them from doing something dangerous and she wasn’t afraid of anything that Mieczyslaw could do. If you take fear out of the equation, you leave only love and acceptance. Patience. Something all iskra need when we are young and first coming into our powers. It allowed Mieczyslaw to test his abilities in a safe and controlled environment without fear. When Claudia got sick, he stopped spending as much time with the Hales and you saw the result. His power was all over the place. He was distracted, angry, he acted out and you saw the aftermath of magic he could not control.”
Noah slumped back in his chair. “The broken glassware.”
Stiles nodded slowly; his throat thick. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, I told you that, I told you I needed to go to the Preserve, but no one listened. Half the time mom didn’t remember who I was and the one-time Cora tried to come get me she flashed her fangs and mom lost it. She wouldn’t let me out of the house after that.”
“Red,” Derek rumbled the nickname, wrapping his arm around the teen’s shoulders and pulling him close for comfort.
“I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating and half-the-time I was afraid of what mom would do.” He glanced up at his father through dark eyelashes. “Only some of the damage was because of me,” he muttered darkly.
Noah blew out a breath. “Oh God,” he said brokenly. “Your arm?”
Stiles shrugged, rubbing absently at the scar on his right wrist. “She didn’t recognize me. I shouldn’t have startled her.”
“Nie mój synu [no, my son]. It wasn’t your fault. Ah hell, kiddo, I sent you to Eichen after she died. The nurse said you tried to kill yourself…”
“That was after the fire. After Der and Laura left and I didn’t try to kill myself.”
“I don’t understand, what do the Hales have to do with it?”
Stiles blew out a breath. “Babcia?”
“Supernaturals, like wolves, form psychic connections between Pack members. Think of a Pack like a family. In the Hale’s case, it was a family, but other Packs have members that are not related by blood or marriage. When an Alpha takes in a new member, they bite them to establish a Pack bond. This psychic connection allows the members to feel each other. In good instances, it can heighten a feeling of connection, or family, between the Pack. In bad, it can help to locate injured or missing members. Alpha’s always have the strongest connections to their betas, the rest of the Pack. The only bond stronger, is that of a mate. A mate is almost always romantic in nature and most will never meet their other half, but that is what a mate is, the other half of the supernatural’s soul.”
“But they’re kids!”
She waved away the concern. “They met when they were children, yes, which is very rare. As children, the bond would only try to get them to be close to each other. To be friends and to protect and care for each other the way children do. If they had stayed close, as they got older, Derek would have felt the need to protect and provide for Mieczyslaw. I’m sure there would have been many awkward conversations as he tried to deal with the bond until Mieczyslaw was old enough. Which he is.”
“He’s 16!”
“A 16-year-old iskra, Noah! One who has lived through much death and personal growth. When Claudia died, Mieczyslaw lost his connection to her. The psychic bond between parent and child is even stronger when both are magical. Then, he lost his connection to you.” She gave him a hard look and Noah had to turn away from her knowing eyes.
“At the same time, his connection to the Pack had been growing weaker from being separated from them, especially Derek. I did not know about the Pack when you sent him to me or I never would have let him come. He should have been sent to them the minute Claudia was diagnosed, not isolated the way he was.”
“Wait, is that why you sent him back after only a few weeks?” Noah asked.
“After talking to Mieczyslaw, we realized that he had formed Pack bonds with the others. That he saw Talia as his Alpha and Derek as his mate. I should have contacted them right away and explained what was happening, but his magic was out of control and we needed to make him safe enough to travel. I am honestly surprised he did not bring down the plane he was on the first time.”
“I almost did,” Stiles said softly. He blinked up into the knowing face of his grandmother. “I was so mad at Tata and I knew if I got on the plane I’d crash it, so I took a bunch of my pills. I was basically comatose for most of the flight.”
“Red…” Derek whined softly, horror at what could have happened coloring his tone.
“When the fire happened, I felt the connections snap,” Stiles said slowly. “I felt like a puppet with all his strings cut. I just dropped. I couldn’t even cry out. Everything stopped. I don’t even think I was breathing.”
His grandmother nodded. “The breaking of that many bonds on your already shaky magic would have caused a backlash of power.”
“I was pretty out of it, almost catatonic. When Dad brought Laura and Derek to the house, I thought I’d be okay. I could breathe again if I could reach out and touch them. Especially, Der. I needed him to be there with me. To be able to feel him. To reach out and know he was alive.”
Derek swallowed loudly, eyes glowing blue as he picked the teen up and settled him in his lap, uncaring of the other’s watching. “God, Red, we didn’t think. Laura was so afraid that the hunters would come back and she was my Alpha now and I couldn’t…I never wanted to leave you.”
“I know, Derek. I told you; I knew then that you wouldn’t stay. That’s what pushed me over the edge, I think. I’d been home two, maybe three weeks when the fire happened. Dad had already dragged me to a bunch of shrinks and one had given me Olanzapine which caused my magic to lash out at everything, including me. The day after the fire, I woke up and the two of you were gone and dad made me go to school and I just couldn’t take it. My magic flared and it caused a seizure at the school during gym class. Jackson was the one to find me covered in blood and broken glass. The nurse thought I’d tried to kill myself, so she called dad and the attending physician ordered a 72-hour Section 38 psych watch.”
“Oh, kiddo,” Noah sighed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“I know that, dad. But it didn’t help. Everyone was telling me I was crazy and I wasn’t. I was just alone.”
“That was when your Babcia came for you,” Noah groaned, remembering the knock down, drag out fight the tiny Polish woman had with him in the hospital parking lot. She’d cursed him a fool in half-a-dozen languages and demanded he be released to her care or she’d hex him. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now he wondered.
“Would you really have hexed me if I hadn’t let him go?” he asked her.
“In a heartbeat. You were acting like an ass, so I was going to turn you into an ass. Our wnuk [grandson] was not crazy.”
“How long were you gone?” Derek asked.
“Eight, maybe nine months,” Stiles said, shrugging. “Babcia had to help me relearn how to function without bonds. It sucked.”
“It was worse, because your Dziadek passed away a few months in,” the older woman said gently, patting the screen like she’d pat his cheek. “He was so proud of the work you’d done to come to grips with your magic. We tried finding the wolves, but we were in Poland and had no idea where they would be.”
“We made sure Uncle Peter was okay, though,” Stiles said.
Derek jerked hard, his arms tightening around the boy. “What do you mean? I thought Laura was handling Peter’s care?”
Stiles sighed; he hated this part. “Laura never came back, Derek. The insurance kept Peter in the hospital for the first year, but then it needed someone to sign off on his treatments and the bills and…Babcia and I took care of it all.”
“Mieczyslaw became your uncle’s guardian at 11-years-old, Derek. I was put on the paperwork as the adult, but Mieczyslaw handled the day-to-day issues with the long-term-care facility.”
“He was 11, Agnieszka!” Noah stated harshly.
Agnieszka’s eyes flashed a dangerous orange, the first sign Derek had seen that she wasn’t human. “Do not think to lecture me, Noah Elias Stilinski!” She snapped angrily. “Your son has been handling the bills and house care and cooking since Claudia died! Even when he was broken and bleeding, he was taking care of the two of you. At least I knew what he was doing was for what was left of his Pack! We might not have been able to find his mate, but he was damned certain he wouldn’t let the last of his bonds be broken if he could avoid it.”
Derek whined lowly, hugging the boy close. “I’m so sorry, Mischief. God, I thought Laura…what was she thinking?!”
“She probably wasn’t.”
“What?”
“Think about it, Derek. She was a 19-year-old Alpha responsible for her 15-year-old brother. You were both traumatized and she was probably terrified that the hunters would come back and finish you off. She’d lost her Pack too, Der, and she had the Alpha powers that were probably screaming at her and making her wolf crazy. The Laura I remember was easy-going and fun, but that night, the look in her eyes was pure fear. She wasn’t thinking, Derek, she was reacting and as much as I hate the fact that she took you and left; that she left Peter to rot and stayed away, even after things quieted down, I can sort of understand it too. If it had happened to us and I could take you and run, I might have done the same.”
Derek looked into whiskey eyes and shook his head. “No, Red, you wouldn’t. You might have taken all of us, eventually, but you would have gone on the offensive. You would have tracked the Argent’s down and made them pay in blood for what they did.”
Stiles flushed, then blanched under the knowing look in Derek’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You protect your own. You always have, even at 6-years-old, I knew this about you. Wolves are protective, Mis…Stiles. We protect our own. Especially the injured or helpless. Uncle Peter was both. Laura should have been coming back to take care of him. I thought she was. She’d disappear for a few days every few months and I…I just assumed. I’m sorry you had to deal with everything by yourself.”
“Eh, it’s not like it’s a hardship. Melissa would drop me off on her way to the hospital, she’s a nurse, and I’d spend an hour or so reading to him, checking with his nurses and stuff. He’s getting better, you know? I’ve been working on healing some of the worst scaring.” His chest puffed up with a bit of pride at that. “He even opened his eyes last week. I don’t know if he knows who I am, but he was able to focus for a few minutes before he went back under. Melissa thinks he might even be aware enough to understand when I’m talking to him.”
Derek gave Stiles a look so full of emotion Noah turned the laptop away.
“Bratnie dusze [soul mates], Agnieszka, naprawdę [really]?”
“Czy naprawdę w to wątpisz? [Do you really doubt it?]”
Noah sighed, “Nie, ale jest taki młody. [No, but he’s so young.]”
She gave him an understanding smile. “Wilk też. Wszystko będzie dobrze, Noah, po prostu uwierz w nich. Nie próbuj ich rozdzielać. To pogorszy sprawę. [So is the wolf. Everything will be fine, Noah, just believe in them. Don"t try to separate them. It will make matters worse.]”
“W porządku, ale jeśli zajdzie w ciążę, wysyłam je do Ciebie. [Fine, but if he gets pregnant, I’m sending them to you.]”
“TATA!!” Stiles flailed, almost striking Derek in the face.
“What?”
“Not cool, old man,” he grumbled, face flushed a bright red. “Not cool at all.”
Noah and Agnieszka cackled at his indignation until Agnieszka yawned in their faces. “Okay, that’s enough for tonight, I’ll call you later, matka [mom]. Stiles, food, before your wolf gnaws his own arm off or I do.”
The two iskra shared a look, Agnieszka’s eyes overly bright. “I’ll call with an update after we see Peter, Babcia.”
“Good night, mała iskra, mały wilk, syn. [little spark, little wolf, son]”
“Night,” the two older men said in unison.
Derek brushed his chin across the top of Stiles" head before setting him aside and collecting the laptop. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
“"Kay, thanks, Der.”
Stiles went back to the counter to finish preparing the dinner they had started. Noah came up beside him, silently taking over chopping up the salad Derek had left.
“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Noah started. “I know I screwed up and there’s no way to go back in time, but I’m here for you. You and Derek. I don’t really understand all this mate stuff, but I can see you care for each other.”
“You know how you felt about mom?” Stiles asked softly. At Noah’s nod he dropped his voice even lower. “It’s more than that. I know I’m young. That I haven’t had a relationship before and this one is so far out of your comfort zone you must be freaking out, but Derek’s been mine since I was 6-years-old and his terrifying little sister dragged me out into the woods.”
He huffed out a little laugh, face towards the second floor where he knew Derek was listening to them. “He walked in the room and I knew he was mine. That I was his and everything would be okay as long as we were together. When he left…it was worse than watching mom die.” He pressed a hand against his heart, his face screwed up in remembered pain. “I woke up and knew he was gone and I died inside. Not metaphorically speaking, but actual, physical death. I couldn’t do anything, not even cry. I stopped breathing. For a few seconds there, I actually died. If my magic hadn’t fought back, reminded me that I still had Peter to care for, I probably would have stayed dead.”
Noah felt tears in his eyes at the lack of his own attachment to his son’s magic. To Stiles back then, Noah wasn’t family, they didn’t have a connection strong enough to bring him back. It was a devastating revelation.
“I need Derek, dad. Knowing he’s alive, that he’s safe…I might have been existing before he came back, but I wasn’t living. I hadn’t been living since that morning six years ago. Scott and Melissa are great. Having you and Babcia keep me sane and Peter, even comatose, keeps me grounded, but none of you make me want to live.”
He turned solemn eyes to his father, the irises a pulsing, vibrant orange that made Noah’s breath hitch.
“Derek makes me want to live,” he said, a seriousness to his tone Noah had never heard before. “If he leaves again, I love you, dad, but I won’t stay here. I’ll be right by his side and I know that scares you, that probably scares the shit out of him, but it’s true. I can’t live through that again. I won’t,” he vowed.
“You won’t need to, Stiles,” Derek swore as he entered. His eyes were an electric blue, glowing with the force of his promise. He understood what Stiles was saying and the teen was right, the idea of being responsible for the spark, for a mate, was a lot of pressure, but staring into fire-bright-eyes, he knew he could never walk away, not again.
“Derek,” Noah said hesitantly. “You don’t know that, you could…”
“No,” Derek cut him off, eyes never leaving Stiles’. “You don’t understand, sir. Mieczyslaw,” he gave a little smirk before going serious, “has been it for me since that day as well. I might have been a dumb-ass teenager, but when he left, I lost control of my wolf. I’d never lost control of him before and I didn’t think I ever would again…until Laura dragged me kicking and screaming from your house that night 6-years-ago. I didn’t want to leave, but she used the Alpha voice on me and I couldn’t disobey. I did, however, not speak to her for almost a week in protest and I ran away once, but she found me and I have never had as bad of a beating as I did when she caught up to me in Connecticut.”
“She actually attacked you?” Stiles gasped.
“Ripped me up so bad it took a week to heal all the damage.”
“Holy shit.”
“Language.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek stepped in closer, his hands cupping Stiles’ jaw. “I’m not leaving again.”
“Der…”
Derek leaned forward to brush their lips together in the faintest of touches. “I’m. Not. Leaving,” he said succinctly.
Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat, too overcome with emotions to speak. He flung his arms around the other’s neck, burying his nose in the juncture between neck and shoulder.
“Kocham cię, [I love you]” he breathed out softly, ignoring his father’s startled gasp.
“I know.”
Stiles pulled back and swatted at Derek’s chest. “Asshole,” he grumbled. “You are not Hans Solo in this story.”
Derek eyed his lithe form and raised a brow, “I’m not the one who went as Princess Leia for Halloween, Little Red.”
Stiles sputtered in indignation, “I was seven! And you went as Chewbacca, so don’t get all cocky Mr. Wolfman!”
Derek shrugged, pulling the boy in close again. “Cora wanted to be Solo and she was mean enough to bite with her fangs to get her way. Chewy was easier and I didn’t have to talk to anyone.”
“You talked to me all night, though,” Stiles said confusedly.
Derek gave him a fondly exasperated look. “I know.”
Stiles blushed, “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh, come on, let’s finish dinner before your dad loses all his patience.”
“Eh,” Noah said from the kitchen table where he’d been watching the boy’s interaction with something akin to affection. “As long as I get steak eventually, we’re all good. But son, you do remember he’s 16 and I’m the Sheriff? I don’t mind you two dating, but the door remains open and nothing I need to arrest you for happens before he’s 18, got it?”
“Dad!”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s Noah, son. Now, I doubt you’ve had very long to figure out where you’re going to be living, so for now, you’ll stay in the spare room across from Stiles, but remember, doors stay open.”
Derek blushed a vibrant red. “Yes, si-Noah.”
“Good. Tomorrow, I’ll take you boys to see Peter. It’s been too long since I’ve stopped by to check on him too.”
“Wait, you see Uncle Peter, too?”
“We went to school together. He, Chris, and I used to be pretty tight back in the day. That was before your mom transferred in though. I felt bad about it after the fact, but your mom sort of grabbed me by the…” he coughed a bit when Stiles started to fake retch. “Well, let’s just say I wasn’t nearly as attentive as I should have been.”
“Chris?” Derek asked, voice tight and skin pale. Stiles dropped the knife he was holding and went to his side.
“Der?”
“Argent, you know him, Stiles, he’s that girl that just transferred into your class, Allison’s, father.”
“Oh my God, she’s an Argent? They’re both Argents?” Stiles felt the blood drain from his face and threw himself into Derek’s arms. The wolf was making a pain-filled sound, not a whine, but close.
“What am I missing, Stiles?” Noah said, standing. He wasn’t sure what approaching the pair would do at this point, as both of their eyes were flashing and he could see the sharp edge of fangs in Derek’s mouth.
“The fire,” Stiles spat out, arms tightening around Derek’s shaking body. “Kate used Derek to set the fire.” His eyes were blazing when they came to rest on his father’s. “He was 15, dad.”
Noah went a bit green at what Stiles was implying, but considering how Derek was reacting, he knew it was the truth. “Ah, shit, son.” Noah finally said. “Alright. Stiles, take him up to your room and get him settled. I’ll order in tonight. With them back in town, we’ll need to figure out a game plan, but I don’t want either of you to go anywhere alone. Stiles, is your magic capable of defense?”
Stiles eyes blazed, a feral snarl escaping his lips that made even Derek flinch at the sound. “No one’s fucking touching him again,” he swore, the scent of burning ozone flooding the room, making the lights flicker.
“Good. Derek, son, are you going to be able to protect your mate if you get cornered?”
Derek’s head snapped up, a deep, rumbling growl shaking Stiles’ chest where it was pressed against his. “They won’t touch him.”
“Alright then, after we see Peter, we’re going to sit down and the two of you are going to tell me everything you know about Hunters, these hunters especially. I’m not losing any more family.”
Derek sucked in a sharp breath as two bonds snapped into place, one a deep, vibrant red that he knew to be the mate bond with Stiles, the other a strong, mercurial steel, connecting him to the Sheriff. He gasped, rubbing at the spot beneath his sternum, watching the other two do the same. Stiles was beaming at him, a dopey grin that made him want to roll his eyes and duck his head at the same time. He settled for kissing the stupid look away.
When he pulled back, after he could breathe properly again, he glanced up to see a soft, sad look on Noah’s face. The man gave him a small nod of understanding before patting him on the shoulder. “I get it now, son, we’ll work it out. You go on up with Stiles and I’ll place the order, okay?”
“Okay, thanks, Noah.”
He let Stiles lead him up to a room he hadn’t seen in 6 years. He"d simply grabbed the laptop before, but now, with Stiles beside him, he really looked. The room was practically the same, minus the Batman sheets and curtains.
“I still have the PJs, you know.” Stiles said as Derek wandered around touching things, leaving his scent in the room until it smelled like the two of them.
“I swear you’re reading my mind,” he grumbled.
“Nope, just know you, Big Bad. I know how your mind works.”
“Yeah, what’s it saying now?”
Stiles turned to look at him. Derek was sitting on the edge of his bed leaning back on his hands, legs splayed wide in front of him. Stiles’ mouth watered at the sight. He dropped the pair of sweat pants and Batman night shirt on the top of his dresser as he turned towards the wolf.
“No idea, but I’m saying you’ve got too many clothes on.”
Derek barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Stiles…”
“Derek,” the teen countered, stalking across the room towards the wolf. He shrugged his blazer off and tossed it over the back of his computer chair, tripping over his own feet as he tried to toe off his sneakers while walking.
Derek snickered as he flailed, moving to stand, but Stiles held up a hand to stop him. “I’m good,” he said breathlessly. “Just being my typical klutzy self. Just sit there looking like that and let me do this.”
“Do what?” he said, brows drawn down over expressive eyes. “Oh.”
Stiles fisted the back of his shirt, tugging it off him and dropping it to the floor haphazardly.
“Stiles,” he groaned as the teen settled heavily across his thighs.
“I’d take the rest off,” Stiles murmured as he mouthed at Derek’s chin. “But I’m pretty sure that would summon dad faster than a hamburger and greasy fries.”
Derek choked on a laugh. God, he was such a dork.
“You love me,” he said cockily.
Derek flipped them effortlessly, making Stiles’ breath hitch as he settled within the V of Stiles’ open legs. He shrugged out of his jacket and repeated Stiles’ move of one-handedly pulling his shirt off until they were both bare chested. He leaned down, pressing biting kisses along Stiles’ collar bone and chest, making the younger boy moan.
“I do, you know,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t. It’s been too long and we’ve both changed. Noah’s right, you’re too young for this, but I can’t stop it.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“You’re 16, Stiles, and I’m 22.”
“Are you really going to lay there and tell me you’ve actually lived like a normal person in the time we’ve been apart?”
Derek hovered over the pale skin as he thought about what Stiles was trying to say. He’d been younger than Stiles when Kate had come into his life. He’d had his 16th birthday in the parking lot of a Walmart on the run from psychotic, murdering hunters. He hadn’t gone back to school for almost a year and then only part-time through an online program. He’d been 19 when he finally graduated. Just shy of his 20th birthday.
He didn’t date. He didn’t have friends. It had been him and Laura in their tiny subleased studio in New York City where no one knew who he was and he liked it that way. He’d thought he had anyways. Then he came back and he saw Stiles and his friend in the woods and that was it. Game over. Stiles was right, Derek might be physically older, but mentally, emotionally, the iskra was probably the more mature of the two of them.
“I hate when you’re right,” he grumbled, collapsing on top of the teen, making his breath explode from his lungs at the sudden weight.
Stiles wheezed out a laugh. “I know,” he said, carding his fingers through Derek’s hair. He liked the sensation of silk over his calloused fingers. “But it’ll save a lot of time if you remember I’m almost always right and don’t fight me on things.”
Derek gave a weak growl. “Wolf,” he said, like that explained everything.
“Doesn’t mean you’re always right, Der-bear,” he quipped, earning a snarl at the nickname.
They lay together quietly for several long minutes. “You’re really staying?” Stiles whispered into the silence.
“I’m staying,” Derek said succinctly.
Stiles nodded, wrapping his arms around the wolf to hold him even tighter. “Good.”
The long-term-care facility Peter Hale was in was adjacent to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. There were only two-dozen rooms, all private, and a rehab center, which was what most of the patients came for. Stiles had been coming here so long that he didn’t even bother signing in any more. All the nurses knew who he was and, unlike in the hospital, he never caused a scene here, which is why when he stopped so suddenly at the door to Peter’s room, Derek and his dad about ran him over.
“Who are you and what the fuck are you doing to him?!” he snarled, sounding more like a wolf than Derek had ever heard him.
“I’m Mr. Hales’ nurse.”
“Like hell you are! Get away from him, right now,” he growled, eyes flashing brightly. Derek immediately stepped between him and the woman, his own eyes flashing blue and fangs descending. He could smell the wolfsbane in the syringe she had poised over his uncle’s IV.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, the irises swirling an unhealthy greenish-black. She sniffed the air, lips curling back in distaste. “Another wolf,” she said haughtily. “Don’t worry, cutie, I’ll get to you after I take out this abomination.”
“No!” Derek and Stiles launched themselves at the woman at the same time, Stiles’ magic burning her fingers with a bright orange flare that engulfed her hands in fire.
Derek’s claws cut across the woman’s throat, blood splattering across Peter, his pillow, and the wall behind it. He landed crouched over the body, watching as she gasped and bled out.
Stiles had pulled Peter’s bed away from the scene and was busy checking the IV for any of the deadly chemical. He felt movement under him and glanced down into Peter’s groggy eyes.
“That wasn’t nice, Mischief,” he rasped. “She was my nurse.”
“She was a psychotic murder, Pete, and you’re still an idiot,” Noah said from the doorway.
Peter slowly turned his head, the blood making Noah grimace when the other man smiled at him brightly. “Noah! Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?” he asked bemusedly.
“More like a nightmare,” the Sheriff muttered, walking over to look down at his old friend. “You are a menace, you know that? Even in a damn coma you manage to give me a headache.”
Peter laughed, the sound a bit scratchy with disuse. When he started coughing, Noah poured him a glass of water, holding a straw to his lips to help him drink. “Oh, Noah, I missed you.”
“Yeah, well, next time you want to hit the reunion tour, why not just drop by the house for a beer? No need for all the dramatics.”
“Rude,” the man groused, pouting his lips in a way that Stiles had clearly emulated as a child. “I have no control over things when I’m unconscious, Noah, which,” he looked at Stiles and then Derek when his nephew stood. “Oh, damn,” he muttered, eyes going wide. “How long was I out for?”
Stiles crawled up onto the bed beside Peter, Derek’s hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. “Too long, Uncle Peter,” the boy said, eyes wet with emotion.
Peter looked to Derek whose eyes were just as shiny. “Six years.”
“Six…” he turned to Noah. “No, that can’t be, not…”
Noah nodded slowly, a grimace on his face. “The fire was six years ago, Peter. I’m sorry.”
“Talia?” he asked, voice rising in agitation. “Michael? Laura and Cora?”
“Laura and I were out of the house. We survived, but not the others,” Derek explained tightly.
“Where is she?”
“She…she died. She was killed.”
“What? By who?”
Derek shook his head. “We don’t know. It’s why I came back. Someone sent me a picture.”
“A picture? Son, why didn’t you say anything last night?” Noah said, slipping into Sheriff mode.
“Dad, not now,” Stiles warned. “We can talk about this at home.”
“Home?” Peter asked, confusion in his pale blue eyes.
“Derek just got in two nights ago,” Stiles said quietly. “He’s staying with us. You will to, now that you’re awake.”
“Mischief…”
“Don’t argue, Uncle Peter,” Derek sighed, he gave the boy a fond look. “It’s not worth it.”
Peter glanced between the two, a drawing smile lighting up his face. “You know then? You’ve accepted it?”
“The mate bond?” Derek asked, hand heavy and secure on Stiles’ shoulder. “Yes. And Noah’s Pack now, too. We’re all Pack, if you want to be.”
Peter reached out a shaky hand towards Derek, the bond flaring brightly as it reconnected. The two wolves sighed in relief.
“Me too!” Stiles said, bouncing slightly. “I was the one reading to you every week, I want the bond back too!”
Peter laughed at the boy’s antics, remembering the small, precocious child who would crawl into his lap and demand stories from the Hale Library. He slid his hand up to grasp the back of the teen’s neck, and press down on the muscles there. The bond between the two pulsed in a warm wash of orange magic. It had never really gone away, simply been strained by infirmary.
Peter’s mouth dropped open at the feeling. “You’re a spark.”
Stiles grinned, “Yup.”
“We knew you were magic, but a spark…Talia and I never thought you’d be one of them.”
Stiles shrugged, “Mom was an iskra too. I’m not sure if she ever told Auntie Talia though.”
“If she did, she didn’t tell me,” he grumbled, turning to Derek with serious eyes. “Sparks are incredibly rare, Derek, don’t ever forget how lucky you are that you have a mate and that he’s as capable as he is.”
Derek hugged Stiles to him. “I won’t. I’m not giving him up a second time.”
Peter gave him a weird look until Noah coughed. “Do I get in on the bonding or what?”
Peter smirked, “If you wanted me to bite you, Noah, you just had to ask.”
“Oh, ew, no!” Stiles sputtered, “Please don’t go back to being Uncle Creeper. Never mind, go back to sleep, I can’t even…. It’s my dad, Peter!”
Peter and Noah laughed at his obvious discomfort, Noah shaking his head as he reached out to take Peter’s hand. He shuddered as the bond settled in his chest.
“You know,” Peter said, watching him shiver at the sensation. “You really shouldn’t be able to feel it like we do. Being human and all.”
“Who said dad was human?” Stiles asked, causing all three men to turn to him. “What?”
“What do you mean, I’m not human?” Noah said, voice rising in concern.
“Well, I mean, you’re mostly human. Like, you don’t have any abilities, but dziadek Elias had a tiny amount of magic in him, so it would make sense if you did too.”
“Your dziadek had magic?” Noah asked bemusedly.
“A little,” he said, holding up his forefinger and thumb an inch apart. “He said it’s what kept him alive in Vietnam. He couldn’t do anything, but he knew when something bad was going to happen. He saved his platoon from being ambushed lots of times with it; and food poisoning once. He said there was something wrong with the fish, but his Commander didn’t believe him. The rest of his troop did and they didn’t eat it. But the Commander did and he died the next day,” he rambled.
“Stiles!” Noah said, sitting in the guest chair heavily. “Son, enough. I don’t think there was any magic involved with the fish, but the rest…damn.”
“You know, Noah,” Peter said carefully. “This might explain that soccer game.”
Noah grimaced. “I’m not magic, Pete, and that game was rigged!”
“Of course it was,” he said easily. “Chris and I rigged it and then you had to go and show off for Claudia and broke your leg in the first half and cost us State.”
“Don’t you start on me, Pete,” he warned. “I should have wrung both your necks for that stupid stunt. I knew the hole was there right before I hit it, I just couldn’t stop in time.”
“Do you think they’ve forgotten we’re here?” Stiles asked in a stage whisper to Derek. “Or that there’s a dead body cooling on the floor bleeding out and making the room all sticky tasting?”
“Considering one’s a born wolf with heightened senses and the other a veteran cop? I doubt it, but I’ve been wrong before,” Derek whispered back.
“Oh, shut it, you two.” Noah groused, standing. “We need a believable story as to what the hell happened here before I call it in.”
Stiles raised his hand like he was in class.
“Yes, Stiles?” his father said wearily.
“Um, I can just magic it outside or something.”
“You can… son,” Noah said wearily. “Why didn’t you do that before?”
“Because you get all Sheriff over the weirdest things and I’ve already dropped werewolves and magic and mates on you. I didn’t want to get grounded for getting rid of the crazy lady on top of that!”
Noah sighed, “What do you need from us?”
“Uh, nothing? I mean, the window being opened would help, but I can do that,” he said, crawling over Derek to pop the window open and stick his head out. He leaned half-ways out the window to pluck a leaf off a large willow tree, muttering something under his breath so low the wolves couldn’t hear. He shimmied back inside, stumbling until Derek caught and steadied him. Stiles beamed up at the wolf, patting his cheek like his Babcia would.
Stiles folded the long leaf in half, holding it to his lips as he concentrated. His eyes started to glow as an eerie, haunting whistle slid through the room. It should have been high and reedy sounding; ear piercing, but it wasn’t. It slid inside making the small bones of their inner ears vibrate. Derek shook his head and watched as his uncle winced, rubbing at his ear like something had crawled inside of it and was making a home.
Stiles reached out and tugged Derek’s sleeve, jerking him away from the body. As the sound ebbed and flowed through the room, the three men watched as the branches of the willow dipped and swayed outside the window. Several slithered their way inside and across the floor to wrap around the body tightly. They watched in fascinated horror as it was tugged out of the room and passed to other branches.
Derek and Noah crowded against the window frame to watch as it was passed from one tree to the next until it disappeared along the banks of the stream flowing beside the hospital. The song retreating with the corpse.
Derek caught Stiles as he fell, the boy gave him a weak smirk. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“You are insane,” he growled out, pressing a harsh kiss to the boy’s mouth. Stiles gasped around a moan, the sound turning into a needy mewl when Derek harshly pulled himself away. “In. Sane.”
Stiles gazed up at him dazed, eyes fixated on his mouth.
“Now that Murder Nurse is gone,” Peter said, breaking the spell. “Maybe we can do something about all this incriminating blood evidence?”
Noah and Derek groaned. Derek pressed Stiles into a chair. “Stay,” he growled warningly.
“And leave you two to the hard physical labor? Twist my arm why don’t you, Sourwolf?”
Noah thwacked Stiles upside the back of the head as he passed. Derek gave him a vindictive little smirk.
“Now, nephew-to-be,” Peter said, waving Derek away and looking pointedly at Stiles. “Tell me everything.”
It was hours later and several doctors visits that Peter was finally released into Derek"s and, more to the point, Stiles’ care; having power-of-attorney made things much faster.
Luckily for Noah, and unfortunately for anyone else, the spare room had two twin beds in it instead of a queen, so Derek and Peter had to share. Stiles pouted all though getting Peter situated, which just made the two older men laugh. They remembered what being 16 was like and there was no way Noah wanted to even think about his own son being sexually active. Ever.
Peter bet him a month before the boys broke. Noah countered with 6 months, then upped it to 8 when he learned what wolfsbane bullets were. Derek and Stiles tried to ignore the very loud conversation going on upstairs by collapsing in an exhausted pile on the living room couch.
“Do you think we’ll be okay now?” Stiles asked worriedly, settling deeper into Derek’s embrace.
“We still have to deal with the hunters and whoever your friend Scott saw the other night.”
“Thank God whoever it was didn’t bite him,” Stiles muttered tiredly. “He’s my bro and I love him, but Scotty would make the worst werewolf ever.”
Derek chuckled warmly, curling himself around his tired mate. “We need to talk about us, too, you know.”
“What’s to talk about? You’re mine and I’m yours. Dad has already said we could date. I’m expecting the bite when I turn 18, if not sooner. You’ll take some time to figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life while Peter heals up and his weird bromance with my dad terrifies us until we can’t take it any more and either kill him, make him find his own place, or we move out.”
“Is that all?” Derek asked amused as he scratched his nails down the back of Stiles’ skull making the boy shiver.
“Yup,” he said, yawning. “I told you, Big Bad, it’s easier to just agree with me on these things.”
“Because you’re always right,” Derek deadpanned.
Stiles leaned up and pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to Derek’s lips, lingering to let the weight of what he was offering come across their bond. “Always,” he whispered. “And this…us…I knew this was right when I was 6 years-old.”
Derek sighed softly, his lips parting to swallow Stiles’ promise.
“Me too, Little Red. Me too.”
-fin-
