Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6551131.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV), Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale_&_Stiles_Stilinski, Dean
      Winchester_&_Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski, Claudia_Stilinski, Scott
      McCall, Chris_Argent, Allison_Argent, Lydia_Martin, Kira_Yukimura,
      Jackson_Whittemore, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Minor_Character_Death, Angst, Dark, Alternate_Universe, Alternate
      Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Soulmate-Identifying_Marks, Alternate
      Universe_-_Soulmates, Soulmates, Romantic_Soulmates, Derek_Hale/Stiles
      Stilinski_are_Soulmates, Slow_Burn, Slow_Build, Slow_Build_Derek_Hale/
      Stiles_Stilinski, Slow_Romance, Derek_Feels, Protective_Derek, Top_Derek,
      Hurt_Derek, Pining_Derek, Jealous_Derek, Possessive_Derek, Magical_Stiles
      Stilinski, BAMF_Stiles, Hurt_Stiles, Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski, Werewolf
      Stiles_Stilinski, Omega_Stiles_Stilinski, Dark_Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega
      Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Insecure_Stiles_Stilinski, Knotting, Mates,
      Werewolf_Mates, True_Mates, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Mating, Mating_Bond,
      Nipple_Play, Edgeplay, Sensuality, Sensual_Play, Alternate_Timelines,
      Tragedy, Not_Canon_Compliant, Not_Beta_Read, Reader-Interactive, Mpreg,
      Tearjerker, Spoilers, Series_Spoilers, Other:_See_Story_Notes, Canonical
      Character_Death, Alternate_Canon, Canon_Related, Plot, Plotty, Plot
      Twists, Plot_Devices, Fluff, Fluff_and_Angst, Domestic_Fluff, Domestic,
      Original_Character(s), Temporary_Character_Death, Nogitsune_Effects,
      Post-Nogitsune_Stiles_Stilinski, Nogitsune_Trauma, Post-Nogitsune,
      void!Stiles, Void_Stiles, Fox_Stiles, Werefox_Stiles, Multiple
      Personalities, Shapeshifting, Shapeshifter_Stiles, Minor_Relationships
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-14 Updated: 2017-09-27 Chapters: 12/? Words: 56516
****** Destruction in Their Wake ******
by SterekHalelinski
Summary
     Stiles has magic, the inheritance of his mother’s cursed bloodline.
     Being an empath is one of his many abilities—he can “read” soulmarks
     and can, if given the opportunity, tell more than just who someone is
     going to end up with. He can glimpse into parts of their future; how
     they meet, and even as far as how they die. It all just depends on
     how long he’s afforded contact with one of the matching marks. Stiles
     read his once, against his mother’s warnings, and he now carries a
     heavy burden with him always.
     OR
     The Teen Wolf and Supernatural crossover that nobody asked for.
     OR
     One serious mess of a fic.
Notes
     Please be sure to read all the authors notes at the beginning and/or
     end of each chapter, as they will often contain pertinent information
     regarding the story. Some of them might turn out to be monstrously
     long, but I promise that everything has its purpose.
     Rating and a lot of the tags are for much later. This is a slow
     build/burn fic. More tags may be included as the story goes and I
     think of them.
***** Unexpected Visitors *****
Chapter Summary
     Approximately seventeen years after Mary Winchester's death, John and
     his boys unexpectedly drop by for a visit at her sister's home.
Chapter Notes
     This story came as inspiration after being unable to get the
     following three songs out of my head: “Roses” by The Chainsmokers
     (feat. ROZES), “Helena (So Long & Goodnight)” by My Chemical Romance,
     and “New Perspective” by Panic! At the Disco. Also, I am just purely
     addicted to writing tearjerk-worthy angst. Whether I actually succeed
     on that front, I’ll leave up to you readers to decide.
     Important things to note:
     I did some digging, and found the following birthdays for Derek
     (December 25, 1988) and Stiles (April 8, 1994). Not sure if that’s
     actually correct, but those are the ones I’m running with for this
     fic. As for the Winchesters, I’ll just list them for reference.
     Dean’s is January 24, 1979, and Sam’s is May 2, 1983. For this
     chapter, Stiles is 6, Derek is 11 (since his 12th birthday wouldn't
     have happened yet in October), Sam is 17, and Dean is 21.
     Also, this is the soulmark that is shared by Derek and Stiles in this
     story. On Derek, it’s on his shoulder (he still has the Triskelion on
     his back), while Stiles has an enlarged form of it on his backside.
     So basically it looks like he has wings on his back and the sword
     going along his spine. This takes greater significance later, and in
     this universe, soulmarks manifest themselves on individuals in
     different ways.
     Oh, and there’s the matter of Stiles’ first name. I picked one that
     goes along with the parameters of starts with an ‘M’ and difficult to
     pronounce, but also relates to the soulmark design. The meaning and
     its significance, of course, will be discussed as the story
     progresses. I also make up a first name for Sheriff Stilinski as
     well, since I don’t think he has an official one in canon. At least,
     not one that I’m personally aware of, anyway. The choice I made for
     that is also intentional.
     As for whether or not there will be Wincest, I’ll leave it up to a
     vote. Right now I’m undecided. Am I fan? Yes. However, I don’t want
     to include it if readers will find it too distracting. So I’ll give
     readers until the next chapter to sound off about that so I can
     figure out which road I’m going to take this fic down.
     I’m relatively new to the Teen Wolf fandom (but an old-timer to the
     Supernatural fandom, although it’s been a while since I’ve written
     anything for it—under a different username—which means I might be a
     little rusty), so apologies if I get anything wrong. Also, this is my
     first time ever writing these characters. Feedback much appreciated.
     Unbetaed, so mistakes here are all mine.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                              Late October, 2000
Stiles always had a bit of wanderlust. Perhaps it was a side effect of his
ADHD. It would get him into a considerable amount of trouble in his later
years. After all, he was son of a sheriff. However, it was nothing compared to
the level of panic it would instill in his parents when he was younger.
Especially for his mother. Claudia Stilinski.
Or Claudia Campbell, as she was once known. Before marrying a man of Polish
descent. It was on purpose, of course, marrying someone with that sort of
pedigree. The accident had been the love, but that had been a happy one indeed.
The kind at her doorstep now though, that was terrifying.
“John,” Claudia said tightly, recognizing her brother-in-law from anywhere,
even if it had been so many years since she’d last seen him. How did you find
me here, she doesn’t say.
“Sorry to drop in on you like this,” John said, not sounding the least bit
sorry at all as he clapped his hands on the shoulders of the two young men with
him. “These are my boys. You remember them, don’t you? I know it’s been years
and my youngest was just a baby when—well anyway—this one’s Sam, and the taller
one is Dean, my eldest.”
“Ah,” Claudia said, nodding, looking between her nephews as if noticing them
for the first time. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
There was a hardness in the eyes of the older one, so much like his father. The
younger one was clearly the favorite, as his eyes still reflected a bit of
their shine. Not that she even really needed that much to know. She was a
seasoned empath, after all. They just knew these things. Claudia felt a tug of
pity in her heart for the older Winchester boy. Without another second thought,
she pulled her two nephews in for a somewhat awkward embrace. What she saw
almost made her recoil in disgust at their father, but she kept her stoic mask
in place.
Empaths had the ability to read into most things aside from emotion; all it
took was a simple touch. Younger empaths typically could only read one specific
set of things, like heirlooms or artwork, or sometimes things even more
obscure, like a cigarette box or a deck of cards. As long as it was either used
often or held some kind of sentimental value for someone, it could likely be
read. It took years to hone the skill, however, to cultivate it to the level
those like Claudia had mastered it, where one could read any person or object
just by touch. How much information one could glean, of course, depended on the
length of contact. Although every once in a while, there was an exception like
her nephew Dean. The damage her brother-in-law had apparently inflicted on his
son was so great, it had only taken their brief hug for Claudia to learn
everything she needed to know.
John Winchester had exposed his sons to demon hunting. Dean was both resentful
and protective of Sam. Somehow, Claudia knew that her sister never would have
allowed for such things. A sudden maternal duty surged through her on behalf of
the deceased. Tight-lipped, she took a step back and addressed her nephews
first.
“Why don’t you boys go on ahead inside and make yourselves comfortable
upstairs,” she suggested. “You’re uncle’s out at work, but your cousin should
be playing with his toys up in his room.”
She didn’t like how John’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “You’re married.”
Claudia held up her hand bearing her wedding band and made a brief spirit
finger-like motion. “Seven years now.”
“You have a son,” John said, not quite a question, and Claudia didn’t like the
way the color seemed to drain from his face.
“Yes, things change,” she said, uncertain about why she suddenly felt the urge
to fight or flight. “What of it?”
Her brother-in-law’s jaw tensed. “Boys, it’s all right,” he said. “You heard
your aunt. Go on upstairs and meet your baby cousin.”
Knowing when to take a hint, Dean nodded and gruffly mumbled a few niceties to
his aunt before taking Sam by the wrist and leading his brother up the stairs.
It was only after she heard them go up that Claudia realized she hadn’t told
them which room was her son’s, but she mused that it wouldn’t take them long to
figure it out. After all, there were only so many rooms in their house.
Besides, she apparently had bigger things to worry about, if the expression her
brother-in-law was wearing was anything to go by.
“So,” Claudia said, folding her arms defensively over her chest as she leaned
against the door frame, eyebrows raised in question. “To what do I owe the
pleasure of this visit?”
“I have something to tell you about you and your boy that involves Mary,” John
said grimly. “And you’re not going to like it.”
Meanwhile, Sam and Dean were upstairs exploring the house. Or rather, Sam was
poking about the place and Dean appeared to be very uncomfortable with his
doing so.
“Sam,” Dean said pointedly as his younger brother looked about curiously.
“Don’t touch anything you don’t have to. It’s not ours.”
“Aw, c’mon, Dean! It’s no big deal. I’m putting everything back exactly where I
find it,” Sam said with an easygoing grin. “Besides, Aunt Claudia seems nice. I
didn’t even know Mom had a sister.”
“Not quite the point, Sammy.”
“Did you know?”
“I sort of remember her,” Dean said, grimacing. “I mean, just bits and pieces,
here and there. I think she was around a lot when Mom...well, she stopped
coming by at some point, and let’s just leave it at that. This is my first time
seeing her in a little over a decade myself, so...I really know her just about
as well as you do.”
“Mm...all right,” Sam said noncommittally in response before frowning. “Say,
Dean…?”
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“I’m pretty sure we just walked through all of the rooms up here, right?”
“Hm? Yeah, I guess so, why?”
“You see a little kid walking around anywhere?”
“...”
“Dean?”
“Shit. You’re right. I didn’t,” Dean said, a frown of his own beginning to form
on his face. “Think the kid went downstairs?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. His mom seemed pretty sure that we’d find him up here
though. Shit...do you think he went out the window?” Sam asked, eyes starting
to round.
“Language, Sammy,” Dean scolded. “And that sounds about as likely as a...as a
box of cereal suddenly growing legs and running off somewhere. The kid’s like
six, Sam. Besides, none of the windows in any of the rooms were open, and I
doubt the kid would have even thought about closing them behind him.”
Sam scrunched his nose. “First of all, you used the word first.”
“I’m older than you,” Dean countered. “Much older.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Second—really, Dean? A walking box of cereal?”
“Running, Sam. I used the word running,” said Dean. “And give me a break! It’s
not like I could say something like pigs flying or spirits taking over people,
because well, you know...”
“Ah. Point made,” said Sam. “Well, then I guess we check downstairs?”
“Unless the kid isn’t down there either,” Dean grumbled. “And given that he’s
not even up here, where he’s supposed to be, I’m willing to bet that to be a
likely scenario.”
Sam frowned. “Well, where else could he be?”
“I don’t know, Sam, but we’d better find him before his mom freaks out,” Dean
said with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. “Jeezus. Never
even met the kid before and already we’re on babysitting duty. All right,
Sammy. Here’s what we’ll do. First, we’ll make sure Dad still has Aunt Claudia
distracted.”
Sam nodded. “Okay. And?”
“Then we’re going to go search the rest of the house, as quietly as we can, and
if we can’t find anything, well, then...I guess we see if there’s a back door
or something that the kid could have gone out of,” said Dean. “Sound good?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
“I’ll scout it out first,” said Dean. “Stay close to me and try not to make a
sound.”
“I know.”
“Okay, come on then,” Dean said as he led the way.
The two brothers crept there way back to the top of the stairs where they heard
adult voices coming from a different area of the home.
“Damn,” Dean hissed. “I think they must have moved to the living room to talk
or something. Front door’s closed too.”
“...so then I guess the kid’s probably not down there with them then,” said
Sam.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean agreed. “Aunt Claudia would have probably called
for us or sent the kid up.”
“Okay, so now what do we do, Dean?” Sam asked. “Maybe we should let them know.”
“Yeah, or we can find the kid and bring him back before anyone notices he’s
missing,” said Dean. “No need to freak Aunt Claudia out unless we can’t make
that happen. Besides, it sounds like she’s having a pretty serious conversation
with Dad and I’d hate to interrupt that. You know how he can get.”
Sam crinkled his nose in disapproval. “Yeah, all right...I don’t like it, but
fine.”
Dean sighed. “Listen, if we can’t find him...then we come clean.”
“Or we could just do the responsible adult thing and just tell them both
now...you know? Like hey, Aunt Claudia, not to freak you out or anything, but
we can’t seem to find your son, so...ugh, all right, you’re right. That sounds
like a terrible idea,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I don’t want her to blame
us for losing track of our cousin when we all barely know each other yet.”
“...right,” Dean said wryly. “Glad we’re on the same page then. Think the front
door squeaks?”
“Not sure,” Sam said with a shrug. “I don’t remember it making a lot of noise
when she opened the door for us though.”
“All right,” said Dean. “Well, if there’s any noise, I’m going to need you to
make a distraction.”
Sam wet his lips nervously. “Okay…? Like what?”
“Pretend you need like a glass of water or something,” said Dean. “And act like
you’re going to take it back upstairs, when really, you’re just going to follow
me outside.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?” Sam asked.
“Jump out the window.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”
"No!  Why do I have to be the one to jump?"
"Because if I jumped, I'd crush you."
"And you don't think I'd break a few bones?!"
Dean frowned.  "What, you don't trust me to catch you?"
Sam groaned softly. “Suddenly, telling Aunt Claudia the truth is starting to
sound like a pretty good idea again.”
“Sammy.”
“Ugh...yeah, yeah, all right...” Sam grumbled. “I hear you. Let’s go.”
“Good,” Dean said before quietly making his way down the stairs.
Fortunately, when he tried the door, the most noise it made was just the subtle
clicks of turning the doorknob and the light hiss of friction as he pulled the
door open. The sound wasn’t loud enough to travel back to wherever their father
and aunt were talking. Dean motioned for Sam to come down the stairs, which he
did. In minutes, the two boys slipped out of the house, closing the door behind
them.
It wasn’t until they were several feet away from the house that Sam brought up
a very valid point. “Wait, stop. Dean.”
The older man turned back towards him and frowned. “What?”
“We don’t even know what this kid looks like,” said Sam.
“I saw pictures in a few of the rooms we were in,” said Dean. “Unless Aunt
Claudia has any other kids she hasn’t mentioned, there was only one boy in
them. Brown hair, a few moles on his face...”
“Oh. Yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “I think I remember seeing some of him too
then.”
“Okay? So let’s go,” said Dean, making his way towards the forested area behind
the Stilinski residence.
“...what about his name, though?” Sam asked behind him. “I don’t think I
remember—”
Dean bit back a groan. “She didn’t tell us,” he confirmed. “But we don’t need
it. I mean come on, Sammy…! We’re hunters. We’ll find him.”
His younger brother shook his head, unamused. “You did not just compare this to
a demon hunt, Dean.”
“Wasn’t trying to, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, trying to keep the annoyance out of
his voice. “I was just trying to reassure you that we’re perfectly capable of
doing this, name or no name.”
“Why are we even going this way?” Sam asked.
“There’s no way the kid went out the front or we would have seen him,” said
Dean. “This is the only other way. Now, I don’t know why on earth he’d want to
venture off into the forest by his lonesome, but maybe the kid’s got an
overactive imagination and thinks it’s fun. Too young to have any sense of
fear.”
“If you’re right, then let’s hope he didn’t get too far,” Sam said solemnly.
"No telling what's out there."
“Couldn’t agree with you more, kiddo.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
The Winchester boys were only partially right, of course. Yes, Stiles had gone
out the back door, and yes, he had wandered into the forest with a sense of
adventure, but no, he was not at all immune to fear. In fact, he was afraid
right now. At some point, Stiles had tripped on the protruding root of a tree
and he had fallen forwards with a smack, successfully knocking him out of his
daydream.
At first, Stiles had looked about, confused and blinking. It took him a moment
to realize he wasn’t actually trekking the Amazon jungle, like in that one kids
movie he liked to watch all the time. It took him a few minutes after that to
realize that he was completely lost, and there was an almost immediate
sensation of cold sweat on his back.
Before sheer panic could really take hold though, the sounds of an animal in
distress suddenly caught his attention. Ever the easily distracted child,
Stiles suddenly became captivated with trying to pinpoint the source of the
sound; curiosity overtaking fear. Recalling his father’s words about reducing
the chances for startling animals, Stiles proceeded slowly and with caution.
The only sounds he made were the ones that were unavoidable, like his nervous
breathing and the light crunch of leaves underneath his shoes.
He eventually found the source of the noise, and his eyes widened in surprise
when he realized what it was he was seeing. The groans of pain were emitting
from a young black wolf, whose one hind leg was caught in a steel trap.
It didn’t notice him at first; it was in too much pain and Stiles had hidden
most of his body behind a tree as he peered around it, trying to decide whether
it might be safe to approach. It wasn’t until he made a sympathetic sound when
the wolf yelped in pain that both of them froze—Stiles out of mild
embarrassment from being caught, and the wolf in a state of high alert. For a
moment, Stiles was mesmerized as he watched the wolf turn its head wildly
about, scanning the area, wisps of smoke accompanying its rough pants filled
with anxiety and trepidation.
Then its golden eyes honed in on where Stiles was hiding and the young boy held
his breath in surprise. Guiltily, he stepped from behind the tree. The wolf
bared its teeth and growled a little, but there was no real heat behind it, at
least, not yet.
Cautiously, Stiles inched forward. Golden eyes flashed and the growls increased
slightly in volume in warning. Stiles paid little heed and kept his gaze locked
with the wolf’s on instinct.
“Hey...it’s okay...” he spoke softly as he continued to progress, ever so
gradually and with arms outstretched before him in a non-threatening manner. “I
just want to help...okay? Is that okay? Help?”
There was a flicker in the wolf’s expression, like it was suddenly a bit
unsure. The low rumbles began to take on a bit of a whine as Stiles neared the
trap.
“Looks like it hurts...” Stiles mumbled as he broke away his gaze for the first
time so he could concentrate on loosening the steel trap. “Let me try…nngh…!”
The wolf yipped as Stiles tried to loosen the trap just enough for its leg to
wiggle free. Of course, the attempts weren’t really successful, as Stiles
wasn’t really strong enough to do what he wanted. If anything, he was
inadvertently causing more pain.
After a minute, Stiles shook his head and looked apologetically at the wolf.
“I—I’m sorry, I…!”
Before he could say anything else, there was an unexpected interruption behind
him.
“Shit! Get the kid away from him, Sam! That thing’s a werewolf!”
“What? Hey…!” Stiles yelped in surprise as he was suddenly swept off his feet.
The calm shattered and everything seemed to happen all at once. Suddenly,
Stiles found himself in the arms of a stranger, and the little wolf in the trap
was growling again, but this time with far more aggression.
“Put me down!” Stiles demanded, kicking and flailing about. “Somebody! Help!”
“Hey, hey, it’s all right!” the guy holding him said. “You’re all right, okay?
My brother and I aren’t going to hurt you...”
Stiles gave up struggling for a minute to take a good look at who was talking
to him. Before he could decide whether or not the person was worthy of his
trust, he heard the sound of a barrel clicking and quickly ducked his head
around to get a better look at the source of the noise. His eyes widened when
he noticed the gun being aimed at the wolf Stiles had been trying to help just
a moment ago. Immediately, Stiles resumed kicking and screaming.
“Stop! No! Don’t!” he cried. “Don’t hurt him!”
“We’re just keeping you safe, kid,” the man holding the firearm said.
“No!” Stiles screamed. “He just needs help! Let. Me. Go!”
And with one last kick and push, Stiles was able to squirm out of the hold he’d
been in. He hit the ground with a thud, but recovered quickly and stood up in
front of the wolf, arms outstretched and blocking the way.
“Crap! Dean! Don’t shoot!”
The taller one named Dean frowned at Stiles. “You don’t know what you’re doing.
Get out of the way, kid.”
“No!” Stiles said stubbornly before looking over at the other boy who’d been
holding him. “Tell him no!”
“Look, kid, that’s a werewolf,” said Dean. “Werewolves? They’re bad.”
“He wasn’t going to bite me!” said Stiles. “He’s hurt!”
The other boy shifted on his feet uneasily. “Dean, maybe we could—”
“No, Sam. You know better,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Get the kid away from
it so I can finish this.”
“You can’t!” Stiles exclaimed, ducking Sam’s hands as he tried to reach for him
and closed the gap between himself and the wolf, throwing his hands around it.
“Don’t hurt him more! Help him get out! Can’t you see? He just wants to get
out!”
His actions caused the Winchester boys to blink in surprise. The wolf was
watching them closely with its piercing golden eyes, but it made no sudden
movements.
“It’s...Dean,” Sam said, looking at his brother questioningly. “What do we do?
He doesn’t seem feral. Maybe we can help get it loose.”
The hand gripping the gun wavered a little. “I don’t know, Sammy...” Dean said,
jaw tight. “No telling what it might do after.”
“He won’t hurt anyone!” Stiles insisted. He turned and pressed his forehead
against the wolf’s and pet its fur gently with his hands as he murmured. “You
won’t hurt anybody, will you?”
The wolf closed its eyes and gave a low rumble in response, pressing gently
back against Stiles. The little boy turned and glared at the Winchesters,
defiant.
“See!” he said. “He promised! Now can you help us?”
“Dean...we’ve got to get him back home,” Sam said quietly. “Before they find
out we’ve all gone missing. This guy doesn’t seem all that dangerous. It would
have bit the kid’s head off by now.”
“Or it’s just really intelligent,” Dean said with a frown, minding his usual
language around the little one. He flicked out his tongue, wetting his lower
lip nervously. “...all right. All right, fine. We’ll get it out. Here. Take my
gun. You make sure to shoot it if it tries anything funny.”
Sam nodded, but took the gun reluctantly. “Yeah...yeah, okay, Dean.”
The older of the two brothers then stepped forward, eyes narrowed, muttering
under his breath something about how this was probably one of the worst
decisions he was about to make. Stiles turned his head and stared pointedly at
Dean.
“No hurting him, okay?” he said.
Dean sighed just as he gave his younger brother a withering look over his
shoulder. “You two are an awful lot alike, you know that?”
Sam merely shook his head and shrugged helplessly in response. Dean turned back
to the task at hand. Grimacing, he placed a hand on either of the two springs
and forced them down to open up the jaws. The instant he did so, the wolf
whipped its leg out of the trap, its movements knocking Stiles over in the
process. The kid bounced back on his feet immediately.
“I’m okay!” he said.
“Hey, watch it!” Dean said, eyes widening when the wolf got close to Stiles.
Had the wolf intended to kill, Sam would have been ready with the gun a beat
too late. To their surprise, the wolf merely nuzzled Stiles gratefully, causing
the boy to giggle.
“You be careful now, okay?” Stiles said as he ruffled the wolf’s fur.
Both Winchesters released the breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding
when the wolf licked Stiles once in response before turning around and limping
away, as fast as its uninjured legs could carry it. A brief silence settled
among them. Eventually, Dean cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said as he somewhat absently accepted his gun back from Sam. “We’d
better get you home, kid.”
At that moment, Stiles looked up at the two Winchesters curiously, as if
finally really noticing them for the first time. He scrunched his nose.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Dean and this is Sam,” Dean said, as he gestured between himself and his
brother.
“Oh,” Stiles said before looking down at his feet a moment, a small frown
forming that was directed at himself. “...my parents say don’t talk to
strangers.”
“We’re not—” Dean began, but faltered, since to some degree, they were. He
tried again. “We’re your cousins.”
“What’s a cousin?” Stiles asked, looking up at the two brothers again.
Dean blinked. “Uh...”
“It means we’re your family,” Sam supplied helpfully.
“Oh!” Stiles said, accepting this explanation a bit more easily than he
probably should have. “So not strangers!”
“Er...right,” said Sam. “No.”
“Okay!”
“All right, so now let’s get you home, okay kid?” Dean said, crouching down to
Stiles’ level and spreading his arms apart. “What’s your name?”
“...Stiles,” Stiles said as he shuffled away from Dean.
Dean’s eyebrows raised in question as he watched Stiles gravitate towards Sam
instead. Stiles tugged on Sam’s pant leg, signaling he’d like to be lifted.
“I like him better,” Stiles said by way of explanation, looking at Dean. “He
didn’t try to kill anybody.”
“Wha—I was just…!” Dean sputtered.
Sam laughed as he scooped Stiles up. “Hear that, Dean? He likes me better,” he
said playfully, sticking his tongue out at his brother.
Dean made an indignant noise in his nose. Sam laughed some more as they began
walking back towards the Stilinski residence.
“He’s not all that bad,” Sam said to Stiles as he ruffled the kid’s hair. “Once
you get to know him.”
“Mm...okay,” Stiles agreed reluctantly before peeking over Sam’s shoulder and
sticking his tongue out at Dean.
The older Winchester rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, muttering under
his breath something about how his baby cousin and little brother were a little
too damn alike.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
They had almost gotten away with it too, slipping back into the house
unnoticed, only they were caught by Stiles’ father when they hit the front
porch. Sheriff Jutrzejszy Stilinski’s gruff voice startled the Winchester boys
right when Dean had been about to open the front door to the Stilinski home.
“Mind my asking who you two gentlemen are?” Sheriff Stilinski asked. “And why
one of you is holding my son?”
“Hi Dad!” Stiles said over Sam’s shoulder with a grin. “These guys say they are
family!”
“They did, huh,” Sheriff Stilinski said, looking skeptical.
He held out his arms for his son and Sam quickly complied. Stiles giggled as he
changed hands.
“Yeah!” he said with a nod.
“That’s right, sir,” Dean said, immediately standing straighter and holding out
his right hand in greeting. “The name’s Dean. Dean Winchester. And this here is
my brother, Sam.”
Sheriff Stilinski shook Dean’s hand. “Winchester...now why does that—ah,”
Sheriff Stilinski said, eyes widening slightly in recognition of the surname.
He moved a pointer finger between the two brothers. “You both must be Mary’s
boys.”
Dean nodded curtly. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, golly, son. It’s sure been a long time,” said the sheriff. “Almost
seventeen years or so...isn’t that right?  My wife said that was about the last
time you all have been in contact.”
“Give or take,” said Dean.
“Well, what brings you all out here?” asked Sheriff Stilinski.
“Our dad wanted to talk to Aunt Claudia,” Sam supplies. “We’re not exactly sure
why, though.”
Sheriff Stilinski nodded. “Okay, well...why don’t we all head on inside, huh?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said as he stepped aside to allow Stiles and his father to
pass.
“Claudia…? I’m home…!” Sheriff Stilinski called out as he walked inside.
His wife appeared a few moments later, along with their brother-in-law. “Oh!
You've met the boys! I’m surprised I didn’t hear you all sooner.”
“They were outside with Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski said.
Claudia raised an eyebrow in question. Dean raised a closed fist to his mouth
as he cleared his throat.
“Erm...your son wanted to play outside,” he lied. “So we took him out there for
a little.”
“...I see,” Claudia said, looking like she didn’t entirely believe him, but she
let the matter slide.
“Mommy!” Stiles said, squirming in his father’s arms.
“Here, give him to me, Shane,” Claudia said, smiling as her son was transferred
once more. She closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into her son’s hair, taking
in a deep breath before pecking a kiss atop his head. “How is my little
Mitchi?”
Stiles squealed happily in response, hugging his mother around her neck and
kissing her there. “I love you, Mommy!”
“I love you too, sweetie.”
Her smile faded slightly when John placed a hand on her shoulder, grabbing her
attention. “Remember what we discussed,” he said solemnly before turning his
focus to his sons. “Come on, boys. It’s time to get going.”
The sheriff frowned. “Oh? Leaving so soon? Why don’t you all stay for dinner?”
“That’s right, John,” Claudia said with a nod. “Let the boys get to know each
other for a while.”
John paused for a moment, and then nodded. “I suppose we could do that. It has
been a long trip for us...what do you think, boys?”
“Food sounds great!” Sam said with a nod.
Dean looked away and shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”
“That settles it, then!” Claudia said with a smile. “I’ll go to the kitchen and
whip something up. You boys go on ahead and settle in the living room.”
“Can I go play with my toys upstairs, Mommy?” Stiles asked.
“Of course, honey!” said Claudia. She turned to the Winchester brothers. “Would
you two mind…?”
“No, not at all!” said Sam.
Claudia bent forward and gently placed her son on the ground. “Now you be good
while you play with your cousins now, okay?”
“Okay!” Stiles said as he took hold of the hand Sam held out for him. “Come
on!” he said excitedly as he pulled Sam along. “Come see all my toys!”
Sam laughed as he followed his younger cousin up the stairs. “Yeah, okay.
Sounds fun.”
Dean, meanwhile, looked considerably out of place as he trailed slowly behind
them.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Dean watched silently in the corner as Stiles and his brother played. Although
left out of their games, he didn’t actually feel shut out by them. Rather, his
observational role was totally voluntary. Dean couldn’t help but feel content
watching Sam enjoy childish games with their cousin. He honestly couldn’t
remember the last time Sam had been able to let his guard down this much; be
able to have fun freely and without consequence. Their father had forced them
both to grow up so fast after their mother’s death. It was something Dean
always resented, and their father’s negative influence was something he always
tried to shield his little brother from.
Every once in a while, Sam would remember him there, and he would shoot Dean
occasional looks of uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be
enjoying his time that much. Whenever he did though, Dean made sure to reassure
him with a smile, to let him know it was okay. It worked pretty well—Sam would
quickly return to his game and forget the anxious feelings from before.
It was like a dream, being at the Stilinskis. At some point, the boys were all
called down for dinner, and the meal was mostly pleasant. There was a brief
moment where Sheriff Stilinski started their father down a line of slightly
uncomfortable questioning, but Stiles’ mother was quick to shut that down.
When the evening wound down, there were brief talks of the Winchesters leaving
again. However, at the insistence of their relatives—Stiles included—it was
decided that John and his boys would settle there for a while; get to know the
family they were a bit distant from.
Eventually, Claudia and her husband set up the guest room for John and arranged
for extra bedding in Stiles’ room for the boys. Stiles was amenable to Sam
sharing his astronaut-themed bed, and Dean was more than willing to settle in a
sleeping bag on the floor.
Once all the lights went out and the atmosphere of the house became mostly
still, Sam dared to whisper into the night, careful not to wake the sleeping
boy tucked between his arms.
“Hey, Dean…?”
His older brother had been staring up at the ceiling, an arm behind his head.
He sighed a little before responding in a raspy voice of his own.
“What’s the matter, Sammy? Can’t sleep?”
“Oh. Um...no,” said Sam.
“Hm...” Dean hummed for a moment. “Something on your mind then?”
“Well...I guess,” Sam said, a bit more hesitantly than before. “I mean...a
little.”
Dean let out another soft breath. “Alright, well...shoot.”
“Mm...I was just thinking,” said Sam. “About how nice Aunt Claudia and Uncle
Shane are.”
Dean’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “Yeah,” he said.
“What...what do you think about Aunt Claudia, Dean?” Sam asked.
“What do you mean, Sam?”
“Well, I...” Sam paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words to
say. “She made me think about Mom...”
This time Dean took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you...” Sam started, trying to broach the subject carefully. He’d asked
Dean about their mother before, sometimes a bit too eagerly, and whether or not
his older brother reacted negatively to the questions really depended on his
mood. “I mean, is she…?”
“Anything like her, you mean?” Dean said with a sigh. “Yeah, a little,” he
admitted. “They’re sisters, Sammy.”
“Yeah...” said Sam. “Thought so. It’s nice. I’m really glad they’re letting us
stay here. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
“...you and me both, kiddo,” Dean finally said after a while.
A brief silence settled between them. Then, just before Dean was about to drift
off to sleep, Sam reached out to him once more.
“Is she…?” he asked softly.
“Hm?”
“Is she really like her though?” Sam asked. “Aunt Claudia, I mean. Is she a lot
like Mom?”
Dean let out yet another small sigh. “Yeah. I mean, like I said,
they’re...they're a little similar, I guess. The way they smile and stuff.”
“Mm...” Sam mumbled, hugging his arms around Stiles a little bit as he thought.
“I know they’re not exactly alike, but...I’m kind of glad, because it’s
like...it’s like I have a chance to get to know Mom a little bit, you know?”
Dean quietly cleared his throat in response, eyes growing glassy and soon he
was blinking back tears.
“Yeah...yeah, I know what you mean, Sammy,” Dean said in a bit of a choked
whisper before turning over on his side. “It’s getting a bit late now though,
huh? Why don’t we get some sleep?”
“...okay, Dean.”
“Good,” Dean whispered softly, voice still a bit strangled. He closed his eyes
and pulled the sleeping bag cover a bit more tightly around his body before
allowing himself to start drifting off. “Sweet dreams, Sammy...”
Sam's voice was thick with sleep when he responded. "You too, Dean."
Chapter End Notes
     The first name I chose for Sheriff Stilinski, Jutrzejszy, is
     pronounced YOOT-SHEY-SHI, and it is Polish for “future” or
     “tomorrow.” I took the “SHEY” part of the pronunciation to get
     Claudia’s nickname for her husband, “Shane.” The sheriff will be
     referred to as such by others as well in this story. I know “John” is
     a popular first name choice for the sheriff in this fandom, but I
     wanted to do something different; partially because I thought it
     would be less confusing to have two Johns in this story.
     As for Stiles, I have his first name as Mieczysław, pronounced MIE-
     CHIH-SWAV, which is Polish for “man of glory” or “sword of glory.”
     Claudia gets her nickname for her son from the “MIE-CHIH” portion of
     the pronunciation, hence how we get “Mitchi.” For the sake of this
     story, this nickname is extremely personal to Stiles. Very few people
     know it and, until my muse says otherwise, no one other than his
     mother is privy to it. Even his father is limited to calling him
     “Stiles.”
***** Snapshots from the Past *****
Chapter Summary
     John makes sure his family’s extended stay isn’t an opportunity
     wasted. Stiles makes friends with a boy named Scott McCall.
Chapter Notes
     A HUGE thanks to all those who left kudos and feedback. It means a
     lot. Seeing as how no one voted whether or not they want Wincest, I’m
     assuming either people don’t care one way or the other or maybe it
     got lost in the notes (I had a LOT of setup notes first chapter), so
     I’ll leave that vote open for one more chapter.
     This fic has, for lack of better phrasing, a shit ton of tags. Some
     won’t become relevant until much later, and there’s still also a
     chance more will be added as I think of things. You may have noticed
     all the alternate canon, not canon complaint, alternate universe,
     alternate timeline, etc. tags. Just to clarify and as a heads up; I
     will be borrowing elements from episodes of both Teen Wolf and
     Supernatural here and there, but a lot of this is not going to align
     with the happenings of either series.
     I found it a little bit funny how after Scott gets his bite, Stiles
     immediately just assumes “werewolf,” and believes the concept is real
     without a second thought. This is a lot of why I decided to
     incorporate the Winchesters into this storyline, since I feel like
     Stiles so readily believing in the mythical is due to having been
     exposed to it in some form previously, and the Winchester brothers is
     how I choose to present that.
     I think I posted the first chapter of this story at like 2 or 3 in
     the morning. For those who read it immediately after it posted, I
     made a significant change to the ending, so please read it again.
     Like Stiles, I’ve got ADHD, and the ending scene I have now for
     chapter one was what I envisioned initially. When I wrote the first
     draft ending, I swore up and down in my head that I was forgetting
     something, but I couldn’t remember it to save my life. Then I woke up
     two hours later and I was like “OH” and fixed it. Fortunately, the
     hit count at the time was only like 8 or something, so only about
     that many people are at all affected by this to begin with. I also
     changed a few things in Sheriff Stilinski’s earlier dialogue for
     clarification and continuity purposes (seeing as the story is coming
     from my head, it all makes perfect sense up there, but I realize I
     can’t always assume that readers are following my train of thought).
     Again, this is unbetaed, so mistakes in here are all mine. Shouldn’t
     be any significant changes again since I tried to be more careful
     before posting this time (it’s hard when my fingertips are moving
     faster than my brain sometimes), but don’t be surprised if on later
     read-throughs you see a minor grammatical or spelling mistake fixed
     here and there. I tend to read back over chapters I’ve written if I
     need a refresher as I’m writing the next one, to make sure things
     stay consistent, and occasionally I’ll find a glaring error here and
     there that I missed before that needs fixing. Ultimately it shouldn’t
     affect how the story reads at all; however, if there’s a huge change
     like what happened this time (by complete accident, I promise), I’ll
     be sure to post it in the author’s notes.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                  June, 2001
Dean knew better than to let himself get comfortable. He let Sam keep the
illusion, though. While he still could.
The Winchester trio stayed with their relatives for several months longer than
they usually did at any given place. Their father normally had them on the move
every six months or so, but this time there was a very specific reason for
their extended stay. Reasons which Dean was only given bits and pieces of. John
was very good at that, after all, playing the selective filter.
He didn’t explain why Dean had to teach Stiles about demons and monsters, or
why he had to convince the boy that they were real. He also didn’t explain why
Dean had to be discreet in his lessons, other than it would “upset his Aunt
Claudia.” Which totally made sense, of course; what parent would want their
child to be taught such things when most of them would spend at least the first
eight or nine years of their child’s lives trying to convince them that there
was no such thing as the boogeyman? Still though, Dean couldn’t help the
sneaking suspicion that there was more to this than his father was letting him
in on. After all, John didn’t exactly have the best track record of being
straightforward and honest with his kids. Not since their mother’s death. Dean
knew that the two were related somehow—Mary’s passing and his father’s task for
him to teach Stiles the basics of demon hunting—knowing how and where to get
information, as well as how to put it to good use.
Not that any of it really seemed to be sticking. Trying to teach Stiles was an
eye-opening experience for Dean; he came to realize how easy he’d had it with
Sam, growing up. His younger brother had not only been a curious sponge, but a
very focused one. In contrast, while Stiles may have been curious, it was
difficult to keep his attention for more than a few minutes at a time. That was
when Sam suggested they turn it all into a bit of a game.
“Really, Sammy?” Dean asked, making one of his signature looks of disapproval.
“This is serious, what we’re trying to teach the kid. We didn’t have to make a
game out of it with you.”
“I mean, it’s a steeper learning curve for him, isn’t it?” said Sam. “We’ve
seen these things, Dean. It’s not like either of us really had a chance to
pretend they don’t exist.”
“Well, it’s not like they’re all Casper the Friendly Ghost either,” Dean said
with a scowl. “They don’t make for good bedtime stories.”
“You know, Dean…?” Sam said, with a small quirk of his lips. “That’s actually
not half a bad idea.”
His brother gave him a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious...”
“We don’t have to make them scary!” Sam said, holding up his hands in defense.
“Just interesting enough to keep him listening.”
“The kid’s going to get nightmares...” Dean muttered.
“Not if we make the stories informative in a fun way.”
“Oh great. So now we’re going to sugarcoat demons,” Dean grunted. “This is
ridiculous...”
“Would you have a little more faith in my plan?” Sam asked. “Unless you have a
better idea.”
“Call it a lost cause and tell Dad we tried our best?”
“Dean. Come on. That’s a terrible idea and you know it,” Sam said
disapprovingly, shaking his head.
His older brother sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets in annoyance.
“Alright, fine,” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “What’s your
plan, Sammy?”
Sam half-smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s what I suggest we do...”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                 October, 2000
It was like reliving the past, and not in a good way. John had suspected, of
course, when he found out Claudia was living under a different last name. Part
of him had held out though, that perhaps she was just trying to start fresh,
live under a new identity. All the while ignoring the fact that she hadn’t
changed her first, not that it would have helped much anyway, even if that it
had been her intent. You couldn’t really hide from demons.
Still, whatever irrational hope he had been harboring was shattered the instant
Claudia mentioned her son. The minute he confirmed that his sister-in-law was
married and that the child was indeed biologically hers, John felt his heart
plummet into the pits of his stomach. He was too late.
All he could offer her now was information, which could be power in and of
itself. Thankfully, she had trusted him enough to let him into her home, to
listen.
The Campbell bloodline had a curse. That much John had been able to glean in
his last unsuccessful bout with the Yellow-Eyed Demon. The power that was
passed down each generation attracted more trouble than the benefits could
outweigh.
As he explained this, John watched Claudia’s expression go from neutral to
tense, and by the time he was finished telling her everything he knew, she was
looking rather grim. It was a strange thing, for all their differences in
appearance, John couldn’t help but marvel a little at how reminiscent Claudia
was of Mary in their mannerisms and how they spoke.
“So this demon you’re hunting...”
“The Yellow-Eyed Man,” said John.
“...right,” Claudia said, the corners of her lips twitching downward. “The one
that killed Mary.”
“Yes,” said John. “He was trying to get hold of my son, my youngest...but Mary
stopped that from happening.”
“And losing her life in the process,” Claudia said faintly. “You’re telling me
this because—”
“Are you absolutely certain that no one suspicious came into contact with your
son between the minute he was born and his first year of life?” John asked.
“No. Not that I recall,” Claudia said with a slight frown.
Though she was speaking the truth, she couldn’t help the slight nagging feeling
in the back of her mind, like she was forgetting something crucial. John
sighed. Neither of them heard his boys slip out of the house, in that moment,
through the front door.
“Well, maybe he didn’t get to you, then,” he said softly.
When he didn’t say anything further, Claudia raised an eyebrow. “Are you going
to explain?”
John looked at her. “How much do you know about your family history?”
“I...” Claudia’s brows began to furrow together slightly in confusion. “I’m not
entirely sure I understand what you mean.”
“Aside from the demon hunting,” said John. “How much do you understand about
the powers you possess?”
Of course she knew, Claudia thought to herself, wondering what her brother-in-
law was getting at. She was a Campbell. They all knew. The powers she
possessed, they manifested in the men and women of her family differently. The
women tended to have less variance in their abilities, and therefore typically
assumed greater control over them. The men, on the other hand, generally
experienced more difficulties in harnessing their powers. Especially the ones
who were pure magic, although they were rare. They were the ones that could
command their powers through sheer will. However, this was less of a blessing
and more of a curse. For if the family stories passed down by her parents and
grandparents were to be believed, the last great-grand relative to possess such
abilities was supposedly the one that started the Campbell lineage down the
line of demon-hunting in the first place. The reasons for which were not
necessarily known. She wondered if perhaps that was what her brother-in-law was
referring to.
Claudia tilted her head slightly to one side. “...are you saying you know
something I don’t?”
“You’re like beacons,” John said solemnly. “The moths...they draw to you all,
like a flame.”
A chill went down her spine at that. “You think that my son…?”
“He has your blood, Claudia,” said John. “Just like my boys have Mary’s.”
He didn’t finish his thought, but he didn’t have to. Claudia heard what he was
saying loud and clear.
“None of them are safe.”
She suddenly felt very faint.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                  June, 2001
Dean decided quickly that he wasn’t very good with kids—he’d just somehow
gotten lucky with Sam. He settled into the familiar role of silent, somewhat
broody observer, as he watched Sam interact with their younger cousin subtly
over the guise of reading a newspaper.
The plan was working a lot better than Dean would have liked to admit. Mostly
because it was strange, watching his little brother play the role of the older
one for a change, and partially because he, like their father, didn’t much
enjoy being wrong. It left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth, Dean realized,
because he was being inadvertently forced to admit that his younger brother
wasn’t quite so little anymore; wasn’t as much in need of his constant
protection.
Sam had gotten the boy to care about what they were trying to teach him
regarding the mystical, by playing the daddy-hero angle. Something the
Winchester boys had become jaded about somewhere down the line.
“Do you know what your daddy does for a living?” Sam had opened with, and
smiled when the little boy eagerly nodded.
“Yeah!” said Stiles. “He’s the Sheriff!”
“That’s right!” Sam encouraged. “And do you know what sheriffs do, Stiles?”
“They catch the bad guys!” Stiles said, giggling. “My dad’s really good at
that!”
“I bet he is!” said Sam. “I’m also willing to bet that you want to be just like
him when you grow up, don’t you?”
Dean felt his brother’s eyes flit over to him briefly in worry when he
tightened his grip on the newspaper he was pretending to read, causing a
crinkling noise. He ignored Sam and continued to act as if he were deeply
engrossed in his reading. Forget the fact that he hadn’t turned the page once
since they’d settled in Stiles’ room already.
“Uh-huh! I do!”
The kid’s response recaptured Sam’s attention. Sam blinked and his reply was a
bit unsteady as he tried to shake away distracting thoughts.
“That’s...good,” he said before quickly recovering upon registering that little
light-brown eyes were looking up at him curiously. “I mean—would you like to
learn, Stiles? How your dad catches bad guys, I mean.”
Stiles’ face scrunched a bit in confusion, like he couldn’t figure Sam out for
a minute because of the constant changes in inflection and the older boy’s
expression. He seemed to get over it rather quickly though, a smile breaking
out on his face after a moment.
“Okay!”
Sam returned the kid’s smile with a warm one of his own. “Great! That’s why
we’re going to use this.”
Dean watched from the corner of his eye as he watched his brother pull towards
him a backpack containing supplies for the day’s lesson. He had made Dean run
with him to the art store for a cork board and the library for printing, among
other things.
Sam spread out some pictures of various mythical creatures—werewolf, banshee,
vampire, hellhound—and began to explain the game they were going to play.
Stiles watched Sam intently and hung onto his every word.
“When a police officer gets a case,” Sam explained. “Sometimes there’s a lot of
different pieces and they need to take a little time putting everything
together.”
“Like a puzzle?” asked Stiles.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said with a nod. “There isn’t always time to do
something like this for every case, but—”
“Is this just for special cases?” Stiles asked. “Like ones that are really,
really hard?”
Sam’s eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and pride. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re
getting it. Good job figuring that out!”
Stiles grinned. “Mommy says I’m pretty smart.”
“You sure are!” said Sam. “Now let me show you how this works.”
Dean continued to listen quietly as Sam showed Stiles how to pin pictures of
the creatures on the cork board, and how to wrap a bit of yarn around each pin,
lacing it around another one if the kid felt like there was a connection, based
on the clues he was provided.
“So at the end now, what do you get?” Sam asked as he and Stiles finished
laying out all the pieces. “Who’s the bad guy?”
Stiles’ brows furrowed together slightly as he thought. “Um...the one in the
middle, right?”
“That’s right!” said Sam.
“But...” Stiles said, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “That’s a
werewolf.”
Dean looked up fully from his paper then. Sam blinked.
“...yes,” he said, almost sounding unsure of himself.
Stiles shook his head. “That’s not right.”
Sam opened and closed his mouth like a fish, clearly unsure what to say.
“Uh...” he eventually settled for.
Stiles looked up at Sam with a surprisingly unreadable expression in his eyes
for a seven-year-old. He pointed a little finger at the picture of the werewolf
at the center of the cork board.
“That one looks scary, but I don’t think it’s right,” he said. “Werewolves
aren’t bad.”
The comment made the Winchester brothers exchange a quick look. Apparently the
kid hadn’t forgotten the forest incident from almost eight months ago. Dean
shifted in his seat, ready to intervene after seeing the panic reflected in his
younger brother’s eyes.
Sam quickly shook his head at Stiles. “I...I’m sorry, Stiles. I didn’t mean…”
Stiles suddenly seemed very preoccupied with his hands as he fidgeted.
“Mm...it’s okay,” he said finally. “But...I don’t think I want to play this
game anymore.”
Big brother Dean chose that moment to swoop in, and he lifted a downcast Stiles
into his arms carefully. “Aw, that’s okay, kid...” he murmured softly while
patting Stiles’ back gently. “We’ll just call it a day for now, yeah?”
“...okay.”
Dean half-smiled when Stiles buried his face into his shoulder. “Tell you
what...” he said, glancing down at the boy. “We’ll pick a different bad guy
tomorrow instead. One that’s...actually bad.”
He could feel Sam’s questioning gaze on him then; his younger brother knew how
much it had probably taken him to ground out words he firmly believed were a
lie. It worked though. Stiles still didn’t yet have the polished discerning
abilities of his mother. In fact, he wouldn’t even become aware of the extent
of his own abilities for another few years, for better or for worse.
Stiles pushed against Dean’s chest so he could look up at the older man. “You
promise…?” he asked, and Sam’s heart warmed upon seeing the expression the kid
bore on his face there.
He knew that look. It was the same one he gave Dean every time he forgave his
brother for something Sam felt that he did wrong. It meant truce.
“Yeah, kid...” Dean said gruffly, ruffling Stiles’ hair a bit. “That one I
can.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                 October, 2000
“What do you think about letting them stay for a while?” Claudia asked her
husband.
They were in the kitchen preparing dinner together. Stiles was upstairs playing
with the boys, and John was waiting in their living room. Sheriff Stilinski
glanced over at his wife while peeling an avocado for guacamole.
“You going to tell me what this is about?” he asked.
“No,” Claudia replied honestly, giving her husband a bit of a tense smile.
The sheriff nodded and leaned over to peck his wife on the forehead. “Okay.”
Claudia quirked an eyebrow. “Just okay?”
Her husband chuckled softly as he removed the large pit and disposed of it in
the trash. “Okay, they can stay as long as they need to, honey,” he said.
Claudia stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. “...I know you
must have a lot of questions.”
“And whatever the answers to those questions are, I know that you’ll tell me if
and when I need to know,” the sheriff replied, meeting her gaze. “You told me
your family history is complicated...you and John seem like you both have a lot
to discuss.”
“We do,” Claudia confirmed.
The sheriff nodded. “So I figure...if there’s a reason you want them to stay,
then it must be a really good one. I mean...it’s not like I see that there’s
anything wrong with it. The boys seem perfectly nice, and they get along great
with Stiles.”
Claudia smiled a little at that. “Yeah...they really do get along well, don’t
they?”
“Mmhmm,” Sheriff Stilinski acknowledged before resuming his task. “Who can pass
up a little free babysitting? Besides, it’s still early in the school year, so
at least John’s younger boy has a shot getting adjusted to a new school. Moving
to a new place at the start of your senior year can be rough.”
He let out a laugh when Claudia wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss
to his neck. “Mm...have I ever told you how much I love you?” she asked with a
smile.
She moved back when her husband lifted his arm to pull her into a more mutual
embrace. “Only everyday, sweetheart,” the sheriff said with a smile. “I love
you too.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                February, 2001
Scott McCall moved to Beacon Hills with his family a few months into the new
school year. The first time Stiles met him, it was just after he’d been dropped
off by Dean in John’s Chevy Impala. Which, needless to say, earned the
Winchester some disapproving looks by a few overly conservative parents who
wrongfully assumed Dean to be a teenage parent. Dean, who seemed well aware of
what they were probably thinking, decided to have fun with it all and rolled
with it. In true Dean Winchester fashion, he winked at a group of younger
mothers before driving away, leaving most of them flustered, with a few
emitting scandalized gasps. Stiles, of course, was completely oblivious to what
just happened, and pretty much wandered his way through the halls of the
elementary school for a while before remembering which classroom it was he was
supposed to go into.
Just a few minutes into class, Stiles became acquainted for the first time with
Scott McCall. The teacher had called all the students in the classroom to
attention shortly after the first bell so that she could introduce to them
their new classmate.
“Class? Everyone say hello to Scott. He and his family just moved here to
Beacon Hills, and today is his first day. Now say hi, Scott.”
“Oh...um...h-hi everybody...” the little brunette boy said. “I-I’m Scott.”
There was something about the way he was so fidgety under the gaze of so many
curious six and seven-year-olds that caused Stiles’ lips to curl upward at the
corners in a smile. He liked the other boy instantly.
“Hi Scott!” he said brightly, popping up from his seat. “I’m Stiles!”
Dark-brown eyes lifted to meet caramel ones. “Um...hi, Stiles.”
Scott looked surprised when Stiles waved at him enthusiastically. “Come here!
Sit next to me!”
Scott looked up at their teacher, somewhat uncertain, but smiled a little when
she nodded in encouragement. Scott quickly walked over to sit beside Stiles,
and the other boy wasted no time launching right into it.
“You want to be friends?” Stiles asked.
Scott blinked. “Um...sure!”
He was slightly in awe of the blinding smile Stiles gave him in response, not
expecting the boy was capable of giving him one that was even brighter than
what he’d shown Scott just moments ago. The boy was clearly a force of nature.
He also learned rather quickly that Stiles could talk. A lot. He didn’t mind it
at all though.
And the rest, as they say, was history.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                 October, 2000
Empaths were typically sensitive to anything they touched, but they could only
read things if they intended to. This was a good thing, of course, for
otherwise their abilities had the potential to drive those with such gifts
crazy. After all, it would be rather difficult for one to function if every
little thing they touched flooded their minds with its history, current state,
and future status.
An empath didn’t need permission. An empath could just take the information
they wanted, and only one aware of their powers would even be able to sense the
difference between probing and something as ordinary as a hug or handshake.
There was no tingle to alert the other party, no visible sign on their person
to let on about what it was they were doing, not unless the empath was
completely awful at maintaining a poker face. This made them great allies or
formidable opponents, in the context of battle.
Despite having all this power, however, there were certain boundaries that
Claudia generally kept to. First—to not probe someone for information without
their permission or knowledge. This, she broke when she embraced her nephews
for the first time in almost two decades, when she felt she had to confirm what
she saw in their expressions. For her sister, was how she had rationalized that
breach.
Today, she was about to break the second—to not read her son’s soulmark. She
had wanted the whole thing to be a surprise, just as she assumed her son would
also want it to be, once he was old enough to understand what the marking on
his back was, but her conversation with John was enough to unsettle her. She
needed to know.
Claudia watched as her son slept peacefully, tuckered out from that afternoon’s
activities. In a couple hours she needed to be preparing dinner for the
household and rousing her son from his nap. Part of her wanted to continue
living in blissful ignorance, but a greater part of her desired to protect her
son, and it was that part that won out.
Slowly, she drew her fingers underneath her son’s collar to touch upon the
edges of the mark on her son’s backside. Then, she took in a short breath and
concentrated. What she saw was nothing at all what she had anticipated. A tiny
fragment of hope within her had held out for something better, but what she saw
was something far more worse than she’d feared.
She didn’t realize she’d been screaming until her husband’s shakes snapped her
out of her visions. When her eyes came into focus, she saw the terror reflected
in his.
“What? What is it, Claudia?” Sheriff Stilinski asked. “What’s wrong?! What
happened?”
She barely registered her son’s cries—Dean had, at some point, taken her son
from the bed and was now just outside the hall, bouncing her son up and down in
his arms, murmuring something in attempts to soothe him. His brother Sam was
right beside him, trying to help his brother in calming her son down. Claudia
threw her arms around her husband, trying to choke back her sobs. Over his
shoulder she saw John, standing in the doorway, looking somewhat at a loss at
first until apparently he found something in her expression. Her brother-in-law
then nodded in response to whatever it was he had seen before slowly backing
out of the room and shutting the door behind him, to allow Claudia and her
husband some privacy.
Claudia was never able to explain to her husband what it was that had caused
the sudden outburst. She had kept him in the dark of all things supernatural,
and she intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. She resolved to
figure it all out somehow, and she was confident she would. She was no
different from her sister in that regard. Even equipped with such terrible
knowledge, she was quite certain that her son’s destiny could be changed;
however, she wasn’t so naïve as to believe that she wouldn’t need help. She
would need John and the boys to stay, at least for a little while.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                               Late August, 2001
It was funny how, no matter who it was you talked to, among those who
interacted with Stiles over the course of his life, they were all in agreement
over one thing. As bad as it was to see anyone cry, it was ten times worse when
the person crying was Stiles. No one ever knew what to do.
Scott had gotten to know the Winchesters briefly, in passing. He came over to
Stiles’ house a few times, but he generally wasn’t allowed over much at the
time because apparently John had a thing about keeping his sons and himself a
fair distance away from outsiders unless interaction turned out to be
absolutely necessary. This arrangement worked perfectly fine though for Scott,
because he honestly found that John Winchester gave him the willies.
He wouldn’t for long though, Scott found out one day, towards the end of
summer, when Stiles came over to visit him for a change. He was completely
distraught. Apparently, Stiles’ uncle and cousins were packing up and leaving
town, and an apologetic Claudia Stilinski had dropped Stiles off at their house
because he was absolutely devastated. Not to mention he’d been constantly
trying to sabotage the move by taking things back out of suitcases after they’d
been packed in them and standing in the way of doors to make it difficult for
people to get in and out of rooms.
Scott wasn’t sure what else he could do other than just stand there and let
Stiles do his thing. His father was out at work, and his mother gave up after a
while, going back downstairs to do the laundry. She had ruffled Scott’s hair on
the way out and told him to leave Stiles be, that he’d calm down eventually.
So that’s what he was doing. Leaving Stiles be. Scott trusted his mom’s words.
Eventually, Stiles’ cries did subside a little, but soon he was blubbering out
words. Even though he wasn’t sure whether or not he was supposed to respond,
Scott did anyway. It seemed to be the right thing to do.
“I just...I don’t know why they want to leave me…!” Stiles wailed, hiccuping
between words and a fist still curled over his eyes.
“Um...I don’t think they want to leave you, Stiles,” Scott tried.
“T-then w-why are they g-going…?” Stiles asked.
Scott shifted the weight on his feet uneasily. “Um...maybe because their
daddy’s got a new job? That’s why my mommy said we had to move here from our
old house.”
Surprisingly, Stiles seemed to think this over for a minute. He’d calmed down
enough to where he was now just pink in the face and sniffling. He brought his
hand down and looked at Scott, still hyperventilating a little.
“Y-you think he got...he got a new job?” Stiles asked.
“Yeah! That’s probably it. His...his boss probably made him do it,” Scott said,
scrunching his features as he tried to remember what his parents had told him
about their move. “When that happened to Dad, I was sad too.”
“O-oh...” Stiles said, his breathing still a bit staccato.
Scott smiled a little, mostly relieved that his friend seemed to really be
calming down. “Yeah...” he said with a nod. “So I don’t think they’re leaving
because they want to...they...they have to.”
Stiles didn’t say anything more after that; he just stared down at the floor.
They stood in silence for a few minutes before Scott felt it was safe to
suggest they do something.
“Hey, Stiles...” he said slowly as he looked around the room for something they
could do. “Do you want to, um...do you want to play with my Legos?”
They were busy building the next “Leaning Tower of Pizza,” which for some
reason both boys had found to be incredibly funny after “learning” about it in
school, and when Melissa McCall found the pair laughing in her sons room, she
almost regretted having to inform Stiles that his mother was back to take him
home. The Winchesters were packed. It was time to say goodbye.
Stiles looked as if he were ready to cry again, but he held it together, and
his mother scooped her son up into her arms and whispered how proud she was
that he was acting like such a big boy as she carried him down the stairs and
outside to her car. Scott practically tumbled down the stairs and out the front
door behind them, waving at Stiles as his mother started up the car and
shouting at him that everything was going to be okay.
When his mother let him out of the car later, Stiles jumped out of the backseat
and rushed into the arms of Dean and Sam, who simultaneously lifted him and
gave him a group bear hug. Stiles closed his eyes and squeezed his arms against
the back of his cousin’s necks, making their cheeks squish against his.
“I know you’re not leaving because you want to...” Stiles whispered to them,
trying not to let his voice quiver too much. “I know you have to go. Scott
said. He said your daddy’s got a new job so you have to go.”
Ironically, he had no idea how close to the truth that statement actually was,
only thing being John’s demon hunting wasn’t exactly what one would consider a
traditional job. When his cousins pulled back from the embrace, Stiles ended up
getting cradled in Dean’s arms. Sam ruffled the little boy’s hair
affectionately.
“Well, that's one smart kid,” said Sam. “Don’t be too sad though, okay? We’re
not saying goodbye forever.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed and he tutted at Sam in disapproval in the same instant
Stiles’ eyes rounded with hope. “Really?!”
“Jeezus, Sammy...! Really?! Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dean scolded,
sighing when Stiles’ turned his head to look at him, eyes round as saucers.
“He’s lying?” Stiles asked.
“No, he—ugh...” Dean grumbled, shaking his head and giving his brother a
look—like see what you started?—before focusing on Stiles again. “Look, kid, I,
uh...I don’t want to promise anything we aren’t sure about...”
Stiles’ brows furrowed together in a frown. He tilted his head slightly to one
side.
“So what can you promise…?” he asked.
“Um...” Dean blinked as he fished his thoughts for an answer. He hadn’t
necessarily been expecting that question. “I, uh...I can’t promise one-hundred
percent that we’ll be able to come back here for sure, kid, but I can promise
that we’ll uh...we’ll try our best to make that happen.”
The words rang hollow to his own ears, but apparently it was enough to placate
the young one. Stiles nodded agreeably.
“Okay,” he said, patting Dean on the chest. “Sounds good.”
Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment, still holding Stiles in his arms, when
John finally snapped him out of his trance by clearing his throat. Dean looked
over at his father, who tilted his head towards the Impala.
“All right, boys,” he said. “It’s time to go.”
Dean nodded, and Sam followed their father to the car after giving Stiles one
last pat on the head and murmuring his farewells to their aunt and uncle. Just
before Dean set Stiles down, the little boy hugged his arms tightly around the
older man’s neck once more and he pressed his cheek against Dean’s, whispering
something in his ear before finally getting set down on his feet. Dean’s
movements after that was as if he were on autopilot; he said goodbye to his
relatives, and then walked over to the car in a bit of a daze.
Stiles took hold of his mother’s hand, watching sadly as Dean slipped into the
passenger’s seat of his father’s car. While he was not yet fully aware of his
abilities as an empath, the needs were still there. Touch was a big source of
contact for empaths, and after having been exposed to both Dean and Sam for a
while, there was going to be a bit of an adjustment period for him where he
would feel a small pang of loss. The degree of emptiness felt was dependent on
how long an empath was exposed to someone and how deep the level of emotional
connection was. Though the Winchesters were only with the Stilinskis a short
while, John’s boys, at least, had a lasting impact on Stiles.
Even if their memory slowly faded away into something of a fleeting, golden
shimmer, as Stiles grew older. Tucked away, quietly, but never truly forgotten.
He waved when his uncle started to pull the Impala out of the driveway. He
smiled when both Sam poked his head out the window and he could see Dean nod
through the windshield as he held his own arm out to wave back.
It would be a while down the road before Sam finally dared to ask. He waited
until their father pulled into a gas station and was busy inside the
convenience store, making a few purchases.
“What did the kid say to you just before we left?”
Dean paused for a moment, and then tilted his head back against the headrest,
eyes shutting partway as he responded to his brother. “Don’t worry about it,
Sammy…it was nothing important.”
Sam nodded, deciding it was probably better not to press. “...all right, Dean.”
He then slouched in his seat and took a look outside, eventually spacing out
while observing the scenery. Meanwhile, Dean replayed the memory from just
moments ago in his mind, his lips twitching upward at the corners just as his
father popped back into the Impala and started the car up again.
“What are you thinking about?” his father asked, casting him a brief curious
glance as they started on their trip again.
“Nothing,” Dean said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head before turning to
look out the window, lips still curled in a small smile. “Nothing at all,
really...just something funny.”
“You know, I used to not like you because I thought you were mean. I don’t
think that anymore though. Sam was right, I guess. You’re really not so bad
after all.”
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry there was so much going back-and-forth of times here! I promise
     there won’t be a lot of this in future chapters. This chapter just
     contains a lot of setup for later chapters, and I wasn't sure how
     else to really go about presenting everything.
     Trying to bang this story out as fast as I can, and I’m definitely
     excited to be doing this. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoyed
     this chapter!
***** Second Encounters *****
Chapter Summary
     Scott and Stiles meet Derek Hale for the first time on National
     Reading Day.
Chapter Notes
     In this chapter, Scott and Stiles are 7 and are in the latter half of
     the second grade (they are in the 2001-2002 school year, with the
     school year starting in September 2001 and ending in June 2002).
     Derek is still 12 (since December hasn't happened yet), and in the
     seventh grade. The original posting of this chapter had Derek 8 years
     apart from Stiles instead of the canonical 6, but thanks to a very
     helpful reader who helped me figure out the mess that is the
     canonical timeline, I brought it back to a 6 year age gap. This means
     certain things in this chapter don't work as well as it did when I
     had Derek in high school as opposed to middle school...but rather
     than rewrite the thing, I am just asking my readers to please be
     willing to suspend their belief because I'm partial to the moments I
     set in this chapter.
     Some of the dialogue has changed from the original posting to reflect
     Derek and Hayden's change in age. I figured there might be some
     differences in their speech patterns. I know mine certainly changed
     from middle school to high school.
     Also, apparently Laura Hale was born in 1982, thanks to a resource a
     reader was able to find me. This makes her six years older than Derek
     (which, to my surprise, is only a year older than I initially
     guestimated for her age). I think Cora is six years younger than
     Derek, so that makes her about the same age as Scott and Stiles.
     Majority vote came through asking for no Wincest, and therefore,
     there shall be no Wincest. (So sorry for anyone who was hoping
     otherwise, but the people who decided to give their input have
     spoken.) Voting on this matter is now closed. Thanks to everyone who
     provided input, and I may call on you all again if I need help
     deciding something else I’m toying with that I need a muse tie-
     breaker on.
     For the purposes of this story, I’ve decided to do the following
     about the A/B/O dynamics. There’s the biological ranking of
     traditional of most A/B/O universes, and then there’s the pack
     ranking which is as defined in Teen Wolf by eye color. Therefore,
     Derek will always be an Alpha, but not always a Pack Alpha. Having
     control over a pack affords an Alpha additional powers, more
     strength, and protection, but losing that status in no way affects
     their physiological ability to sire an Omega mate and care for them.
     Hopefully that makes sense.
     I’m also going to be throwing a lot of my own made-up elements this
     and other plot points I’m developing, so hang tight and please bear
     with me. The actual Teen Wolf canon elements and timeline is already
     wonky in a ton of places anyway, so I figure one more person
     completely deviating from it all and making their own thing
     completely isn’t really going to hurt anybody. Not to mention this is
     fanfiction, so...yeah. New tag, by the way—I’m going to start
     throwing some original characters into this storyline every now and
     again. Some will be recurring, others will bow out after they’ve
     served their purpose.
     The next few chapters might be a bit shorter than the first two. I’m
     trying to set things up for certain elements I’m going to draw from
     Teen Wolf’s Season One, and as much as I am sure you all would like
     lots of long chapters, I also don’t want to write anything that’s
     super unnecessary.
     Someone asked when “present day” will be. I guess once we hit some of
     the events I’m going to be borrowing from Season One, we can consider
     that the present, but other than that I guess it’s sort of hard to
     say. We’ll see how it goes!
     (Unrelated: there’s just so much I want to write for this ship, it’s
     insane. Literally not enough hours in the day!)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                  March, 2002
Stiles’ first crush happened when he was in the second grade, on National
Reading Day. That day, a bunch of students from a local middle school trying to
complete their community service requirement were tasked with going to various
classrooms ranging from kindergarten through the third grade, to read to the
kids there. Among the middle school students assigned to his class, one boy in
particular caused Stiles’ movements to miraculously halt and he found himself
frozen in place, stunned like a deer in headlights. Noticing this, Scott pat
his friend on the back curiously.
“Hey, Stiles...” he said, tilting his head in concern. “You okay?”
His friend’s eyes seemed to get bigger as the object of his fascination took
notice of his staring and slowly began to approach, ignoring the flock of
little girls trying to clamor for his attention with their books.
“Buh...buh...buh...” Stiles gurgled unintelligibly.
Scott frowned slightly. “What?”
“Hey there, little guy,” the middle school student said, smiling easily as he
bent forward slightly to meet Stiles’ level, hands clasped over his knees.
“What’s your name?”
“Uh...”
Scott shook his head, his frown deepening for an instant before he flashed the
older boy an apologetic look. “His name is Stiles,” Scott said. “I’m not sure
what’s wrong with him though. He usually talks a lot.”
“Oh, yeah?” the boy said, clearly amused. “And what’s your name?”
Scott apparently wasn’t entirely immune to whoever this dark-haired boy in
basketball shorts was either, because now he was blushing too. “Um...uh...it’s
Scott.”
“Scott, huh? Okay,” the boy said with a bit of a lazy grin. “I’m Derek. Nice to
meetcha.”
“Uh...y-yeah…!” Scott said, unsure why he was suddenly getting so flustered
himself. “Nice.”
The boy who called himself Derek chuckled. His attention was soon drawn to the
owner of the hand that was tugging at his sleeve. Look still filled with
wonder, Stiles slowly held up the book he’d chosen; their teacher had made the
class pick out what they wanted read to them before the middle school students
had come in. Derek was still smiling, but there was something softer about it
this time.
“You want me to read that one to you?” he asked.
“Uh...uh-huh,” Stiles said, nodding, completely unable to say anything else.
Scott might have found the whole thing funny if he didn’t think it was all a
little bit strange. It was like the pair of them were living in their own
bubble.
“Um...I think I’m going to...go that way,” Scott said as he began to shuffle
his feet. “You’ll be all right...right, Stiles?”
“...uh-huh.”
“Okaaay...” Scott said, eying Derek with a hint of suspicion. “You’ll make sure
nothing happens to him, right?”
“Of course,” Derek said with a nod.
“Good,” Scott said, seemingly satisfied before he started walking towards a
beautiful middle school girl with flowing black hair.
Derek looked back down at Stiles and chuckled; the boy was still staring at him
with goo-goo eyes. He reached for the book being held up for him.
“Child of the Wolves, huh?” Derek said, whistling lightly as he skimmed through
the pages. “This is a pretty thick book for a boy your age. We might not be
able to finish it, but is that okay?”
Stiles nodded vigorously. Derek laughed softly.
“All right, well...how about we sit down?” Derek asked as he scanned the room
for an open spot. He pointed to a space by a wall. “Is over there okay?”
Stiles nodded furiously again. Derek smiled.
“Okay. Follow me then.”
Once they reached the wall, Derek turned around, letting his back connect with
a light smack as he slid down to a sitting position. After a second he looked
up, curious as to why Stiles had not yet moved. He stifled another laugh when
he noticed the kid’s big eyes flit between the space beside Derek and his lap.
Derek had spread his legs out at first, but now he folded them into a pretzel.
He tilted his head slightly downward while keeping his eyes on the boy.
“Want to sit here?” he asked.
He still managed to hold back his laughter, but he was unable to keep the
twinkling mirth out of his green eyes when Stiles suddenly turned a rather
adorable shade of red. He tapped Stiles on the arm before the boy could settle
for just sitting beside him out of sheer embarrassment.
“It’s fine,” said Derek. “It’ll make it easier for you to see the words
anyway.”
Stiles apparently didn’t need much more convincing. He quickly scrambled on top
of Derek’s lap and settled himself there. Derek let a soft snort slip through
his nose. He could tell Stiles was still embarrassed because he could see the
boy’s ears were tipped pink. Once Derek opened the book and started reading
though, the kid began to relax.
Derek reading to him was a dream. Actually, correction—Derek was a dream, to
Stiles. Just as with Scott, though Stiles couldn’t explain it, there was
something about the older boy that he had liked instantly. One day he would be
able to make the connection between these instances and his empathic abilities.
Derek’s good looks helped too, of course, in addition to the comforting feeling
that seemed to emit from his person. So comfortable, in fact, that Stiles’
posture slowly sagged against Derek’s chest, and at some point he eventually
drifted off to sleep. Derek half-smiled when he noticed. He kept reading for a
few more minutes anyway, just in case. He’d been accused of ruining a
potentially perfectly good nap before by his younger sister Cora, whom he often
read bedtime stories to. According to her, he wasn’t supposed to stop reading,
even if he thought Cora was asleep, because she might still be listening.
Once he was absolutely certain Stiles wasn’t going to wake up, however, Derek
quieted and leafed through the rest of the book the boy had chosen while
sparing an occasional discreet glance down at the sleeping child using him as a
makeshift sofa. The story was about a Siberian Husky who ran away from home
because he didn’t want to be separated from his mother after he and his sister
were sold to a new owner. Which made absolutely no sense, Derek thought to
himself as he continued reading along, because in the end, he didn’t even
succeed in staying with his mother. Instead, he ended up trying to join a pack
of wolves, whose reception of him was mixed, and it was only after he’d proven
himself a thousand times over that the pack he was trying to get integrated
with finally accepted him as one of their own. When he’d finished skimming
through the book, Derek found himself closing it and looking down at the boy
contemplatively for a while.
He did remember Stiles. He didn’t think he could ever forget the little boy who
saved him in the forest, refreshing morning dewdrop scent and all. Derek hadn’t
expected the boy to remember him; after all, he’d been found as a wolf. A
phenomenon which even he was still trying to understand. Since hitting puberty,
his shifting abilities were rather unstable. Not only was he unable to take
that form at will, at the time of the steel trap incident, he also hadn’t been
able to revert back to human until he’d managed to limp a considerable distance
away and his adrenaline began to subside. This had led him to theorize that it
might have had something to do with having some sort of trigger, though he
wasn’t sure if it was related to pain or panic, and it wasn’t something he was
necessarily eager to test.
The voice of one of his classmates shook him out of his thoughts. “Derek.”
Derek looked around until he found the source of the voice. It belonged to one
of his good friends, Hayden Becker. Tall, blonde, and pretty much the fantasy
of every girl at their middle school. Derek gave a little smirk and tilted his
chin upward in response, acknowledging that he’d heard.
“We've been released!” Hayden said, grinning as he nodded at Stiles. “You bore
him to tears?”
Derek gave his signature leer in response, though there was no real bite in the
expression. “Ha-ha. Very funny, Hayden.”
“I know I am,” Hayden replied with a wink. “Wake the kid up; it's time to go.”
Derek let out a soft sigh and nodded. “Yeah, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”
“If you say so. Just don’t miss the bus.”
“Got it,” Derek said somewhat absently as he looked back down at Stiles.
He couldn’t figure out why, but the kid seemed to bring his wolf so much inner
peace. It was the same as when he first met Stiles several months ago in the
forest. Derek didn’t consider himself particularly angry, but his current
struggles with shifting occasionally made it difficult to keep all his emotions
in check. It made him that much more reluctant to do what he had to. He nudged
at Stiles’ shoulder in a gentle attempt to rouse him.
“Hey, buddy...” Derek said softly. “Time to get up now. Story time’s over.”
Stiles didn’t move much at first, but when Derek prodded at him again, he let
out a soft sigh and began to stir. Derek half-smiled as Stiles slowly righted
himself and brought a hand to his eyes, rubbing at them. He chuckled when
Stiles blinked several times and looked about, as if trying to remember where
he was.
“Um...did I fall asleep?” Stiles mumbled.
Derek chuckled. “You sure did.”
“Mm...sorry...” Stiles said, tilting his head upward and squinting his eyes as
he tried to adjust them to the light.
When he was finally able to focus on Derek’s face, his eyes grew a bit wide and
his lips rounded into the shape of an ‘o.’ Pink dusted his cheeks again, and
Derek laughed softly as Stiles’ teacher reached down and lifted the boy up,
providing Derek an apologetic glance in the process.
“My apologies for this little one.  He can be a bit of a handful,” she said.
“Thank you so much for coming.”
“No, not at all,” Derek said with a smile as he rose from his position,
swatting at the back of his shorts to get rid of any dirt that might have
accumulated from his having sat on the floor. “I had fun reading to him. Stiles
is a good kid.”
“When he wants to be,” came the neutral reply. “I have to say, I haven’t seen
him this calm since he started here. He and his friend Scott are always getting
into some kind of mischief.”
"Really?” asked Derek. “He didn’t give me any trouble.”
“That’s because you’re a miracle worker, son,” the teacher said, shaking her
head. “Believe me, I’m pretty sure this is a once in a lifetime occurrence.”
Derek laughed. “I’ll take your word for it, ma’am.”
“Well, aren’t you just the perfect little gentleman?” the teacher sighed
happily. “What was your name again?”
“Derek,” Derek replied. “Derek Hale.”
“It was very good to meet you, Derek,” the teacher said. “Now go on, don’t miss
your bus.”
“I won’t. Thank you,” Derek said to the teacher before leaning forward a bit,
bringing his eyes level with the boy in her arms. He flashed a small smile and
held one hand up in farewell. “It was nice meeting you too, Stiles. See you
later.”
He was a bit surprised when a little hand caught hold of one of his fingers
before he could drop his hand. Derek couldn’t help it when he arched an
eyebrow.
“Promise…?” the little boy asked.
He’d said it so softly, that it took Derek a minute to realize that he’d been
asked a question. The little boy’s teacher frowned at him slightly.
“Let him go now, Stiles. He has to go back to his own school.”
Derek didn’t know what compelled him to say it. Maybe it was the teacher’s
reprimand, or perhaps something bothered him about the emotions that flickered
in Stiles’ light brown orbs; they seemed to be a bit too complicated for a
seven-year-old.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding once. “Of course. I promise.”
“...okay.”
And Derek had to admit that something felt a little odd about the whole thing,
when the two finally broke contact and Derek began to make his way out of the
classroom. It felt almost like he’d made some sort of contract; one that he was
pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to keep. After all, it wasn’t like he
had a lot of reasons to interact with someone going to elementary school,
especially if they weren’t at all related.
Still, he remembered the way his wolf had reacted almost instantly, the minute
he'd caught a whiff of Stiles' familiar scent upon entering that classroom, and
how he'd moved towards the kid without having given it much thought. As natural
as it felt, Derek also realized it was weird to feel such a familiar and
friendly connection with someone he'd only met one other time before. He would
have to ask his mother about that later, he decided. Or Laura, if it turned out
that their mother was too busy. There was something else bugging him too, and
it was recalling the expression Stiles had worn on his face when Derek had to
leave. He could have sworn it looked like the kid was experiencing some sort of
pain. Which didn't make sense to him, only because as far as Derek could tell,
the kid wasn't a werewolf. Therefore, brief physical interactions or lack
thereof shouldn't have affected him as much as it seemed to have done. In
werewolves, touch was essential, particularly for close-knit family, pack
members, and mates. Especially for the last subset—it helped to stabilize
partnerships and keep them relatively in sync. Derek was pretty sure there
wasn't an actual physiological equivalent for bonding like that among humans.
At least, not to that degree. All those thoughts and more quickly went
forgotten, however, as soon as he'd made it back to his assigned bus and
settled into a seat beside his best friend.
“Geez, Derek!” Hayden said, laughing as he gave Derek a friendly punch to the
chest. “What took you so long! We’ve all been waiting for you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Derek said, laughing right along with his friend. “I already got
the full lecture from Mrs. Crosby.”
“Well! Can’t be too mad about it though, yeah?” Hayden said with a grin.
“Thanks to you, we might all get to miss seventh period!”
“What, no History?” Derek said, smiling back. “Yeah, I guess I can live with
that.”
“No kidding! My head always ends up spinning after that class.”
"Come on, Hayden. You say your head always spins after every class," said
Derek.  "Except for gym, which—hey!"
He rubbed at where he'd just been elbowed in the ribs.  Hayden was shaking his
head.
"Shut it, Derek."
Derek just laughed in response.
Chapter End Notes
     The original version of this chapter was supposed to be a tad longer
     than what I have here, with Stiles in a car ride back home from
     school with Dean and a little conversation with his mother, but I
     decided to nix the car scene mostly because I like how I wrapped
     things up (for now) with Sam, Dean, and Stiles last chapter. Not to
     mention the Winchester boys won't be making a reappearance for a
     while. Without that scene though, I thought the transition into
     Stiles' conversation with his mother would end up making the story's
     flow a bit awkward, so I've decided I'm going to work that same
     conversation I had in mind in a little bit later.
     I think about one or two more chapters, and we'll at least be at the
     start of Teen Wolf's Season One. That is, unless my muse suddenly
     throws me a random curve ball. (Truth be told, I'm having that weird,
     nagging feeling like I'm forgetting something huge again, but it
     might also just be that my brain is feeling kind of frazzled right
     now. I've been writing this story practically nonstop, and honestly
     it's difficult to find a good place to break because I keep getting
     invigorated by all the wonderful comments and part of me just doesn't
     want to lose all this great momentum.) Only time will tell, I
     suppose, hahaha. Stay tuned!
***** False Pretenses *****
Chapter Summary
     Claudia gets in over her head.
Chapter Notes
     OKAY. SO. Regarding the timeline. This fic always intended to be an
     alternate timeline fic, BUT I hadn’t initially intended the Teen Wolf
     canonical timeline to veer a hard left until about Season Four or so.
     Unfortunately, I got Derek’s birth year wrong, which I discovered a
     tad too late. Originally I wasn't going to fix anything, but then a
     reader spent so much time breaking things down for me that I felt
     they (along with other readers) deserved at least some adjustments.
     I'll try my best to make it work without asking readers to suspend
     their belief more than they have to.
     There will still be a lot of changes to the canonical timeline. What
     this really means is that I’m just going to forgo waiting to diverge
     later and just diverge now. What you expect to happen (like certain
     canonical events) might not end up happening, and in other cases,
     (like Claudia's death) will happen as expected.
     From this point forward, I will be sure to let readers know where we
     are in the timeline in the authors notes before each chapter, if I
     feel like readers will need it for context and clarification, as well
     as any warnings about changes to the canonical storyline.
     All in all, I really hope that this doesn’t ruin things too much for
     everyone. However, if it does, I sincerely apologize. I promise I
     will throw everything into this story to make up for it.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                  April, 2002
Almost eight months had passed since John Winchester and his boys had come
through the Stilinskis. Claudia knew she should have forgotten them by now, but
her brother-in-law’s words had remained with her.
“Are you absolutely certain that no one suspicious came into contact with your
son between the minute he was born and his first year of life?”
She had told him no, because that had been the truth. Still, she could never
shake the feeling that she’d forgotten something important.
Her son’s birthday came and went without incident, and the very next day her
husband went to work the night shift, leaving her and her son at home alone.
Claudia had tucked her son in bed before going to her own and falling asleep.
Then, somehow, she suddenly remembered it all. Perhaps because her mind just
never stopped searching. It woke her up screaming.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
She’d had a nightmare once, one that she had swept under the rug because it had
been so terrible. It had occurred about a year after her sister’s death. The
worst part was, at the time she hadn’t realized it was a dream, because it had
felt so real.
Everything had begun with John.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
The smell of blood was thick in the air. They were in some house. Claudia
looked around, bewildered. Eventually, her eyes focused on a figure in the
center of the living room she was in; a man who was down on his knees and with
his shoulders hunched forward. One whom she’d recognized easily.
“John…?” she gasped.
Her brother-in-law lifted his head in response. “Please…!” he begged. “Please
save my sons…!”
A million thoughts surged through her mind. Claudia shook her head.
“I don’t...I don’t understand what you're saying,” she said. “What’s happened
to your boys? Where are we? What is this pla—AHHH!”
A blade ran through her brother-in-law’s ribcage, from the back. Claudia
watched in horror as John’s eyes widened in shock before they lost their shine
and rolled back, a gurgling noise emitting from his throat as his body crumpled
to the floor.
Behind him was a five-year-old Dean, holding a short sword that should have
been too heavy for a boy his age to wield and covered in blood. Though it was
her nephew, he was clearly possessed by something, and his posture was way too
mature for his age or his stature. His white teeth glinted through the
thickness of red in a Cheshire-like grin, and the mere sight of it terrified
her enough to start stumbling back.
“Dean…?” Claudia said, voice quivering.
“Oh please, Claudia,” the demon possessing her nephew said in the kid’s voice.
The whole thing was eerie and sent chills down her spine. “Clearly I’m not.”
Claudia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Then who...who are you…?” she asked
in a hushed tone.
The demon replied, but he didn’t answer her question. “Do you want to save
them?”
“I...why are you doing this?” Claudia asked, the panic rising in her voice.
“Why did you kill them?”
The demon grinned. “Oh, I could bring them all back for you, sweetheart,” he
said, his voice dripping with condescension. “So long as you cooperate with
me.”
“What...what is it that you want…?” Claudia said, voice quavering.
“Nothing at all really,” the demon replied. “Just a simple request. Or would
you like their deaths to be your fault?”
“...what are your terms?” Claudia asked.
“An invitation,” the demon said. “Let me swing by for a visit to your home. Ten
years from now.”
Claudia tensed. “For what?”
Her blood ran cold when the demon threw her nephew’s head back and howled out a
laugh. She, of course, didn’t see the irony. She hadn’t been there when her
sister said those exact same words to the very same malicious spirit.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” the demon said. “So long as
I don’t get interrupted, nobody dies. I promise.”
Instinct screamed at her not to agree. However, she knew from her past
experiences with the supernatural, that demons often offered deals to humans
not because they were showing mercy, but because they had already won. The
deals were usually proffered just for their own sick, twisted amusement.
“...John and the boys,” she said finally.
The demon lifted her nephew’s hands. “Left alone, without a scratch.”
“And all I have to do...”
“Is let me into your residence,” the demon confirmed with a nod. “And stay out
of my way.”
“And you promise no one will get hurt,” she asked.
“So long as there is no interference,” said the demon. “It’s a good deal,
Claudia.”
Provided she kept up her end of the bargain, that was. Claudia recognized that
much. Her mind raced, searching for some loophole. Demons, oddly enough, tended
to keep their word with these things, though somewhat loosely. If she wasn’t
careful; if there was something she was missing here, well, she knew there
would be consequences.
“Tick-tock…!” the demon said, using Dean’s prepubescent voice to sneer. “Little
Sammy dies next.”
“OKAY!” Claudia blurted out before she could stop herself. “Okay...you...you
have a deal.”
The demon grinned and gave her a flash of something before he exited Dean’s
little body in what looked like a whirlwind of thick, black smoke. Claudia
could feel that whatever the evil presence was, it had completely gone. She
threw herself forward and rushed over to cradle her nephew in her arms. After a
moment, the little boy began to stir.
“Nn...mom…?”
“No...no honey,” Claudia said, tears filling her eyes and shaking her head.
“It’s your Aunt Claudia.”
“Auntie Claudia…?”
“Yes, honey, that’s right,” Claudia said softly, brushing away strands of her
nephew’s sweaty, matted hair. “Are you all right…?”
“Mm...I think so...”
“Where’s Sam?” she asked her nephew.
Dean lifted one of his small hands and rubbed at his eyes. “Crib still, I
think...”
“That’s good. Okay,” Claudia said, breathing out a small sigh of relief. “I’m
going to go check on him in a minute. Okay...”
She heard a groan to her left, and when she looked to the side she saw John
starting to move. There was still a lot of blood on his shirt, but somehow she
could sense that he too was going to be all right. Her breathing was still
unsteady as she waited in anticipation for her brother-in-law to prop himself
up with one of his hands and rise. When their eyes made eventual contact,
Claudia suddenly felt as if something slammed her at full force from behind,
knocking the wind right out of her lungs.
“Are you absolutely certain that no one suspicious came into contact with your
son between the minute he was born and his first year of life?”
She remembered now, the color of Dean’s eyes, how they had changed in the
dream, just before the demon had exited her nephew’s body. She remembered
John’s voice, the way it sounded when he described the malevolent being that
had taken the life of her sister, Mary.
“The Yellow-Eyed Man.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
She came back to grips with reality when she felt her son shaking her with as
much force as his small frame was able to muster. Worried eyes were wide with
panic.
“What is it?! What is it, Mommy?” he cried. “What’s wrong?!”
“My baby…!” Claudia gasped as she wrapped her arms around her son.
Stiles’ voice was somewhat muffled when he spoke into her chest. “Mommy…?”
Claudia closed her eyes instead of responding. She tried soothing her son by
running her hands against her son’s back and through his hair. She spoke words
meant to calm him and kept her eyes closed, trying to focus; trying to
concentrate.
Almost instantly, she was transported approximately years back into the past.
Ten years after her conversation with the Yellow-Eyed Demon. 1994. The year her
son was born. As an empath, she could see things that her son would not
necessarily remember; would not necessarily know what they were.
Claudia stopped when she found what she was looking for. There was no mistaking
the cold atmosphere she felt from the memory, although she couldn’t tell what
day it was she was looking at. She didn’t even know where it was she and her
husband could have been when this had happened, and the thought terrified her.
All she could see was a man, hovering over her son. She knew, without a doubt,
even before confirming the color of the eyes, who it was.
It took her a moment to realize what the wetness was dripping onto her son’s
mouth. Just as she registered the coppery taste of blood, the Yellow-Eyed Demon
spoke in an excited hushed whisper.
“One day you will be called upon to serve our master for a greater purpose…!”
The revelation thrust her out of the vision with a gasp. For one moment,
Claudia found herself to be disoriented, and then in the next, she felt panic.
Stiles was no longer in her arms, and she couldn’t remember having ever let him
go.
“Mitchi…?!” she cried, voice unexpectedly hoarse as she got out of her bed.
“Where are you, honey?”
Anxiety was replaced with relief when she went out into the hall and heard her
son’s voice coming from somewhere in the house. Making her way down the hall,
her son’s voice gradually became more audible, and Claudia eventually realized
that her son had, at some point, gone down the stairs. She went down the steps
swiftly, and eventually found her son in the kitchen on the telephone. Though
his back was turned to her, she didn’t need to look at his face to know that it
was tear-streaked from crying.
“I-I don’t know what’s w-wrong with her, Daddy...” Stiles hiccuped into the
phone. “Mommy’s h-hurt I think…p-p-please come home…?”
Claudia sucked in a short breath in an attempt to steady herself before
speaking. “There you are, baby...”
Her son jumped a bit in surprise and he whirled around to look at her with
glassy eyes. “M-mommy…!”
Claudia gave her son a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as tired as she felt.
“Is that Daddy on the phone, sweetie…?”
Stiles nodded vigorously. “Uh...uh-huh,” he said, eyes growing a bit round.
“I...are you mad at me, Mommy…?”
Claudia smiled and shook her head. “No, darling...no, not at all. I know, Mommy
scared you, and I’m sorry...could you bring the phone to me please?”
Her son nodded and ran to her with the phone. She bent forward to envelop her
son in a warm hug with one arm, and took the phone from him with her free hand,
placing it against her ear.
“Shane…? Hello?”
“Oh my god, Claudia!” Sheriff Stilinski’s panicked voice came through from the
other side. “What’s going on, honey?! Is everything all right? Stiles was—”
“I...everything’s fine, darling...” Claudia said softly while caressing her
son’s head in an attempt to soothe him. “Nothing’s happened...we’re all fine.”
“Damn it, Claudia…! Are you sure everything’s all right?” said Sheriff
Stilinski. “You know what? Never mind. I’m going to ask someone else to take
over the rest of my shift for me. I’ll be home soon.”
“Jutrzejszy,” Claudia said, saying her husband’s full name with a bit of force.
“It really is nothing serious, my love. Finish your work and then come home.”
Normally her tone would have given her husband pause, but she knew when he
responded, that this time he was not going to back down as easily as the
others.
“This isn’t a discussion, Claudia,” the sheriff said in a rare form of firmness
towards his wife. “You and I both know our son wouldn’t have called me over
some nonsense.”
“Oh, I seem to recall a certain April Fool’s joke from earlier this month...”
Claudia said lightly, her lips quirking slightly at the corners.
“...sweetheart.”
Claudia closed her eyes and involuntarily shuddered. The affectionate name had
never bothered her before, but the memory of the Yellow-Eyed Demon’s sarcastic
utterance of it was still too fresh in her mind, and it caused a twisted
feeling in her gut. She breathed deeply through her nose.
“Okay...” she said, finally giving in, knowing that this time the battle was
lost. “Come home, then. I’m going to try putting our little Mitchi back to
bed.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise,” Sheriff Stilinski said, sounding
incredibly relieve d to hear he wouldn’t be going too far against his wife’s
wishes. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Claudia said before hanging up the phone and then bending
forward to lift up Stiles, who immediately wrapped his arms around her neck and
buried his face there.
She rubbed her hand against her son’s back in soothing motions as she made her
way back towards the stairs. As she started to take them both up, she pat her
son’s head and glanced down at him when he spoke.
“It really hurt, Mommy...”
Claudia’s brows furrowed together into a slight frown. “What hurt, honey?”
“When I touched you, it hurt,” Stiles said, and Claudia could feel him shaking
his head against her neck. “But you didn’t hit me!”
Claudia stopped just before entering her son’s room, eyes widening as it dawned
on her what exactly her son was telling him. Stiles’ empathic abilities were
awakening, she realized. He had felt her pain and anguish.
“Did you...did you see anything too?” she asked.
She let out a small sigh of relief when she felt her son shake his head again.
Claudia stepped into her son’s room. Good, she thought to herself as she walked
over to her son’s bed. His powers hadn’t accelerated that far. She was glad he
was spared from seeing the same things she had.
It took about a half hour, but she managed to get Stiles to sleep, and a few
minutes later, her husband arrived when she’d tucked herself back into their
shared bed. Part of her wanted to feign sleep, but she decided against it and
sat up waiting for her husband—she knew that the sheriff would make them talk
about it later if not now, and she rather preferred to discuss it right then,
if she was forced to pick between the two.
When he entered the room, she got up to kiss him. The exchange was chaste and
sweet; her husband’s thumb traced against her cheek gently, and she could see
reflected in his eyes how tired he was and how worried. She sighed and leaned
into his touch, cupping around his hand with one of her own.
“...you going to tell me what happened tonight?” her husband asked softly.
“I had a nightmare,” Claudia said, altogether honest and yet also dancing
around the truth. “It wasn’t real. I knew it wasn’t real...but it took me a
moment to convince myself otherwise.”
She opened her eyes and stared right into her husband’s. Projecting one’s
feelings to one who didn’t share her abilities wasn’t really possible, but even
if she could, she was already too drained from the day’s events to really put
forth the effort. They stood there for what seemed like a while, eyes locked,
exchanging unspoken words.
Eventually, the sheriff’s shoulders slumped forward, relenting. “All right,”
her husband said finally, even if he didn’t sound completely sure what it was
he was agreeing to. “...to bed, then.”
He relaxed when Claudia gave him a warm smile. “That would be perfect,” she
said.
Though they never spoke of it again, the night’s incident undoubtedly remained
with her in the days that followed. Instinct told her to stop; to not dig any
further, lest she find something she wished she hadn’t stumbled across. Against
her better judgment, however, she started meditating, whenever her son was at
school and her husband was out at work. There had been something familiar about
the room where she’d had the nightmare, and she felt compelled to figure out
why.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Everything about the room had been dark. Drab, greyish-green walls and a floor
that was just as muted in color. Not Mary’s, Claudia had mused during one
session of visualization, searching for clues.
Mary. The minute she thought of her sister’s name, it was like she heard the
click of a key turning.
Claudia opened her eyes. She remembered now, how could she have forgotten? She
knew the room—knew the house that it belonged to.
She should have left everything well and alone. Not that it would have
prevented the events that had already long ago been set in motion, but because
it might have been better to live in ignorance until the end. To spend more
time with her precious son.  Instead of looking back on this moment, years
later and with life failing her, filled with regret and sorrow.
It was a Monday when she left a note for her husband that she was going to be
away for a while, in Kansas. Despite her promise that she would return, that
she wasn’t leaving him, and that everything would be okay, it did nothing to
allay the chaos that ensued, or the panic. Sheriff Stilinski wasted no time in
putting out an APB for his wife. Claudia having been pretty tight-lipped about
her past, the sheriff didn’t necessarily know where to ask people look first.
True to her word, however, she returned later that week, on a Thursday. Without
explanation, and yet something had clearly changed. For all his relief, Sheriff
Stilinski was still angry, and understandably so. They fought that night, and
Stiles stayed up in his room the entire time, pillow over his head and eyes
squeezed shut while he counted as high as he knew how to go.
After a couple weeks of his parents giving each other the mutual silent
treatment, things seemed to settle as they’d done before. It wasn’t until
Claudia began to experience drastic mood swings and couldn’t remember simple
things like how she had gotten somewhere and why she was there in the first
place, did any of them start to realize that something was terribly wrong.
When they took Claudia to the hospital, she went home diagnosed with
frontotemporal dementia. The doctors couldn’t explain why it was progressing at
such rapid pace. Her husband was distraught, and her son was still a bit too
young to fully grasp the severity of the situation. Eventually, at her
insistence, her husband went back to work and the both of them tried their best
to proceed in a business as usual-type fashion.
“Beacon Hills still needs its sheriff,” she had said to her husband. “Time
doesn’t stop, just because we want it to.”
He’d been reluctant, but he nevertheless complied. They both did the best with
the situation as they could.
In the afternoons, Claudia often watched her son sleep, as he often liked to do
just a few hours before dinner. His mother would brush away strands of hair
lovingly, usually with quiet tears spilling from her eyes and streaking down
her face. She didn’t want to forget her baby, but knew that one day, it would
only be a matter of time.
At some point, she began to keep a journal and kept very focused on it. She
always wrote in it when her husband wasn’t around. If her son noticed she was
writing when he came home from school, he didn’t really seem to feel that
anything was unusual about it, and never made mention of it in conversation,
even to his father. She wrote in the leather-bound book almost daily, for as
long as she could until she finally had to be admitted into the hospital, and
then she placed it among her son’s things, just before she had to go.
It broke her heart to know that she wouldn’t be around to watch her son grow,
but she would do her best to teach him. While she still could.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
“I’ve always wondered if you’d be able to stay away.”
Claudia whirled around, though she wasn’t as surprised as she probably should
have been. No, the real surprise had been the fact that her parents’ former
home was still sitting there, in the middle of a forest, abandoned and somewhat
deteriorated.
She clenched her hands at her sides as The Man with the Yellow Eyes grinned at
her toothily. He cricked his neck, and the movement seemed unnatural.
“What did you do to my son?” Claudia asked through grit teeth.
“Ah...” the demon said, his amusement not wavering. “So you saw. How
fascinating. You are much, much more interesting than your sister.”
“What. Did you do. To my son?” Claudia said, voice rising as she punctuated
each word.
“You might recall the deal we made, all those years ago,” the demon said
nonchalantly, sounding bored. “The one where you so graciously allowed me into
your home in exchange for—”
“That turned out to be a dream…!” Claudia said, exasperated. “How were you
still able to do it?!”
“Don’t you know?” the demon replied. “I have the ability to permeate dreams.
Despite where we made it, the deal was still good. Permission is permission.”
“But if I had said no, then—?”
“Ah...but you knew that you couldn’t, didn’t you?” the demon said with a smile.
“Somewhere, deep down, you knew that I had the power...”
Claudia took one step back as the demon took one step forward. Yellow eyes
seemed to glow, even though it was only late in the afternoon and not yet dark
outside.
“...to take their lives,” the demon continued, and Claudia tried not to flinch
at his rancid breath. “Your world was so small then, wasn’t it? All you could
think about was wanting to protect your late sister’s children, never once
imagining that one day, you would have one of your own.”
While the demon’s words were true, that didn’t mean she wanted to hear it from
him. He spoke again before she could.
“And to think that I would be so fortunate to meet not just one, but two
individuals with powerful abilities such as yours, coursing through your
veins,” said the demon. “Yours especially. I suppose that makes you the
favorite. As much as I liked Mary. Oh, and let’s not forget about the
children…!”
“You leave them alone!” Claudia cried, charging at him with a spirited blade.
It was no use, of course. The demon simply held up a hand and pinned her
against the wall, using invisible forces to keep her in place.
“Tsk, tsk...” the demon tutted. “Why is it that all you Campbells fight in the
exact same manner?”
“I won’t let you hurt my son!”
“Far too late for that, I’m afraid,” the demon said with glee. “The plan is
already well in motion.”
“What if we were to make an exchange?” Claudia ground out.
The demon, in his vessel, raised a brow. “Oh? You would like to make a deal?”
“It’s what I came for,” said Claudia. “I will give you whatever it is that you
want. Just undo whatever it is you did to my son.”
“Hmm...” the demon hummed, pretending to contemplate the offer before grinning.
“No. Not a chance.”
“Why not!” Claudia shouted as she tried to force herself out of the demon’s
hold.
“Because,” the demon said as he brought Claudia’s body forward a bit from the
wall before slamming her right back against it. “Your son has something Mary’s
boys lack.”
The demon threw his head back and roared with laughter upon seeing the look of
sheer panic reflected in Claudia’s eyes. He snarled.
“Did you honestly believe that no one would take notice?” the demon said. “Oh,
Josiah Campbell was good—his name is one whispered quite often in the spirit
realm. Such raw power no one has seen before or since. Until now. And this
time, we have contracted with it!”
“No…” Claudia gasped, voice sounding small. Tears began to flow freely down her
face. “No, no, no, no, no...”
“Yes…!” the demon hissed. “But I’ll tell you what—I’ll give you a gift. And
don’t worry...this one is on the house!”
“AHHHHH!!!!”
Claudia screamed as the demon’s fingers began to curl into a claw-like gesture,
and she writhed in pain when she felt as if something was splitting behind her
skull. The demon laughed as she tried to flail about, failing quite miserably
in her feeble attempts to escape. When the demon had finished his work, he
released Claudia from his hold, and she crumpled rather unceremoniously onto
the floor. Too weak to fight back and quite disoriented, she was helpless to do
anything other than listen to the words spoken by the demon looming overhead.
“You were brave to come here, so ill prepared,” the demon rumbled. “But I’ve
got to love a woman who’s got guts. So here’s my parting gift.”
Claudia shuddered when felt more than saw the demon crouch down beside her. She
choked back a sob when she felt his warm breath by her ear as he whispered.
“I’ve made it so you won’t have to watch your little boy lose his soul.”
“...no...” Claudia finally managed to barely croak, but by then she was
speaking to no one; the demon had gone.
She didn’t know how long she laid there at first, slipping in and out of
consciousness. Eventually though, she found the strength within herself to push
herself off the floor and slowly stumble her way out of the house and back to
her rental car, which the demon mercifully left untouched.
Claudia barely remembered the drive back to the airport, nor could she quite
recall how she managed to purchase the right plane ticket, get on said plane,
and somehow make it back home. The worst of it all, of course, was that she
could feel it. She could feel the damage that the demon had done with morbid
certainty. The change inside of her; a dying spark.
Chapter End Notes
     So if things go as I've currently planned it, we should hit Season
     Oneish elements in about 3-4 chapters from now. Just as a heads up
     for anyone that is curious.
***** Innocence Broken *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek's true Alpha nature has not yet awakened, but he still somehow
     unofficially puts together his first pack. Peter’s psychopathic
     tendencies show hints.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter borrows a lot from Season 3x08’s “The Visionary” and
     provides an AU interpretation of Derek’s first love interest in
     Paige. The relationship between them is mostly how it is in canon,
     and I didn’t see the need to include all the dialogue from the
     episode, so most of it is summarized in descriptive form.
     This chapter was supposed to split between Derek’s sophomore and
     senior years in high school, but I ended up deciding against it.
     Partially because it made the chapter too long, but also partially
     because the transition ended up being a little awkward. So, all that
     really means is that there will be approximately three more pre-
     Season One chapters instead of the two more I’d planned before we hit
     canonical elements. Sorry about that!
     There are some introductions of some potentially recurring OC
     characters in this chapter, and definite deviations from canon as per
     usual to fit the overall goal I’m working towards. Also, there’s a
     bit of a play on the whole concept of “sons attracted to their
     mothers,” but rather than a mother complex it’s more of a Derek and
     Stiles subtly get attracted to certain types of traits in other
     people. Any such hints are meant to lay the groundwork for eventual
     Sterek more than anything else. Not sure if anyone noticed, but I did
     already hint at a few things for Stiles in earlier chapters; this
     chapter is more Derek-centric. If none of this makes sense to you
     now, don’t worry about it. I might not be explaining things as
     clearly as I probably could anyway, partially for sake of avoiding
     too much spoilerage from happening, but I do promise that it should
     all make sense later on! By the way, I also create my own head-canon
     regarding Peter’s psychotic behavior and explanations for why
     sometimes the bite takes and why other times it doesn’t.
     Also, I just want to take a brief moment to squee over the fact that
     I have such wonderful readers. Thanks to all those who leave kudos,
     thoughtful comments, or heartwarming notes on your bookmarks that let
     me know you're anticipating the next chapter. It means a lot more
     than you probably realize, and I'm sure others who write creatively,
     whether it be on this site or elsewhere, would agree with me
     wholeheartedly!
     (Feel free to breathe a sigh of relief that, with most of the
     heavyset explanations out of the way for the time being, these
     author’s notes will start to get shorter and shorter unless something
     crops up again that I think needs to be explained in detail. After
     all, I did promise to only write a lot of pre-chapter warble if I was
     sure it would be worth readers’ time, haha.)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                September, 2004
Derek spent most of his high school years with his two best friends, Hayden
Becker and Travis Carmichael. The former was a childhood friend, and the latter
he met through basketball. They sometimes hung out with Hayden’s older brother,
Keith Becker, who was three years older than them. The Beckers were both blond-
haired, blue-eyed beauties, and with matching cheeky personalities. Derek was
almost the polar opposite, dark-haired and with green eyes that often
fluctuated in color depending on his mood—they could shift from green to grey
or hazel, and sometimes even shone blue in rare instances. Travis, on the other
hand, was somewhere in between them all, with dark brown hair and amber eyes.
Together, they were undoubtedly the four most wanted athletic bachelors of
Beacon Hills High School. They called themselves The Wolfpack, which most
assumed was just a silly “bro” joke between them, but really it was more than
that.
In a time where Derek was more innocent and carefree, he’d easily broken his
mother’s rule of never sharing the secrets of his lineage with humans. He
relied on the loose interpretation of the rule, that those you can trust with
your life can be pack, and so he had told each of his friends when he’d felt
that they had earned his trust. Swearing them to secrecy not only to their
fellow humans, but also to feign ignorance around his family.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Derek had shown Hayden first, when they were in kindergarten. Admittedly, that
reveal had been a little impulsive. Back then, Derek had been an easy target.
He was a bit on the small and scrawny side; pasty skin tone as well. Though he
technically possessed twice the strength of any human kid, he knew better than
to go against his mother’s strict orders of using it to fight against his
bullies. So Derek had obediently held it all in.
During one particularly bad beating, Hayden had intervened. Initially, Derek
had wondered if perhaps the blonde was a werewolf too, the way he had pulled
those kids off him and seemingly tossed them aside like they were nothing. It
wasn’t until after the fact, when Hayden’s eye was beginning to swell and his
bruised lip didn’t heal at record speeds shortly after the tousle, that Derek
realized that this boy was just an exceptional human being.
“You fought them all by yourself…!” Derek said to Hayden in awe.
The blonde grinned back at him. “Yeah? So?”
“You’re strong...” Derek said, shaking his head.
“You looked like you needed help.”
Derek frowned a bit then, stuck out his chin. “I can take care of myself!”
“Yeah?” Hayden replied just as challengingly. “Then how come you didn’t?”
“I can’t.”
“See?”
“No!” Derek said with a frown. “I’m not allowed to. My mommy says.”
“That’s stupid,” Hayden said, mirroring Derek’s frown with one of his own. “My
brother says you should always fight back.”
“Your brother’s stupid.”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Not!”
“Too!”
“Not!”
“Ugh! You don’t get it,” Derek said finally in frustration, rolling his eyes
and grabbing Hayden’s wrist, dragging the other boy along with him. Someplace
where they would be out of sight. “Let me show you.”
Derek was still young, so he couldn’t control his shift very well yet, but he
could at the very least form fangs and change his eye color yellow. Hayden’s
jaw dropped in shock.
“Whoa...” he said, mesmerized. “Cool…!”
Derek’s curled into a small smirk. Then, without warning, he smacked the palms
of his hands against Hayden’s chest—not at full strength, but just enough to
prove his point. The force of the contact threw the other boy back a short
distance with considerable ease. Adrenaline helped popped Hayden right back
onto his feet, looking back at Derek in wonder.
“How did you do that?!” Hayden asked. “Golly…! You are strong…!”
“Told you so!” Derek said, lifting his chin. “My mommy just says I can’t.”
“That rule is still stupid,” said Hayden.
Derek couldn’t help his lips quirking a little bit at that. His expression
became one of confusion when Hayden marched up to him and held out his hand.
“My name’s Hayden!” said Hayden. “What’s yours?”
Derek blinked before replying awkwardly. “Derek,” said Derek. “Um...why are you
giving me your hand?”
“It’s a handshake, silly!” Hayden said, laughing. “It means we can be friends!
Here, let me show you.”
“Friends?” Derek asked as he let Hayden grab one of his hands and shake it
once.
Hayden’s smile faltered a little bit as he dropped their hands. “...you don’t
want to be friends?”
He shifted the weight on his feet while Derek contemplated for a moment.
Finally, Derek answered after a few seconds, though of course to a child it
seemed like an eternity.
Derek’s smile had been a bit shy as he nodded. “Okay, I guess.”
Hayden’s bright smile returned with full force. Derek hadn’t entirely
understood the meaning of the word at the time, but he had liked the sound of
it. In the days that followed, the more he learned about what it meant, the
more he became grateful for it.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Hayden’s older brother had been the next to find out, naturally. That one
hadn’t happened until their last year of elementary school, and Hayden’s older
brother was in the seventh grade. Derek’s being a werewolf was a well-kept
secret between two best friends for a time, but when Talia Hale taught her son
about the definition of “pack” and its importance, Hayden suggested that they
include his brother into the fold. Derek had been hesitant, at first. They’d
had the conversation whilst playing in the wooded area behind the Becker’s
residence.
“Mm...I don’t know, Hayden,” Derek said. He wouldn’t start calling his best
friend by a shortened version of his last name until they’d start playing boys
basketball in middle school, trying to copy the older boys on the team in the
way they called each other by nicknames that were supposed to make them sound
cool. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be telling anyone about it that’s not a
werewolf.”
“But you told me!” Hayden protested. “Besides, my brother’s cool! You know
him!”
“Yeah, well, I had to show you,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “You thought I
was a chicken.”
“I never said that!”
“Whatever. You thought about it.”
“But I didn’t say it!”
Derek growled. It did nothing to deter the laughter that emitted from his best
friend.
“Come on, Derek!” said Hayden. “My brother won’t tell anybody.”
“Fine...”
“Yes!” Hayden said, doing some sort of reverse-fist pump motion with both arms
that looked like he was doing a quick pull-up with air. “So awesome!”
“...but I need to trust him first.”
Hayden tilted his head in confusion. “Huh?”
Derek mumbled. “Well...my mom says that to be pack, you need to trust who you
want to show before you show them.”
Hayden blinked. “Oh.”
Derek shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Mm...okay! No problem!” Hayden said with a smile. “He just has to show you
that you can trust him, right?”
“Right...” Derek said, somewhat warily as he noticed a rather familiar glint in
his best friend’s eye; one that usually meant something was about to happen
that he probably wasn’t going to like.
“I’ve got it!” Hayden said, jumping excitedly. “I’ve got an idea!”
Derek involuntarily gulped. Hayden dragged Derek along, closer to some tall
trees.
“You said you know how to climb really high, right?” asked Hayden.
“Yes…?” Derek said, eying his friend suspiciously. “So?”
“So…!” Hayden said excitedly. “You’re going to climb really high up, and my
brother is going to get you down!”
Derek frowned. “What? How? I can get down on my own.”
Hayden groaned and smacked a hand to his face dramatically. “No, stupid…! I
know you can climb down by yourself…!”
“...then I don’t get it.”
His best friend sighed. “Look,” he said with hands on his hips, acting as if he
were several years older than Derek and he actually had a right to be
lecturing. “You climb up the tree, I tell my brother you are stuck in the tree,
and then we’ll see how hard he tries to help you down.”
Derek’s eyebrows raised slightly. Hayden paused to take in a short breath
before continuing.
“If he tries really hard to help you down, then we will know that you can trust
him, and you can make him part of our pack!” said Hayden. “It’ll be great! My
brother’s awesome.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “You said that already.”
“Well, he is…!” said Hayden. “He plays basketball. He’s on the team at school!”
“Big deal...” Derek muttered.
“Derek…!” Hayden whined.
Derek slumped his shoulders and sighed. “All right, all right...if it means
that much to you.”
He didn’t miss the bit of uncertainty that flashed in his best friend’s eyes.
Hayden’s brows furrowed together slightly.
“You don’t like my brother…? Is that it?” Hayden asked softly.
Derek shook his head and half-smiled. “No, Hayden,” said Derek. “That’s not
true.”
Hayden shoved his hands in his pockets then and kicked at a pile of leaves. “We
don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It’s a stupid plan.”
Derek chuckled. “Thought you said all your plans are ‘awesome.’ I mean, that’s
like your favorite word.”
He tried not to burst out laughing when Hayden looked up at him hopefully.
“You’ll do it?”
Derek snorted softly. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
Hayden brightened up again instantly. “Awesome!”
Derek rolled his eyes before scanning them around until he spotted a tree he
liked. “I’ll try that one.”
“Okay! I’ll go get my brother!”
“Wait! Hayden!” Derek called after his friend, groaning as Hayden ran back to
his house without a second thought. Derek grumbled. “At least give me a minute
to climb high first...”
He managed to scramble surprisingly high up by the time Hayden got back with
his brother, Keith. “See! Look! He’s all the way up there! He’s stuck!”
To say that Keith’s jaw dropped simply from shock was an understatement. There
was quite a bit of bewilderment in his expression as well.
“Holy cow…!” Keith said, enunciating each syllable. “How the heck did you get
all the way up there by yourself, Hale?”
“Um...” Derek said, blinking as he wondered how he was supposed to act.
“Help…?”
Hayden was behind him, so Keith didn’t see his little brother smack a hand to
his face. He mumbled under his breath, but only Derek’s ears picked up what his
friend was saying.
“At least pretend you’re a little bit scared, Derek. Geez.”
Derek did his best to suppress his lips from quirking in amusement and tried to
look more terrified. Turned out, it kind of helped that he wanted to laugh. It
gave him a bit of a stutter.
“C-can y-you help me come d-down?” he asked.
He watched as Keith licked at his lips and wiped his palms on his pants. Derek
could smell the nervous perspiration.
“Yeah, all right,” Keith said as he approached the base of the tree. “Just hang
on tight and don’t let go, okay? I’m going to try and get you down. Don’t
panic. Stay calm.”
It took a great deal of effort for Derek not to make a face. He wasn’t at all
panicked, and he was calm. Not the point though, of course.
He watched Hayden rock on his heels a bit nervously as Keith lifted himself up
a few branches. Derek almost started to move to meet his friend’s older brother
halfway—he knew how much Hayden looked up to and cared for his older brother.
Keith was his hero, and the two got along surprisingly great for siblings.
Derek argued with his all the time. Then again, Derek always wondered if it was
one of those one brother outnumbered by two sisters kind of thing.
Just as he made to move down a branch, he stopped when he saw Keith’s head snap
up to look at him. The older boy shook his head.
“Hey, don’t move, all right?” said Keith. “I don’t want you to fall and hurt
yourself.”
“Keith, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all,” Hayden said below him.
“Maybe we should tell Mom and Dad.”
“Don’t you dare, Hayden! Mom and Dad would kill us if they saw what we were
doing right now.”
“But…!”
“Look, you want to get in trouble for not telling them first or what?”
“Okay...” Hayden said, worrying his lower lip a little bit. “Just be
careful...”
“Yeah, yeah...” Keith grumbled, but it was only loud enough for Derek to hear.
“How the heck did he manage to get up so high anyway?”
Derek felt guilty hearing the way Keith’s heart sounded like it wanted to pound
right out of his ribcage. He decided right then and there that he would tell
Keith his secret, as soon as the older boy brought them both back down.
“Okay, come on,” Keith said right when he got close enough to Derek. “Can you
get on my back? I’ll piggy back you down.”
Derek nodded and found a way to slide down. He was surprised to hear Keith’s
heart rate start to get a little less frantic, and he realized that maybe the
older boy had been less fearful for himself and more worried about Derek
possibly breaking a few bones, had he fallen. When they finally hit the ground,
Keith checked Derek over to make sure he wasn’t hurt before frowning at him and
Hayden.
“Seriously, guys?!” he said. “What were you two thinking? That was dangerous!
Don’t ever do that again.”
“We won’t!” Derek and Hayden quipped simultaneously.
Keith sighed when the two boys latched themselves onto either of his legs,
giving his thighs a hug. He ruffled the hair on both their heads.
“Thank you, Keith,” they both said again, together.
“Yeah, all right, you numbskulls.”
Hayden pulled back and looked at Derek. “Okay to show him now?”
Keith raised an eyebrow when Derek nodded. “Show me what?”
“Derek’s a werewolf!” Hayden said excitedly before lowering his voice a bit
when Derek shot him a glare. “Oops...sorry. Um...we can’t tell anybody though.
Not even Mom and Dad.”
Thinking it was just a pair of kids with an overactive imagination, Keith
chuckled and shook his head. “Werewolf, huh?” he asked his brother. “You’ve got
an overactive imagination, Hayes.”
“No! I’m telling the truth!” Hayden said with a frown. “Show him, Derek!”
Keith had been ready to play along with, and expecting, Derek to do something
like roar and make claw-like motions with his hands. What he didn’t expect, was
for Derek to suddenly develop fangs and his eyes to change color from a normal
green to something a bit more golden yellow. For the second time in a short
period, Keith’s jaw dropped open.
“Whoa...” he said.
Hayden beamed. “That’s what I said!”
They later explained to Keith the meaning of being part of a pack, and how he
couldn’t tell anyone else. Keith had been more than agreeable and told them
their secret was safe.
“Besides,” Keith told them, shaking his head as they all walked the short
distance back to the house. “Even if I told anybody, they would all think I was
crazy. Trust me. At least you two can get away with being cute little kids with
big, overactive imaginations.”
“See! Told you we could trust him!” Hayden said, nudging Derek gleefully.
“Yeah, yeah...you were right, I was wrong...” Derek said, rolling his eyes.
Keith chuckled as he watched his little brother skip into the house before
either he or Derek could. “Sorry my brother can be such a brat sometimes,
Derek.”
“It’s okay,” Derek said, looking up at Keith with a small smile. “He’s still a
good friend.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Travis was brought into the fold after an incident during basketball camp,
something Derek went to against his parents’ suggestion. The only reason why
he’d been able to go was due to his Uncle Peter’s promises that he’d look out
for his nephew, on the condition that he’d do so incognito—Derek did not want
his friends to know that he was being followed.
He hadn’t needed to worry, however. Under the appearance that he was “trusting”
Derek, Peter was more than happy to linger in the shadows and observe. No one
realized it then, but Peter was hoping for Derek to someday lose his control.
Deep within Peter, the seeds of greed were beginning to grow; he was developing
a thirst for power. Once he’d learned that humans could be turned by the
effects of a wolf bite, Peter was looking forward to creating his own pack and
becoming their Alpha. He contemplated perhaps one day overthrowing his sister,
Talia Hale.
Derek had been acting a bit skittish most of one afternoon. He, Travis, Hayden,
and Keith were all sharing one tent, and at some point, Derek slipped away,
muttering some half-baked excuse of wanting to get some fresh air. The other
boys hadn’t paid much mind to it at the time, though when he didn’t return for
several hours, Travis offered to go and look for their friend. After all, he
had to answer nature’s call, so he figured that he was the best candidate for
the job.
Of course, that’s when Peter saw his opportunity. He inwardly bubbled with glee
watching the brunette get progressively more paranoid by Peter’s rustlings in
the forest. When he felt that they were a fair enough distance away from the
camp, Peter made his move. He threw back his head and howled. He enjoyed the
way Travis froze in place and rapidly sucked in a breath, eyes wide.
“Shit...” he heard Travis mutter nervously under his breath. “That sounded a
little too close…!”
Peter grinned when he heard Derek’s responding howl. He knew it would only be a
matter of time now.
Sure enough, just as Travis seemed to regain control of his legs and started to
speed walk a little back towards the campsite, there was a rustling of leaves
as Derek charged toward Peter’s direction. Which, consequently, was also in
Travis’ general vicinity. Peter suspected Derek had too much adrenaline pumping
through his veins to pay much attention; he was certain his nephew was only
expecting him right now, in the forest.
So when Derek popped out of some bushes right where his friend Travis was
standing, both boys were taken completely by surprise. In fact, Travis had been
caught so off-guard, he’d accidentally fallen back on his behind. Travis shone
his light on Derek, to get a better look. Hs lips quickly rounded and his eyes
grew wide like saucers when Derek let out an involuntary snarl and raised one
of his clawed hands, recoiling at the brightness.
“Ho-mi-god…!” Travis exclaimed as he immediately scrambled to his feet and
began running back to the campsite, as fast as his feet could carry him.
“Holyshitholyshitholyshit…!”
Peter’s grin grew wider when Derek let out a growl of annoyance; he was
counting on his nephew forgetting about meeting up with him and chasing after
his friend instead, in equal panic. Derek roared after Travis, forgetting
initially to transform back so that his words sounded more human and less
distorted in order to allay his friend.
He remembered about halfway back to the campsite, and so he skid to a stop in
his tracks. He let out another frustrated growl as he tried to concentrate on
getting back to his human appearance. He was still experiencing difficulties in
controlling his shift.
Travis practically flew back into the boys’ tent, earning himself curious looks
from the Becker brothers, who saw how pale in the face he was, and out of
breath. Hayden raised an eyebrow.
“What’s wrong with you, Trav?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been running
from a ghost or something.”
“Nngh…! No,” Travis said, breathing harshly and shaking his head. “No, no. Not
a ghost. It was a...oh man…! It was a…!”
“Whoa, now there, slow down,” said Keith. “Catch your breath. There, that’s it.
Now start over. What did you see?”
“It’s a...look, I don’t even know how to explain it,” said Travis. “It looked
like an animal, but it was standing upright like a man, and like...I think it
was wearing clothes…?! Haha...jeezus, I probably sound totally crazy right now,
don’t I?”
He was so bewildered that he missed the looks that were exchanged between the
two brothers. Travis shook his head some more.
“I swear though…!” he said. “I saw something out there, it started chasing me,
so I ran. And I have no idea where Derek is, and—”
“Ah, um...” Hayden started a bit uncertainly. “You said it was wearing
something?”
Travis nodded. “Yeah. I mean...I know that sounds totally crazy, but…!”
“Do you remember what it was?” Hayden asked. “Or what you think it was?”
“Wait…! You guys believe me?” Travis asked.
“Just answer the question, man,” Keith said calmly.
“Okay! I mean...” Travis scrunched his face while he thought for a moment.
“This is going to sound even more nuts, but I’m pretty sure it looked like it
was wearin’ one of our jerseys…?”
The Beckers exchanged another look. “Think it’s him?” Hayden asked his brother.
Keith shrugged. “Who else would it be? You remember him telling us about how
his parents didn’t want him camping this weekend? Something about a new moon?”
“Mm...yeah,” Hayden said with a nod. “You think…?”
“We should probably go check on him,” Keith confirmed.
“Uh...you guys going to tell me what y’all are talking about here?” Travis
asked, his eyes flitting between the two brothers. “Because I’m starting to
think you two know something that I don’t...”
Hayden half-smiled at him. “Where did you say you saw this again?”
“What? Oh no, oh no, no, no. I’m not going back out there,” Travis said,
shaking his head furiously. “Not in a million years, guys! I’m lucky whatever
it was didn’t follow me all the way back here. It was pretty fast.”
Hayden ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft sigh. “Er...it’s all
right, Travis. My brother and I...we’re pretty sure we know who it was you saw
out there.”
“Yeah, and he’s pretty much harmless,” Keith said with a chuckle. “Despite how
he might look right now.”
“What? No. You two can go ahead and look for Bigfoot if you want,” said Travis.
“But I’m telling you, I ain’t going back out there with y’all. Nuh-uh!”
“Oh my god, would you stop being such a baby?!” Hayden said, rolling his eyes.
“Hey bro, can you grab him?”
Keith nodded. “Yeah, I got you.”
“Wait, wha—mmph…!” Travis cried out, eyes wide and the volume of his shouts
muted by Keith’s hand over it as the older boy pushed him out of the tent, with
Hayden following close behind.
“Shut up, dude…!” Keith hissed. “Do you want to get us in trouble with Coach?”
“Mm-mm! Mm-mm!” Travis grunted, shaking his head.
Keith sighed. “Good. Just point to where we need to be looking.”
Travis raised a quivering hand in the direction where he had come from before
looking between the two Becker brothers with pleading eyes, as if asking if
they were going to let him go now. Hayden shook his head.
“Naw, man. You’re coming with us. We have to show you something.”
Ignoring their friend’s muffled protests and struggling, the two brothers
dragged Travis back towards the clearing where he’d run into Derek. Sure
enough, they ran into him on the way there. When they did, Travis increased in
his efforts to try to wiggle out of the brothers’ clutches, despite Hayden’s
efforts to get him to calm down.
Finally, Hayden just sighed and gave up, turning his attention to the werewolf
in front of him instead. “Derek?”
The werewolf grunted, nodding in the affirmative. The acknowledgment was enough
to get Travis to stop moving for a minute as his eyes darted between the
werewolf and Hayden.
His eyebrows moved, questioning as he said something behind Keith’s hand, which
muffled his words, but it definitely sounded like he was asking wait—that’s
Derek?! Why the hell does he look like that, then?
Hayden chuckled. “You’re looking a little hairy there, dude.”
Derek growled in annoyance. “You try learning to control your shift as a
werewolf,” he said in his gravelly werewolf voice. “It’s not as easy as you’d
think. At least the moon isn’t full tonight.”
“Well, regardless, you scared the living bejeezus out of this one,” Keith said,
he and his brother simultaneously letting go of Travis’ arms and the hand taken
off his mouth.
Travis immediately gasped for air, making heaving noises as he did so. Once he
collected himself, he addressed all three individuals at once.
“Okay, first of all…! I just need confirmation that I’m not about to be
ritually sacrificed or something,” Travis started, relaxing a little only when
the others shook their heads and Hayden let out a little snort. He narrowed his
eyes at the younger Becker. “Great. Thanks. Glad to see y’all find that really
funny.”
“Because you’re being totally over dramatic, man,” Keith said, shaking his
head. “We’re your friends. Of course we wouldn’t try to kill you.”
“Yeah, and if you had just trusted us from the get-go, this all could have gone
a whole lot more smoothly,” Hayden agreed.
“Well, how was I supposed to know he’s Derek?” Travis asked, gesturing wildly
in said werewolf’s direction. “I mean, look at him! What are you, anyway…?”
He asked the last question while looking curiously at Derek, who huffed at him.
Hayden chuckled.
“He might look a little different, but he sure glares the same,” he said with a
grin before answering Travis’ question. “He’s a werewolf, Trav.”
A brief moment of silence settled between the four friends while Travis took a
moment to process the whole thing. When Hayden’s words finally seemed to
register, Travis smacked a hand to his face and made a wiping motion down from
his forehead to his chin.
“Yup, okay, I’m done,” he said as he turned around to walk back to the
campsite.
Hayden laughed. “Hey! Where are you going?”
“Where do you think? I’m going to bed!” Travis replied while shaking his head.
“It’s late, I’m tired, and when I wake up, I’m going to find out that this was
just one crazy dream I’ve been having.”
“Yeah, you do that man,” Hayden said with a snort before glancing back at
Derek. “You going to be alright?”
Derek nodded. “I think so...”
They all turned their heads when they heard Peter howl in the distance, though
only Derek knew who it was calling for him. He looked back at his friends.
“You guys go on ahead. I’ll head back to the tent later.”
“You sure?” Keith asked.
“Yeah,” said Derek. “I’ll be back once I’m able to shift back.”
“All right,” said Keith. “Come on, Hayes.”
Derek watched the two brothers start walking back to camp before he turned and
ran in the opposite direction. True to his word, he returned to camp later on
that night after he’d managed to shift back.
The next morning, when they all woke up, Travis stared at Derek for what seemed
like a long time as they all basked in silence. Finally, he decided to speak
just before their coach would call them out for roll call.
“Last night really happened, didn’t it?” he asked.
There was no movement at first, but then Derek nodded. Travis sighed and
scratched at the back of his neck.
“Okay...and how many people know?”
“Just us, Trav,” said Hayden. “You, me, my brother...you can’t tell anyone
else, alright?”
“Hey, who would I tell?” Travis said with a shrug before looking pointedly at
Derek. “I’ve got your back, man, alright? Same as they do. Your secret’s safe
with me.”
Again, Derek didn’t react right away, but he did eventually crack a small
smile. His friend’s heartbeat was steady. Travis wasn’t lying.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
That was how the four boys became an unofficial pack. Derek avoided telling his
parents about it; he had a feeling they wouldn’t have approved.
Just like they wouldn’t have approved of Derek falling for a human girl at
school. Which was why, aside from his best friends, the only person he told
that was a member of his family was Peter. It was one of the decisions he would
come to regret deeply, when reviewing the situations that followed afterward.
The concept of soulmates was sacred, that’s what Derek had always been taught.
Back then though, Derek was nothing but impatient. Not to mention a hopeless
romantic. He wouldn’t learn until much later that there was a reason why he was
wired that way. It was to fit perfectly with a specific person. His true mate.
Peter was partly to blame for this, of course. That, and the teenage hormones.
Derek’s mother had warned him about going against destiny before. Werewolves
were bound by two things—choosing one mate for life and the soulmark linking
them to that mate. Infidelity had its consequences, particularly when the inner
wolf had already chosen. Had Derek known what to look for, he would have
realized long ago that his wolf had already started the bond.
It had been no coincidence that Stiles had felt compelled to wander into the
forest, so shortly after Derek had gotten caught in the trap. Nor had the fact
that the reason Derek had gotten caught in the first place was because he had
been so distracted by a scent that not only stood out, it called to him, much
in the same way it had done again later, at the elementary school. His
hesitance to leave the boy behind, the way they seemed to have connected
through passing touch, and the fleeting thoughts he’d had of wanting to keep
his promise to see the boy again. The signs were all there—Derek was just
oblivious to them.
To find perfect compatibility with a human was rare. They could be such fickle
creatures, after all, and werewolves required permanence in their
relationships. To have such an age gap between mates wasn’t unusual, however.
Back in the days before humans took up arms and became hunters—once upon a time
they had little reason to fear mythical creatures and lived harmoniously
together with them—when werewolves were plenty and there was a royal hierarchy
in existence, having older werewolves stumble across a true mate that was
younger wasn’t altogether uncommon. There were protocols in place to address
such situations, and biology cooperated with them. Werewolves would never
experience sexual awakening towards their underage partners until their mates
came of age, but in the meantime they still instinctively felt the need to
execute their role as protector and caregiver. It was just as well, because it
gave werewolves and their mates a chance to develop a bond of friendship, and
oftentimes the resulting inevitable relationship would develop all the better
for it.
Still, head knowledge was no replacement for firsthand experience coupled with
awareness, and in lacking either, Derek found himself falling headfirst in love
with Paige Krasikeva, who smelled of wood, resin, and something floral.
Peter was twisted, but he didn’t know that. Not then. Or perhaps not
consciously. Which is why he listened to his uncle’s whispers; began to obsess
over the thought of a love that would last forever, but in the way of a child.
To go against fate’s perfect design would end in disaster. Derek learned that
the hard way, though the lesson never quite stuck. The irony, perhaps, being
that each individual, mythical or not, had personality traits built into them
that were meant to complement their true other half to the letter. Derek’s
sensitivity and romanticism at the core was both his greatest feature and major
Achilles’ Heel.
He never should have agreed to Peter’s arrangement, to give Paige the bite, but
he hadn’t been able to help himself. It wasn’t until he held the dying girl in
her arms, by the Nemeton, that Derek was hit with the full force of guilt and
shame that resulted from his mistake. He also knew somehow, in her final
moments and even without checking for her mark that she wasn’t his One.
She was something though. Turned out, she was an empath. They weren’t anomalies
limited to the Campbell line, though there was just something about their
lineage that made them stronger. It partially had to do with the abilities only
certain men of the Campbell clan possessed, making them different. Not quite
druid; not quite spark. It was something more pure and lacking filter. It’s
what made their powers so difficult to harness and control. It’s reemergence in
Stiles, after hundreds of years, was a harbinger. Of hope or of death, that
remained to be seen.
Paige was an empath, but one that had still been in development. She could at
the very least sense, but she could not yet read. Her last words implied as
much.
“I knew...” she whispered.
Derek’s expression was filled with anguish. “What do you mean?”
“Right after I told you my name, I think I knew,” she said, struggling to get
the words out, but oddly determined. “I've seen things in this town before,
things no one really could explain. And then there's the way that you
talk...how you say things, like how you'd catch a scent. And I know you can
hear things, things that no one else can hear. I knew.”
“And you still liked me?” Derek asked, soft and afraid.
“I loved you,” she whispered, and it was strange, how she didn’t seem to expect
him to reply with the same. “I'm gonna die...aren't I? Ow. I can't. I can't
take it anymore. Derek, I can't…! Derek...please. Please…!”
Even knowing she’d forgiven him before he’d kill her didn’t make performing the
deed any easier. The fact was, the bite didn’t always take, but no one really
understood the pattern. At least, not anymore, anyway. That ancient knowledge
was buried somewhere far back in the past, right along with the history of
werewolves living peacefully alongside humans.
Had information passed down the way it should have, he and Peter would have
known. The bite only took if there was ignorance of the gift or reciprocation.
Paige’s situation was neither. She hadn’t truly wanted the bite, nor was she
unknowing of what had bit her.
Derek trembled as he brought her close to his chest and he gathered his
strength. He blinked once, and then his eyes glowed.
“I’m sorry...I’m sorry…” he cried tearfully as he made quick work of cracking
her spine.
He’d known after she died that something had changed, and it wasn’t just how
broken he felt in his heart. He knew something was wrong with his eyes before
his mother even found him by the Nemeton, even if he didn’t know specifically
that they had altered to blue in color.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
At the same time Derek’s mother was comforting him and saving her reprimands
for Peter, Stiles had woken up in a cold sweat screaming, though he’d been
unable to tell his parents afterward whether it was a nightmare that had roused
him.
Eventually, Claudia was able to soothe her son back to sleep, but it wasn’t
quite restful for him. He’d been unable to articulate it then, but he hadn’t
been able to shake the feeling that something was off.
Chapter End Notes
     I totally didn't realize how many days it's been since my last
     update, mostly because I'm in the middle of exams at uni right now
     and so I couldn't sit down and straight up write story nonstop for
     hours like I wanted to, but talk about yikes! Hopefully the length of
     this chapter made up for it! Already plugging away on the next bit.
     For once, I hope my insomnia holds. Too tired to write my academic
     paper, but not too tired for this!
***** One Sharp Detour *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek meets Kate Argent for the first time when he’s still 16 and a
     sophomore in high school.
Chapter Notes
     Due to changes that ended up happening as a result of a reader
     helping me find and make sense of some dates, Derek is a year older
     than most of his peers in the same grade as opposed to a year behind
     like I had him originally when I laid this fic out, although in the
     first half of every school year (before his birthday in December)
     he's the same age as everyone else.
     Just as a heads up, this is my AU interpretation of Derek and Kate’s
     relationship, and there will definitely be elements that deviate from
     canon. Like when and how they meet and interact, certain
     conversations they have, etc. Also, underage tag super applies here.
     If you find it a trigger to read details regarding Derek and Kate’s
     relationship while he’s still in high school, definitely skip this
     chapter. While I acknowledge the whole thing is canon and contributes
     to Derek’s character development, I’m not a huge fan of the storyline
     and so I do brush over any mentions of sex extremely quickly.
     About three more chapters until we hit “present day”/Season One
     elements. Get ready for some major deviations though, after that
     point, because I’m going to be ignoring a lot of canon to get the
     story to flow the way I’m envisioning it right now.
     Sorry that this is another short chapter, but that's probably because
     it was supposed to be the latter half of the previous one. Already
     charging ahead on the next bit (been writing a bit of it in between
     finishing up this one, in fact), so hopefully the next update will
     happen sooner rather than later.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                             Early December, 2004
Derek’s head snapped towards Hayden when he heard his friend let out a light,
appreciative whistle. They had just gotten off Thanksgiving break, and had just
gotten out of Travis’ car. They were all old enough to drive, but Travis was
the only one who had parents that trusted him enough not to do something
reckless. Keith still hung out with them sometimes, when he was in town, but
these days he was mostly off in college, somewhere in New York. He had
graduated from Beacon Hills High School when they others were still juniors.
“What?” Derek asked, arching an eyebrow at his friend.
Hayden just simply tilted his chin in the direction of a tall blonde woman.
“Holy hell…! I wonder if she’s a parent or a new teacher?”
Travis saw who he was talking about before Derek did and scrunched his nose.
“Gross, dude…!” he said, shaking his head in disapproval. “She’s like...old…!”
“What are you talking about, man? You’ve got no taste!” Hayden said with a
laugh. “She’s totally hot!”
It took Derek a moment to spot who his friends were talking about, but when he
did, his breath hitched. He felt his cheeks grow a bit warm with the older
blonde woman he and Hayden were ogling just happened to look in their
direction.
Hayden eyed his friend and grinned. “Well? What do you think, Hale?”
“Holy crap, don’t answer that…!” Travis said, shaking his head as he began to
take a couple steps away from his friends. “Because we have no idea if she can
read lips and she’s walking on over here right now and—okay, I will see you two
later. I’m out of here.”
“Well, howdy boys,” the blonde woman said as she approached Derek and Hayden.
She flashed her white teeth as she placed a hand on her hip and looked at the
pair coyly. “I hear you two are part of something called a Wolf Gang?”
“That’s Wolfpack, ma’am!” Hayden replied cheerfully. “No gang activity here.”
“Ah, of course,” the woman said with a smile as she half-lidded her eyes. “My
mistake. The Wolfpack,” she corrected easily. “You all are quite the hot topic
of conversation in these halls, I hear. It’s a pleasure to meet you boys. I’m
Kate.”
“Are you a new teacher?” Hayden blurted out suddenly.
Kate chuckled. “Well aren’t you darling? And no, not quite. I just happen to be
the new guidance counselor.”
“Oh,” Hayden said with a smile. “That’s great! It’s nice to meet you, Kate. I’m
Hayden.”
Kate gave him a nod in acknowledgment and smiled at Derek. “And who might you
be, hm?”
When Derek floundered for words, Hayden laughed and swung an arm around his
friend’s shoulders. “This right here is Derek.”
Derek hoped his face didn’t look as warm as it felt. “H-hi...” he stammered.
“Well, aren’t you cute,” Kate almost purred, poking a finger against Derek’s
chest to place emphasis on her words. “I’ll see you boys around…!”
With that, she turned from them and sashayed down the hall. When she’d turned
the corner, Hayden looked over at his friend and nudged Derek in the chest with
his elbow.
“Dude. I think she totally digs you,” Hayden said with a grin.
Derek blushed. “Y-yeah…? You think…?”
“Oh hell yeah,” Hayden said with a laugh as he flung an arm around his friend’s
shoulders. “Come on, you lucky duck. Let’s get to class.”
Derek half-smiled and let out a shy laugh through his nostrils as he allowed
himself to get led down the hall. It never once struck either of the boys as
strange how Kate just seemed to know exactly who they were. High school rumor
mill or otherwise.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
The first time Derek really got to talk to Kate on a one-on-one basis was when
he was called into her office to discuss his future plans. The appointment had
started off normally enough. Kate had drawn out his file and rattled off a few
basic facts; asked him a few questions regarding where he’d like to go to
college and so forth. It wasn’t until towards the latter half of the meeting
where the conversation took a slightly odd turn.
“So,” Kate said as she leaned forward on her desk and steepled her fingers
together. “I have to say, Derek, I’m surprised. You’ve only chosen schools that
are in the area.”
Derek blinked. “My family’s here,” he said with a shrug. “Why would I want to
leave them?”
“Hmm...” Kate seemed to look thoughtful as she hummed. “Well, most boys your
age would be trying to get as far away from home as possible. Experience some
independence.”
Derek scrunched his nose. “But they’re pack,” he said automatically, not really
thinking about the implications of his word choice.
Kate most certainly didn’t let the opportunity go to waste, however. “Oh, I
see…! Well, that makes sense then.”
Realization of what he’d just revealed hit him and Derek froze. “H-huh? It...it
does?”
Kate chuckled. “Silly boy...” she said, offering him a reassuring smile. “Don’t
worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I...” Derek paused for a moment before proceeding cautiously. “...really?”
“Yes, really,” Kate said with a nod. “I know exactly what you are, Derek Hale.”
Her smile grew incrementally wider as she watched Derek gulp down his
nervousness. She lowered her voice to a hushed volume.
“You’re a werewolf.”
Derek’s breath hitched. He abruptly scraped his chair back against the floor
and was prepared to make an excuse to leave when he was stopped by Kate’s hand
enveloping over one of his wrists. The grip was gentle, yet firm. He met her
eyes slowly and lost a bit of the tension upon seeing the kind expression
there.
“Hey...relax...” Kate said softly. Looking back at this memory later, Derek
would describe her tone as a practiced calm, as if she were soothing a
frightened animal. “Consider me an ally. Like your friends. They know too,
don’t they?”
Derek moistened his lips and then nodded. “Y-yeah,” he said. “Of course.”
“They seem like a good bunch,” she said.
Derek found himself nodding again and a small smile tugged at his lips; the
tension he felt was starting to leave him slowly. “Yeah...they are.”
He shivered involuntarily when Kate lightly brushed her thumb back and forth
against his wrist. “Mm...but they don’t really know, do they?” she asked.
Derek blinked, a heat crawling up the back of his neck as he was mildly
distracted by her touch. Werewolves were quite sensitive to that sort of thing,
after all.
“...what do you mean?”
“I mean...” Kate said, moving her head in a sort of sideways nod. “That while
they might not mind who you are, they might not understand you. Not entirely.”
Derek’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you…?”
Kate closed her eyes as she laughed before opening them again and staring
straight at Derek. “Oh, no, no no,” she said, smiling. “I’m not, but...I’ve
been around enough to know some things.”
“You’ve met other packs?” Derek asked curiously.
“Oh, yes…!” Kate said, still smiling wickedly. “And each of them has taught me
something different. Some things I’ve learned, maybe even your family doesn’t
know. I could teach them to you sometime, if you’d like.”
That had his interest. Derek knew, from what his mother told him, that each
pack had their own set of secrets that were invaluable to each clan. To possess
such information and in doing so sometimes knowing the weak points of another
pack could mean the difference between victory and defeat in a battle for
territory.
Kate took advantage of his moment of silence to only sweeten the deal. “And I’m
sure there are some things that you can’t talk to them about, without wasting
time on all the little details. Maybe even a few things you’re not even
comfortable discussing with your family,” she said, placing careful emphasis on
specific words. “I’d be more than happy to be your listening ear...and offer
you some advice. You could ask me anything you want. Say whatever it is that’s
on your mind. After all...I quite like you, Derek.”
She entranced him with the way her fingers trailed daintily up and down his
forearm, letting her scent mingle subtly with his. When she saw the quirk of
his lips, her eyes flickered with something in them. She knew she had him.
“That, uh...that sounds great,” he said, crease between his brows forming
slightly only for just a moment. “Wait, you...you like me?”
“Oh yes...” Kate purred seductively. “Very much...but we can talk about that
more later. I’d like to see you again sometime, if that’s all right with you?”
Derek’s heart fluttered as he nodded. “U-uh, yeah...! S-sounds great…!” he
said, wincing both at his clumsiness and how overly eager he sounded.
Kate chuckled. “Wonderful. Oh, and Derek…?”
Derek stopped at the door and looked back at her. Kate smiled.
“Please make sure our little conversations stay between us,” she said.
Derek bit part of his lower lip. “...what about my friends?”
“Not even then,” Kate said before letting out a small sigh. “Look, I know that
sounds really hard, but you don’t want to get us in trouble, do you?”
Derek frowned. “Trouble…?”
“Well, we won’t exactly be talking about school all the time now, will we?”
Kate asked, arching a brow.
“Mm...I guess not,” Derek admitted.
“Right. So promise me.”
“...okay,” Derek said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I promise.”
“Good,” Kate said, expression warm again. “I’ll see you again soon, Derek.”
“Yeah...” Derek said with a small smile. “All right.”
He then left the room and shut the door gently behind him, missing the
malevolent expression that had taken over Kate’s features.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
If there was one thing Kate Argent was skilled at, it was patience in obtaining
what she wanted. It was something ingrained in her as a hunter, but her
sadistic execution of plans was a trait she picked up from her father, Gerard.
It didn’t take long to have Derek eating out of the palm of her hand; she had
found him at an opportune time. He was young, inexperienced, and quite naïve
when it came to trusting others. She would become the reason he’d get so good
at detecting lies.
She also eventually became his best-kept secret, at least for that time. They
met with growing frequency, initially mostly under the guise of counseling
appointments, and then gradually secretly meeting after school hours. Kate
worked her way into Derek’s affections, distracting him from rational thinking
with her fleeting touches on his arms, shoulders, back, and neck. When she
finally managed to kiss him on the lips for the first time, it had been such a
gradual buildup that he hardly had the mind to second-guess the situation and
flinch.
On one particular day, he came to her in a bit of a sour mood. She put on her
sympathetic mask immediately, trailing her fingers up Derek’s chest. They were
sitting against a tree on a clifftop with a view overlooking Beacon Hills.
“What’s eatin’ you up, buttercup?” she asked sweetly.
Derek let out a sigh, brows knitting together as he absently rubbed a thumb
against Kate’s shoulder. “Your scent,” he huffed out. “My mom smells you on me.
She asked if you were my soulmate and that if you aren’t, then that’s no good.”
“Oh? And why does she say that?” Kate asked, feigning interest.
“She says werewolves are supposed to mate for life,” said Derek. “And that
that’s why it’s important we make sure to find the one who has a soulmark that
matches.”
“I thought only finding a compatible scent matters?” Kate asked.
“Compatibility is important, yeah,” Derek agreed. “But soulmarks help us
confirm who's supposed to be our...one.”
“Well I think that’s silly, don’t you?” Kate said with a pout. “I mean, that
takes the fun and excitement out of romance!”
Derek snorted softly. “Yeah. Tell me about it. My mom says it’s a foolproof
system, but I can’t help wondering if some people end up meeting their soulmate
and just flat out hating them.”
“...I’ve heard of such things,” Kate said, smirking a little.
She could work with this, she thought. Derek looked over at her with wide eyes.
“Really?”
“Oh sure…!” Kate lied easily, making light little circles with her fingers on
Derek’s chest. “Sometimes the whole opposites attract thing is more than just a
cliché, you know. Sometimes fate plays a dirty, cruel trick and puts two people
together that are just a little too different from each other.”
“See? I don’t like that,” Derek said, frowning and shaking his head. “It
doesn’t work.”
“You’re right,” Kate said with a nod. “It doesn’t. I like having choice. Which
is why I appreciate the cards that I’ve been dealt.”
Derek quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Kate smiled. “I don’t have a mark.”
Derek’s eyes widened. “W-what? You...you don’t have a mark?”
“Oh, quit sounding so scandalized!” Kate said with a laugh, giving Derek a
playful smack on the chest. “It’s not a big deal! It’s perfect. It means that I
can be with anyone I like. Anyone I choose.”
She traced a finger along Derek’s jawline, causing him to shiver from the
touch. Kate grinned.
“And I choose you,” she said.
Derek hummed, pleased with what she was saying. They shared a brief kiss. When
Derek pulled back though, he wore a slight frown.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone without a mark at all, though,” he
said, shaking his head.
Kate paused for a moment, and then her eyes sparked as she came up with an
idea. Her voice when she responded to him was low, sultry.
“Well, then...” she said with a coy smile. “Shall I show you…?”
It took less than a beat for Derek to catch her meaning, and seconds for his
pupils to enlarge with want.  Kate grinned, knowing she had his complete
cooperation even before he could verbalize his consent.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Kate treated sex like a sociopathic prison inmate—all ego and power play—though
at the time, Derek hadn’t known any better. He was just a foolish young boy
chasing lust and mistaking the taboo excitement for love.
It was fun at first, the sex. Though Paige was his first love, Kate ended up
being his first everything else. He might have even learned more about
pleasuring another than he would have otherwise, had he started with someone
more normal; less extreme. Which was why he didn’t see how far along the deep
end he’d gotten; not until it was far too late. He only saw what he wanted to
see.
He viewed her caresses as loving and kind, and not for the cold, calculating
ministrations they actually were. Made to distract him; to divulge important
information about him and his clan. How many of them they were—how long they’d
been here. Where to find them, and how to destroy them. The short version
being, to circle around their vintage mansion with mountain ash, ensuring that
all inside would be rendered helpless and at the mercy of any enemy who wished
to conquer them.
It never once occurred to him that Kate never meant the words she said. Only
touched him because she understood the significance to werewolves; how it was
like a high that clouded their judgment when they were being intimate with
someone. That what she drew from their nights together was not pleasure from
the physical contact, which was his experience, but pure euphoria from the
knowledge that she was stripping this boy, this child of his innocence, his
sense of self, and ultimately his happiness.
No, she never loved him. Not even once.
Chapter End Notes
     I really should be finishing my academic papers and not working on
     this fic, but my mind keeps drawing back to it. I literally have one
     paper due tomorrow evening and exam in a few days right after it, and
     I haven’t really started writing or preparing for either. So
     basically, I am absolutely screwed and questioning all of my life
     choices.
***** The Hardest Thing to Do *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles loses his mother. Kate prepares to set her plan in motion.
Chapter Notes
     Canon seems to have Stiles at 8 and 10 at two separate points in the
     series for how old he is when his mom dies, because the more I look
     into these things, the more I’m realizing how little the series cares
     about continuity. SO...I’ve just decided I’m going to make Stiles 10
     the year his mom passes and leave it at that.
     In addition, everything you know or think you know about the Teen
     Wolf and Supernatural fandoms is about to be completely wrong and
     change. OoOooOooo~ Hahaha. (More than it already has, at any rate,
     and hopefully will be all the more enjoyable as a result, but I leave
     the final verdict up to the readers of course.) I was going to veer
     more seriously off-course a little bit later, but as this chapter
     kept developing I figured eh, why not now.
     And before we begin this chapter, I just want to give all my
     supporters a big, huge, digital hug! Thanks for all the support and
     enthusiasm!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                December, 2003
The third time Derek met Stiles it was at the mall. He was Christmas shopping
for his family. Derek gravitated towards the familiar scent before he became
conscious of what he was doing. His brows creased in a light frown upon sensing
a foreign property—a tinge of sadness—laced with the scent. He spotted Stiles
and his father when he turned a corner, and the little boy happened to turn his
head at the same time Derek was doing it. The boy’s expression brightened
instantly, and he recognized Derek well before the older boy made his own
realization.
“Hi!” Stiles said as he expertly slipped out of his mitten and rushed over to
Derek, leaving his father behind and bewildered.
Derek opened his arms automatically, without thinking, and accepted the younger
boy’s embrace when he gave it. Stiles pressed his face against Derek and
laughed.
“You remembered! You kept your promise!” he said cheerfully. “I missed you!”
Derek’s mouth parted slightly to speak, but his mind drew a blank at first
regarding what to say. The boy’s father caught up with them quickly.
“Stiles! Get back here! What are you doing? You don’t just walk away like that,
son!”
“Daddy!” Stiles said, turning around to face his father but not letting go of
Derek. “This is my friend!”
“Friend, huh...” the sheriff said, looking at Derek with skepticism.
“Uh-huh!” Stiles said with a nod. “Yeah! He read a book to me when I was in the
second grade! This is—”
“Derek, sir,” Derek said, his words finally returning to him. He offered out
his right hand. “Hale. Pleased to meet you.”
“Hale...ah,” said the sheriff. “You’re one of Talia’s.”
Derek nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“And how exactly is it that you know my son?” the sheriff asked with a slight
tilt of the head.
Stiles rolled his eyes at this. “Daaad…! I just told you!”
“Um...my middle school had us take a field trip to your son’s elementary school
a while back,” said Derek. “Community service project. They had us read to the
kids.”
“I’m not a baby anymore, though!” Stiles quipped.
The sheriff chuckled at his son and gave Derek’s hand a shake. “I see. Looks
like you left quite the impression.”
“Derek promised we’d see each other again!” Stiles said with excitement. “And
today he kept it!”
“Oh?” the sheriff asked, brows rising. “Is that so?”
Derek half-smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Can Derek do shopping with us, Daddy?” Stiles asked. “Pleaaaaase…?”
The sheriff blinked. “Er...I think Derek might have his own shopping to do,
Stiles...”
“It’s, uh...no problem at all, sir,” Derek said, unconsciously giving Stiles’
shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I wouldn’t mind.”
The sheriff quirked an eyebrow, but he apparently saw no reason to keep him
from doing so and nodded. Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet happily.
“Yay!”
The trio went on to choose a nice scented candle for Stiles’ mother; Derek soon
finding out through the sheriff that Claudia’s health was ailing, which
explained the extra property in his son’s scent. The remainder of the trip was
split between Derek shopping for his family, with some friendly suggestions
tossed in by Stiles, who was more than happy to chatter with the older boy, and
a few gifts for the sheriff and his son. Towards the end, Derek even found
himself buying a superhero action figure for Stiles, despite the sheriff’s
protests. Though he couldn’t explain it, Derek felt as if he had done the right
thing by making that choice, and if anything, the smile on Stiles’ face was
more than worth it.
It wasn’t until Christmas Eve that Derek realized he hadn’t bought a thing for
Kate, but the thought was merely fleeting. He figured though that it didn’t
much matter anyways, with the relationship being incognito, it wasn’t like he
could bring her by the house.
When she expressed her disappointment later, he gave an excuse that sounded
flimsy, even to his own ears. Then when she responded in anger, he chose that
moment to let her know that his family was beginning to suspect, and that
perhaps they should slow things down for a time. The information did happen to
give her pause, and she became surprisingly amenable to the suggestion that
they more frequently space out their interactions, if only to dilute her scent
on him.
Her reaction should have made him suspicious, but he hadn’t known better at the
time. He was, however, overcome with a sense of relief that he couldn’t
explain.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                   May, 2004
Stiles stayed with his mother in her hospital room almost daily, once she’d
been admitted. A week into the new year and his mother’s condition had not at
all improved, though she was still prone to bouts of surprising clarity. For
the most part, though, Claudia was the shell of the person her family once
knew.
Her last day was the worst for both the Sheriff and Stiles. The events of which
were burned into their memories forever.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
The victim of the car crash was a clairvoyant, but Sheriff Stilinski didn’t
know that. Or rather, he chose not to attempt to understand it.
He received the call at the end of his shift. A massive car pile-up. Officers
were already on their way. He didn’t need to take the call. He was supposed to
go to the hospital and see his wife, but he chose to go to the scene of the
accident anyway.
When he arrived, he split up the task of searching for survivors among the
wreckage with the other officers there, and he eventually came across a young
woman who was pinned under an overturned car. He knew just from observing her
condition that she wasn’t going to survive.
Out of a sense of duty, he took hold of one of her hands and explained to her
that help was on the way, and that she should remain calm. The girl said
nothing at first, and then she surprised him by suddenly tightening her hold
around his hand in a vice-like grip, her eyes growing wide and flickering with
emotion.
“If you want to be with her...go. Now,” she said, blood dribbling from her
mouth with a light popping sound.
I forgive you, her expression seemed to say, it’s okay to leave me here. A
chill shot down his spine then, and the sheriff knew. It was even one of those
strange things where he somehow sensed that the girl knew that he knew. And
yet, for excuses that would later seem foolish and cowardly—hindsight being
what it was—he just couldn’t bring himself to let her hand go.
She was gone well before the paramedics arrived. Still, he waited with her
until she was officially declared deceased. He didn’t remember when he finally
managed to get up; his whole body felt numb on his way to his patrol car, and
he barely registered making the drive to the hospital.
He knew even before parking his car in the lot that his wife was already gone.
Seeing his eight-year-old son in the waiting room, sobbing, head in his hands
and inconsolable, he knew that he had failed the ones that were supposed to
matter to him the most.
Stiles emotionally shut himself off from his father for a long time after that,
and the sheriff couldn’t blame him for doing so. He later turned to alcohol and
began to live under the illusion that he was doing so in penance.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
In her last moments of life, Claudia was hit with an extreme bout of clarity,
her son being the key. It was the perfect cocktail, blended together by chance.
Stiles’ innate abilities were heightened by the despair that surged within him,
and his hand clasped around the soulmark on his mother’s wrist as he cried and
begged for her not to leave him.
It was true, that memories of a life would flash before a dying soul. Lacking
his mother’s awareness and control over his abilities, Stiles just so happened
to experience this phenomenon at the same time as his mother. Through this
connection, however, Claudia’s consciousness, which was locked within herself,
became able to meet her son halfway. Her eyes hardened with focus and she found
the unexplainable strength to move her other arm and clasp her free hand over
that of her son’s.
“Hush, Mitchi...” she rasped, commanding her son’s attention as he expressed
his confusion over what he was seeing. “It’s not your fault…none of this is
your fault...”
The words made little sense to Stiles without the full context. He could see
bits and fragments of his mother’s past; her life as a Campbell, his parents
meeting for the first time and falling in love, even some scary visions of the
Yellow-Eyed Man. It was like looking at pieces of a shattered mirror without
quite knowing how they could all possibly fit together to make one shape.
There was so much more Claudia knew she needed to say, so many more words of
comfort she wanted to offer her son, but there was no time left. She knew her
son would be confused, but she also knew her son was bright, and would one day
succeed in making sense of it. The best she could hope for was that Stiles
would find the words she’d committed to paper before things had gotten worse.
She prayed that she had left him enough.
Her heart broke as she felt her son bring her hand up to his face, pressing his
cheek against it as he cried out to her. “NO, MOMMY! DON’T GO! I LOVE YOU!
DON’T LEAVE ME, MOMMY, PLEASE! PLEASE…!”
His voice fading, just like the rest of the world around her, her vision
enveloping in a bright white light. Her son’s wails grew further and further
away from her, and eventually she felt a sensation of freeing detachment.
Regret and sorrow soon gave way to peace when she felt the warmth from a
comforting hand placed upon her shoulder. She turned to face the sharpest blue
eyes that she had ever seen.
She felt more than saw the hand that stretched out to her. Claudia
instinctively reached for it, took hold, and walked alongside this mysterious
guide, onward to her new state of existence in this next life.
For weeks after his mother’s death, Stiles would be plagued with panic attacks
and nightmares, some of it inspired by his subconscious attempts to make sense
of what it was he had seen when he had touched his mother’s wrist; what his
mother’s last words could have possibly meant. Always coming to the same morbid
conclusion; that whatever it was that caused his mother’s death, he had played
some sort of role in it. He’d always had the sense that his mother’s last words
were meant to spare him from some awful truth, and Stiles was desperate to find
it.
He found the journal, one day, wedged between a few of his books, ones that he
hadn’t thought to read in a long time and wondered how long it had been there.
After pulling it out, he recognized it; remembered it was the same one his
mother had started writing in obsessively as she drew closer to her final days.
When he dared to open it, he was overwhelmed by the sight of his mother’s
familiar handwriting; his eyes brimmed with tears upon seeing her name for him
written out neatly on the first page, in her elegant script.
“I am so sorry, honey, that I will not be there to teach you everything you
need to know in person,” his mother had written somewhere in the first page of
her introduction. “But please read these words carefully, baby, and try your
best to understand what it is I am trying to tell you.”
There were pages upon pages of abridged family history, lessons detailing
methods for concepts he didn’t quite understand, and descriptions of things
that tugged at memories that seemed lodged strangely in the furthest reaches of
his mind. Brief flickers of dark jackets, a cork board with different colors of
string, and various images of creatures that weren’t supposed to exist.
He’d only read through the whole book once, the year his mother passed on, and
he wouldn’t revisit her words to read them in excruciating detail until he was
a few years older. His mind was too full at the time, and his heart too broken.
He was still young, anyway. Enough that it was no surprise he failed to grasp
the actual weight of the information he’d been given. He lacked the capacity at
the time to appreciate certain warnings. Instead, all he focused on the words
“know that I love you,” and the dull, written echo of what his mother had said
on her dying breath.
“No matter what happens, promise me that you will always remember these words,
and hang onto them tightly. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me?
None of it.”
Though he wanted to, he could never fully believe her. No matter how many
different ways she’d said it.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
“Did you hear about the Sheriff?” Laura asked Derek one day in passing, over
breakfast.
Derek simply looked up from pouring his cereal into a bowl and raised one of
his eyebrows. “No…?” he said, giving her a slight shrug before resuming his
pouring. “What about him?”
“His wife just died.”
Derek stopped what he was doing and his posture becoming rigid in shock, eyes
growing wide. “What?”
“Yeah. Apparently it just happened yesterday,” said Laura. “Everybody’s been
talking about it. One of my friends told me over the phone, last night.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Derek frowned down at his cereal bowl for a moment before looking back up at
his sister. “When did they say the funeral was?”
“I don’t know. I think they said it was this weekend or something, but I’m not
sure,” Laura said contemplatively. “Why are you asking?”
Derek shrugged again. “No reason,” he lied.
He clearly didn’t do a great job of it, however, because his sister didn’t look
like she was entirely buying it. “Uh huh.”
He fidgeted a bit under her gaze as he reached for the carton of milk at the
center of the table and poured it in his bowl before quickly eating all of its
contents. He gathered his book bag from where he had set it by his chair and
made his way for the front door.
“I’ll see you sometime after school, Laura.”
He missed the curious tilt of his sister’s head as he rushed out of their
house.
“Sure thing, Der.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
There were moments, however brief, where Derek held some serious doubts about
his relationship with Kate Argent. At some point he’d caved and told Hayden and
Travis about it, because he felt that he needed their advice, and he swore them
to secrecy. He would have told Keith about it too, but he’d recently enlisted
in the military and had been shipped somewhere overseas. Needless to say, while
his friends were equally surprised, they were not both just as supportive.
Travis had always been the most straight-laced of the group, and his firm
stance against Derek’s relationship with Kate placed the two of them at odds
with each other for a little while. This consequently somewhat strained Derek’s
relationship with Hayden, who was trying his best to keep the peace between
them.
Thankfully they had, eventually, although perhaps somewhat begrudgingly, come
to some sort of silent compromise. Derek would approach his friend with his
relationship problems only if Hayden wasn’t available to provide counsel, and
Travis generally forced himself to turn a blind eye to the whole ordeal,
despite his reservations. Which was why Derek’s decision to talk to Travis
about his most recent musings about the whole thing to be quite unusual,
especially since Hayden had been right there with them when he had asked.
Derek had been sure, at first, about the love. Of course, that had been before
he’d run into the sheriff’s kid by chance several months ago, over the
Christmas holiday, shopping with his father. The boy’s expression had been
somber. Derek remembered feeling somehow drawn to them, attracted by a familiar
scent, one that had been mingled with a twinge of sadness. He remembered the
way the kid’s face lit up when he recognized Derek and started babbling about
how he always knew the older boy would keep his promise about seeing each other
again, and he’d been distracted by the memory ever since. So much to the point
that even Kate was starting to notice how distant he was becoming when they
were together, and though things were souring more rapidly between them, Derek
found that he didn’t care as much as he might have in the past.
“You’re asking me if I think you should break up with our school’s guidance
counselor,” Travis asked flatly, an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” Derek said with a nod and a shrug of the shoulder.
“Me,” Travis emphasized again, eyes flitting briefly to where Hayden was
lounging on the longer of the three couches in the Becker’s living room, who
was looking between them like he was watching a game of ping pong while
casually sipping water out of a plastic bottle. “Dude. Seriously?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to know your opinion,” said Derek.
Travis frowned. “I can’t help but think there’s a trick question in here,
somewhere.”
Derek shook his head. “No. No trick question.”
“Then I don’t get it,” said Travis. “You already know what my opinion is, man.
So I guess the real question is, why exactly are you asking me this?”
Hayden chose that moment to interject. “You want him to list out his usual
reasons why he thinks you should stop. Isn’t that right, Derek?”
He said this while nibbling absently at the neck of the plastic bottle he was
drinking out of, expression contemplative. When Derek nodded in response,
Travis only appeared to become even more confused about the whole conversation.
“Okay...what?” he asked. “Seriously, you guys always seem to have some kind of
weird code-lingo going on between you two. What am I missing here?”
“He’s building a mental pros-cons list, Trav,” Hayden said, shrugging his
shoulder much in the way Derek had a few moments earlier. “He wants you to
rattle off the usual things so he can pit them against whatever he happens to
be thinking right now.”
“Oh,” Travis said, blinking, still kind of thrown. “Okay...uh...”
“I saw the sheriff with his kid, this past Christmas break,” Derek said
suddenly, and this time, even Hayden seemed surprised by the abrupt change in
subject. “Laura told me this morning that his wife just died.”
“So...” Travis started.
“I’ve been thinking about them a lot, since I ran into them at the mall,” said
Derek. “A lot more than I’ve ever thought about anyone. Even Kate.”
Travis cringed as he always did with the way Derek always seemed to throw
around the woman’s first name, mostly because she was older and technically in
an authority position over them. “Okay?” he said. “So what does this have to do
with you thinking about breaking up with—”
“When Laura told me about the sheriff’s wife, I couldn’t help feeling like I
failed them somehow,” said Derek. “In fact, ever since his kid reminded me
about that promise I’d made about seeing him again after that trip we took to
his elementary school—”
“Wait, so you got to know the sheriff and his family real well from that?”
Hayden asked.
“No, not really, I just...it’s kind of hard to explain,” Derek said, crinkling
his nose in annoyance at himself. “It’s like...ever since the holidays, I’ve
been getting this nagging feeling about them.”
“What do you mean?” asked Hayden.
“Well, if we’re talking specifically...I felt like I was supposed to have been
watching over the kid,” said Derek.
“Like how? By babysitting him or something?” asked Travis. “Is this some kind
of weird werewolf instinct thing we’re not necessarily supposed to get?”
“I don’t know,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I mean, maybe…? But this thing
with Kate...”
“Distracted you from doing...whatever it is you think you were supposed to be
doing,” Hayden finished for him. “So something that wouldn’t normally have
bothered you before...it bothers you now.”
“Yeah,” Derek said, nodding. “Exactly.”
“This makes sense to you?” Travis asked Hayden incredulously.
The other boy flashed him a lazy grin. “Code-lingo, remember? Your words.”
He laughed when Travis grumbled. “Cute, Beck. Real cute.”
“The ladies sure seem to agree with you,” Hayden said, chuckling when Travis
let out a groan before returning his attention to Derek, humor subdued. “You
know, it sounds kind of like you think you’re supposed to focus on one thing or
the other and not both, or something.”
“Hit the nail right on the head, Beck,” Derek said with a slight grimace.
“Well, I mean, the way you’re talking about it...sounds like you already know
what you're supposed to do then, yeah?” said Hayden.
Derek paused for a moment, then nodded. “I guess so. Yeah.”
“What’s so special about this kid, anyhow?” asked Travis. “I mean, not that I’m
trying to discourage you from breaking up with the old enough to be your aunt
creeptastic cougar or anything...it just seems weird, you know?”
Derek frowned. “I hear you, Trav, I mean...it’s like my wolf is telling me to
protect the kid. Like he’s pack...”
Travis raised an eyebrow. “Pack. With some little kid you barely know?”
Derek shrugged his shoulders. “Listen, if I could transfer the sense that I get
when I’m around the kid to you so that maybe you could better understand it, I
would.”
Travis rubbed at the back of his neck. “Man...you are one complicated dude
sometimes, alright?”
“You talk to your mom about this?” Hayden asked.
“No,” Derek admitted.
Hayden half-smiled. “Maybe you should, man.”
Derek hung his head and nodded as he let out a soft sigh. “Yeah…I know. You’re
right...and I will.”
“Yeah?” asked Hayden.
“Yeah,” Derek said, nodding again and lips curled in a slight grimace. “Soon as
I figure out how to talk about this without mentioning Kate.”
“Can’t you just omit her from whatever explanation you give?” asked Travis.
Derek shook his head. “I mean, sure, but if she starts asking questions...”
“Right...y’all can hear lies by listening to heartbeats and whatnot,” said
Travis.
“And Mrs. Hale is quite perceptive,” Hayden supplied. “So she’ll probably ask
everything you’re trying to avoid.”
Derek’s expression grew pinched. “Bingo...”
Travis sighed. “Whelp…!” he said as he got up from his seat. “Guess that means
there’s only one thing you can do right now.”
“Which is?” asked Derek.
“Take things one step at a time,” said Travis. “Breaking up with Creepzilla
would be a good place to start. Then you can...I don’t know. Talk to your mom
and figure out why your wolf is trying to make this kid pack or whatever.”
“Where are you going?” Hayden asked, raising an eyebrow in question as he
watched Travis start to make his way into the Becker’s kitchen.
“Looking for ibuprofen; I’ve got a headache,” said Travis. “Y’all keep it in
here, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Cabinets right above the sink.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure,” Hayden said before turning his questioning brow on Derek. “And where
are you going?”
“Taking Trav’s advice,” Derek said as he pulled out his phone. “Though we both
know he thinks I should have taken it before I even got involved with Kate in
the first place.”
“Damn straight!” Travis called from the kitchen.
“Mm...good luck, man,” said Hayden.
Derek nodded as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the
front door. “I’ll take it. Catch you guys later.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
To say that Kate didn’t take the news well was an incredible understatement.
She was livid.
“You will regret this!” she shrieked as Derek walked away from her.
Derek frowned slightly and tossed over his shoulder. “You know...? I don’t
think I will.”
“Oh, but you will…!” Kate growled under her breath as Derek got into his car
and drove off. “I guarantee it.”
By breaking up with her, Derek prevented Kate from executing her original plan
of easing into the Hale household and the joy of playing with her food, so to
speak. This meant she now needed to rely on her contingency plan. The first
step being a Friday night happy hour with one Adrian R. Harris.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Between his parents, Talia Hale definitely struck a greater chord of fear in
Derek than his father ever could, though his father was a force to be reckoned
with as well. Which was why Derek was hiding in the forested area just outside
Beacon Hills Cemetery, watching as Claudia Stilinski was being laid to rest by
her family and loved ones, without having first consulted with his mother to
ask whether such lurking was even appropriate.
He unconsciously clenched his fists at his sides; his heart twisting in pain as
he smelled the despair in the air. It broke when he heard Stiles crying.
Each time someone gave their condolences, said they were sorry, Derek could
hear the pounding in the boy’s ribcage get louder. First, with overwhelming
sadness. Then, a growing irritation.
Finally, as the sheriff began wrapping up his eulogy, it appeared that Stiles
couldn’t bear it any longer. Derek tensed and held his breath when he heard the
boy suddenly break out into a run.
His father shouted after him, but the boy paid him no mind. “Stiles…! Stiles!”
People began to chase after him, but Stiles already had a pretty good head
start on them. The minute Derek heard the youth’s feet crunch on some twigs and
leaves at the edge of the forest, he charged in the direction of the sound.
It was his werewolf strength that prevented him from getting bowled over when
Stiles ran into him; Derek had practically been prepared for the collision,
arms outstretched and ready to catch the younger boy. Stiles had let out a gasp
upon impact, and when he looked up, his eyes were rounded wide with surprise.
Once that wore off, however, Stiles’ eyes grew glassy just before he buried his
face into Derek’s stomach and began to sob, his whole body trembling. On
instinct, Derek wrapped one arm tightly around the boy while using his other
hand to card through Stiles’ hair comfortingly, as his mother had so often done
for him and Laura when they were younger, if they were crying.
“Shhh...” Derek soothed, his eyes half-closed as he looked down at the boy’s
still shaking frame.
The words Stiles rambled out were mostly incoherent, partially because they
were muffled against the fabric of Derek’s shirt, but also because he was
having difficulty speaking clearly through his sobbing and hiccuping. Derek was
able to make out certain phrases, however, like “I miss her so much,” and “it’s
not fair.”
“I know...” Derek murmured softly. “You’re right...it’s not.”
He looked up when he heard the sheriff’s voice call out for his son not too far
away from where they were. “Stiles?!”
Derek looked back down at Stiles and slowly pulled away from the kid before
squatting down at his eye-level. He kept Stiles in place by his shoulders, even
though he was tempted to allow the kid to plaster himself back against Derek.
“Your dad’s looking for you,” Derek said softly.
“I...I don’t w-want to go h-home...” said Stiles.
Derek bit his lip. “I...I know, kid, but...your dad’s worried. Can’t you hear
him?”
“Stiles?! Where are you, son?”
Stiles nodded, but he kept his eyes downcast. “B-but...Mommy won’t be there...”
Derek tilted his head. “Your dad will be, though...and you can't leave him
alone, right?  Can I take you to him?”
Eyes still glued on his feet, Stiles nodded. “Y-yeah...I g-guess...”
“Okay. Come on, buddy. Here we go,” Derek said as he lifted Stiles up in his
arms.
He could feel his wolf take pride upon sensing the boy’s trust as he gripped
Derek’s shirt tightly and buried his face against the werewolf’s neck. It
didn’t take Derek long to find the frantic sheriff and some of his search
party.
“Oh! Stiles!” the sheriff said when he saw them.
Derek allowed the older man to take Stiles from his arms when he approached.
The sheriff nodded at Derek gratefully after the boy transferred hands.
He was glad when the sheriff didn’t ask why it was he just happened to be
hanging around in the forest. Perhaps he was too distracted with feeling as if
he’d almost lost his boy. Unsure of what else to say, Derek slowly began to
take a few subtle steps back, sensing that his duty here was done.
For a moment, the sheriff could think of nothing else other than to murmur
soothing words to the distraught boy in his arms.  By the time the sheriff
thought to say something, he was surprised to find that when he looked up,
Derek was long gone.
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry this chapter took so long!! Has it really been over a week
     since the last update? My goodness! I had this chapter mostly written
     when I posted the last one, but things kept evolving which caused me
     to take up more time on this than I'd originally intended. Hopefully
     the next chapter won't give so many roadblocks. Until next time!
***** Fire and Ash *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek loses a great deal of what's precious to him. Stiles revisits
     the contents of his mother’s journal and ignores the clear warning
     that’s stated there.
Chapter Notes
     First and foremost, a HUGE THANK YOU to every single reader leaving
     me a message of support. You have no idea how much that encouraged me
     to persevere, and I am so very sorry that you all had to experience
     what my other loyal readers have experienced on all my other
     pseudonyms, at some point or another. Rest assured, I am not giving
     up on the fic.
     I about wanted to pull my hair out fixing dates and rearranging
     things. I even had to edit author’s notes, some dialogue, and a few
     descriptions in previous chapters. (Some of them were already
     incorrectly updated to begin with because I had changed numbers and
     not accompanying descriptive content. Sorry if that sounded
     confusing…)
     ANYWAY. Long story short, a ton of shit should be fixed now. A HUGE
     SPECIAL THANKS TO NAWennerholm1973. Literal proof that I have some of
     the_best readers out there. Thank you for taking the time to be a
     one-time unofficial beta by going through everything and pointing out
     errors that needed correction. Thanks to their help, several
     adjustments have been made to previous chapters and the author’s
     notes in those chapters. Honestly aside from ages there really isn’t
     a whole lot that has really impacted what is actually going to happen
     in the story, so there isn’t necessarily a reason to go back.
     Sorry this chapter was so delayed by the way. A lot of bad things
     have been happening to me irl (particularly in my own relationship
     department), so I was partially going through writer’s block, and
     partially dealing with life. My apologies. Thanks to everyone who is
     sticking with me, and I hope that at least the length of the chapter
     makes up for the wait.
     Just FYI—a lot of things from the Supernatural side are not going to
     be canon at all. That includes character powers and timelines. Also,
     new reader poll at the end; please leave a comment with your vote if
     you can. Poll closes once next chapter goes up.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                 Unknown Date
The Yellow-Eyed Demon bowed before his master. A true veteran of the
underworld, he neither shook nor flinched when a hand shot out and gripped a
bar of the cage that effectively contained his superior. A naïve servant might
have scoffed, but the wise knew better than to believe that his leader was
completely powerless from his confines. The Cage was merely a room without an
obvious door, but there was surely a way out. In the meantime, however, there
were enough windows for which his superior had to work with.
Lucifer’s eyes glowed with ferocity, and his lips curled into a grin.
“Azazel…!” he hissed.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Azazel replied without missing a beat. “Everything is going
according to plan.”
“Excellent!” Lucifer bellowed, his neck cracking as he angled it. “Have you
brought me a soul?”
Azazel lifted his head and allowed himself a grin. He pushed forth the
trembling figure at his side.
“I have indeed, master. One that should please you.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt that Judas is the most entertaining; his resilience is
the only reason why I keep him around! But I do so like fresh, new toys...”
Lucifer said menacingly. “A shame they always break, for they are so very
fragile. Now…let’s have a look. Bring it closer.”
Azazel did as commanded and shoved the spirit forward, who shook like a leaf,
fear temporarily overtaking the pain it had endured since its arrival. Lucifer
reached a hand forward, allowing himself to read the tortured being.
“Ah…!” Lucifer said with a toothy smile. “You were a brave one, weren’t you?
Tell me...do you know what it is that you are feeling?”
When the figure didn’t answer, Azazel embedded his fingers in the being’s back,
enough to pierce and inflict pain, but otherwise just a graze by Hell’s
standards. He knew better than to ruin his master’s gifts.
“Our leader’s asked you a question…!” Azazel hissed. “And I suggest you answer
it!”
The thing wailed. “Ohhhh…! I don’t know…! I DON’T KNOW…!”
Lucifer cackled. “Oh! Foolish creature…! That dark pit in your stomach?! The
overwhelming sense of, what most humans would describe as dread?! Above, you
were a warrior who spent his time cutting up flesh and showing no mercy;
actions worthy of being one of my disciples. You died a hero’s death and showed
no remorse when they filled your veins with poison, sending you to me.
However...many have arrived at my door with the same false bravado of which you
left your world.”
When the miserable soul wept, Lucifer laughed. Azazel hid his grin. There was
none more wicked than his master, and he so enjoyed the spectacle when given
the privilege.
“Oh, pitiful creature...” Lucifer mockingly cooed. “Those of you whose eyes are
closed before entering here surely have them opened once they arrive.”
A serial killer with no capacity for feelings such as remorse, had no idea what
was in store for them once their souls were damned to Hell. Only the privileged
ones were given a personal lesson by Hell’s leader himself.
“You see? Things that didn’t exist for you, whilst you were human, well. You
learn them here,” Lucifer said with a smile. “What you are feeling right now is
the feeling your sacrifices to me felt, just before their last moments. We call
it...fear.”
The figure wriggled and gasped. It yelped when Azazel dug his claws in deeper.
Lucifer’s grin grew wider.
“You have, indeed, earned partial mercy with your numerous sacrifices.”
“Only partial, milord?” Azazel dared to jest; for he was certain his master was
in a good mood.
It was a fair play. Lucifer’s eyes glinted with approval.
“Why yes, only partial,” Lucifer said. “His sacrifices weren’t all perfect...he
let some of the souls escape to Heaven, of all places...”
“Well, that won’t do at all, will it?” said Azazel.
“No,” Lucifer agreed. “It will not.”
Azazel’s lips quirked. “Shall I send him in, Your Majesty?”
Lucifer finally took a step back. “Yes.”
Azazel nodded. “Then thy will be done.”
Anything could enter the cage; it was just built with the purpose of nothing
leaving it. With his abilities, Azazel thrust the quivering figure forward as
it shrieked.
“No...no…NOOOOO!”
“Wait there, Azazel,” Lucifer said, paying the wailing creature no mind. “I
won’t be long.”
“But of course.”
Azazel waited patiently as he listened to his master make quick work of drawing
the essence from the unfortunate soul. When Lucifer returned to the bars
closest to Azazel, his eyes were a fierce glowing red, a sign of some strength
gained from his feast.
“So,” Lucifer said, tongue flicking out absently to clean up the stray flecks
of blood at the corner of his mouth. His next words dripped with great sarcasm.
“How fairs God’s green earth?”
Neither entity took notice of another, lurking quietly in the shadows. Tucked
away at a safe distance, it listened to their conversation.  In fact,
unbeknownst to them, it had been listening to them for a long time.  Enough to
form a plan of its own.
Azazel’s eyes gleamed as he responded. “It is still young and has yet to open
its eyes to the truth, but I assure you. Chaos is coming.”
The Prince of Darkness threw his head back and roared. “AND LET IT RAIN WITH
BLOOD!”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                              Late December, 2004
It took a long time for things to somewhat settle in the Stilinski household.
When they finally did, the sheriff slowly began to develop a habit of taking on
late nights at work, once the nightmares that used to overtake his son’s
sleeping hours occurred less often. The arrangement was mutually agreed upon in
silence—there were days where Stiles couldn’t bear to look at his father, and
there were times where his father couldn’t always handle the overwhelming guilt
he carried for not having been there for his son and wife.
Of course, the nightmares never completely went away, though the panic attacks
gradually became less frequent. There were days when Stiles enjoyed the quiet,
the stillness of the house, but there were other days where Stiles found that
the silence was too much. It was on the first of these days, where Stiles began
the search for some sort of crutch to rely on.
Which was what finally drew out the courage for him to confront the journal his
mother left behind; this time with a clearer frame of mind. He started at his
desk and took a breath before lifting the front cover and sifting gingerly
through the pages as he pored over his mother’s elegant script. It was a
wonder, how she had been able to write so much before her death, but Stiles
recognized it for the blessing that it was; to have so much of her still.
Her writings contained a great deal of information, from a brief history lesson
of the Campbell bloodline, their background as hunters, his aunt’s failure to
escape the fate of her lineage by marrying his uncle, as well as his mother’s
own failure to do the same by marrying his father and settling in Beacon Hills.
Stiles flipped through the pages, stopping every once in a while on certain
sections. One section in particular caught his eye, the part discussing
soulmarks and the abilities he supposedly shared with his mother.  
     I thought, that by walking away from your grandparents and everything
     they stood for, that it would be enough. I clearly learned nothing
     from watching your Aunt Mary and Uncle John. I was young, and I
     believed, so fervently, that things could be different. So many years
     had passed since I left the ghosts of my childhood behind that I
     thought maybe it could be safe. I became complacent, and I let my
     guard down too far. After years of avoiding the pull, I finally gave
     in and sought out your father. I moved to Beacon Hills.
     The “pull,” Mitchi, is what describes that feeling—and you’ll know
     it, when it happens to you—where you feel that you are being drawn to
     a specific place. A specific person. Your “soulmate.” You will likely
     hear this word more often as you grow up. Not everyone has a
     soulmate, but you do. You have a soulmark on your back, just like I
     have one on my wrist. The location of the soulmark is different for
     each person who has one, but for those who have one, it means that
     there is someone out there who has one that matches. Your father has
     the one that matches mine on his right arm.
     Most people do not know who their soulmate is until they meet them,
     and not everyone knows where to find them. It is true that not
     everyone meets their soulmate in their lifetime, and sometimes people
     marry someone who isn’t their soulmate. There is absolutely nothing
     wrong with this. Should you meet and fall in love with someone who
     isn’t your soulmate, know that I would support you fully, and I know
     your father will as well.
     In fact...and this is not easy for me to say...I think it would be
     for the best if you did.
     You may not be a Campbell in name, but the fact of the matter is, you
     are a Campbell by blood. You may not realize this now, but you share
     the same abilities as your Aunt Mary had, and as I do. The extent of
     your abilities may even reach further than ours ever have, if what I
     have seen in you is accurate.
     By “seeing,” I am referring to one of the abilities of which you are
     capable. This I can teach you with confidence. As for the others, I
     can only tell you stories that have been passed down to me. It is up
     to you whether any of them are worth exploring.
     I mentioned how difficult it can be to find one’s soulmate. You would
     have to be in the right place at the right time, and even then, most
     people would need to confirm it by checking the other individual’s
     mark. That obstacle in us is eliminated—we are able to do something
     akin to second sight.
     We are part of a class of individuals known as empaths. We have the
     ability to “read” things by touch. For example, if you were to touch
     the ring your father or I wear on our hands, you should be able to
     see something similar to a movie, only what you see is real.
     Sometimes you see the future; other times you see what’s passed. The
     more you practice, the more you will be able to control your
     abilities and be able to quickly find what it is you are looking for
     while ignoring all the rest. It’s a lot like leafing through a book.
     As long as the object holds meaning, some kind of sentimental value
     to its owner, you can learn a lot about someone or something from
     coming into contact with it. How much you are able to learn typically
     depends on how long you keep hold.
     Which means we have the ability to see things like who our soulmates
     are, simply by touching our own soulmark and searching for them. It
     is how I found your father; however, I need you to promise me
     something, Mitchi.
     I need you to promise to never read your soulmark. Under any
     circumstances.
His mother’s warning was followed by a reminder of a day Stiles vaguely
remembered. The day his mother had touched his backside and he recalled having
felt a stinging sensation. He had called his father at work that day, worried
and unsure what to do to comfort her. According to what his mother had written,
Stiles had apparently felt her pain because they were connected. That memory
led to another; what he had seen when he’d touched his mother’s wrist in her
last moments at the hospital. The words it’s not your fault resounding just as
loudly as the voices saying it is.
An empath, his mother explained, typically needed intent to glean information
in addition to contact with a person or object. In Stiles’ case, however, all
he needed was that first touch. Apparently he had what his mother called a
strong “spark.” He had a level of power, his mother explained, that came with
great responsibility.
A burden that would only become heavier if he ignored his mother’s warning. Of
course, it wasn’t Claudia’s fault that her son was the curious sort. He was the
type where, if told not to do something, it tempted him all the more. And
unfortunately, as would be his folly, over and over again, his curiosity would
prove to be too great for him to resist.
There were so many more pages that Stiles had yet to explore in depth, but he
was already pretty overwhelmed with what his mother had seemed to consider as
the basics. He didn’t completely understand everything he had written, but he
suspected that his mother anticipated her words would make more sense with
time.
So he decided that, after placing his mother’s journal away for the time being,
Stiles settled onto his bed, letting his legs dangle off the side as he slowly
reached his hand behind his neck. He let his fingertips slide beneath the
collar of his shirt, and when he thought he was close enough to part of his
soulmark, Stiles stretched his fingers out a bit further and then firmly
pressed.
What he was immediately greeted with was an onslaught of horrifying images that
he wasn’t expecting. Stiles felt as if the wind was pushed right out of him,
and his first time intentionally trying to read something was like an out-of-
body experience.
The visions ran by so fast, and without having mastered some control over his
reading, it was like he was driving a race car without having first learned
what to do behind the wheel. It was disastrous.
The first thing that Stiles experienced was red. Everything around him seemed
drenched in different shades of red, and then came the screaming. Stiles felt
dizzy and disoriented as he stumbled about the world in his vision; he was
blind with terror and he felt as if his body were surrounded by heat. The
screaming continued and Stiles clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his
eyes shut, willing for everything to go away; he wanted to see something else.
Anything else.
Then he did. When he felt the world still and the air around him cool, Stiles
opened his eyes and gasped, because what he saw next was no better than the
first thing. This time he was surrounded by darkness and his hands and forearms
were very, very wet. And when he looked down, he realized it was because he was
holding something—no, someone—in his arms. Or rather, one arm was holding
whoever it was and the other was pierced clean through their chest, creating a
gaping hole where their heart should have been. All he could focus on was the
sheer amount of blood.
Completely frozen with shock, Stiles stared at his arm in horror, not realizing
the scream he heard resounding in his ears was none other than his own. He
didn’t realize that he’d also been screaming outside of his visions until he
felt someone shake him out of his trance and soon he was looking into the
worried eyes of his father.
“Stiles! What is it?! What is it, son?”
“I...I can’t…!” Stiles tried between breaths; he was hyperventilating.
Having become sensitive to all forms of contact as a result of his little
experiment, Stiles was immediately awash with guilt when he felt the emotions
coming off his father in waves. Stiles didn’t know how he could explain it,
because it wasn’t as if he could hear his father’s actual thoughts, but he
somehow knew with certainty that his father was frightened by his son’s current
state. That the whole thing was reminding him of his late wife, and now he was
worried that Stiles was starting to go through the same.
In that moment, Stiles knew with equal certainty that the best thing to do for
his father was to not tell him the truth about what had just happened. Stiles
closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. Once he’d settled down enough,
Stiles eventually reopened them and looked straight at his father. He took a
couple shallow breaths and then tried again.
“I’m sorry, Dad...” he whispered.
“What is it?” his father asked. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I just...I had a nightmare,” Stiles said, going for a half-truth, knowing that
his father would have a more difficult time seeing through that than a blatant
lie. “It was about Mom, and I...”
Stiles trailed off, unable to continue, but he knew that he had said enough.
His father crumpled immediately and embraced Stiles in his arms. Stiles leaned
in and let his father run his fingers soothingly through his damp hair.
“It’s all right, Stiles...” his father said softly. Stiles didn’t need to see
to know that his father’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I miss her too,
kiddo. It’s all right...”
Several hours later, Stiles was left alone in his room again. For a long time,
Stiles laid there in his bed, staring up at the ceiling listlessly. It would be
some time before he tried to crack open his mother’s journal again to learn
more. For the time being, he’d had enough. After all, he’d basically just
learned that he could see things just by coming into contact with people or
objects, and Stiles was pretty sure that what he’d seen when he touched his
mark was himself having killed his own soulmate.
It was the same certainty Stiles possessed when it came to his mother’s death.
He couldn’t explain why he’d always felt that his mother’s death was his fault;
only that he knew that it somehow was. In that same vein, Stiles knew that
although what he’d just seen was awful, that didn’t make it any less true. He
refused to be responsible for another individual’s death.
So, while his mother’s warning hadn’t seemed serious before, it most was
extremely clear to him now. In that moment, Stiles vowed that he would not make
the mistake of seeking out his soulmate, knowing it was for the best. Even if a
small part of him broke at the mere thought of it.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                 January, 2005
The first opportunity Keith Becker was able to obtain leave from his military
service was around the time the Hales were gathering for their full moon
festivities. He had meant to come home in time for at least the holidays, but
hadn’t been able to attain the approval. When he finally touched down at the
airport, and as soon as he came into sight, he was immediately tackled into a
crushing hug by his younger brother while Derek and Travis hung back until they
were invited in for a group embrace.
With permission from his parents, Derek invited the Becker brothers and Travis
over to the Hale Mansion to join in on the family gathering. At some point
through their years of friendship, Derek had eased his parents into accepting
his closest friends as essentially honorary members of the pack. His father had
been surprisingly accommodating, but he figured that was probably because he
was the human half of the Hale clan. His mother, on the other hand, had taken
some convincing. To Derek’s surprise, it had been his father, Leopold Hale, who
had finally convinced his mother that allowing their son’s friends into the
fold was a step in the right direction in strengthening human-werewolf
relations.
Talia was a very diligent mother, and the werewolves in the family were trained
well enough that they wouldn’t cause any trouble during the full moon. She had
made sure of this particularly for the benefit of those from her husband’s side
of the family who were pure human. Her concern for introducing outsider humans
into her family wasn’t so much out of worry that one of the werewolves would
cause them physical harm, but more because she wanted to prevent their secret
from being leaked. Still, she trusted her husband’s judgment, for despite
lacking werewolf abilities, the man had proven time and time again that he
could read his own kind with sureness and accuracy. So while she hadn’t been
thrilled about allowing Derek’s friends to join them during full moon
festivities, she relented only because of her husband’s confidence that the
boys would cause their family no harm.
It took the humans of the Hale family, particularly those who had been too
young to remember him well, a bit longer to warm up to Keith’s return. The
young weres, however, recognized him by scent almost immediately and embraced
him happily as he entered the home.
Talia gave a small nod of approval when Keith caught her gaze. “You’ve grown,
child.”
Keith laughed softly in response. “It’s good to see everyone again too, Mrs.
Hale.”
“Please,” the Alpha said with a kind smile. “You may address me as Talia.”
Keith rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “That might take a bit of
getting used to, Mrs. Hale...”
Talia’s eyes crinkled in amusement at the corners. “There’s plenty of time for
that. You’re more than old enough now.”
Her ears perked up then, catching the tail end of the conversation her son was
having with the younger Becker.
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you, man? Cheer you on?” she heard
Hayden ask.
Derek shook his head and clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, flashing him
a smile. “Nah, man. You hang out here with your brother. I know you’ve been
wanting to catch up with him. Besides, I’ll have Carmichael with me on the
court. I’ll be fine.”
Hayden looked a bit put-out. “We could both be there.”
“Coach already knows you’re not going to be there,” Derek countered. “You come,
he’ll throw you in the game.”
“He has a point,” Travis said with a shrug.
“That’s fine. I’m sure Keith would have no problems watching.”
“You sure you want to drag him away from all that, though?” Travis said,
pointing his thumb behind them to where Keith was entertaining the youngest of
the Hale children. “You’re going to cause a lot of crying babies, man. Mrs.
Hale might get cranky.”
“Just whose side are you on, anyway?” Hayden asked, eyes narrowing at Travis.
Derek laughed. “Relax, Beck! We’ll be fine! Honestly, if I could, I’d rather be
in your position right now. Trust me. As soon as the game ends, I’m racing back
home so I can be with my family and you guys.”
Hayden emitted a frustrated noise. “Fine. But you all better win the game or
I’m gon’ give you all a good hollerin’.”
“You got it, man,” Derek said with a grin as he held out a fist, bumping it
against the ones extended by his two friends. “Nobody messes with The Wolf
Pack.”
“Damn straight,” said Hayden.
“You boys about ready to go?” Laura asked, twirling her car keys around her
index finger.
“Yeah, we’re coming,” said Derek.
“Drive them safely, Laura!” Talia called after her daughter as her son and
Travis trailed close behind.
“I will, Mom! Don’t worry.”
Derek looked over his shoulder and smiled at Hayden before shutting the door
behind him. “We’ll be back in a jiff, Beck.”
“Well, just don’t keep me in suspense!”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
The final minutes of the game was crucial, especially since the game was tied.
Derek had possession of the ball, and he dribbled it while assessing his
surroundings. The echo of the ball hitting the floor and the cheers from the
crowd sounded dulled and faraway to his ears.
As Derek launched down the basketball court to make his last plays, Kate Argent
pulled up with her contracted mercenaries a short distance away from the Hale
mansion. As she and her team crept closer to the mansion, the people inside
were already distracted with their festivities. Older weres and humans were
busy in the kitchen, making food and holding conversation, while several adults
helped chain the young weres who were just on the cusp of having mastered
control over their shift during the full moon. This night was meant to be their
last test, as their success at keeping stable through the night would be
celebrated as soon as everything was over.
After assessing the situation, Kate and her mercenaries carefully drew close to
the Hale mansion. They took care to not cause a ruckus as they began to lay out
the circle of mountain ash, as close to the mansion as they could. Meanwhile,
Derek had passed the ball over to another teammate, who passed the ball along
to Travis, who met Derek close to the hoop, ready to receive the ball and make
an attempt to score.
What Kate hadn’t anticipated, was when one of Derek’s uncles—not Peter—had come
out onto the front porch to grab a drink from one of the coolers and noticed
the hunters. He was shot down after yelling at them, asking who they were and
what they thought they were doing there. Keith immediately stopped in his
conversation with his little brother and frowned, recognizing the familiar
sound as gunfire. At the same time this was happening, Travis had thrown the
ball to Derek, and with a look of great concentration, his friend jumped up and
took the shot.
The inside of the Hale household was a frenzy, and a couple of the older weres
bounded out of the home to see what was going on, only to get struck down by
silver bullets. Trying to manage the situation before it devolved into absolute
chaos, Talia’s eyes flashed red and she began barking orders. Several adults
rushed back down to the basement to release the children tied there. Derek
found out he had made the winning shot just as Kate and her crew lit his whole
house on fire.
For a moment, Keith did nothing and just stood there, appearing almost shell-
shocked. Most of the people around him were too much in a frenzy to pay him any
mind, and he barely heard his younger brother’s voice or felt the frantic
tugging on his arm. His mind whirled with thoughts as he heard bits of panicked
screaming—shouts of words like mountain ash and silver bullets and no one can
get out of here. He finally came too when his younger brother started having a
coughing fit beside of him.
“Keith…!” Hayden said, hand covering his mouth and coughing between words.
“Come on, snap out of it! The house is on fire!”
Instead of responding, Keith ripped off his shirt and grabbed his younger
brother by the wrist, forcing the teen to follow him into the kitchen. Once
there, he opened the fridge and pulled out a water pitcher and took the top off
so he could put his shirt in and douse it.
“Put this over your face and keep your head down,” Keith instructed as he
handed his brother the wet shirt before doing the same thing to the dishrag he
found and putting it over his own face. “We have to get out. Come on.”
“How?!” Hayden asked, voice muffled by his brother’s shirt.
Keith didn’t respond and dragged his brother down to the basement, where it was
a cacophony of screams and panicked movement. Both brothers felt woozy and
sluggish. Keith guided his brother to where there was a cool draft.
“This tunnel leads out through the sewers,” said Keith. “You need to move.”
“No!” Hayden protested, shaking his head. “What about you?!”
“Mom and Dad would kill me if I let anything happen to you,” said Keith. “I’ll
catch up, I promise. I just need to get to Talia.”
“Why?!”
“I heard one of the Hales say something about mountain ash,” said Keith. “If
it’s circled around the mansion, there’s no way any of the weres can get out,
but it doesn’t affect us humans. Make sure you get out of here and warn Laura
and Derek. Do not, under any circumstances, come back.”
“But…!”
“We can’t let Derek’s whole family die here, Hayes! We have to give them a
chance!” Keith gasped as the smoke started to draw closer to where they were
underground. “Now, Hayden...! The tunnel...don’t get caught. GO!”
“Keith, NO!” Hayden shouted after his brother, who disappeared back into the
smoke.
Torn, he thought of charging back in for his brother, but he understood what
his brother was saying. They needed to at least try to save his best friend’s
family. Tears streaming from his eyes, Hayden began stumbling down the tunnels
that lead to a layout of sewers. They all knew the passageway, having played
down there before with Derek when they were younger. He prayed that his brother
would eventually make his way out too.
While Hayden was running for his life in the tunnels, there was still an
impromptu celebration of cheers happening in the boy’s locker room at Beacon
Hills. Neither Derek nor Laura realized anything was wrong until they’d made
their way out of the school into the parking lot, Travis close behind them,
when they finally heard the howls. Instantly, both Hale siblings made eye
contact, unspoken words communicated between them.
“Something’s wrong.”
Picking up on their worry, Travis looked between them. “Guys…? What is it?
What's going on?”
“Get in the car, Travis,” Derek said, as he and Laura wasted no time jumping
into the Camaro.
Travis immediately followed suit without much protest. In a matter of seconds,
Laura had her engine started up and they pealed away from the school.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
“The ash…!” Talia heard one of her siblings cry out. “Leo went out and broke
the ash! But the hunters still got to him! He’s gone!”
Had she had the luxury, Talia would have howled. To feel the sudden emptiness
of her soulbond was one thing, but to have in confirmed just the way it had
only compounded the excruciating pain of heartbreak. She almost lost her
resolve, when she felt a strong arm grip her. It took her moments to recognize
who it was. Keith Becker.
“Talia…!” Keith said, voice muffled as he tugged the both of them down.
Before he could get another word in, Talia spoke first. “My husband broke part
of the ring of ash.”
“Good!” said Keith. “I’ll get you guys out…! Get as many of you all out as you
can.”
“The young ones first,” Talia instructed firmly. “I will explain to the
others.”
“Right, okay,” Keith said with a nod.
Just before he turned around to get to work, Talia gripped him tightly at his
arm. Keith turned around to face her, eyes wide with surprise.
“Just one last thing…!” Talia shouted.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Kate and her mercenaries dispersed when they heard the sound of sirens draw
near. Hayden had just reached the end of the long tunnel and hid there when he
heard the sound of heavy footsteps that seemed to be running every which way.
Derek and Laura arrived to the grim sight of flashing red and blue strobe
lights everywhere, and watched in horror as they saw firefighters desperately
work to quell the flames. Travis was standing a couple steps behind them, eyes
wide and hands over his head, stunned.
“Holy shit...” Travis breathed, unable to believe what it was he was seeing.
They all barely registered when Hayden came up behind them, an obvious wreck.
“Oh god...I’m so sorry…! I didn’t have a car, and I don’t even have my cell
phone on me right now…! The people here were trying to kill everyone and I
didn’t know which direction to run to, and...oh god…!”
Travis grabbed his friend just before the other boy crumpled to the ground.
“Hey...hey…! Easy...”
“Keith’s still in there…!” Hayden sobbed uncontrollably. “He told me to run and
warn you guys, and I couldn’t, and I fucking freaked and he’s still in there…!”
Derek barely heard the words. Absently, he reached out his hands and laced his
fingers with his sister’s, who gripped him tightly.
“Laur...what do we do…?” he said, quivering. “We have to do something…! What do
we…?”
“Shhh...Derek...” Laura soothed, running her thumb up and down against the
backside of her brother’s hand, even as tears flowed freely down her face.
“Everything’s going to be all right...we’ll figure things out.”
She gasped the moment she felt the yellow from her eyes fade out and slowly
bleed a red hue. Her voice broke then.
“...everything’s going to be all right.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Stiles woke up screaming, having been plagued by dreams of fire and reliving
the death of his mother. His father, out on call at the scene of the Hale fire
was not nearby to comfort him.
Later, Sheriff Shane Stillinski would receive a voicemail from Melissa McCall,
letting him know that Stiles had come over to their house and was sleeping in
Scott’s room. When the Sheriff called back, he agreed that it would be better
to not wake his son while he was resting, and that he would come pick his son
up in the morning.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
In the morning, all that was left was the charred remains of the once
magnificent Hale mansion. Derek couldn’t remember how long they had all stood
there, but at some point, the Sheriff had instructed him and Laura to go stay
with one of Derek’s friends. The Hale siblings ended up going with the
Carmichaels so that they could allow Hayden and his family to mourn. All that
was left of Keith were his dog tags, found at the wreckage, and the shirt he’d
given his brother before Hayden had gone through the tunnels.
The Hale siblings went back to where their house once stood the next morning,
after an evening without sleep. They stood there in silence for a long time.
Finally, Laura spoke. “We can’t stay here.”
Derek turned to look at his sister, eyes wide and welled with tears. “What…?”
he choked out.
“We’ll start over...” Laura said, voice soft, but firm.
“Wh…? Laura, we can’t just leave Beacon Hills…!” Derek said, disbelieving. “Our
pack—”
“Is gone, Derek,” Laura said, flashing her newly acquired red eyes at her
brother. “And I’m the Alpha now.”
Derek cowered slightly under her gaze. “But Laura...”
“I know, Der...” Laura said with a sigh, making the red hue disappear. “I know
our family has been here for centuries...but I just...can’t. Not after what’s
happened. We need to start over...”
Derek sagged his shoulders, knowing he wasn’t going to win this fight. “So
where, then, Laura…? Where are we going to go…?” he asked, defeated.
“...I don’t know,” Laura said quietly, giving her brother’s hand a light
squeeze. “But we’ll figure it out.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
News of the Hale fire spread with ironic speed. The morning after, when the
Sheriff picked Stiles up from the McCalls was when his son first heard about
it. Shane noted that his son seemed unusually alarmed by news of the fire, and
taking particular interest in Derek Hale’s well-being. After the Sheriff had
confirmed that Derek was still alive and well, Stiles had relaxed visibly and
asked if he could see Derek sometime.
When Shane explained to his son that Derek and his sister were planning on
leaving town, and that perhaps they were already gone, Stiles surprised him by
wrenching out of his grasp and practically flying out the front door before he
could even act to stop him.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Saying goodbye to Travis and his family had been difficult, but not nearly as
difficult as trying to say goodbye to the Beckers and Hayden. Laura had parked
the Camaro a short distance from the house while she and her brother sat there,
staring at the Becker’s front door.
After a long moment, Laura whispered. “Aren’t you going to go, Der?”
Derek clenched and unclenched his fists. “No, I...I don’t know.”
Laura sighed. “Derek...”
Derek turned on her with glassy eyes. “I mean, Laur...what do I even say? What
can I say…? Hey Beck, sorry about your brother dying in our house. Wrong place
wrong time, right? Sorry for convincing you to stay there instead of coming to
the game, where your brother probably would have lived...oh, and by the way I’m
skipping town?”
Laura frowned. “Hey, come on—”
“No! You come on, Laura!” Derek snapped. “You don’t get it! Keith was a
soldier! Hayden’s parents were celebrating the fact that he’d managed to come
back home in one piece! Now they have to deal with the fact that they lost his
older brother in a house fire...and it’s all my fault! If I had just let them
come to the damn basketball game, Keith would be...!
“Derek...there’s nothing you could have done,” said Laura. “You didn’t know.”
Except he did know , Derek didn’t say; couldn’t say. His family hadn’t known
about his relationship with Kate Argent, and now that was a secret that Derek
had to carry within himself for the rest of his living days. He had no concrete
proof, but he instinctively knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Kate had
been the culprit, and the thought made him absolutely sick.
His sister’s soft voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Go, Derek...” Laura
said, eyes reflecting both kindness and sorrow. “Say goodbye. You might not get
another chance to.
Derek sighed. He sat there for a few more moments before finally nodding and
reaching for the door handle.
“Yeah...alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back.
He hesitated once reaching the front door, staring at it for several beats
before finally raising a fist and rapping his knuckles against the door. He
sucked in a nervous breath upon being face-to-face with Hayden.
Derek breathed. “Hey, Beck, I—”
His friend surprised him further when he opened the door further and stepped
outside, soon enveloping Derek into a hug. Derek blinked back tears.
“Trav called,” said Hayden. “Said you were leaving.”
“...yeah,” said Derek.
“Why?”
Derek sighed. “Laura says we have to.”
“...this one of them werewolf things we’re just not going to understand?”
“Yeah...” Derek replied numbly, because although the answer was far more
complicated than that, he didn’t see the point in diving into explanations.
“Something like that.”
Hayden pulled back to look at him. “I’m gonna miss you man...you sure you have
to go?”
Derek shrugged. “I’ve got no place to stay here.”
“You could stay with us.”
Derek shook his head. “You sure your parents would want that, man?”
Hayden frowned. “Look, they don’t blame you, Derek, and neither do I.”
“Well I do,” Derek said sullenly, looking down at his feet.
“Look, I don’t say I get it either, but your family was targeted, okay? We
don’t know why, it wasn’t your fault...so don’t beat yourself up about it,
okay?”
Each sentence Hayden spoke felt like another jab in Derek’s heart, and that’s
when he realized his sister was right after all, they did have to leave. He
just had different reasons for doing so. A lifetime of penance for wrongs he
knew he would never be able to correct; no punishment would ever be great
enough.
“I’m so sorry...” Derek said, choking up with the words. “For Keith…for making
you stay at my place...for just...for everything.”
“Hey, hey...” Hayden said, gripping either of Derek’s arms and shaking him
gently. “Look at me, man. Come on.”
Derek reluctantly met his friends eyes. They were just as red and welled up
with tears.
“I may have lost my brother in that fire, but you lost your whole family,
Derek…I can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like other than guess that it’s
probably what my family is feeling times a hundred...” Hayden said, voice
shaking as he spoke. “So whatever amount of ‘sorry’ it is that you’re feeling,
I’m sorry too. Even more of it than you.”
A humorless laugh emitted past Derek’s lips. He finally let the tears flow down
freely from his face.
“Are your...are your parents in?” Derek asked.
“Yeah...yeah, man, you want me to go get them?” Hayden asked.
Derek shook his head. He knew that if his parents were even remotely as
forgiving as his best friend was, he would break, suffocating from the immense
guilt he was already carrying.
“Nah, just...could you please let them know that I said goodbye?”
“...you sure?” Hayden asked. “It’ll be all right, you know. My parents feel the
same way I do about it, honest! We all talked about it, and they haven’t said a
single bad word about you and your family, Derek, I promise.”
“No, it’s all right,” Derek said, shaking his head again. “I’m sure.”
Hayden sighed. “Okay, well...you take care of yourself, alright? Don’t be a
stranger now, y’hear? If you ever come back, I’ll...I mean, I can’t speak for
Trav too, but I...I’ll be here, Derek.”
Derek began to take a few steps back. “...I’ve gotta go now.”
Hayden nodded. “Yeah...”
“I’m sorry...Beck,” Derek said one last time before rushing towards his
sister’s Camaro.
He tried to slip back into the car before any more words could be exchanged;
tried to block out all the sounds around him before entering the car. Having
been his friend for a long enough time, however, Hayden managed to get the last
word in. Words that would have been lost in the wind for human ears, but for a
werewolf, they could be heard plain as day.
“Doors always open for you here, Derek. Just say the word.”
Derek slammed the door when he got back into Laura’s car. His whole body
trembling and his voice filled with sorrow and bitterness as he spoke before
his sister could even get in a word.
“Come on, Laur. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
And so they did.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
When Sheriff Stilinski finally found his son, it was at the charred remains of
the Hale mansion. Stiles was on his knees on what was left of the burnt out
front porch, bawling his eyes out.
“They’re gone…!” Stiles said as his father managed to scoop him up with a bit
of effort, as Stiles wasn’t as small as he used to be at eleven, but he wasn’t
so tall that his father couldn’t manage at the time.
“I know, son...” Shane said as he carried his son back to the patrol car. “I
know.”
“No, you don’t get it…!” Stiles wailed, voice raspy. “I know that they’re
gone...”
Not understanding the difference and deciding it would be best not to argue
with his son, the Sheriff merely grunted and buckled his son in before taking
them both back home. Stiles entered into a feverish dream on the way back;
images he’d gathered from touching the Hale mansion replaying in his dreams.
The visions weren’t clear, but he saw brief instances of the fire; heard the
screams. The bonds the Hale siblings had to the mansion were still strong, and
so Stiles had been able to see a flash of Derek slipping into his sister’s
Camaro, watching as the car drove away to who knew where. Had Stiles had more
control over his powers then he might have been able to find out, though
perhaps at his age he might not have been able to understand what he was
looking at. That, and if his father hadn’t interrupted his contact with the
house by taking him away from it. It would be a while before Stiles could start
mastering even a small portion of his gift, and it would take time for him to
realize the emotional toll using his powers could take on him as an empath.
It would take him longer still to understand why his heart ached with the loss
of Derek’s presence, though the memory of the Winchester boys would teeter at
the fringes of his mind. Until then, he found himself mourning the loss of
something he couldn’t quite articulate.
Chapter End Notes
     Next chapter, we finally hit some Teen Wolf Season One elements!
     Hurray! Crossing my fingers it won’t take me too long to write like
     it did with this one.
     Need reader feedback again, so here’s a new reader poll! As with the
     previous poll, voting for the following question closes once the next
     chapter gets posted. Looking forward to hearing people’s thoughts!
     I’m basically using readers as my muse’s tie-breaker for a few
     things.
     The question is: Do you guys want to see Scott with Allison, Kira,
     someone else, or no one at all? (If you guys choose someone else, let
     me know who the character is you’re thinking of; however, if it’s not
     Allison or Kira, I can’t make any promises since I’m not sure I could
     do the pairing justice if I can’t see it flowing in my head, if that
     makes any sense.)
***** The Road So Far *****
Chapter Summary
     Snapshots of the Winchesters’ journeys over the years.
Chapter Notes
     Sooooo...I know I said that we were going to hit Teen Wolf Season One
     elements now, but my muse took a sudden hit of inspiration and this
     chapter was born instead! Next one will be mostly Teen Wolf though, I
     swear!
     Just as a reminder—while I will be borrowing a lot of scenes and
     elements from both series, this fic will ignore just as much of the
     canonical elements. That means a lot of stuff is going to change,
     including dialogue, how people meet, origin stories of powers people
     possess, who lives, who dies, who comes back to life—either
     temporarily or for good, etc. Sorry if that disappoints anyone!
     Specifically, for those wondering how Supernatural comes into play, I
     am warning you right now that I ignore that canon almost entirely. I
     do keep a few of the elements from the years of 2007 to 2011 that I
     find key to include in this story, although I also change some of the
     dialogue and circumstances of those scenes completely in some cases.
     After we hit 2011, then I will be diverging from Supernatural canon
     almost completely. If that confused anyone just now, hopefully things
     will make more sense after reading the chapter!
     Thanks also for all those who provide their support in other ways, by
     leaving kudos, subscribing, and even creating a bookmark! This
     chapter is my gift to all of you! Since this chapter is Supernatural
     heavy, I’ve decided to format the dates as a small nod to the series.
     Oh yeah! And last, but not least, the results of last chapter’s poll!
     Scott and Kira have it! Also, I’ve got two more muse tie-breaker
     polls at the end of the chapter that need your opinions! Thank you
     all so much for your speedy and thoughtful input!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                     THEN
                                 Unknown Date
Azazel bowed before his master. Lucifer remained mostly hidden; all Azazel
could make out was his silhouette.
“It is almost time,” said Azazel.
“How many have you gathered?”
“Five,” said Azazel. “Out of them all, they are the finest.”
Lucifer’s eyes gleamed. “I thought you told me of one other.”
Taking care not to offend, Azazel suppressed his pleased grin. “Michael is not
the only one with an alternate vessel, my liege.”
“Oh?”
“I have secured one for you as well.”
“The Sixth Child.”
“Yes.”
“How appropriate.”
Azazel dared. “You are pleased.”
His master’s teeth glinted. “Is he strong?”
“Not as of yet, although,” said Azazel. “Compared to his cousins, he
has...potential.”
“Ah...I see,” Lucifer sighed contentedly. “So he belongs to the other
Campbell.”
“He may grow to be much stronger,” Azazel agreed. “In fact, he is far more
impressionable.”
“Simpler to control.”
“Precisely.”
“Then take great care,” Lucifer commanded. “I want him brought to me when he’s
ready.”
“If the other doesn’t cooperate?”
“No,” said Lucifer. “I have a new use for him.”
The corner of Azazel’s mouth quirked with amusement. He bowed once more before
taking his leave.
“As you wish.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                     2007
There were three simple rules John Winchester had taught his boys growing up.
Somehow, Sam seemed to have broken them all in one go.
“Never lay down your weapon.”
Well, Sam had done that. To be fair, Sam had thought the other guy was dead.
“Never turn your back.”
Well, Sam had done that too. Emphasis on his belief that the guy was dead. He
had been sure.
“Finish the job.”
Of course, that was the one thing that Sam hadn’t done. It was moments like
this one where he realized just how much Dean protected him from having to do
things he didn’t want to.
“Sam! Look out!”
Sam felt his eyes widen in shock, feeling pain he’d never felt before and a
crushing numbness all at the same time as he slowly crumpled to the ground. He
barely registered when Dean caught him. He wanted so badly to reassure his
older brother, whose eyes were wide and filled with panic, but Sam couldn’t
find the energy to move his lips. He suddenly felt extremely sluggish and
tired.
“Whoa, whoa, Sam...Sam! Hey! Come here. Let me look at you,” Dean said, placing
his hand on Sam’s wound, his palm getting covered with blood. The older
Winchester looked at his younger brother pleadingly. “Hey, look at me. It’s not
even that bad…! It’s not even that bad, alright? Sammy? Sam!”
Sam’s breaths grew more shallow, and his eyes began to flutter. His older
brother’s voice was starting to sound further away.
“Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay?” Dean said, voice breaking
as he felt like the world was crumbling all around him. “You’re gonna be good
as new. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch
out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam? Sammy!”
Perhaps his brother might have taken comfort in his last fleeting thought
before Sam crossed over to elsewhere, had he known what it was. Right before
his last breath left him and his eyes slid shut.
“Dean...”
For a moment, Dean was frozen, his younger brother’s lifeless body now slumped
against him. Tears immediately sprung into his eyes, and his heart clenched,
painfully so.
“No...” Dean said, softly at first before his voice slowly increased in volume.
“No, no, no, no. Oh, God. Sam…!”
It was the first time either of the brothers lost their lives in the field; the
first either of them ever went through any significant pain since their
parents. The minute he lost Sam was when Dean suddenly really experienced
clarity. There was a truth that had always been there, but neither brother had
ever realized, and Dean would be the first to in that moment. One that would
strengthen the bonds of their brotherhood and ultimately change their lives
forever.
The epiphany struck him as he was speaking to his brother’s still corpse.
Little did he know that Azazel was watching; waiting to correct the mistake
that had been made.
“You know, when we were little—you couldn't been more than 5—you just started
asking questions,” Dean began. “How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always
have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I
remember I begged you—‘Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.’ I just
wanted you to be a kid...just for a little while longer.”
The demon watched, using an orb of some kind, as Dean talked to his brother’s
still form. Beside him was another demon; a beautiful woman.
“You rang?” she said coyly.
“You know why you’re here,” Azazel said simply, not particularly in the mood
for her humor.
“Hmph. What makes you think he’ll come?” the Crossroads Demon asked.
“Oh, he’ll come...” Azazel said, grinning toothily as he focused on the images
he was seeing. “Because he’s just realized what I’ve known about them all
along.”
“Oh?”
“The Winchesters...” Azazel hissed. “They all share the same flaw...and it’s
especially strong...with them.”
The Crossroads Demon stepped closer when Azazel motioned her to look at what
was being projected in the orb. He glanced at her briefly, flashing his yellow
eyes.
“You remember their father, John.”
“Oh yes...” the Crossroads Demon said with a slight smirk. “I most certainly
do.”
“Then you know to what I’m referring.”
“They will do anything for their family...” the Crossroads Demon confirmed.
“But you say that it is stronger with them? How so?”
Azazel grinned. “My dear...there is nothing more dangerous and yet equally just
as perfect than family knit so tight that the new world they create, once they
realize this themselves, is so very narrow and limited.”
The Crossroads Demon raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Worry not over things you simply do not understand,” Azazel hissed in
annoyance, yellow eyes flashing in her direction. “For your failure to grasp
the situation bears no effect on what either I or our great Master has
planned.”
The Crossroads Demon knew better than to scoff, so she didn’t. Still, she was
unable to resist the urge to clench her fists angrily at her sides.
Azazel’s attention diverted briefly back to his view of Dean in the orb. The
older Winchester was now at the end of his rationale.
“What am I supposed to do, Sammy? God. What am I supposed to do? What am I
supposed to do?!”
Then, a light bulb seemed to go off over Dean’s head, and immediately
thereafter followed a lot of shuffling and movement. Azazel turned to face the
Crossroads Demon once more, a pleased grin on his face.
“Well?” he said. “That’s your cue.”
And although she had more questions, the demon knew better than to think she
would get an answer for any of them. Silently vowing to figure out a way to get
back at the Yellow-Eyed Demon someday, she quickly went to do her bidding.
It would be the easiest deal she’d ever made in decades. Unlike their father,
Dean was not only still unseasoned in terms of experience in the world of demon
hunting, he also lacked considerable bargaining power. At the very least, John
Winchester had usually been ready with some sort of leverage, so that even
though he couldn’t reach the exact result that he wanted, he could still come
fairly close. Of course, there was also the older Winchester’s present
emotional state and sense of desperation to factor in and credit for her easy
victory.
It was soon after getting off the brief high of having sealed a deal so easily
that the demon finally realized to what the Yellow-Eyed Demon had been
referring to. Just as their parents’ world had been their boys, Sam was Dean’s
world, and vice versa. Yes, they still loved their parents and would do almost
anything to get them back, but when it came to each other, well. There was
something that neither brother would ever give up on.
As many would go on to observe and as Azazel would heavily count on in the
future, whenever they would be presented with a choice, to save each other or
those around them, the answer would be the same. Every single time.
They would always choose each other.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                     2008
Sam would realize this approximately a year later. When the Hellhounds came for
his brother. When he made a crucial mistake by trusting anyone else other than
Dean, just because they looked human, and of course it helped that it came in
the form of a pretty young woman.
“I’m not gonna let you go to hell, Dean!”
It was minutes to midnight and they were both terrified, but Dean had tried to
keep on a brave face. Just for Sam.
“Yes, you are!” Dean said, shouting at first, but then after a minute spoke at
a calmer volume. “Yes...you are.”
Sam just stared at him, uneasy. Breathing.
“I’m sorry,” said Dean. “I mean, this is all my fault, and I know that. But
what you’re doing? It’s not gonna save me. It’s only gonna kill you.”
Sam looked away for a moment, trying to force back the tears that were
threatening to fall. “Then, what am I supposed to do?”
“Keep fighting,” Dean said, sounding considerably more confident than he
actually felt. “Take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what Dad taught
you...okay? And remember what I taught you.”
At that time, Dean had actually believed he was saying his last farewell. He
had no idea his brother would be as stubborn as he was and try to find a way to
save him; to bring him back.
Their roles were oddly reversed when the Hellhounds broke into the room, the
only difference really being whereas Sam had been quiet in his first bout with
death, Dean had let out a guttural scream. To be fair, the Hellhounds were
ripping into his flesh. Then, when it was over, just as Dean had a year
earlier, Sam brought his older brother’s lifeless body to himself as he cried.
Azazel was overjoyed, to say the least, when Dean’s soul arrived in Hell, as it
set off a chain of events that greatly benefited his master’s cause. He
employed Alastair, his counterpart of sorts, known as the “White-Eyed Demon,”
to torture Dean and encourage him to relieve himself of his pain by ripping
apart other souls. Corrupting the spirit of one whose name was not originally
written for Hell, it broke the first of the sixty-six seals keeping Lucifer in
his cage.
For it was written: The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds
blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.
And Dean had become a broken man indeed, by the time Castiel found him. Though
Castiel followed his orders in taking Dean out of Hell, it was, in fact,
already too late. Lucifer’s plan was well in motion, though all the players
were yet to take their places on the board.
With the Winchesters back together and becoming ever more jaded by the day,
Azazel was ready to launch the next phase of his plan. The preparation of
vessels.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                     2009
It was the perfect plan, or rather, it should have been. With Lilith’s death,
the last seal on his cage had been broken, and Lucifer had surged out from his
confines in Hell. However, victory proved elusive, as there was a snag. One
that would challenge him time and time again, over and over. The resilience of
the Winchester brothers. It would also be a sign of things to come.
The resurrection of Adam and his subsequent return in the Winchesters’ lives
was the perfect illustration of what Azazel had observed aloud, a couple years
prior. Though Adam was related to them through their father’s bloodline, he was
still mostly a stranger. Although Sam, who’d always shown greater signs of
empathy, tried to bring him into the fold, the flaw laid with Dean, who could
never truly trust or care deeply for anyone other than his little brother.
There was the resentment too, of course, that Dean carried over this symbol of
their father’s selfishness. To have learned that his father made a life after
Mary, and that he tried to start over, living a double life of sorts by
fathering Adam. Though Dean eventually started to warm up the idea, it wasn’t
quite enough to raise internal conflict when both his brother and half-brother
fell together in the pit straight for Hell, and when Dean was later given the
choice of who to save, he had done so without hesitation.
The fear on Adam’s face struck a chord of guilt in Dean for only the briefest
of moments. “We’ll come back for you,” Dean had promised.
A promise that had, whether due to circumstance or by accident, had eventually
gone completely forgotten. Dean had his little brother Sam back, and that’s all
that really mattered; all that ever would matter.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                     2010
Lucifer rammed at the bars of his cage in anger. To his credit, Azazel did not
flinch.
“When I finally have them to their knees,” Lucifer promised. “They shall rue
the day.”
Azazel bowed his head. “Of course. I have good news for you, Master.”
“And what might that be?” Lucifer asked.
“The Sixth Child,” Azazel said, lips curling slightly into a grin. “He is being
readied, though it will take just a bit longer, my liege.”
That had his leader intrigued. “Oh…?  You deem it worthy of the wait?”
Azazel bowed once more. “I would not have dared to suggest otherwise, Your
Majesty.”
Lucifer nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Then go. And do not disappoint me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Azazel said before disappearing.
Meanwhile, up above, Sam was experiencing an unsettling dream. He and his
brother experienced a lot of that lately; probably a side effect of the number
of times they’d been to literal Hell and back, not to mention their each going
through what felt like countless deaths and resurrections.
Lately, he saw visions of a town he only vaguely recognized. The dreams
surrounding this place were lately recurring, and it was one of those more
immersing experiences. Each time, Sam was able to explore the scenery a little
more; get a little further.
Eventually, he saw a dark figure. There was something about it that Sam
couldn’t place his finger on, but he felt like he should know it somehow. No
matter how he tried, too, Sam found that he couldn’t reach whatever it was. It
bothered him.
He didn’t like, either, the strange sense of foreboding that came with the
sight of the figure, whenever he caught glimpse of it. Sometimes, Sam didn’t
see it at all when he explored other aspects of the dream, trying to look for
clues—though this was usually to no avail. Other times, the figure was there
again, always just out of reach.
One night, he woke up in a cold sweat after seeing the figure again, this time
surrounded by flames. For the first time in the dream, it moved. Still out of
reach, and still not showing his face. Sam was no closer in determining whether
the figure was friend or foe, but once he saw those flames following it around,
he began to feel as if it were the latter. Like a ring of Hell was just
following the figure everywhere it went, destroying everything it touched as it
passed through.
The dream having shaken him to the core, Sam asked Dean about it, trying to see
if the older man might have experienced it too, over some lunch at a diner.
“Say, Dean...you haven’t happened to have any weird dreams lately, have you?”
His brother had stopped mid-bite of a burger to frown at him. “Strange dreams?
No, Sammy, can’t say that I have. Why do you ask?”
“Nothing. Never mind,” Sam said, shaking his head.
Dean stared at Sam. “You sure?”
“...yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “I’m sure, Dean.”
Having been through as much as they had, both brothers had somewhere along the
way come to a silent mutual agreement that neither would press if there was
something one of them didn’t want to discuss. The truth usually came out later
at some point anyway. Dean could wait.
“All right, Sammy,” Dean said with a slight shrug. “If you say so.”
They had finished the rest of their lunch then in a bit of an awkward silence
and that had been that. Sam wouldn’t come to realize the significance of his
dreams until much later.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
                                      NOW
                                     2011
Sam glanced over at Dean, who was slapping away at his steering wheel and
singing one of many of the same old songs he always subjected the younger
Winchester through during their car rides. They had just reacquired Sam’s soul,
and so of course his older brother was in high spirits.
He sighed. “Remind me again why we’re going to Mexico?”
“To talk to some hunter group there,” said Dean. “They call themselves the
Calaveras.”
“Sounds like a family name.”
“It is.”
“And why do we need to talk to them?” Sam asked.
“Because while you were busy looking through books for our next lead, I spoke
to a few locals at a bar and they told me something interesting,” said Dean.
“Apparently there’s this thing called a Nemeton, and there's a few of them that
have been activated; one real recently.”
“Yeah? And why are we interested in the Nemetons?” asked Sam.
“Well, sometimes a Nemeton is known as Hell’s Door,” Dean said grimly. “And I
have a feeling there’s a lot more to it than that which we don’t know.”
“So you think these Calaveras will have all the answers?”
“Not all, Sammy,” Dean said, shaking his head. “But enough to figure out how
much of a threat they are. And whether Lucifer can use one of them to climb out
of his cage like a portal.”
"That shouldn't be possible though, right?" asked Sam. 
"Right, but I'm not passing up on the chance to get some valuable intel," said
Dean.  "Even if there's no way for him to get out using the Nemeton, we still
need to know more about them.  Because apparently, they attract creatures to it
like moths to a flame."
Sam frowned.  "How come Dad never told us about this?"
Dean shook his head.  "I don't know, Sammy.  Maybe he didn't know about it, or
he just didn't have time.  You remember we weren't always together."
"Yeah, I guess that's true," said Sam.  "But why the Calaveras, specifically? 
Can't we ask other hunters?  You know...ones more local?"
"Well, there's something else I want to look into too," said Dean.
Sam raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah?  What's that?"
"Could be nothing," Dean admitted, shaking his head.  "I'll have a better idea
when we get there."
"You gonna tell me then?"
"Yeah," Dean said with a nod.  "If it's something."
Sam sighed, noting that Dean's tone was finite.  "Alright."
A silence settled between the brothers, and after a while, Sam slowly closed
his eyes as he nodded off.  When he opened them again, it was to a devastating
scene of hellfire and brimstone. 
Chapter End Notes
     Hope the wait for this chapter didn’t feel too painful! For those
     wondering whether the Wincest/no Wincest poll that happened early on
     in this fic affected this chapter? It did. Specifically, it
     determined which scenes I chose to flesh out, and a few subtle shifts
     in the story to set the stage for other parts. Also, since there’s no
     Wincest, I chose to format this chapter in more flashback form as
     opposed to putting more time in building a certain atmosphere, since
     I figured people don’t really want a rehash of the few canonical
     elements I did end up deciding to borrow from the series. There also
     isn’t anything huge to introduce just yet, other than the fact that
     Azazel doesn’t die like he should have if I were following canon to
     the letter. Just an example of how reader votes matter when I need a
     muse-tiebreaker!
     Speaking of which, I’ve got another reader poll for you guys, and
     just like all the others, voting closes as soon as the next chapter
     gets posted. This vote, like all the others, helps shape influences
     nuances of certain scenes as I continue developing the story. (It’s
     also the reason why I ended up writing these scenes before the
     chapter I had intended to post, mostly because I realized I needed to
     figure out which way I was definitely planning to go before moving
     forward.)
     First Question: Who would readers like to see Lydia with? Jackson,
     Aiden, Parrish, someone else, or no one?
     Second Question: Would you guys object if I wrote most of the new
     characters in Teen Wolf’s Season Five as kids of the main cast? (E.g.
     kid!Liam, kid!Mason, etc.) Or should I keep those characters at their
     canonical ages?
     Looking forward to seeing what you all think! See you all again next
     time!
***** Not Quite a Fresh Start *****
Chapter Summary
     Scott becomes a werewolf. Stiles starts to remember bits and pieces
     of memories from his childhood.
Chapter Notes
     And now we’re finally hitting some Season One elements! Just
     scratching the surface though, really, but fret not! There will be
     more to come. Remember—some things in here will be as you remember
     them, other times dialogue/when characters meet/relationships/etc.
     will be different.
     For anyone wondering about the extent of Stiles’ powers, I will say
     that the inspiration for his powers primarily comes from three
     places. The first, is the BBC Merlin-verse. Fun fact—initially, this
     was supposed to be a triple-crossover fic with Merlin, and Stiles and
     Derek were supposed to be reincarnations of Merlin and Prince Arthur,
     respectively. However, I soon quickly nixed that idea since I thought
     the Merlin show might be a bit out of place here. Anyway, when I say
     Stiles has “pure magic,” I was thinking in a similar sense as Merlin
     from that show.
     As for Stiles’ empathic abilities, his “seeing” is a cross between
     Cisco Ramon’s “vibing” from The Flash, and Professor Xavier’s
     utilization of Cerebro. If you’re familiar with these abilities, then
     you should see bits and pieces of their mechanics as Stiles’ powers
     are explained.
     Also, unless people ask for it to come back, I am not planning to
     include any more date subheadings now that we’ve hit “present day,”
     though if dates are relevant, they will still be indicated in the
     text itself. I’m doing this because I feel like the subheadings will
     start to become more distracting that not, since I was mostly using
     them up until now to help guide the background information I was
     setting for the story.
     No reader poll this time, although I have the results of the last
     poll at the end of this chapter, for anyone that’s curious! Voting is
     now closed!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                 January, 2011
                                  Present Day
Despite his past trauma as a result of having ignored his mother’s warning
regarding his soulmark, Stiles was still a closet-romantic at heart, although
he had vowed to never again search for his own soulmate. Instead, he found that
he was content to live through watching the relationships of others bloom as a
result of his efforts.
It had started as a bit of a joke, at first. While still in the early stages of
trying to understand his powers, Stiles had participated in the school-run
carnival. He had set up the booth as a fortune teller as a freshman. It had
been a fairly popular act; most of the students who participated had only done
so for fun. Several days later though, word had spread like wildfire about how
scarily accurate Stiles’ love predictions had been. From that moment onward,
Stiles found himself constantly approached by those wanting to know their
chances with a potential significant other.
Much like at the present moment. Stiles had been approached by several girls
wanting to know if their crushes were planning on asking them to the upcoming
homecoming dance. Stiles let out a steady breath and concentrated on the girl
before him as he placed two fingers lightly over the girl’s soulmark, searching
for anything relevant to the guy she had indicated her interest in. The
interesting thing about reading objects or soulmarks, Stiles found so far from
his experience, anyway, was that he could read as far into the future as he
wanted. He couldn’t be sure though, since he’d never stretched too far ahead,
but from what he could tell from his experimenting so far, it seemed that way.
For readings such as this one, however, he barely had to reach to get the
answer he needed. He found what he was looking for in a matter of moments.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and gave the girl a small, reassuring smile. Lifting
his hand, he motioned for the girl to lean in closer. The girl quickly
complied.
“Stick around by your locker after your last class,” Stiles whispered. “He’ll
approach you then. Don’t let word get around, alright? It might make him
nervous.”
The girl gasped excitedly in response and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh my god!
No way! Thank you so much! I won’t, I swear!”
Stiles chuckled to himself softly as he watched the girl practically bounce
towards her friends. He wondered if the girl would heed his warning. From
experience, he’d found that for the most part they did, although every once in
a while a few wouldn’t, too caught up in the excitement. Stiles had been more
lengthy with his warnings at first, about how sharing his predictions too soon
could change their outcome, but the grapevine eventually took care of relaying
that message. Word of Stiles’ matchmaking abilities had evolved into mythical
proportions.
Stiles had to admit that it was a talent, how he was both the most talked-about
boy at Beacon Hills High School and yet also the most invisible. There were
moments where Stiles sometimes found himself questioning whether it had been a
good idea to reveal his abilities to see as a sort of gimmick. Prior to high
school, Stiles had kept mostly to reading objects. Following the instructions
laid out in his mother’s journal, Stiles had started to hone at least a portion
of his abilities as an empath by touching anything and everything in his home
that reminded him of his mother. Through trial and error, he learned that he
could tap into the memories contained in objects that once held significance to
his mother and be able to see her to the extent that everything was in the
past. Stiles learned quickly that he was unable to communicate with the dead,
nor did he have the ability to see where someone went after they died. He could
only see a person’s future if they were still living, and even then they were
still glimpses. Stiles had to at least know what he was looking for in order to
find it.
At the sound of shuffling beside him, Stiles turned turned his head to see
Scott, who’d settled into the seat beside him wearing one of his trademark lazy
grins. “That another one?”
“Yeah,” Stiles said with a nod.
“Man, you know what I don’t get?” Scott asked as he stretched his arms over his
head.
Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Hm? What’s that?”
Scott shook his head. “How you’re perfectly okay with helping everyone else
with their love issues, but you haven’t even tried to look for yours. I mean,
if I had that kind of sixth sense, I would have used it on myself a long time
ago.”
Stiles shrugged. “Takes the mystery out of everything, you know? Besides, I
told you that you’re going to be dating a girl—”
“With pretty eyes and dark hair. I know, I know,” Scott laughed as punched
Stiles’ shoulder playfully. “Doesn’t count though; you said she goes to our
school, but neither of us have seen this girl yet!”
Stiles held up his hands. “Hey! Don’t shoot the messenger, alright? I can’t
help that I don’t know when you’re going to meet her! It’s not like my visions
have a calendar and clock in the corner or something.”
“Yeah, well, I think your radar’s off on this one,” Scott said, shaking his
head. “I want my money back.”
Stiles snorted. “Sorry, I don’t do refunds.”
Scott’s laugh was somewhat drowned out by the shrill sound of the bell going
off to signal the start of class. Students quickly scrambled to their seats and
soon it was just another ordinary day at Beacon Hills High School. Little did
they all know that the end to the town’s quiet days were quickly approaching.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Derek’s expression was grim as he sat quietly beside his older sister, Laura.
The atmosphere inside the Camaro was thick with silence as they headed in the
direction of Beacon Hills. At a certain point, Laura glanced at her brother
from the corner of her eye. Derek’s expression was rather grim.
Laura released a soft sigh. “What.”
Derek shook his head as looked at his sister, a brow slightly raised. “What do
you mean, ‘what’?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Derek. You know exactly what I mean. What’s
with that look on your face? You look like you want to say something, so say
it.”
Derek frowned. “I just don’t see why we have to go back, is all. I mean, are
you sure about this?”
Laura let out another sigh. “Look. I told you I found a lead on what happened
to our family—”
“Which I don’t trust,” said Derek. “At all.”
His sister continued on, ignoring him. “Not to mention I think I might have
found something on Peter.”
“And I told you, that’s insane, Laura,” Derek said, shaking his head. “There’s
no way that...”
Laura’s eyes softened when her brother trailed off. Derek folded his arms over
his chest and he turned his head. His sister saw the muscles in his jaw clench
as he forced back the tears. The older were let out a breath she hadn’t
realized she’d been holding and gently placed a hand atop her brother’s knee
and squeezed.
“Hey...” she whispered. “We don’t have to stay, okay? We can leave...as soon as
I’ve checked up on some things.”
Derek didn’t reply. Laura nudged at her brother’s leg.
“You hear me, Der?”
“...yeah, Laura,” Derek finally managed to choke out softly, after a few
moments. “I heard you.”
The two Hale siblings fell back into silence for the remainder of the ride. It
would be several hours before they’d finally reach Beacon Hills, a sleepy town
that had been, at the time, blissfully unaware of the drastic changes ahead as
a result of their arrival.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
While most teenagers got things like video games, electric guitars, and car
keys confiscated from time to time by their parents as punishment, for Stiles,
it was a police radio scanner. It was never quite clear how exactly he had
managed to get his hands on one, but the minute he did, it was most certainly a
driving cause behind his father’s many migraines. His father regularly hid, and
several times even attempted to toss, said police scanner. Unfortunately, his
son was quite clever and the thing always seemed to end up back in his
possession sooner or later. Eventually, the Sheriff had mostly given up on the
effort; however, that didn’t mean he condoned what he viewed as his son’s
delinquent behavior.
There were days, more often than not, where the Sheriff wished his son had an
after school hobby that was more suited for a kid his age. One that would
consume his son’s free time, since clearly being a bench warmer on the lacrosse
team wasn’t enough.
Every once in a while though, even if the Sheriff hated to admit it, he found
that he was a little grateful for his son’s habit of sticking his nose where it
didn’t belong. His son’s knack for solving obscure cases were second to none,
and if it weren’t for how much Stiles exasperated his father, the Sheriff might
have admitted to being proud of his son’s genius.
On the whole, Stiles had never gotten himself caught up in anything extremely
serious. His luck, however, unknowingly ran out in the same instant Laura and
Derek Hale quietly returned to Beacon Hills.
The night everything changed had been one like any other—Scott had busied
himself in his room with his evening routines; restringing his lacrosse stick
and managing to get a few pull-ups in before he decided to call it a night and
started to brush his teeth. He stopped halfway, however, when he thought he
heard a suspicious noise. Daring to investigate, Scott threw on a hoodie and
made sure to carry with him his mother’s baseball bat; her weapon of choice
against any intruders.
Heart pounding, Scott cautiously walked about his front porch. He let out a
scream when Stiles suddenly appeared, hanging upside-down from his roof,
letting out a startled scream of his own.
“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!” Scott asked once he’d somewhat
recovered.
“You weren’t answering your phone…!” Stiles said by way of explanation, voice
cracking slightly. “Why do you have a bat?”
Scott looked briefly at the bat in his hands and then shook his head a bit at
Stiles. “I thought you were a predator!”
“A pre—?” Stiles scoffed. “I—wha—look. I know it’s late, but you’ve gotta hear
this.”
Scott sighed. Now that he knew that there wasn’t any kind of imminent danger,
he could give his friend his attention.
“I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago,” said Stiles. “Dispatch called? They’re
bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department and even state police.”
“...for what?” Scott asked, not nearly as excited as his friend appeared to be.
“Two joggers found a body in the woods,” Stiles said, pausing briefly so he
could perform a back flip off his best friend’s roof.
“A dead body?!” Scott asked.
“No, a body of water,” Stiles replied sarcastically. “Yes, dumbass! A dead
body.”
He climbed over the fence onto the McCall’s front porch. Scott’s eyes lit up
with interest.
“You mean, like, murdered?” he asked.
“Nobody knows yet,” said Stiles. “Just that it was a girl...probably in her
twenties.”
“Well, hold on,” said Scott. “If they found a body, then what are they looking
for?”
“That’s the best part!” Stiles said while wearing an impish expression. “They
only found half…!”
Scott raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Stiles nodded, responding to Scott’s
unspoken thoughts. Words that would seal their fate, and ultimately set a
centuries-old plan in motion.
“We’re going.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
The bite Scott experienced might have been more painful if it hadn’t been for
the overpowering fear that had filled him when it happened. Over the course of
the next few days, he experienced rapid changes. When he’d expressed his
concerns to Stiles, it was like an age-old switch was activated.
Stiles had joked about it at first, saying that Scott’s condition sounded like
a case of lycanthropy. The more he talked about it aloud with Scott, however,
as they walked through the forest looking for his inhaler, the more Stiles felt
fleeting, long-forgotten memories from his early childhood start to resurface.
Neither of them noticed at first the fact that there was someone who had been
quietly watching them since they’d entered the forest. Or rather, Derek had
been following them the minute he’d caught a familiar scent; one that he hadn’t
caught in a long time.
It wasn’t until Stiles felt an odd tug—something telling him to turn around—and
when he responded to that pull, he was surprised by who it was he saw in the
distance. It had been years, and Derek had certainly grown even more since the
last time Stiles had seen him, but he had no trouble recognizing who the man
was. Stiles felt his heart rate increase as the older man approached them.
“What are you doing here?” Derek asked. “Huh? This is private property.”
Stiles found that he didn’t know where to look. Part of him wanted to avert his
gaze from the awkwardness, but a greater part of him wanted to keep his eyes on
Derek. The man had already been attractive, from what Stiles remembered, but
now he was even more handsome.
“Uh...sorry, man,” Stiles finally managed to say sheepishly. “We didn’t know.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, apparently finding his voice too. “We were just looking for
something, but...uh...forget it.”
They were both surprised when Derek threw Scott’s inhaler at him before quietly
turning around and walking away. Scott held an odd expression on his face,
looking down at his inhaler, then at Derek’s retreating backside before
glancing over at Stiles.
“All right, come on,” he said. “I’ve gotta get to work.
Stiles stopped Scott momentarily, placing a hand on his chest, the look in his
eyes clearly showing that his brain was whirring at a mile a minute. “Dude!” he
said. “That was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years
older than us.”
Scott frowned. “Remember what?”
“His family?” Stiles emphasized, unable to believe Scott didn’t remember as
readily as he did. “They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago.”
He was a little disappointed to see that didn’t seem to ring any bells for
Scott, but he let it go. Scott looked back in the direction Derek had gone.
“I wonder what he’s doing back.”
Stiles scoffed, as if to say, “the hell if I know,” but Derek’s return gave him
the feeling like something was on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach. The
feeling grew in its intensity later on, while watching Scott play lacrosse.
Reacting on instinct, Stiles found himself performing research, although Scott
was more inclined to call it that with air quotes around it. Scott had thought
the leap from potential rabies to the diagnosis of werewolf was a stretch, but
Stiles seemed thoroughly convinced.
“Stiles, you realize how crazy this sounds, right?” Scott said, shaking his
head. “Werewolves aren’t real.”
Stiles was surprised to find how Scott’s statement made him bristle. “They are
real,” he said adamantly, despite realizing how childish he probably sounded in
that moment. “And you’re one of them.”
“Ugh, whatever, I don’t have time for this right now,” said Scott.
“What! Scott! Where do you think you’re going?”
“To Lydia’s party!” said Scott. “I’ve been invited because of people on the
lacrosse team are starting to recognize me, and I’m not going to pass this
chance up!”
“Who on the lacrosse team is impressed?” asked Stiles. “You mean Jackson?
Because let me tell you, man. Jackson is totally suspicious of you, and I
wouldn’t trust him! If anything, he just wants to keep a closer eye on you.”
“Well...whatever!” Scott exclaimed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m
going.”
“No. Scott. Come on...this is stupid,” said Stiles. “Don’t you know what
tonight is?! It’s the full moon, dude!”
“What are you trying to do?” Scott asked, exasperated. “I just made first line.
I got invited to a party, because people think I’m one of the cool kids, now,
and...I don’t know! I might even get lucky and meet a cute girl there too,
which would make my life pretty much perfect. So why are you trying to ruin
it?”
“I’m trying to help,” Stiles said, sounding just as frazzled. “You’re cursed,
Scott. You know, and it’s not just the moon will cause you to physically
change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”
“Bloodlust?” Scott asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” said Stiles. “Your urge to kill.”
“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles,” Scott growled.
“Look, you’ve gotta hear this,” Stiles said, reading something he’d found over
the course of his research. “It says here ‘the change can be caused by anger or
anything that raises your pulse.’ Alright? You’re high as a kite from all these
changes right now, Scott. And if you do happen to meet a cute girl there? Your
pulse is going to skyrocket. That can’t happen, man. You’re not going to this
party.”
Scott shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry Stiles, but I’ve got to get ready. We
can talk about this later, all right?”
“No, Scott. Scott? Scott! Argh...” Stiles groaned as Scott bolted out of the
room before his friend could catch him. Stiles let his head hit the wall with a
thud as he sighed. “Oh...this isn’t going to be good.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
“When my mother told me you were coming back, I couldn’t believe it,” Beacon
Hills High School’s most popular girl, the redhead Lydia Martin said as she
brushed her hair and looked at the girl that was behind her. She turned and
smiled at the dark-haired girl. “I’m so glad your family moved back to Beacon
Hills, Allison.”
The girl, Allison Argent, smiled back at her childhood friend warmly. “Me too,
Lydia.”
“And what better way to introduce yourselves to people at our school than at
this party!” Lydia said before shrugging a shoulder and rolling her eyes a bit.
“Well, the ones that matter, anyway.”
Allison laughed, shaking her head with a fond expression on her face. Lydia
apparently hadn’t changed much since childhood.
“You about ready to go?” she asked.
Lydia fluffed her dress. “Yes, I think so.”
“Well, come on then!” Allison said with a laugh, holding out one of her arms
for Lydia to take hold. “You need to introduce me to this Jackson Whittemore
you keep talking about.”
She received another one of Lydia’s signature eye rolls. “Well, duh. Of
course!”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
To say Derek’s headspace was a mess was an understatement. He cursed himself
for not having fought harder to keep his sister Laura from bringing them back
to Beacon Hills. Now she was dead, and as far as Derek knew, he was now truly
alone in the world. In terms of pack status, he was an Omega, and that was a
truly daunting scenario.
There was the matter of another wolf, an Alpha at that, that was running loose
in Beacon Hills and apparently trying to form its own pack. Derek knew that
Stiles’ friend had been turned; he had scented it off the boy, and now he
resolved to make the teen part of his own pack before the Alpha that turned him
could get to him.
Which led him to the thought of Stiles—Derek vaguely recalled how his heart
fluttered upon catching the boy’s familiar scent. The scent of someone he’d
almost allowed himself to forget, believing that he’d never see them again.
He remembered, however, how he’d heard the boy laugh with his friend, making
fun of the idea of werewolves. The words had unexpectedly pierced Derek’s
heart; clearly this was not the boy he’d left behind, the one with an
unquestioning belief in the supernatural. In his disappointment, he hadn’t
heard Stiles say his name shortly after he departed. For all he knew, the boy
had failed to recognize him, despite the uptick in heartbeat that Derek had
heard.
Tabling those thoughts for now, Derek chose to focus on what he’d tasked
himself with, which was to recruit Scott McCall. He began by observing Lydia’s
party from a distance, scanning the crowds and assessing the best time to make
his entrance.
Meanwhile, Scott was nearby the punchbowl when he turned around and suddenly
found himself greeted with an armful of brunette. A million alarms went off in
his mind as soon as Allison came into focus; the first thing he noticed was her
beautiful eyes and dark hair. He suddenly felt the urge to call Stiles and say
something about how his best friend’s prediction seemed to be right on the
money, as usual. Scott thanked his lucky stars.
“Um...h-hi,” Scott stuttered.
The pretty brunette laughed at his awkwardness. “Hi,” she said with a smile.
“What’s your name?”
“S-Scott.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Scott,” said Allison. “I’m Allison.”
“Pretty...” Scott said, his expression clearly lovestruck.
“Pardon?” Allison asked, eyebrows scrunching together in amusement.
Scott quickly shook his head. “I-I mean...t-tonight! Isn’t tonight really
pretty?”
Allison seemed to sparkle in his eyes as she laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is!”
“Do you go to Beacon Hills?” Scott asked before shaking his head. “I don’t
think I’ve ever seen you around...I-I mean…! Not to say that I never would have
noticed you, it’s just—”
“Relax, Scott,” Allison said with a chuckle. “My family and I only just moved
to Beacon Hills. My first day of school is tomorrow.”
Scott blinked. “Oh. Would you, uh...would you like to dance with me?” he
blurted.
The reflection of the party lights seemed to dance in Allison’s eyes. “Sure,”
he said with a smile. “Lead the way.”
It was when they got outside that Scott’s good humor quickly dissipated, and he
began to feel the ill effects from his first full moon experience. Allison
frowned, looking at him.
“You okay?”
“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” Scott said, trying to shake the feeling off.
“Are you okay?” Allison repeated, looking at him with concern. “You look a
little green.”
“I’ll be right back,” Scott said, pushing past several people.
He barely registered the fact that Stiles was there at the party. He was too
distracted to marvel at how his best friend could have possibly pulled that off
when he wasn’t even on the guest list.
“Go away,” Scott said in response to Stiles’ banging at the door.
“Scott, it’s me,” Stiles said, his voice somewhat muffled through the barrier.
“Let me in, Scott. I can help.”
“No!” Scott protested. “Listen, you’ve gotta find Allison.”
“She’s fine, alright?” Stiles said, exasperated. “I saw her get a ride from the
party. She’s—she’s totally fine, alright?”
“No,” Scott said. “I think I know who it is.”
“You just let me in,” said Stiles. “We can try—”
“It’s Derek…!” Scott growled out. “Derek Hale is the werewolf…! He’s the one
that bit me. He’s the one who killed that girl in the woods.”
Stiles’ banging stopped momentarily. “Scott...Derek’s the one who drove Allison
from the party.”
He frowned when there was silence and was surprised to push open the door
without resistance. He cursed inwardly when he noticed that Scott was no longer
there.

“Scott!”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
“Where is she?” Scott growled, confronting Derek when he’d finally found the
older man.
“She’s safe,” Derek said tightly. “From you.”
“What did you do with her?” Scott whined.
“Shh...quiet,” Derek hissed, ears twitching as he listened. He shot Scott a
look of disgust. “Too late. They’re already here. Run.”
“What?” Scott asked, bewildered.
“Run!” Derek thundered as he practically threw Scott ahead of him.
Unfortunately at some point, one of the individuals pursuing them had managed
to pin his wrist to a tree with an arrow. Scott let out a roar of pain.
Fortunately for him, Derek was able to break him free just before those in
their pursuit could get to them.
“Who were they?” Scott groaned.
“Hunters,” Derek said, expression grim. “The kind that have been hunting us for
centuries.”
“Us?!” Scott exclaimed. “You mean you! You did this to me!”
“Is it really so bad, Scott?” Derek sneered. “That you can see better—hear more
clearly—move faster than any human could ever hope?! You’ve been given
something that most people would kill for. The bite is a gift.”
“I don’t want it...” Scott whined.
Derek huffed. “You will,” he said. “And you’re gonna need me if you want to
learn how to control it. So you and me, Scott—we’re brothers now.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Scott glared at Derek for what
felt like an eternity. Finally, Derek broke the silence.
“Don’t wander around anymore tonight,” he said. “Get yourself home, Scott.”
Before the teen could reply, the other were had gone. With a sigh, Scott
finally heaved himself from the tree trunk he’d been leaning on and headed for
home.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Scott told Stiles about his suspicions of Derek being a werewolf being
confirmed the next day, and frowned when the other teen didn’t give him much of
a reaction.
“You don’t seem surprised,” he said.
“Hm? What? No! No...I was just...you know, a little distracted thinking about
something,” Stiles lied.
Not yet able to tell the difference between a truthful statement or a lie,
Scott didn’t press. “Yeah? What?”
“The people you said were chasing you guys...” Stiles said contemplatively.
“Derek called them hunters?”
“Yeah,” Scott said nodding.
“Would you remember their faces if you saw them?” Stiles asked.
Scott shrugged. “Maybe. One or two of them, why?”
Stiles worried his lower lip with his teeth, wondering how he might ask the
question, especially given how hazy the memory of his childhood was. Before he
could describe who he was thinking of however, they were both interrupted by
Allison.
“So what happened?” she asked, expression unamused. “You left me stranded at
the party.”
“Yeah, I...I know,” Scot sputtered. “I’m really sorry, I am, but...you’re gonna
have to trust that I had a really good reason.”
“Did you get sick?” she asked.
“I definitely had an attack of something...” Scott said, and he could hear
Stiles groan softly beside him.
“Am I gonna get an explanation?” Allison asked.
“Can you just find it in your heart to trust me on this one?” Scott countered,
wearing his kicked puppy dog expression.
Allison sighed. “Am I gonna regret this?”
“Probably...” Scott replied with a sheepish expression on his face. “So...is
that a yes on a second chance?”
“Definitely yes,” Allison said with a smile, which dropped slightly when she
turned and noticed a man a short distance off. “That’s my dad. I’d better go.”
A chill coursed through Scott’s spine upon realizing he recognized who
Allison’s dad was. His eyes widening slightly, Scott pulled Stiles with him as
he dragged his flailing best friend and himself from view.
“What! What? What?!” Stiles asked, scrambling to regain his bearings. “What is
it, Scott? What’s going on? You look spooked.”
“Totally,” Scott said, face pale. “I just recognized Allison’s dad.”
Stiles frowned. “What? You already met the guy? When?”
“Last night,” Scott said through gritted teeth.
“Oh? Oh. Oh,” Stiles said, eyes widening in realization.
“Are you just going to repeat everything you say multiple times?” Scott asked,
somewhat exasperated.
“What? Hey! Not my fault! You’re giving me a whole hell of a lot of information
to process, all at once,” Stiles said, moving his hands about.
Only Stiles was capable of making a hand gesture look sarcastic. Scott sighed.
“Well? What are you going to do?” Stiles asked.
“I don’t know,” Scott answered, using his trademark phrase. He shook his head.
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Well, let me help you this time,” Stiles muttered.
Despite being worried for his best friend, Stiles found that he also felt a
little relieved knowing that perhaps these hunters weren’t who they might be
after all. Still, with all of the new changes, Stiles knew that he was going to
have a lot of work cut out for him. He just didn’t know exactly what yet.
Chapter End Notes
     Soooo...you guys got extremely lucky with this update because most of
     this chapter was already pre-written, due to have it having been
     intended for last chapter. I even made sure to extend it more than it
     was originally, to make up for how long it was since my last update.
     I don’t know when exactly that was, but I’m guessing around August,
     based on the date of the initial contents on the chapter.
     LOL...literally did not realize that much time had passed, so again,
     so very sorry to all my readers and thanks so, so much to all those
     who are hanging with me! Your loyalty is greatly appreciated.
     Also, here’s the results of last poll!
     Majority voted for a Lydia/Jackson relationship pairing, and were all
     for the Season Five cast to be kids instead of their canonical age.
     As before, I was at a clear plot crossroads where I couldn’t decide
     whether I wanted to take the fic one direction or another, and your
     voices have helped me tiebreak what my muse was contemplating, so
     thank you to all who participated!
     I don’t anticipate there will be any more reader polls for a while,
     but I’ll be sure to let you guys know! Looking forward to see what
     you all thought of this one, and hope to hear from you all again next
     chapter, when it gets posted!
***** Convergence *****
Chapter Summary
     A curse awakens in Beacon Hills, one that will not be recognized for
     what it is for a very long time.
Chapter Notes
     Sooooo...apparently something went super wrong with my computer and I
     lost all my notes for this story, which is unfortunate, because with
     how busy my school schedule keeps me, I rely heavily on the notes I
     write for myself on my longer stories, like this one. I've got
     ongoing stories in different fandoms under a couple other pennames
     that I'm about to pick back up as well, and they've all fallen victim
     to the same fate. So the bad news is, I don't entirely remember every
     nitty gritty detail that I had painstakingly mapped out for this
     story. On the other hand, I was at least smart enough to write the
     biggest plot points out on traditional pen and paper copy, and I was
     able to dig out that notebook today, so at the very least I still
     know where I am generally trying to go with all this.
     I got some people wondering last chapter if this thing is really
     going to deviate from the actual canon because some parts seemed so
     similar to it, and I can assure you you're going to see a lot more of
     the canon divergence here and moving forward. Hopefully the length of
     the chapter makes up a little for the long ass wait I've put all you
     readers through, and thanks so much to all those who have remained
     loyal and peppered in a few encouraging comments here and there for
     me. No promises on when the next chapter will be out yet, but I'm
     trying not to take too long again.
“Araya Calavera?”
The old Mexican woman smiled and turned from her window, cup of tea in her
hands. “I hear you boys were looking for me.”
“Dean Winchester,” the older Winchester said, stepping forward. “And only
recently.”
“Ah...” the woman said with one of her wry smiles. “Winchester...so you’re both
John’s boys, then.”
“Nothing I’m sure you didn’t know,” Dean said evenly.
Araya nodded. “This is true,” she said. “You boys are cursed."
Dean frowned.  "How do you mean?"
Araya swiftly changed the subject.  "Well? How can I help you boys?”
Sam kept quiet, but he was tense. He didn’t like this woman from the minute he
looked at her. Fellow hunter or not, he didn’t trust her, not one bit. He
assumed his brother felt the same way, but clearly Dean had an easier time of
not showing it.
“We’re looking for some information,” said Dean. “We’ve been hearing some
rumors...”
Araya chuckled. “Oh...you’re going to have to be more specific than that, my
boy,” he said, her eyes crinkling, but the seemingly kind expression had
something more sinister lurking beneath it. “Or we could be here all night.”
With a price for each story told, she didn’t say, but it was clearly implied.
Of course, that kind of caveat was nothing new to the brothers, given their
experience as hunters. Dean cleared his throat.
“What do you know about the Nemeton?” he asked.
Araya paused for a moment, then her lips curled into a twisted smile. “The
Nemeton...” she said. “Ah...now that...that’s a very long story indeed.”
She took a sip from her cup and then motioned to some chairs in the room in
front of a desk. “Why don’t you boys sit down,” she said. “I’ll tell you what
you need to know."
The Winchester boys exchanged a look before following her to their seats. Araya
smiled as if like a spider who’d caught something very valuable in its web.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
If there was anything Stiles enjoyed and could get fixated on for hours, even
days on end, it was a good mystery or a puzzle. Derek’s return signified
something, he knew, but he just couldn’t place his finger on it.
Fact, Stiles mused. Derek Hale returns to Beacon Hills six years after the
infamous Hale fire. He scribbled his thoughts out on the pad of paper before
him as his mind worked quickly through his thoughts, attempting to connect all
the dots, as it were. Sometime before or after, Scott gets bit. Derek’s sister,
Laura, is found dead. In fact, her body is severed in half. Stiles sighed and
scratched out several more words on the paper and circled them several times
for emphasis.
Werewolves are real.
He tapped his pen several times in rapid succession against the notepad. There
was a thought tugging at the back of his mind and he just couldn’t shake it
loose, which frustrated him.
Stiles stared at the paper for a long time. Finally, he let out another long-
suffering sigh before putting his notes away. He had a newly turned were to
assist.
Had he spent a little more time with his thoughts, however, he might have been
able to just scratch the surface. The problem wasn’t that werewolves were real,
after all. The real question was why, after the long stretch of silence in
terms of supernatural activity enjoyed by Beacon Hills, were they experiencing
a sudden influx of it, and what that truly meant.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
A blonde woman grunted as she tossed a few more things into the trunk of her
car before shutting it and turning to face the old man behind her, a shotgun
held in one hand. “And you’re sure about this?” she asked.
The older man nodded. “I’ve called ahead to your brother, and what he didn’t
say, his wife was more than happy to fill in for him behind his back.”
The blonde woman smiled. “I knew I always liked Victoria.”
“As do I,” the older man agreed.
“He knows I’m coming?” the woman asked.
The man’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “More or less,” he said. “Now Kate.”
“Yes, Father?” Kate said, her lips twisting at the corners to match her
father’s.
“You know Chris will try to be difficult about things; he’s always failed to
see the bigger picture,” the old man replied. “I want you to know that no
matter what he says, you just stick to the principles that I’ve taught you.”
“Oh of course, Father,” Kate said, cocking the shotgun still in her hands for
show. “After all, I’m an Argent.”
The old man winked at her and grinned in approval. “Now that’s my girl,” he
said.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Centuries ago, when the world was still fairly new to the concept of modern
civilization, Beacon Hills was not yet tainted with the blood of innocents
somehow caught in the crossfire. That changed with the arrival of a man once
known by the name of Seth Géraud. He was a holy man, or rather, that’s what
he’d considered himself. Obsessed with religion and the name his parents had
given him; reading into it a meaning that they hadn’t intended, but he’d grown
up truly believing he was some kind of anointed spear.
Lost in his delusions, he had garnered a strong following. In him, Lucifer saw
an opportunity. At night, the Prince of Darkness whispered in the man’s ear.
Quickly becoming his loyal disciple, Seth had been more than enthusiastic about
performing the rites to establish a Nemeton in Beacon Hills. He was promised a
glorious position in his afterlife, after all. Once the oldest tree in the
forest had been cut down, Lucifer appeared to his follower in a vision and
bestowed upon him a new name.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
“Azazel,” Araya said, smiling at the Winchester boys. “You may know him as the
Yellow-Eyed Demon.”
Dean frowned. “Azazel,” he said. “He created the first Nemeton?”
“One of the first,” Araya corrected. “Though there was always something about
Beacon Hills, even before the demons came. The energy has always been strong in
that area.”
“Any particular reason?” Sam asked, unable to help his curiosity.
Araya gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. “Irony, perhaps,” she said. “The
Nemeton acts like a flare signal.”

“Or a beacon,” Dean said dryly. “Ha-ha. Very funny. I get it. So, what
activated this one, and what does it mean now that it has been activated?”
“The blood of a virgin, or an innocent,” Araya replied. “The more sacrifices it
receives, the stronger it becomes. The more demons will be drawn to it.”
“Nothing we can’t handle,” said Sam.
“Perhaps,” Araya agreed. “But perhaps you will also face challenges you’ve
never faced before.”
“Such as?” Dean asked.
“Ah,” Araya said with a crooked grin. “I believe that’s enough questions for
the time being. Perhaps I could tell you more some other time. For now, let’s
talk about what you boys can do for me.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Stiles replayed the latest developments in his life over and over in his mind,
wondering what had gotten him to this point. His best friend was a werewolf.
His best friend’s girlfriend came from a family of hunters, who wanted said
best friend dead. And then there was the matter of Derek.
Derek, who’d practically lost his entire family and came back with his sister,
only to lose her too, and be accused of killing her. Thanks to Stiles and
Scott’s well-intentioned, but flawed detective work, of course. And even after
he’d managed to clear his name, Scott had thrown him right back under the bus
again when the Alpha had infiltrated their school. Stiles didn’t know why it
bothered him so much, the fact that it felt like Scott was getting so much
special attention from Derek. After all, it wasn’t like either one wanted to
interact with the other by choice. It was a werewolf thing; something Stiles
was learning by observing Scott. Some days he wanted to be a part of it. Other
days, not so much.
Like this day. Derek had gotten himself shot, apparently, by a bullet filled
with wolfsbane. While Scott was searching for the right bullet at Allison’s
place, Stiles was driving Derek around in his car.
Stiles groaned when Scott sent him a text message asking for more time. Out of
frustration, the teen threw his phone down beside him. He was agitated, and not
just because Derek reeked of death and decay beside him. There was something
deeper there, that Stiles just couldn’t place his finger on. A memory, buried
in the far recesses of his mind that was trying to tug loose, but he couldn’t
reach it.
He turned to Derek. “Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay?” he said.
“We’re almost there.”
Derek grunted. “Almost where?”
“Your house,” said Stiles.
“What? No!” Derek said, glaring at Stiles. “You can’t take me there.”
“I can’t take you to your own house?” Stiles asked incredulously.
“Not while I can’t protect myself,” said Derek.
Stiles’ lips pressed into a firm line and he immediately pulled over. If Derek
wasn’t in so much pain, he might have noticed the uptick in the teen’s heart
rate, and he might have pondered over what that could have meant.
“Alright. What happens if Scott doesn’t find your little magic bullet, hmm?”
Stiles asked, heart clenching with a level of concern he didn’t fully
understand why he was feeling. “Are you dying?”
Derek grit his teeth. “Not yet,” he said. “I have a last resort.”
“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, nervous about what the response would be, but
unable to stop the train wreck of a question from passing through his lips
anyway. “What last resort?”
He cringed with disgust when Derek pulled back his sleeve, revealing the
serious wound. “Oh, my god,” Stiles said, gagging at the sight. “What is that?
Ugh...is that contagious? You know what? You should probably just get out.”
He didn’t actually mean it. Stiles’ mouth tended to run away with him when he
was nervous. Derek glared at him.
“Start the car,” he said, deadpan. “Now.”
Stiles knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t think you should be
barking orders with the way you look, okay?” he said. “In fact, I think if I
wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle
of the road and leave you for dead.”
Derek growled. “Start the car, or I’m gonna rip your throat out,” he said.
“With my teeth.”
Stiles had already known this was an argument he wasn’t about to win. He turned
back to look out the windshield and started up his car without further protest.
As they drove around for a while longer, all Stiles could think about was how
he hoped Derek wouldn’t die, and he wondered why that sentiment felt so
familiar to him. There was that memory again, perhaps from his childhood, that
was trying to shake loose. He wished his dad were around so he could ask him
about it. He felt like his dad might know, or at least be able to give him some
kind of clue to work with.
When Scott called back, they’d argued a little over what to do with Derek, who
was starting to really smell like he had one foot out and one foot in his
grave. Stiles made sure to emphasize that to his friend, with a sense of
urgency in his voice. They eventually resolved to take Derek to the animal
clinic.
Upon arriving, Derek was quick to take off his shirt and stagger towards a
table, leaning against it for support. The first thing Stiles noticed was right
in his face; the sight of the Triskelion on the older man’s back. He wondered
if it was Derek’s soulmark, though he tucked away that information for later.
He was too distracted by Derek’s injury, which was worsening. So focused on
wanting to keep Derek alive, he hardly noticed the mark on Derek’s shoulder,
one that mirrored the one on his backside. Not that it would have mattered; he
wouldn’t have necessarily made the connection anyway. Stiles hadn’t thought
much about his soulmark until his mother died, and after seeing the horrible
vision that came with it, he’d never bothered to turn around and look in a
mirror to check what exactly it was.
Instead, and again, out of nervousness, Stiles started running his mouth. “You
know, that really doesn’t look like anything some echinacea and a good night of
sleep couldn’t take care of…!”
Derek sighed and nearly rolled his eyes. “When the infection reaches my heart,
it’ll kill me,” he said before turning to rummage through the clinic’s cabinets
and drawers for a bone saw.
“Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?” said Stiles.
Derek groaned softly in annoyance. “If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in
time,” he said, breathlessly. “Last resort."
“Which is?” Stiles asked, instantly feeling a chill roll down his spine and not
liking where this was going.
His heart plummeted when Derek showed him what he’d been looking for. “You’re
going to cut off my arm,” he said.
Stiles floundered. Derek pushed the instrument towards him. Stiles turned the
machine on for a blink of a second before letting it clatter back onto the
table.
“Oh my god…!” he gagged, looking at Derek, who was tying a makeshift
tourniquet. “What if you bleed to death?”
“It’ll heal if it works,” Derek grunted.
“Ugh…! Look—I don’t know if I can do this,” said Stiles.
“Why not?” Derek asked.
Stiles waved his hands about and spoke in a voice that in a more lighthearted
context might make one believe he was trying to do an impression of Ross from
the TV show Friends. “Well, because of the cutting through the flesh...the
sawing of the bone...and especially the blood!”
Derek growled in frustration. He was not about to die because of this
teenager’s incompetence. Sure, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about losing a limb
either, but it was most certainly better than death.
They had a bit more back and forth, and the next thing Derek knew, he’d ended
up on the floor. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but he was sure it was
less than five minutes, when Stiles had smacked him back awake. Really, he’d
been punched, but thanks to his werewolf genes, it was more like a harsh sting,
if anything. He regained consciousness in a daze; mildly noting that Stiles was
off to the side, groaning and cradling his injured hand. Derek looked about and
spotted Scott.
“Give me...” he said weakly, holding his hand out for the bullet.
Scott handed it to him and helped him up, and in the next several seconds, he’d
taken care of his problem. When the wound had completely healed, Stiles let out
an ill-timed cheer.
“That. Was. Awesome…! Yes…!” he said, earning a look from Derek and his best
friend.
For a fleeting moment, while Scott was confirming that Derek was indeed okay,
Stiles noticed it. The second mark on the shoulder, though Derek turned it away
from him before he could get a better look at it. Stiles got to wondering if
Derek had a second soulmark, and whether it was possible for a person to have
more than one. He wished his mother were still alive so that he could ask her
about it; he was sure she would have known more than his father would, but he
knew that there was something else he could consult. His mother’s diary. Stiles
made a mental note to search its contents later.
Shortly after Scott and Derek exchanged a few choice words about working
together, the older werewolf had taken them to see his uncle. Peter Hale. He
explained that Scott’s girlfriend’s family, the Argents, were responsible for
the fire that had taken the lives of his family all those years ago. Stiles
flinched when Derek told his story; the sharp pain causing him to look away.
The other two were too distracted to notice Stiles shiver, a sudden flashback
hitting him of the dream he’d had when he was younger. The one where he hadn’t
been sure what had woken him. All Stiles remembered was that it had woken him
up screaming. The feeling lasted only for a moment, and he was back to normal
by the time the nurse came in asking them what they were doing, and Derek
gruffly informed her that they were leaving.
Stiles had time to mull over his thoughts on his lone drive back home. He had a
lot of information to process. When he returned to his desk, Stiles had been
about to reach for his mother’s diary when he looked down at the pad of paper
he’d abandoned earlier that week. The circled words, werewolves are real seemed
to glare up at him; challenging. As if his own subconscious thoughts knew
something that he probably didn’t, and that bothered Stiles.
He paused and pondered. Some of the answers would come to him soon enough. What
would come much later, however, years from then, would be all the fragments
coming together to create the big picture.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Thousands of years ago, a man named Seth Géraud had literally made a deal with
the Devil, who had granted him near immortality to do his bidding. Over the
years as Azazel, the Yellow-Eyed Demon worked up the ranks of the Underworld
and became leader of his own army, collecting souls and bringing them to his
master, to strengthen him for Armageddon.
The universe, though, was nothing but fair when it came to matters of balance,
and this disruption to order awakened a beast deep in the bowels of Hell that
began to watch, learn, and bide its time for the right moment to act. There was
a flaw about it, by Hell’s standards, at least, and it was perhaps ironic that
a creature known as one of the Underworld’s Gatekeepers possessed the traits of
a soul and curiosity. A tiny light piercing through the pit of darkness.
When Derek killed Paige back in 2004, the demon arose and left its confines
unchecked. Unnoticed by all around it until it was too late to capture and
contain.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Sam frowned after he and his brother got into the Impala. “Are we sure we
believe her?” he asked.
“She gave us a good a lead as any,” Dean said as he started the car. “But she
was clearly withholding information from us.”
“To get us to do her work for her?” Sam asked.
“Partly that,” Dean said with a nod. “But there’s something else too, I think.
Something that’s been bugging me.”
“You mean the part where she didn't elaborate on what she meant by 'you boys
are cursed'?" asked Sam.  "Because I've been wondering about that since she
said it."
“Well, word travels fast in the hunters network, Sammy, you know that," said
Dean. "We haven't exactly had the best of luck these past few years."
"I don't know, Dean," said Sam.  "There's something that bothers me about the
way she'd said it.  Like we're supposed to know what she means, but if we
don't, she's not going to bother to enlighten us."
"I think you might be reading too much into that particular one, Sammy."
"Agree to disagree," Sam said.  "So if that's not what's bothering you, what is
then?"
Dean shook his head as he started to drive them along.  "I don’t know, Sammy. I
can’t be sure,” he said. “But I think either she gave us enough information
about the Nemeton to figure things out for ourselves, and there’s supposed to
be some sort of significance to that...”
Sam arched an eyebrow at him. “Or?”
“Or,” Dean said. “She’s actually told us all that she knows and doesn’t know
the rest—only that there is a rest. That would explain why she hasn’t done
anything about what she’s told us.”
"And you think I'mthe one reading too much into things," Sam said with a snort.
"Well?  You think I'm wrong?" Dean challenged.
"No, I just think you're stupid," Sam said.  "For taking some of her words at
face value instead of considering them all to be suspicious."
Dean grunted.
“Anyway, you think she would?” Sam asked, skeptical. “Do something, I mean, if
she knew how to stop the world from ending.  She didn’t strike me as someone
with a hero complex.”
“Maybe not,” Dean agreed. “But she’s certainly self-preservationist enough to
stop the world from ending, if only to be able to keep herself alive in it.”
“Guess you’re right...” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So? Think
this errand she’s got us running as something to do with this?”
“Won’t know till we get there,” said Dean. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if it
did.”
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Sam was not the only one to dream of brimstone and fire. There was another man,
miles away from either Mexico or Beacon Hills, who’d been experiencing the same
visions, though not yet night after night. Though they were still not yet
frequent, each time that they happened, the man found himself searching. It
would be another couple of years yet before any of it made any sense, but in
the meantime, if there was any word to describe them, it would be disturbing.
The day the man would know what to do, or rather, what his next step was that
he had to do, he would wake up burning with a fever and drenched in sweat. He’d
open his eyes and see the world in red, and his irises would appear as if they
were burning like a flame. Or perhaps more accurately, like rings of fire.
***** The Threat *****
Chapter Summary
     There's a reason why Peter has always been so off-kilter.
Chapter Notes
     Can hardly believe how long it's been since I've written an update
     for this fic, and I also can't believe Teen Wolf is ending. I've had
     so many ideas, but honestly the changes in my real life have left me
     extremely fatigued. That said, I really wanted to get an update in
     before the year ended, but I also didn't want to write a crummy
     update. So it's really taken time. Anyway, hope this is the start of
     me powering through to the finish line of my vision for this story.
     I'll need to go back and make several revisions to this fic, now that
     certain things have been revealed in canon since I started writing
     this. We now know Sheriff Stilinski's canonical name is Noah, so I
     think I should go back and change that, and that the nickname for
     Stiles is Mischief, so I guess I should change that too. Unless no
     one cares, of course. In which case, I guess I'll leave things be.
     Lastly, before we begin, I have a promise to fulfill. With this
     update, I am spreading the word on behalf of a fellow AO3 writer whom
     I happened to learn about on Tumblr. They have been going through a
     rough patch, and recently set up a PayPal.me link, for anyone willing
     to submit a donation. As someone who constantly struggles to balance
     work and time to enjoy writing stories like this for people, and also
     someone who constantly battles depression myself, I can empathize.
     If you find it in your heart to donate to the cause, the author's
     name is CelestialVoid, and their PayPal.me link is https://
     www.paypal.me/celestialvoid. You can find more information on their
     specific situation here, as well as a more expanded explanation of it
     here, on their Tumblr. 
     That said, if you know your favorite author, artist, gif maker,
     Tumblr poster, etc. has a Ko-fi account, or a PayPal.me, or whatever,
     please consider supporting them through those methods. A lot of
     creative minds go through similar struggles of not having enough
     time, sometimes lacking inspiration, or fighting the crushing weight
     of depression, and oftentimes these individuals also don't have the
     best finances, for whatever those reasons may be. So if you are able
     to give even a small amount, I know that it would be greatly
     appreciated.
     Anyway, that ends my PSA. Moving on.
     Some canonical scenes will still occur in this fic, but more often
     than not, they will be out of order compared to how it was in canon.
     There will also be alterations to lines and actions at times, in
     order to fit what I need to get this story to work. Onward we go!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Peter was nothing but a patient man. A true predator, expertly biding his time
for just the right moment. A rather complicated man, there had always been
something off about him, even in his youth. The Hale fire, of course, led to
his psychotic break. He’d been cruel before, not really feeling one way or the
other as he messed with the lives of those in his family. After the tragedy,
the bloody murderer lying dormant within him woke.
If someone were to ask him how he managed to survive the Hale fire that
night—albeit sustaining some severe burns—Peter honestly wouldn't be able to
answer.  Notwithstanding the fact that he wasn't much of the speaking sort,
these days.  
The whispers that plagued his mind were unbearable.  Peter was certain he was
losing it.  He had no idea he was actually one of many test subjects, perhaps
slightly more successful than the rest, but only just.  Unbeknownst to him, he
was something of a key to something bigger.  Something far more sinister.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
From his vantage point in Hell, Azazel grinned.  He ran his fingertips along
the orb as he watched Peter's hand twitch ever so slightly as he sat, seemingly
shellshocked in the hospital.  Slowly, Azazel slipped a finger into the orb,
which seemed to give like a liquid, until he appeared to tap Peter's head. 
There was a ripple.  Up above, where Peter was, his neck suddenly stiffened,
and his eyes began to glow red.  Azazel withdrew his finger, and the orb
appeared to be just a viewfinder of sorts again.  He turned his head when he
heard his master roar from deeper within the bowels of Hell.  He wasted no time
in making his way to Lucifer's Cage.  When he reached it, two hands shot out,
seemingly from nowhere, gripping tightly at the cage bars.  Azazel didn't so
much as flinch.  Fiery eyes gazed into his own.
"You summoned me, Master?" Azazel asked.
Lucifer snarled.  "I am in need of more souls."
"And they will soon be coming," Azazel promised.  "I have one of my brightest
working on it."
"A Child?" Lucifer asked.
"Imperfect as a vessel, but he has proven he can be useful in other ways," said
Azazel.  "As a Reaper with no code.  He is busy quenching his thirst for blood
as we speak."
Lucifer bared his teeth.  "Excellent," he hissed. 
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
"Derek."
Derek turned around from where he stood.  Upon seeing that the owner of the
voice was Laura, he instantly knew he was dreaming, and yet there was a small
part of him that wished that this was the waking world, just in that moment.
"We never should have come back here," said Derek.
Laura shook her head.  "We had to, Derek."
Derek frowned.  "I don't understand," he said.  "Why?"
"Think," was all Laura offered cryptically in response.  "Derek.  Think...!"
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Derek woke with a start.  The sound of a howl could be heard in the distance. 
The Alpha, Derek recognized.  He moved.
In the time it took him to get dressed and charge towards the sound, Jackson
and Lydia were at a video rental store, where the latest Alpha attack just took
place.  They were just getting over their shock when Derek climbed onto the
store's rooftop.  Immediately he noticed the spiral drawn out on the ground in
blood.  Squatting down, he trailed his fingertips over a portion of it, and
bristled.  His brain clicked all the relevant facts together quickly.  The
Alpha was after Scott.  He was the one who bit him in the woods; started the
transformation. 
"Think!" he heard Laura's voice echo in his mind.  "Come on, Derek.  Think...!"
He heard Lydia pull out her phone and start to call the cops down below.  Derek
ran.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
"Here you go," an officer grunted as he and one other lifted either end of the
fallen DVD shelf off of Jackson's body.  "Upsie daisy."
Jackson groaned as the heavy weight was lifted off of him.  He barely heard or
understood what it was the officer closest to him said to him; he was still in
a daze.  His mind kept playing back, over and over, the sequence of events that
had led up to that point.  The dead body.  The lights going out.  The shelves
toppling over.  Getting pinned to the ground.  The hairy beast.
Definitely not a mountain lion, Jackson thought to himself, but he would never
say this out loud.  The truth, after all, was way too farfetched to admit. 
What Jackson remembered seeing, from the corner of his eye, was a hairy beast,
towering over him on its hind legs.  He had no idea why he was spared the same
grisly fate as the video store employee.  He recalled the way the beast had run
its claws down the nape of his neck, drawing back the collar of his leather
jacket, trailing over the cuts that were still healing there.  His mind jumped,
then.  Thinking back on how he'd gotten those. 
It had been the same day Derek had gotten shot, though Jackson didn't know
that.  The man looked pallid and reeked, but Jackson had simply assumed he was
a drug dealer addicted to his own product.  Derek had been looking for Scott. 
When Jackson was not forthcoming with the answers he needed, and instead
annoyed him with questions and demands of his own, Derek had slammed his head
into the lockers.  Jackson remembered noting that Derek's nails were abnormally
sharp; he had been stunned by the invasive jab he felt on the back of his
neck.  It was like three small knives sliding into his flesh.  Not that he
really had a point of reference from personal experience, but he was pretty
sure that he hadn't been too far off.
When the creature had run its claws over his wound, the healing scars had
glowed.  Though of course, Jackson didn't know this had happened.  Rather, he
felt a brief heat flash in the shape of his wounds, for just a moment before it
quickly disappeared.  Then the creature had moved, leaving Jackson to wonder
over why it was he'd been spared.
Before he knew it, he was brought up to his feet, and he was checked over by
EMTs while sitting beside Lydia at first, in the back of an ambulance.  Once he
was done being examined, Jackson immediately got onto his feet, ready to take
Lydia and leave.  He argued with an EMT who was trying to prevent him from
doing so.  He snarled when Sheriff Stilinski approached him after exiting his
squad car and getting a brief status report from another EMT on the scene.
"Why the hell can't I just go home?" Jackson snapped.  "I'm fine."
The Sheriff sighed.  "I hear ya, but the EMT says you hit your head pretty
hard.  They just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion."
Jackson seethed.  "Wh-wh-what part of 'I'm fine' are you having a problem
grasping?" he asked, stammering only because he was so irritated.  "Okay? 
I want to go home."
"And I understand that," the Sheriff said, his tone resigned.
From where he was sitting in the squad car, Stiles squinted at the scene.  His
eyes widened when he noted another dead body.  Okay, this shit is getting
weird, Stiles thought to himself.  There's no way this is the work of a
'mountain lion.'
Up on the roof, Derek was back, looking down at all the excitement happening
down below.  Beside him was Scott, whom he'd gone to fetch for the sole purpose
of showing him this scene.  The freshly turned werewolf looked over at Derek
and shook his head.
"Derek," he said.  "Why are we here?"
"To show you this," Derek said simply before glancing over at Scott, meeting
the younger werewolf's gaze.  "To show you that this is something you can't
escape."
"What, killing people?!" Scott asked, alarmed.  "Is that what we do?  Go out in
the middle of the night on a murderous rampage?"
"No," Derek said, shaking his head.  "We're predators.  We don't have to be
killers."
"Think, Derek...!" Laura's voice echoed in his mind again.
Derek's jaw set.  "I don't know," he admitted.  "But that's what we're going to
find out."
There was a slight pause in his movements as his eyes flitted towards movement
coming specifically from Stiles, whom he noticed pop out of his father's squad
car.  Scott frowned a little as he observed Derek's brows furrow together, his
eyes following Stiles' movements. 
"What is it?" Scott asked him.
He could see the way Derek's pupils contracted, like he was coming back into
focus or being knocked out of a trance.  Derek shook his head. 
"Nothing," he said gruffly before turning, tilting his head and silently
ordering Scott to follow.  "Come on.  Let's go."
Scott took one last backwards glance at his best friend down below, wondering
what it was Derek seemed to have seen, and what it was he could be missing.  He
then turned and ran after Derek, who was already a considerable distance ahead
of him, and tried not to lose him.
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
"Okay...so...what are we doing here?" Scott asked as he followed Derek, who was
walking up the stairs of the ruins of the Hale Mansion. 
Derek stopped in his tracks and turned around to face the younger werewolf,
glaring at him.  "I'm going to teach you how to survive."
Scott raised his eyebrows.  "You're going to what?" he asked incredulously. 
"Whatever, man.  Can't it wait?  I mean, unlike you, I do still have school to
worry about..."
Derek clenched his teeth in annoyance.  "And you just don't get it," he said,
shaking his head.  "There will be no more school if you don't know how to fend
for yourself against the Alpha."
"How do you even know he wants me, anyway!" Scott asked, exasperated. 
Derek sighed, looking almost as if he wanted to hang his head in frustration. 
He was never meant to be a pack leader; that hadn't been how his parents had
raised him.  This was new territory for him too, but he knew he had to step
things up, given the current threat.  Although he would most certainly have
preferred it if he'd been given someone more experienced to work with;
preferably a pure-blooded werewolf.  Unfortunately, he was in a situation where
beggars couldn't be choosers, and he had to make do with this.
"He gave you the bite," Derek said, struggling to articulate in layman's terms
the things he simply knew and took for granted because he'd been raised on such
knowledge. 
It was difficult for him, as someone who had all this come second nature to
him, to explain it to someone who was completely foreign to every aspect of
it.  The culture, the terminology—just everything.  Scott jut out his chin.
"Okay!  He gave me the bite," he echoed.  "So?"
"So," said Derek.  "That's significant.  An Alpha is nothing without a pack to
lead.  That's why he bit you.  He's trying to build one.  He's trying to make
you a part of his pack."
"You're insane," said Scott.
"No, you're a target," Derek said, his lips curling downward in annoyance. 
"There's less than a week to the full moon, and you're going to need to learn
to protect yourself so that you're prepared for when he finds you."
"Why does he want me in his pack, anyway?" Scott asked.  "And can't you just
find and defeat him yourself?"
"Vengeance," Derek said in response to Scott's first question.  He recalled the
bloody spiral he'd found on the rooftop of the video store.  He shook his head
in response to the teen's second question.  "An Alpha is not something one
werewolf can take down alone.  We're strong in numbers.  A pack makes the
individual more powerful.  Not to mention, like most Alphas, this one is
smart.  He lives up to his rank.  He won't be easily caught."
"Well, how can I help if I don't even know what I'm doing?" Scott asked.
"The Alpha bit you, which means you have a connection with him; a link you
can't understand," said Derek.  "But I can help you understand it.  If I can
teach you how to take control over your abilities, then I'm sure you can find
him."
"And how are you going to do that?" Scott asked, before roaring suddenly when
Derek took hold of his wrist and snapped it.  "Dude!  What the hell!"
"It'll heal," Derek said flatly.
"It still fucking hurts!" Scott exclaimed.
"Pain," said Derek.  "Is what keeps you human.  It also triggers the healing
process in weres.  This is basic groundwork for what's going to keep you
alive."
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
"Jackson."
The star lacrosse player frowned, turning to face the owner of the voice. 
"Stiles," he said dryly.  "What do you want."
"Not much, buddy boy..." Stiles said, grimacing and shrinking back a little
when the other teen glowered at him.  "Just, uh...wanted to see how you were
doing...you know."
"Well, since your dad finally cleared Lydia and I to go home, that's exactly
what I was planning on doing," said Jackson.  "Now if you'll excuse me—Lydia's
waiting in the car."
"Wait!"
"What?" Jackson asked, annoyed, whirling back around to glare at Stiles again. 
"God, why are you so fucking annoying!"
"Sorry!  It's just...your neck," Stiles said, motioning to where Jackson's
wounds were located.  
Jackson threw up his walls; his eyes were guarded.  "What about it?" he asked
tightly.
"It's just..." Stiles bit his lower lip.  "It looks like it's bleeding."
Jackson frowned.  "What?"
Before he could instinctively reach for the back of his neck, Stiles did it for
him.  Stunned at first, he didn't kick so much as a fuss when Stiles' hand made
contact with his skin.  He was also momentarily distracted by the way Stiles'
eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and it was only when the other teen
gasped that Jackson finally came to his senses, frowned, and knocked Stiles'
arm away.
"Dude, what the hell!" he snarled, backing away from the other teen. 
Stiles quickly scrambled back, holding up his hands, using them as a feeble
shield against Jackson's wrath.  "S-sorry...!" he stammered.
"You're lucky I'm too fucking tired to deal with your weird shit right now,"
Jackson sneered, jabbing a finger hard against Stiles' chest.  "I'm out of
here."
He turned on his heels and marched towards Lydia's car.  In doing so, he missed
the way Stiles' jaw shifted slightly back and forth before setting.  His eyes
took on a bit of a faraway look.  He'd only had the briefest of moments, but
Stiles had been able to read a little from touching Jackson's wound.  The
images confused him.  There had been brief glimpses of Derek, and then the
Beast.
Definitely not a mountain lion, Stiles mused to himself in grim confirmation as
he stood there, trying to sort out all the images he'd seen.  He nearly growled
in frustration.  It wasn't enough.  He could have used a few more minutes
gleaning information from Jackson's wound.  He wondered how Derek was
involved.  The thought unsettled him, for some reason.
His father clapping a hand on his shoulder snapped Stiles out of his reverie. 
He looked over at the Sheriff, who appeared a bit tired, in that moment. 
"Come on, son," said Sheriff Stilinski.  "Let's go call it a night."
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Meanwhile, that same evening, Dean and Sam were on the road.  They were en
route to the location Araya Calavera had pointed them to.  For their mission. 
At some point, Sam glanced over at Dean. 
"Can we stop by a motel for a little while?" he asked.
"What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asked.  "Feeling tired?  Why don't you just
push back your seat?  Get yourself a little shut-eye."
"That's not what I need," Sam said, shaking his head. 
Dean frowned.  "Then what?" he asked.  "Why the need for a special pit stop?"
"I need the Internet," said Sam.
"Why?" Dean asked.
"Because," said Sam.  "There's something that's been bothering me about this
whole errand."
"Yeah?  Like what?" asked Dean.
"Well, if she needs this so badly, then why can't she get it herself?" Sam
asked with a shrug.  "Why ask us to fetch it for her?"
"Beats me, Sammy," Dean said, shaking his head and keeping his eyes on the
road.  "I tend not to ask questions I don't think I want to know the answers
to."
"Yeah, well I want to know the answers," said Sam.  "So let's find us a place
to crash."
Dean sighed.  "All right," he said, using his blinker to signify a change in
lanes as he shifted to the right.  "If that's what you need."
"I promise it won't be a waste," said Sam.
"Sure."
Sam used his phone to draw up reviews for motels nearby where they would be
able to access the Internet.  When he found one, he directed his brother to
it.  The minute Dean pulled into the parking lot, Sam wasted no time scrambling
out of the car with his things; his older brother close behind him.  Dean
checked the both of them in while Sam bee-lined to their room once he was
handed one of the keys.  By the time Dean made his way into the room as well,
his younger brother was already in the thick of his research.  Wearing a half-
smile, Dean began to shed his leather jacket and eventually hung it up on the
back of a chair in the room.
"Find anything good, Sammy?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sam said with a nod, scrolling down the webpage he was viewing.  "This
Stone of Laputa."
"Uh huh..." said Dean.
"It's apparently rumored to be sealed away someplace," said Sam.  "In Texas."
"Well, that explains why the Caleveras want us to go get it," said Dean. 
"They're probably not too keen on trying to cross the border, just so they
could have that one thing."
"Doesn't explain why they trust us," Sam muttered.  "I wouldn't even trust us,
if I were them."
"Yeah, but we're all hunters," said Dean.  "They probably think we'll adhere to
the code."
"Haa..." Sam said, shaking his head.  "They don't know a thing about us
Winchesters."
"You're damn right."
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Even before news of Laura Hale's death spread, Deaton knew trouble was
brewing.  He already felt the change in the air of Beacon Hills.  Still, he
couldn't help holding onto hope.  Sure, Beacon Hills still had its strange
occurrences, but the sleepy town hadn't seen a heavy surge of supernatural
activity for years.  That was, until now.
After the most recent of the so-called mountain lion incidents, Sheriff
Stilinski had come to him much later that same evening with questions, which
the veterinarian deflected, despite knowing more than he let on.  After the
Alpha attack on Jackson and Lydia, the Sheriff had been more persistent, but
Deaton still somehow managed to turn him away.  Then, just as he was about to
relax, Derek appeared.  He had just finished a round of training with Scott. 
Deaton gasped in surprise and took a step back.  Like a predator eying and
assessing its prey, Derek took a heavy-footed step forward.
"The police seem to think you know something," said Derek.
"P-pardon?" Deaton asked, forehead already breaking out in a nervous sweat. 
"But I was listening to your heartbeat," Derek said, taking another step
forward.  "When the Sheriff was questioning you just now."
Deaton gulped and took another step back.  Derek was slowly backing him into a
wall.  The werewolf shook his head.
"You might have been able to convince him that you know nothing," said Derek. 
"But you can't convince me.  I can tell that you're lying.  What are you
hiding?"
"I-I don't know what you're talking about—!" Deaton flinched when Derek smacked
his hand against the patch of wall beside his head; the wall felt cool behind
his back.
"Who are you protecting?!" Derek snarled, eyes flashing blue.  "Better yet—what
are you hiding?!"
"Hey!"
Deaton's eyes widened when he saw Scott.  Not knowing that the teen had become
a werewolf himself, the man warned him away.
"Scott, get out of here!"
"Stop!  Stop!" Scott shouted in alarm when Derek punched Deaton unconscious. 
"What are you doing?!"
"He's suspicious," said Derek.  "He definitely knows more than he's willing to
admit."
"So!" said Scott.  "That doesn't mean you had a right to knock him out like
that!"
"I do if he's not who he says he is," said Derek.
"Whoa, wait...!" Scott said incredulously.  "You think he might be the Alpha?!"
"Only one way to find out," Derek said, pulling his arm back, his hand curled
into a fist.
"Stop!" Scott snarled.  His transformation into his were form took Derek by
surprise, especially since the teen had been struggling with his transformation
for the better part of the night.  "Hit him again, and then you'll see me
angry."
"Fine," Derek said, clipped.  "Then do you have a plan?"
"I just need one hour," said Scott.
"Then what?" asked Derek.
"Meet me at school," said Scott.  "In the parking lot."
Derek pointed back at Deaton.  "We're taking him with us."
"Fine!" Scott said, exasperated.  "I'm going to prove to you my boss isn't the
Alpha."
"And how exactly are you going to do that?" asked Derek.
"You'll see!" said Scott.  "Like I said, meet me at school.  I'll be there in a
few—just got to make a pit stop first."
Derek frowned.  "An extra stop?" he asked.  "Where?"
"I'm going to get Stiles," Scott said with a half-smile.  "He'd kill me if I
didn't include him in all of this."
The mention of Stiles' name made Derek's jaw tense.  "Scott," said Derek. 
"Stop."
"What?" Scott asked, having been about to turn on his heels but pausing for a
moment to look at the other man questioningly. 
Derek shook his head.  "You can't involve him."
"What?  Why not?" Scott asked.  "He's my best friend.  I involve him in
everything!  Especially stuff like this."
Derek frowned.  "He's human."
"Yeah, well he's more capable than you know," said Scott.  "Just trust me."
He was gone before Derek had a chance to force him to think things over.  Derek
growled to himself in frustration before tying Deaton up and hoisting him over
the shoulder effortlessly, carrying him and then placing him in the back of the
Camaro.  He then wasted no time starting up his engine and pealing out of the
veterinary parking lot towards Beacon Hills High School. 
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
Scott and Stiles were already there by the time he pulled into the lot.  Derek
climbed out of his car, his thoughts distracted by both the sight and scent of
Stiles.  Derek wondered if maybe it was their brief history together, or maybe
it was the fact that he'd recently lost the last person in his life that he'd
really felt close to—Laura—that was causing this overpowering feeling of
nostalgia rising within him. 
"Where's my boss?" Scott asked, breaking Derek out of his thoughts.
"He's in the back," Derek said gruffly.
Scott glanced over at Derek's backseat and nodded, satisfied, despite not being
pleased that his employer was unconscious and bound.  "Oh, well he looks
comfortable," Stiles quipped sarcastically.
Derek frowned at them both.  He stopped Scott as the teen started towards the
school.
"Wait.  Hey.  What are you doing?" Derek asked.
"You said I was linked with the Alpha," said Scott.  "I'm gonna see if you're
right."
Against his better judgment, Derek let the pair of them go with that
statement.  As soon as the teens made their way inside, Stiles started asking
Scott questions on their way into the school's main office.
"Okay," said Stiles.  "One question.  What are you gonna do if the Alpha
doesn't show up?"
"I don't know," said Scott.
"And what are you gonna do if he does show up?" Stiles asked. 
"I don't know," Scott admitted again.
"Good plan," Stiles said dryly, and Scott couldn't help make parallels in his
mind between his best friend and Derek.  "Couldn't we have thought this through
more before we came all the way down here?"
Scott shook his head.  "I walked in on Derek about to kill Deaton," he said. 
"I wasn't going to just sit back and let that happen."
"So you decided you were going to leave Deaton with Derek...who ended up
knocking him unconscious, tying him up, and then throwing him into the backseat
of a car?  Bring him here?" Stiles asked incredulously.  "First of all, I fail
to see how that was a good decision.  Derek could have killed him the minute
you left."
"But he didn't!" Scott protested.
"He could have though, right?" asked Stiles.
"Not the point!" said Scott.  "I made sure Derek gave me his word to give us an
hour."
"Right..." Stiles said, shaking his head.  "Because we can always just take a
werewolf—which is a being who should only exist in fairytales, by the
way—simply at their word!"
"You said that a wolf howls to signal his position to the rest of the pack,
right?" Scott asked, changing the subject.
"Right," said Stiles.  "But if you bring him here, does that make you a part of
his pack?"
"...I hope not," Scott said with a grimace.
"Yeah.  Me too," Stiles said, fiddling with the PA equipment until it was
ready.  He handed the microphone over to Scott.  "All right.  All you."
Scott had to admit, he'd been too self-conscious at first.  The first sound he
made sounded like a cross between a cat being strangled and nails scraping down
a chalkboard.  Outside, Derek hung his head in exasperation and grumbled in
annoyance.
"You've got to be kidding me..."
Meanwhile, Scott was looking over at Stiles for a sign of approval.  "Was that
okay?" he asked.  "I mean, that was a howl, right?"
"I...yeah.  Technically," Stiles said, voice doing that little squeak at the
end when he was trying not to hurt his best friend's feelings, but was totally
lying.  
Scott noticed, of course.  "Well, what did it sound like to you?" he asked, his
tone indicating he was demanding the truth.
"Like a cat being choked to death, Scott," said Stiles.
"What do I do?!" Scott whined in frustration.  "How am I supposed to do this?!"
"Hey, hey.  Listen to me," Stiles said as he started massaging Scott's
shoulders like a trainer would with a boxer in the corner of a ring.  "You're
calling the Alpha, alright?  Be a man.  Be a werewolf, not a teen wolf.  Be a
werewolf.  Do it."
This time when Scott let out a roar, it was admittedly overboard.  Stiles'
encouragement had been so effective, that all of Beacon Hills seemed to quake
with the sound of the roar that came out of the PA system.  When the two boys,
high on adrenaline, flew out of the school, it was to the sight of Derek
glowering at them.
"I'm gonna kill both of you," he growled, jabbing a finger angrily at them. 
"What the hell was that!  What are you trying to do?  Attract the entire state
to the school?"
"Sorry..." Scott said, although he wasn't looking or feeling too sorry at all
in that moment.  "I didn't know it would be that loud."
"Yeah, it was loud!" Stiles said, nodding with a grin on his face like he'd
accomplished something huge.  "And it was awesome...!"
He said that last part in a sing-song voice.  Derek's expression only darkened.
"Shut up."
"Don't be such a Sour Wolf...!" said Stiles.
It was in that moment, Scott happened to look around Derek's shoulder and
noticed that the back door to the Camaro was open, and Deaton was missing.  He
frowned.
"What'd you do with him?" Scott asked.
Derek turned and frowned at the empty backseat.  "What?  I didn't do anything!"
Just then, a deafening roar came from close by.  Immediately, Derek's wolf
reacted, grabbing Stiles and pinning him between his backside and the Camaro. 
"Dude!" Stiles squeaked.  "What are you—?"
Derek shifted into his were form and his blue eyes glowed as he made a hissing
sound.  Stiles sucked in a breath, his entire body tensing nervously,
anticipating danger.  He was too stunned to yelp in surprise when the Alpha
came charging towards them, seemingly out of nowhere.  When Derek lunged
forward, Stiles found himself reaching out.  He just barely missed grabbing a
portion of Derek's leather jacket.
"WAIT!" Stiles shouted, not knowing why he felt so distressed. 
Sure, he was concerned for the safety of both his best friend and Derek, but
there was something more than that when it came to Derek.  He just couldn't
articulate it yet in that moment. 
If it weren't for the fact that his adrenaline was pumping due to the very
serious threat the Alpha posed, Stiles might have fallen into a full-on panic
attack at the sight of Derek and the feral werewolf facing off against each
other.  Especially because Stiles was having flashes of something similar to
when he'd touched his soulmark.  Then it happened.  The Alpha managed to
surprise Derek from behind and punctured a hole through his back before tossing
him off to the side, seemingly without much effort.
"NO!" Stiles screamed, running towards where Derek had fallen. 
There was a moment of brief déjà vu Stiles experienced, where the scene before
him flickered between Derek, as he was currently, seemingly lifeless on the
ground and the small, black wolf Stiles had met years ago as a child, its leg
hopelessly stuck in a steel trap.  Before he could get very far, he was grabbed
by the arm and forcefully pulled back by a shifted Scott.
"Stop!" Stiles yelled, trying to wrench out of Scott's grasp.  "Let go...!"
"No!  We've got to run!" Scott said.  "Derek's dead, Stiles!  There's nothing
we can do for him now!"
"That can't be!" Stiles protested, his flailing about proving to be futile as
Scott's were strength was enough to drag him further away from the fallen
pureblood.  "There's no way!"
"Come on, Stiles!" Scott said through gritted teeth as he finally won their
short bout of tug-of-war, finally having pulled Stiles far enough away that the
teen was finally convinced to run. 
The Alpha suddenly seeming to appear before him and blocking his view of Derek
helping, of course.  It was like Stiles had been broken out of a trance.  Scott
felt a twinge of guilt as they ran, side by side, and he happened to notice his
friend's eyes were glassy. 
"Stiles—" he tried as they ran to find cover so they might have some time to
figure out what they could do next.
"Don't," Stiles said in response, causing Scott to quiet and press his lips
together in a firm line.
He knew that tone.  He'd known Stiles for long enough by then, after all.
I'll never forgive you, Scott heard, even though Stiles didn't say it out
loud.  Notwithstanding the fact that he knew Stiles would get past it,
eventually, like he always did, that didn't change the fact that in that moment
it still stang. 
                        »»-------------¤-------------««
In his dream, Dean surveyed the area around him and frowned.  He was in a
meadow of sorts, and for once it didn't feel like the dark and ominous
atmosphere like he'd grown used to over the years, in his way of living as a
demon hunter. 
"Dean?"
Dean glanced over to his right, where the sound of the voice had originated. 
Dean blinked upon recognizing it was his brother.
"Sam?" he asked, tone somewhat incredulous.  "Where are we?"
Sam shook his head.  "No idea," he said.  "I thought you'd know."
"Last I remember, we were both settling down to try and get us some shut-eye,"
said Dean.
Sam nodded.  "That sounds about right," he said. 
"So then, where are we?" Dean asked, looking around.  "What is this place?"
"Boys?"
The brothers froze at first, unable to believe who it was they were hearing. 
Both slowly looked towards where the voice had come from, their faces gradually
showing equal amounts of surprise. 
"Mom?!" they both asked simultaneously.
Before them was who appeared to be Mary Winchester, although both boys knew
better than to celebrate just yet.  It was the unfortunate reality of being in
the business of dealing regularly with demons, after all.  They therefore dealt
with every encounter with a great deal of skepticism.
"There's no time to waste, boys," their mother said.  "Hurry!"
When she moved, the boys quickly followed her.  "Wait!" said Dean.
"Mom!" Sam shouted.
As they ran, the scenery around them changed.  Neither brother would recognize
where they were right then.  Their mother, or the semblance of her, took them
to the Nemeton located in Beacon Hills, which was glowing an ominous shade of
red.  As they drew closer, a gate began to form above the Nemeton, and then
suddenly a horde of demons burst forth in tremendous number.  Both Winchester
brothers shouted in surprise, neither of them prepared for the visual
onslaught, and they each raised their arms up defensively, unprepared to do
anything else.
The last thing either of the brothers heard was the sound of their mother's
shouting above the din.  "You must save them!" she exclaimed.  "You must save
them from tragedy!"
It was in that moment both Dean and Sam bolted awake, upright in their
respective beds, their bodies drenched in sweat from the night terrors and
their breathing ragged.  Turning towards each other, both brothers shared a
glance.
"Did you...?" Dean began.
"You were in my dream," said Sam.
Dean nodded.  "And you were in mine."
"You see Mom?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," Dean confirmed, giving his brother another nod.  "You see the Gate?"
He meant Hell's Gate.  Sam nodded too.
"Yeah."
The stone that the brothers had picked up for Araya glowed where it had been
placed, on a nightstand between them.  Dean's eyes trailed towards it and he
unconsciously flicked out his tongue, running it over his lower lip, moistening
it.  He shook his head slightly and brought his gaze back to meet his
brother's.
"I don't know what the hell this thing is," said Dean.  "But something tells me
we shouldn't be handing this over to the Calaveras."
His brother didn't have to confirm it for Dean to know that Sam agreed, but he
heard the concurrence in his younger brother's response.  "They'll come after
us, you know."
Dean nodded.  "Yeah, I know," he said.  "But we'll cross that bridge when we
come to it, Sammy."
"Mm.  All right, Dean."
Chapter End Notes
     So grateful for the continued support—both actively and passively
     expressed—and for the thought out feedback from the readers who take
     the time to do so. As a writer, it’s always encouraging and uplifting
     to read how engaged people are, especially since this is just fanfic.
     And to all who are patient in waiting for updates, even after an
     extended period of time, I thank you all as well. Hope this chapter
     was worth the long as hell wait.
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