Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/552493.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Dubious_Consent, Possession, Violence, Explicit_Sexual_Content,
      Explicit_Language, Slow_Build, Spirits
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-02 Updated: 2013-01-05 Chapters: 5/? Words: 8314
****** Inside Me ******
by moodwriter
Summary
     All Hallow's Eve. Derek is negotiating with a tree spirit who wants
     to keep Stiles.
     "I've been bodyless for a long time," the spirit says slowly, like
     he's talking to a person who can't understand simple words. "What
     could I possibly want?"
Notes
     [http://i1253.photobucket.com/albums/hh584/moodwriter/Banners/
     Banner_InsideMe_zps3fa76886.jpg]
     Banner by me
Betaed by my dear friend @aislinntlc.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stiles is hiding in Lydia’s basement.
He’s wearing a tux because he’s pretending to be James Bond, but he hasn’t lost
his mind - not quite anyway. It’s just Halloween, and he really doesn’t feel
like partying. He hardly feels like himself at the moment.
The only downside of his hiding place is Derek, who also looks like he doesn’t
want to watch the mindless underage-drinking his pack is doing upstairs. Stiles
is surprised Derek is even there, but they haven’t exchanged any words so he
has no idea what the logic is behind that decision.
This is not a place for either of them. Stiles still remembers all too clearly
what happened the last time Lydia had a party. The acid trip isn’t his fondest
memory.
He’s trying to keep his memories to himself anyway.
“You’ve been quiet for twenty minutes,” Derek finally says. “It’s not like
you.”
Stiles looks at Derek, but says nothing.
He hates you.
Yeah, Stiles knows how insignificant he is in all this.
“This is unnerving.” Derek is sitting at the far end of the room on a barstool
that looks older than the Wild West.
Stiles leans against the wall, crossing his arms.
“There’s something wrong with you. You smell wrong.”
Oh goodie, he has a smell.
You stink.
He wants to scream, but still, he says nothing.
Derek stands up, watching Stiles carefully. “Should I let Scott know?”
Stiles bites his teeth together, then shakes his head.
Good choice, slave.
“What’s going on, Stiles?” Derek sounds alarmed all of a sudden, and Stiles
tilts his head to the side, thinking how absurd it is that Derek cares. He
regrets the thought immediately.
Oh, does he now?
Stiles winces, and Derek sees it, his eyes intense. “Talk! You know how to do
that.”
He tries to pull away, get out, but Derek is faster, stronger, grabbing him and
pushing him against the wall. “Talk, damn it!”
Stiles just stares. He bites his lip, holds his breath. It’s not working. He
can’t hold back the thoughts, and when he can’t the voice inside him smirks.
You want him to like you.
Fuck you, he thinks frantically, trying to cover any further thoughts with
anger, but it’s too late. His mouth opens, and he feels the words before he
says them, knows how terribly wrong they’ll be. “I’ve been thinking...” He
pauses for effect. “I can’t do the things you do. I’m always in the way.
Helpless. What if I asked, would you turn me?”
Stiles holds his breath, every cell in his body trying to tell Derek he’s not
in charge here.
Derek is awfully quiet, then leans closer, sniffing him. “If you want me to,”
Derek says slowly, quiet like he doesn’t want anyone to hear them. “I can do
it.”
Stiles bites his lips together, tilting his head back. Derek is too close,
still breathing in his scent, his nose close to Stiles’ neck now.
You don’t just want him to like you.
He hits his head against the wall, and that surprises him, makes him aware of
the control he still has. He grabs Derek’s shirt, twists hard and pulls him
closer. “Help me,” he whispers, the words the hardest thing he’s ever done in
his life.
Derek pulls back, his eyes searching, and Stiles knows he can see it.
“You’re possessed.”
He nods, just before he punches Derek in the face.
That felt good.
Stiles wants to scream again, but all he can do is stalk closer to Derek and
hit him again. He feels the strength flowing in his veins and he knows he’s
doing damage. He can actually hurt Derek, and Derek tries not to hurt him. He
wants to be knocked out. He wants Derek to hurt him, make it stop.
Derek throws Stiles against the wall, snarling, the wolf on the surface now,
but he’s clearly trying to hold back. “Who are you?” It’s a command, not a
question, and Stiles grins.
“I’m older than your kind.” He even sounds wrong. He can’t believe his throat
can make a noise like that, a low guttural growl. It’s a wolf sound, and Stiles
realizes the - What is it even? A demon? - creature is taunting Derek.
“Let him go,” Derek says, his claws in, his teeth still normal.
Stiles can hear the low thump of the bass, and it feels so surreal that there’s
a party going on upstairs.
“I have plans for him, big plans. I’m keeping this boy.”
That’s just not acceptable. The only problem is he has no idea how to get rid
of the spirit. He can barely remember how he ended up with an extra passenger.
You’re mine.
He shakes his head, and that gives him a little more hope. He doesn’t
understand why he can still move, even talk if he tries hard enough. “Derek,”
he says, his voice too soft, sounding like he’s losing his voice. “It’s a tree
spirit.” He hopes it gives Derek enough to work on.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! The screams inside his mind are so loud his head
hurts, and he doubles over, his mouth open, no sound coming out. It hurts.
Derek runs to him, taking his head between his hands, pulling him up. “Stiles,
how did this happen?”
The cruel laugh startles him, makes him shiver because it comes out of his own
mouth, and he can feel the malice behind it. “I ate my way in. The boy is full
of holes. Too much grief.”
It’s not possible. Stiles pulls out of Derek’s hold, his whole body shaking,
his breaths violent sharp inhales and nothing more. He’s having a panic attack.
“Hey.” He hears Derek’s voice through a fog, his mind reducing to a small black
hole inside him. “Listen to me.” Derek’s face is pressed against his, so close
he can feel Derek’s hot breath against his cheek. “Stop.” Then there’s a slap
against his face, and he distantly thinks that of course Derek has no idea how
to deal with a possessed person who gets a panic attack. Stupid jerk. Then he
passes out.
When he comes around Derek is talking to someone, and after a short confused
moment, he realizes it’s the spirit he’s having the conversation with.
They are sitting on the floor, their backs against the wall, and Stiles thinks
it’s utterly ridiculous. You can’t reason with demons. Everyone knows it.
I’m not a demon.
I don’t really care, he thinks. lashing out with all the anger he feels.
“I’m full of holes, too,” Derek says then, watching the floor. “You could
possess me instead of him.”
The sheer amount of someone else’s hatred that goes through Stiles in that
moment scares him more than anything else. He doesn’t understand it at all.
“You don’t get to choose. I’m keeping him. He’s delicious.”
“What do you want?” Derek asks next, and there’s resignation in his voice.
The spirit is quiet, then leans closer to Derek, whispering in his ear, “A
host.”
“You can’t possibly think we’ll let you have him.”
“There’s no letting. I already own him.”
Stiles listens to his own heartbeats, thinking about his dad, trying not to
miss him, trying to push the thoughts away.
They are all mine now. He’s mine too.
He tries to hold back the wave of sadness, but he can’t. If it’s the holes that
brought this evil thing to him let him have them all. Stiles lets go of the
wall that keeps all his thoughts of his mom outside of his everyday realm. He
lets the grief go, embracing it, and it washes over him, over them, and there’s
nothing after that, just quiet space.
“It’s not gone,” Stiles says after a while, exhausted. “I’m here now, but I
don’t know for how long. Talk to me, tell me what it is.”
“How’d you do that?” Derek asks, turning to face him. “You smell like you.”
Derek smells him, and Stiles should probably be annoyed by it, but he’s too
tired to care. He just pokes at Derek’s arm to make him concentrate.
“Doesn’t matter. How do I get rid of it?”
Derek looks at him for a moment, his eyes expressionless. “You don’t - if it’s
a tree spirit. It either leaves or it stays. That’s why I was trying to offer
it a different home. It might leave if it felt there was someone better for
him, someone more suitable with more power.”
Stiles turns towards Derek, sitting cross-legged, and then he does something
extremely stupid: he slaps the Alpha.
It’s a comical moment when Derek just stares at him, rubbing his cheek. Stiles
would laugh if it wasn’t his life. Right now, he has to make two things very
clear. “You have other people to take care of. Don’t go sacrificing yourself
that easily, idiot.” That isn’t very smart either, but he has too little time
to fear anything. “Also, I’m not going home with this... thing inside me. It
has wicked ideas, and if it hurts my dad... If it... So find a way to keep me
away from home. You can hurt me if you need to, just try not to make it
permanent. And it’s stronger than what it’s shown so far. Don’t let it use that
against you.”
Derek nods.
“Try to keep me away from others. It seems to find it amusing to figure things
out about people I care about. And I think it’s going to try to hurt you too.
Don’t listen to it.”
How did you do that?
“It’s back,” Stiles whispers before he feels the control slipping away.
Who are you, little boy?
Stiles tries to ignore the creature, but it turns out to be impossible because
it repeats the question until he snaps and thinks, I don’t know!
Oh...
The stunned silence feels eerie.
Derek takes hold of his arm, and the focus of the spirit turns to him. “Let’s
get you somewhere safe.”
“Why should I come anywhere with you?”
“Think of all the ways you can torment me,” Derek says, his voice soft.
Stiles can feel the strange emotions that don’t belong to him, how the spirit
shifts from dismissive anger to curious indifference. How is that even
possible?
“How may I torment you?” it asks. The crazy part is that it almost sounds like
a female now even though Stiles has identified it as a male so far.
“Any way you want.”
And that there is pure stupidity. Stiles wants to slap Derek again, but it’s
those words that get the spirit to follow Derek out of the house where all
their friends and pack members are. They take the Camaro and leave Stiles’ Jeep
on the driveway.
Derek takes them to his lair: the abandoned train station. Stiles briefly
wonders if Derek has an actual apartment somewhere, or if he’s punishing
himself by living in places that are unsuitable for living.
It’s hard not to think even though he knows there is someone there who hears
everything that goes through his mind, even the things he’s trying to hide from
himself.
Why is he helping you? He doesn’t even like you.
Stiles has no idea so he thinks that as loud as he can.
You know very little about the people around you.
Yeah, even Scott is a stranger to him nowadays.
The spirit is quiet after that, and Stiles feels its focus turning into the
outside world, their surroundings: the trees, the road, the moon, how the
leather feels under them, and Stiles realizes the creature hasn’t had a body
for a long while.
Stop doing that.
What?
You’re trying to understand me. Stop it.
Stiles huffs, then thinks that he can out-talk anyone - even an ancient spirit.
You really don’t want to try.
Maybe not, but he feels better about the fact that there is something to
understand, that the spirit isn’t just some no-face monster that’s trying to
eat him alive.
You wish.
Stiles isn’t listening.
When they get to the lair Derek steps out first, then walks around the car to
the passenger side. He opens the door, grabs Stiles’ arm, and hauls him out of
the car.
“I like it rough,” the spirit says with Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles groans inside
his head.
He likes it too.
Stiles hears the evil grin, and he hopes this is not leading to where he thinks
it’s leading. Then he tries not to think about all the disastrous ways this
could end.
“Shut up,” Derek growls, and Stiles wonders if he’s going to get an aneurysm
some day.
Derek pulls him inside the station, not at all gentle, and Stiles can’t help
thinking that the spirit is getting to him.
He doesn’t like the idea of losing you.
Stiles tries to look inside the spirit, but it’s holding back. Can you read
minds? he asks instead.
I feel feelings.
That surprises him. He wasn’t expecting an honest answer.
Derek manhandles Stiles inside, then pushes him on a ratty old couch. “Sit,” he
says, walking a bit further away, pulling at his hair, looking every bit as
lost as Stiles is feeling.
Stiles can’t stand seeing him like this. Please, stop this. You’re hurting us.
I can make it better.
They get off the couch, and Stiles knows what the spirit is going to do before
it happens. He screams inside himself, but the spirit only laughs, soft and
tender and almost sweet.
Derek doesn’t see it coming at all. The spirit taps his shoulder, and when
Derek turns around he’s expecting violence, and the lips touching his make him
rigid, surprised, hurt. Derek throws him away, his hands burning Stiles’ skin,
and he lands on his ass, hurting his tailbone. It’s so fucked up Derek can’t
control the wolf for a second, his eyes red and his claws out. He looks so
angry it’s beyond anything Stiles has ever seen before.
There’s genuine fear in him for Derek for the first time in a long while when
Derek comes charging forward, snarling, livid, his anger and frustration more
animal-like than anything else. Stiles tries to get away, but his body doesn’t
obey and it’s futile anyway. Derek is faster.
Stiles closes his eyes - he can at least do that - but he doesn’t feel pain, no
claws slashing through him, no teeth tearing him open. Derek just lifts him up
and carries him somewhere. Then Stiles gets dropped on a soft seat, his wrist
cuffed to a metal bar. He opens his eyes slowly, taking in his surroundings,
and realizing that he’s in the train car. Thank god, he’s chained.
He can apparently still think. I like him.
“Don’t do anything like that ever again,” Derek snarls, his face close to
Stiles’.
“You want him,” Stiles hears himself say, and that shocks him.
“Shut up.” Derek is barely containing his anger, and it’s surprising Stiles for
some reason. Maybe because Derek is the Alpha. It means something to Stiles too
now.
Derek sits opposite him, the back of the seat between them, Derek's arms folded
over it. "What do you want? Tell me, please?"
"Are you trying to bargain with me?" the spirit asks. "What would you offer?"
"What would you take? And how can I trust you to release him?"
The spirit laughs. "You can't. I own him, and the longer I’m inside the less
there is space for him. Think fast, big bad wolf. What could you offer?"
"I don't know what you want." Derek sounds desperate, and Stiles wants to reach
out and touch him. He pushes that thought far, far away.
"I've been bodyless for a long time," the spirit says slowly, like he's talking
to a person who can't understand simple words. "What could I possibly want?"
Stiles feels cold, his heart sinking. It's a clear feeling even if he's not in
control of his own body.
Derek glares at him, then reaches out, touching Stiles' cheek. The spirit hums,
content, and Stiles screams inside, stopping this madness. The spirit lashes
out, trying to hurt him with something that feels solid inside his mind. It
tears at him, makes him bleed, and he loses it for a second, his focus, his
sense of self.
"Don't," he croaks with his own mouth, and Derek pulls his hand back like
Stiles' skin is burning him.
You ruin everything. the spirit screams, its anger a red flash of pain in
Stiles' mind. He can't believe this is happening to him.
"What can I do?" Derek says. "Tell me, is there anything?"
And it's the one time Stiles feels connected with the spirit because they turn
to look at Derek to silence him with their stare.
It's surreal.
"Sorry," Derek mutters, and Stiles realizes the spirit is reaching out with his
free hand, touching Derek's cheek in return. It's his hand, but he has no
control over it. It's his freaking life, and the spirit is stealing it from
him.
Give it back to me, he thinks as loud as he can. You have no right to do this.
The spirit ignores him, his fingers exploring the planes of Derek's face, and
Derek lets it do that.
"Years of yearning..." the spirit says softly. "Memories die, too, you know."
Derek bites his cheek, his hands clenched to fists, and Stiles wonders how long
he can take this.
"I'll give the boy back to you if you spend this night with me."
Stiles blinks (inside his head but still). Of all the supernatural mishaps this
one is the worst.
"Spend it with you how?" Derek asks, his voice tense.
The wolf is not very smart.
Stiles is too shocked to think properly so he blurts out shadow-thoughts: You
broke him.
The spirit laughs, but it's not nasty, just genuine pleasure. If he does this
for me I'll let you go.
And what about me? I'll be here too.
But the spirit doesn't answer. He's concentrating on Derek's face again. "I
want you to touch me, make me feel."
Chapter End Notes
     I did not intend to write a chaptered story in this fandom. I really
     did not. Especially when it's NaNo month. It happened. And I always
     finish my stories. I hope you like this one. <3
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
This is the worst day of his life. Stiles groans, trying to ignore the
paralyzing fear of being raped by one of his friends. In reality, he’s not even
sure what it would be. Derek would be saving his life and probably get scarred
for life while doing it.
A freaking disaster!
“No,” he hears Derek say, and the storm of anger that rises within him kicks
all the air out of Stiles’ lungs. His free hand is around Derek’s throat in a
heartbeat, and he’s squeezing so hard Derek can’t pull himself free
immediately. He’s struggling, prying the fingers off his skin, and finally he’s
free.
Derek stands, takes a step back, coughing. “I’m not going to do that to my
friend. Think of something else. Anything else.”
Stiles sighs in relief, and then gets pissed off. Derek could’ve saved him. Now
they are back to square one. He knows it’s a right decision, but he can’t help
the frustrated anger.
He does care. He cares. He fucking cares about you.
There’s still a storm inside him, a red alert everywhere. He tries to ignore
it, pulling back as far as he can go.
Derek is not a bad person, he thinks, softness in those words.
He’s not helping you, though.
He’d do anything to help me. He’s crazy that way. He has a hero-complex.
Anything? And then he won’t do this.
You’re asking him to hurt me.
What if you agreed to it? You don’t find him unappealing.
No, no, no, Stiles thinks as fast as he can. I’m not having sex with two...
creatures.
You can feel I’m not lying. I’d let you go. I’d leave you.
Why him? We could find someone less strange, someone soft.
Because he makes me feel. He affects me. He infuriates me. And he’s here. How
many people are lining up to have sex with you?
That makes Stiles huff. Hey! I’m a catch.
The spirit snorts. You’re a lanky boy. A virgin. You’d have to pay someone, and
I don’t want those unreal feelings.
And these would be real? I’d be totally stiff and annoyed and afraid. You
wouldn’t be having fun with those feelings... Or would you?
Suddenly Stiles is really afraid. The world is full of twisted beings, some of
them are human, others are something more, but they all get off on one thing:
the suffering of others. Do you want me to suffer? Does it get you off?
There’s silence, then: Your suffering means nothing to me.
You said you have big plans for me. What are those if you’re willing to let me
go so easily? Or were you just bluffing?
Silence.
What do you really want? Can I give it to you? Maybe you could just ask?
More silence, and he soon realizes that he’s in control of his body again.
“Derek?”
Derek turns to look at him, his eyes flashing red, then turning to normal. “You
smell like yourself again. How do you do that?”
“I don’t know.” He brushes his free hand against his head a few times, feeling
anxious. “What if I agreed to it?”
“What?”
“What if I let it happen? What if I’d say yes? Could you do it? Do you even
like guys? At all?”
Derek shakes his head. “We’re not having this conversation.”
Stiles imagines Derek sticking fingers in his ears, making la-la-la noises, and
he can’t help the grin. “What do you want to do? I don’t have much room inside
me anymore. And the angrier the spirit gets the less room I have. If we play
along it will leave. I can feel it’s not lying.”
“I won’t have sex with you,” Derek says, adamant.
“Why not? I’m healthy, not that awful-looking, pretty nice, we have
interlocking parts.” He knows how terrible he sounds, and he’s lying his ass
off when he says it would be okay. It wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be him. But he
wants his body back.
“Stiles, I’m not going to... fuck you, no matter how... interlocking we are.
God, you’re insane.” Derek sits down again, staring at him, his face odd
because it’s so full of emotions.
“I’m losing myself. And I can’t hate the spirit. I’ve stopped hating it
already. I’m becoming a part of it.” He sighs, hurting, so freaking afraid he
can’t breathe.
“Hey,” Derek touches the side of his head, and it feels so weird now that he’s
completely in control of his body. It’s too intimate. “I won’t let that
happen.”
“Then figure out something else it wants. But I’m on board with the plan. You
can have the night with him.” He waves his hand haphazardly. “Just... don’t let
me disappear, please.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because it won’t be you.”
He closes his eyes, gathering courage. Then he turns his head and kisses
Derek’s palm. “You said no. I get to say yes. That’s enough.”
Stiles wants to cry because there’s too much pressure, because he’s getting the
biggest revelations of his short life right now when he’s not in charge of
himself. He wants to be that bumbling teenager discovering things for the first
time. He wants to realize all these things about Derek at a much slower pace.
He feels like his life is being fast-forwarded. “I like you,” he whispers, then
bites his lip. “Sorry, but I do.”
“You’re so frustrating,” Derek says quietly. “But your scent... is familiar.”
This is stupid. “You’re so taking me out for dinner after this.”
Derek lets out a strangled laugh. “I’m so going to kiss you after this.”
“Promise?” He knows he looks hopeful. Everything he’s ever felt is in that
word. He’s too young to die.
“Yeah... Promise.”
He takes hold of Derek’s hand, and they lace their fingers. “I can’t believe
this is happening. You like me?”
“A lot.”
“Why?”
Derek smiles, but he looks sad. “You’re so freaking smart.”
“I don’t feel like it now.”
“I’m not going to let you die.” Derek pulls Stiles’ hand close, takes one of
his knuckles between his teeth, then says, “I want you back.”
He’s smitten. Totally and completely. He hopes he can hide that from the
spirit. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter End Notes
     I won't be writing long chapters because of NaNo, I apologize for
     that, but I'll try to post in between as much as I can. I wrote this
     yesterday instead of NaNo. :P I hope you like it. This story is
     really weird to write because I thought it would be something else
     and then it turned into this. These boys have minds of their own, and
     I wasn't expecting any confessions. <3 Thank you for reading.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The spirit raises its head inside Stiles, filling his mind with thoughts again.
They are not particularly nasty, though, and that’s an improvement.
You agreed?
I did, he thinks, soft in return because he doesn’t want to upset the spirit.
Can I touch him?
It brings out jealousy, but he pushes it down. Yeah... We’ll make a deal with
you. If you promise to let me go and never bother any of us again we’ll... let
you have this.
The spirit turns its attention to Derek who’s sitting opposite them, his eyes
following every shift of Stiles’ body. “I promise to let him go and not bother
your pack ever again if you let me fuck you.”
Derek jerks back. “What?”
Stiles just stares ahead, shocked.
“I want the Alpha on his hands and knees. Please.” The words are mocking and
sweet at the same time, and Stiles doesn’t understand the spirit at all.
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, then wipes his face with his hand. “I...”
He pauses, looking at the spirit. “You won’t settle for anything else?” Derek
sounds defeated. It makes Stiles want to crush things.
“Nothing else will satisfy me enough. Nothing else will quiet down my mind for
the eternity I have to wait for another opportunity.”
“How do you want to do this? Where?” Stiles sees the shudder that goes through
Derek’s body, and this is not what they agreed to. Stiles didn’t say this would
be okay. He wants to tell that to Derek, but he knows they don’t have a lot of
options, not enough time for research or planning.
“Do you have... a home, a place that isn’t falling apart?” The spirit looks
around the train car and then out of the dirty windows. “This is not very...
romantic.” Again with the mocking. Stiles wants to strangle the spirit.
“I have an apartment,” Derek says slowly. “I could take you there.”
Stiles is surprised even though he kind of knew that nobody could live in
wrecks like this, but Derek is a wolf and wolves have their dens, their lairs,
and this is it for their pack. An apartment somewhere feels way too normal.
Do you even know these people? What’s his favorite food? What kind of music
does he like? How old is he?
Stiles flinches. He can’t help it. They don’t have normal conversations that
often because someone is always trying to kill them. They are at war. The party
tonight is one of the few times they’ve had the opportunity to spend any fun
time together. They know the important things, though. Stiles knows that Derek
would do anything to save him. He also knows that he wouldn’t let Derek do just
about anything.
I know we’re his family, Stiles thinks, directing most of his energy at the
spirit.
The spirit stays silent after that.
When they reach Derek’s apartment Stiles is surprised by everything about it
because it actually looks like someone is living there. And he wasn’t expecting
all that art: the statues and paintings, the little decorative items that are
made of glass and metal, the carpets with geometric shapes. He expected a
Spartan white home. This makes Derek a person he doesn’t know at all and it
scares him.
“You have a nice place,” the spirit says, taking off his shoes and the jacket
of the tux.
“It was my sister’s.” Derek goes to the liquor cabinet in the living room and
pours himself a drink - whiskey maybe. He holds out the bottle, silently asking
if the spirit wants one too.
Stiles wants a drink. He very badly wants to be drunk for this. He doesn’t want
to remember any of this.
“Why not,” the spirit says, stalking closer, more comfortable in Stiles’ body
already.
Derek hands him a drink, then asks, “What’s your name?”
“Are you fishing for information, or are you genuinely interested?”
Derek shrugs. “Both.”
“It’s Exeiq if you must know.”
Stiles honestly thought the spirit would have a mundane name like Leopold or
something, but that... that makes more sense. He hopes Derek is somehow
informing the pack that they are in danger and could need some help with
research if things go sour here.
Even though Stiles knows the spirit isn’t lying it can still change its mind.
“I’m Derek, and that’s Stiles you’ve possessed.”
Exeiq reaches out, touches Derek’s cheek with his knuckles. “I know, and
there’s a bond between you two.”
Derek nods against the touch, tilting his head to the side a little to show
that he’s letting this happen, that he’s willing to submit.
Stiles feels another panic attack somewhere in the back of his mind
approaching. He can’t do this. He can’t be a part of this.
Relax. I’m not going to hurt him.
This will hurt him. If you do this...
Don’t back out on a deal. He’s not backing out. You shouldn’t either.
I know, he’s all but screaming in his mind, feeling so anxious he hasn’t even
realized until now that he’s digging his nails into Derek’s neck. It’s his
hand, his doing. It’s not the spirit. He tries to let go, but he can’t, and
Derek isn’t even growling, just watching him carefully, his hands at his sides,
the whiskey glass still in his hand.
Oh my god... He snaps, his mind cracking, breaking under the pressure, fear
leaking in from everywhere.
Stop that. You’re the weakest link here. You’re making this impossible.
Stiles tries to calm down, but the way Derek isn’t reacting makes it hard,
impossible. It’s like Derek would let himself be hurt, and that’s not what they
agreed to.
Please... He takes calming breaths inside his mind, but he’s so close to
panicking it’s not helping at all. Please... Don’t.
You’re the one hurting him. The spirit sounds patient, careful, and Stiles
manages to ease the pressure he’s putting into Derek’s neck. Good. I’m not
going to hurt him. You can let go now.
Stiles takes a step back inside his mind, letting the spirit take control
again, and his nails pull back, his fingers soothing the skin now, very very
gentle.
“Sorry about that,” the spirit says to Derek. “We’re having a little internal
crisis, but I think we’re over it. For now at least.”
Derek just nods, then lifts the glass on his lips and drinks. “Where do you
want me?”
Stiles wants him out of here.
“The bed is fine. I’m old fashioned.”
They go to the bedroom, the spirit following Derek, and when they get there
it’s warm and cosy in a way that makes Stiles cry out. He wants Derek to touch
him, not some mythical creature that can’t decide if it hates them or wants to
belong in their lives.
He feels violated.
I can blind you for this, the spirit says to him softly. I can make it so that
you don’t feel or see anything. Do you want that?
Stiles shakes his head because he doesn’t want to lose any more of himself than
he already has. If he isn’t here for this he doesn’t know if he’ll ever return.
Then be quiet.
Derek takes off his suit jacket, folds it on a chair, then unbuttons his shirt.
The spirit opens Stiles’ pants with shaky hands, and Stiles realizes it’s
nervous or excited or maybe even both.
How long has it been since you last touched someone? he asks the spirit even
though he was told to be quiet.
I wasn’t always a spirit. is all he gets, and it’s not a satisfying answer at
all.
When they are down to their boxers Derek steps closer to the spirit, leaving
himself wide open. It’s disturbing on so many levels that Stiles can only stare
at him. It must be hard to convince the wolf that this is the right thing to
do.
Exeiq lets his hands slide over Derek’s chest and stomach, then whispers,
“Please participate a little.”
Derek grunts, staring at them with burning eyes, but he says nothing.
It’s suffocatingly slow. The spirit wants to touch Derek everywhere, his hands
lingering and gentle and his words soothing, like he’s dealing with a wild
beast.
Stiles doesn’t know how to handle this because he can smell, feel, taste
everything, and the spirit is using all his senses to get to know Derek’s body
better.
It’s quiet and careful, and not in any way something that they can call violent
or abusive. It’s everything but, and the way the spirit acts makes Stiles
realize that there’s very little choice for it too here. It’s like the spirit
is dying without this connection, and that makes Stiles even more agitated.
Who did this to the spirit?
And he also understands that the anger was keeping the spirit from getting
connected to Stiles. It was trying to hold back, trying to control its natural
need to string itself around everything and everyone. Now it’s feeling a
connection, and that is making Stiles more accepting towards it even though the
situation is the worst he’s ever been in.
Do you have two sides? Stiles asks when the spirit pushes Derek on the bed,
spreads him there, and then follows right after.
Get out of my head.
Impossible to do that, he thinks, satisfied that he’s getting a reaction out of
the spirit. Stiles is trying to distract himself from what’s happening, but he
knows it’s also distracting the spirit.
Be quiet.
He can’t be quiet when he’s figuring something out. What if we help you? What
if we find a way to make everything right?
There is no right. Nobody can help me.
Has anyone tried?
You don’t want to try. You want to get rid of me. The spirit kisses Derek,
trying to shut Stiles out, but Stiles is obnoxious when he gets something on
his mind.
I care about you, he thinks very clearly, showing that he means it. You don’t
want to harm me.
The spirit growls, pulling away from Derek, sitting on the edge of the bed,
hiding his face in his hands. Shut up.
How many people have you possessed? Have any of them tried to help you? Because
we’re good at this stuff. We’re constantly under attack, and we’ve survived
crazy shit, and seriously, that Alpha there is maybe emotionally stunted but
very, very capable when needed. We’ll help you.
“What is it?” Derek asks all of a sudden, and it startles Stiles and the
spirit.
“Nothing.”
“Is he talking?”
The spirit turns to look at Derek. “Constantly.”
“You can’t concentrate?”
That there is a blatant claim of impotence. He wants to poke Derek’s eye out
because they were getting somewhere here and if the spirit gets angry now
there’s no guarantee Stiles can get it to listen to him again.
“He wants to help me. Who does that?” The spirit sounds completely
flabbergasted.
“Oh...” Derek sits up. “That’s Stiles.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If he feels that way there’s a reason.” Derek pulls his legs closer, sitting
cross-legged, staring at the spirit, more Alpha-like than the whole time
they’ve been dealing with this creature. “Do you want our help?”
There’s a long silence. Stiles breathes through it, a tiny thread of hope being
born inside him.
“Yes.”
Chapter End Notes
     Sooooo, it decided to take a turn like this. I was prepared for
     dubcon and then Stiles happened. And sorry about the long wait. I
     hope you liked this one.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Derek touches Stiles’ hand, tentative and careful like he’s afraid the spirit
will do something nasty. Stiles wants to think they are past that now. “Can I
talk to Stiles?” Derek asks. “I need his opinion to know why he thinks we can
help you.”
The spirit is quiet for a while, then nods.
Stiles feels it pulling back, making space, giving Stiles the reins.
“You’re incredible,” Derek says, his hand on Stiles’ neck, pulling him closer,
their foreheads touching. “Incredible.”
Stiles tries to take the compliment, but he doesn’t understand what’s so
special about him. “The spirit is beyond sad,” he says softly. “And I think it
needs the touch to connect to something or someone else. It’s hurt, and it’s
trying to keep itself separate from me, but its natural instinct is to
assimilate life.”
“We could go through what it wants. You would get rid of it. I don’t mind.”
Derek sounds almost drunk, disoriented, and Stiles wonders how it feels to a
werewolf to have someone who likes them back, who smells like theirs.
“Hey.” Stiles pushes Derek back, holding his head between his hands. “It’s not
that I don’t find you attractive--” That makes Derek snort, and Stiles leans
closer, smiling a little. “But I think it’s not evil, or it’s trying very hard
not to be. It might have two sides, and... Please? I want to help.”
Derek stares at him for a second, then says, “We’ll help, but on one condition,
it lets you stay in charge for now.”
Stiles feels around his mind for the spirit, but it’s quiet, and not making any
demands so he says, “I think it’s fine. If we’re honest, if we do our best,
it’ll let me stay in control.”
Derek lets out a long breath. “Okay... Okay... We need the pack here.”
Stiles nods.
Derek calls everyone in, interrupting Lydia’s party. She’s not happy when they
arrive, all of them pushing through the door at once. They are concerned, but
Derek didn’t tell them much so they don’t know what’s the supernatural threat
that wants to kill-maim-destroy them this time.
It’s surprising how easily everyone settles in even though they haven’t been at
Derek’s place before. It must be the way it smells like their Alpha, like home,
like safe. It’s one of those times when Stiles’ wishes he could feel what the
pack feels, what the wolves feel.
Derek stands beside Stiles, and it takes Scott’s saucer eyes to make Stiles
realize what’s different. Derek is touching him constantly, and even though he
sometimes touches all of them this is different. This is Stiles being lifted up
in the pack’s hierarchy, high enough that he’s probably ranking second now.
That makes his head spin.
“Stiles has been possessed,” Derek says in his usual manner, lacking all
finesse.
The pack goes crazy, yelling over each other, trying to get Derek to tell them
what’s going on. Derek lets it go on for a moment, then says, “We’re going to
help the spirit who possessed him.”
And that makes everything blow up again.
Stiles pokes at Derek’s arm and when he gets Derek’s attention Stiles tilts his
head and Derek nods. Stiles turns to look at everyone. “The spirit has lost
someone, and it tries to reach that someone through other people. Hence the
possessing. It’s not... It’s old and lonely and a massive dickhead sometimes,
but it’s not evil. I want to help. I want to find a way to give it back what it
lost. Please?”
Scott stares at him for a moment, then says, “Has it hurt you?”
It’s hard to answer that. “It’s trying not to, especially now, but a human body
is not meant for two people. It’s sucking me in, making me a part of it, and it
can’t help it.”
He feels Derek's fingers at the nape of his neck, and all thoughts escape him.
It doesn't make any sense, how Derek affects him, how what they're becoming
affects him, and they are right in front of their pack.
"Do you need to be alone?" Jackson asks, and there's not even a hint of sarcasm
in his voice, just genuine curiosity and the need to be somewhere else where
his Alpha isn't pawing at one of their humans.
"No," Stiles says, barely able to speak because Derek sniffs the back of his
ear, and it's so freaking distracting. "We need to figure this out," he
continues, squirming, pushing Derek away, or trying to, but his fingers curl
around Derek's T-shirt, the traitors.
"We should..." Derek clears his throat. "We should sit around the table and...
research."
They carry Derek's kitchen table to the middle of the living room floor and
find enough chairs for everyone. Derek sits at the head of the table, holding
Stiles' wrist, their hands resting on the table.
Stiles would complain about the hand-stealing and the need to use that hand,
but the connection feels too good, and he just can't deny Derek anything. Not
now, not when they need to be alone for this to go anywhere. He wants Derek all
to himself.
Lydia pulls a notebook out of her handbag. "We need when-where-who-how-what-why
from the spirit to be able to help it. Please provide, Stiles."
He grins. She's just way too awesome. He looks inside himself, looks for the
answers, asking 'when?' first. "It... Hmmm... He can't remember everything
anymore, but--" Derek's thumb strokes his skin, and Stiles can't continue right
away. He has to close his eyes.
Scott whimpers, sounding mortified. "Werewolf senses... Please stop."
Boyd just laughs, and Erica hides her smile behind her hand.
“It happened in Venice during the sixteenth century,” Stiles finally manages to
say. “There was a warlock or a shaman who was... jealous I think... Oh my god,
it was a love triangle.”
“Seriously?” Allison asks, leaning closer to Lydia to see what she’s writing.
“So it was magic,” Derek says, staring at Stiles.
“Yeah, magic and lots of anger. The warlock destroyed himself while destroying
Exeiq and his love. He used his own life energy to break them apart.”
Derek sits back. “That’s bad. It’s nearly impossible to reverse magic like
that. The amount of power we’d need to conjure is otherworldly.”
Yeah, he thought so.
I told you. No one can help me.
I’ll try, Stiles thinks, stubborn as hell.
Why?
Because you understand loss.
The spirit stays quiet, then whispers, He was my best friend.
Stiles bites his teeth together, trying to hold back the emotions that are
pouring out of the spirit. He feels tears in his eyes, and Derek squeezes his
hand.
How is he supposed to do this? He’s always trying to put on shoes two sizes too
big.
“Hey, we’ll think of something,” Derek says, brushing his hand through Stiles’
hair.
Stiles swallows hard. It sounds so easy. “Maybe.”
Chapter End Notes
     Thank you for following this story and for leaving kudos and
     comments. :) It's much loved and appreciated. And sorry about the
     long wait. This is one of the hardest stories I've ever written. I
     don't even know why. I keep getting glimpses of the spirit's past,
     and those are the saddest of the sad. That part isn't hard, though.
     It's just the writing it down part that is a bit challenging.
     Hopefully you like this. <3
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     [http://i1253.photobucket.com/albums/hh584/moodwriter/Banners/
     Banner_InsideMe2_zps1bb61d4f.jpg]
     New banner I made. :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The endless hours of researching drive Stiles slowly crazy because they offer
no solutions. They’ve found lots of useful information about magic from the
files Peter managed to salvage, but none of it is helpful right now. Nobody
seems to know how to reverse death magic.
Stiles leaves the group at some point during the early morning and goes to
Derek’s balcony for some fresh air. He can’t believe there’s nothing they can
do.
I just want to see her again, the spirit says quietly. I can get to her when
two bodies connect; I haven’t figured out any other way. I ate her. He made
sure I’d devour her spirit. That’s why I can’t stay inside anyone for long.
I’ll take you over too. I can slow it down, but I can’t stop it. You’ll become
a part of me, too.
Stiles bites his lip, thinking hard. He wants to ask questions, but he doesn’t
even know where to begin. He starts from the easiest one: Have you ever had
anyone accepting you while you’ve possessed them?
This is the first time.
Is it changing anything? Is it easier for you to keep yourself separate from
me?
The spirit is quiet for a while, then says, It’s not easier, but I care about
you more. I don’t want to hurt you.
Stiles smiles. Good, I don’t want to hurt you either.
There’s an easy solution for us.
That doesn’t sound good, and Stiles makes that clear with his panicky thoughts.
I could just leave your body while I still can.
And what would happen to you then?
There’s a long pause, then: I don’t know. I’ve never left anyone’s body without
getting the connection I need... or without devouring them.
How many souls have you eaten? Stiles doesn’t want to know this, but he wants
to make his decisions based on everything there is to know. Jackson is still
with them even though he killed too many people. It’s never black and white
with them. Even Peter still lurks around.
Three out of six. I can leave the tree every one hundred years.
Derek walks into the balcony, startling Stiles. “How are you?”
“Surviving,” Stiles says, leaning against the railing, staring at Derek.
“We’ve read through everything, and there’s nothing. Deaton is going through
his files, but I’m not hopeful. It’s dark magic, Stiles. Too dark.”
Stiles knows that, but he still wants to think that they can do something.
“Exeiq said that he’d be willing to leave me, but he doesn’t know what will
happen to him if he does.”
Derek puts his hand on Stiles neck, holds it there, firm. “Maybe we could help
him that way too.”
“No! I wouldn’t have any connection to him. We would know nothing more than we
already do.”
How can you argue about this?
Stiles flails, feeling so intense he doesn’t know how to express himself. “I
can feel his sadness. I can feel the holes inside him. Please find a way.”
Derek leans close, his nose touching Stiles’ cheek. “I can’t believe I didn’t
realize this sooner.” Derek breathes in, his lips pressing against Stiles’
skin. “I should’ve noticed you. I should’ve known. You are... I don’t even
know. There’s no one like you. No one.”
Those words make Stiles’ heart flutter.
The moment is interrupted by Scott who clears his throat, standing by the door.
“We found something.”
Derek and Stiles look at him, and then silently, they go back to the living
room.
There’s a solemn look on Lydia’s face when she says, “Deaton called and said
that death magic can be reversed only by a sacrifice. We found a way to
sacrifice someone.”
Derek’s hold on Stiles’ arm tightens. “We’re not sacrificing anyone.”
“We may be able to resurrect... the sacrifice,” Lydia says. “It looks
possible.”
I don’t like the sound of this.
Stiles is shaken by the words because the longer the spirit is inside him the
more it feels like a part of him, someone important, someone who cares about
him.
Are you sure you’re not molding into me? Stiles asks, his thoughts tentative
and soft with a hint of teasing.
The spirit huffs.
He might be right. Maybe this is the first time the spirit is letting someone
else absorb him. Maybe Stiles is not the one in danger here, not anymore.
Derek pulls Stiles against his side, then says, “We’re not sacrificing anyone.”
He’s using the Alpha voice, and the wolves bow their heads, even Scott. The
humans mostly just stare at him.
“If we want to help...” Lydia pauses. “Do we still want to help? Because this
seems to be the way, and Jackson is already picking up stuff from Deaton.”
“We want to help,” Stiles says before Derek can protest.
You’re insane. Why would you do this? You don’t know me. You don’t know
anything.
I feel you.
Don’t.
Your existence is pure agony. You’re aware of yourself the whole time you’re
locked inside that tree, but you can’t do anything. You feel her inside you,
but you can’t reconnect with her. All you can do is think about why. Why did he
do this? Why didn’t you see it? Why can’t you stop the cycle? I know you. You
can’t hide from me.
Stiles is determined. “I want to do this.”
“No!” Derek pulls him out of the living room and into his bedroom without
saying a word to his pack. “I’m not losing you now,” Derek says to him the
moment he’s closed the door behind them. He’s still holding Stiles arm.
“You’re not going to lose me.” He tries to take a step back because Derek is
looming, taking too much space, but Derek doesn’t let go.
“You don’t know that. They don’t know that. And we don’t even know if it will
work. If you die for nothing...”
Stiles shakes his head. “I’m not going to die.”
“You can’t... God, you’re a stubborn ass.”
I won’t allow this. the spirit says slowly. I’m leaving now.
Stiles panics. He grabs Derek’s arm, closes his eyes, and says out loud, “No,
no, no, no...”
“What is it?” Derek asks, alarmed all of a sudden.
“He’s leaving.” Stiles holds his breath, trying to figure out if he feels any
different.
There’s a long silence, then the spirit says, I... can’t go.
That’s a little alarming but it’s also good. “He can’t leave anymore,” Stiles
says to Derek. “We have to figure out another way to separate us.”
Derek growls, anger and frustration pushing their way out of him, and he hits
the wall, making a fist-sized hole next to Stiles’ head.
It’s surprising to Stiles how it doesn’t even occur to him anymore that the
fist would be directed at him. He touches Derek’s neck, holds his hand there, a
solid weight that makes the Alpha breathe easier. Then he says, “You knew I’d
volunteer, but I think you also know I’m the only one who can.”
Derek hangs his head, brings it in contact with Stiles’ shoulder, then rests
all his weight against him. “You’re not going to die. Don’t die. Everyone
dies.”
Stiles grabs hold of Derek’s shirt with both hands, pulls him nearer, crashing
them against the wall with the force of that pull. He doesn’t say anything.
Chapter End Notes
     I apologize that it took me forever to get here. I know where this
     story is going. I know these characters. I feel this, but yeah, it's
     still the most difficult story I've ever written. It's probably going
     to take another two or three chapters to finish this and possibly an
     epilogue. We'll see. Thank you so much for following this story.
     Happy New Year everyone! <3
     This was betaed by @aislinntlc who constantly makes me feel good
     about my writing. :) A wonderful, wonderful beta. <3
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