Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3445766.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Other
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin/Jackson_Whittemore, Derek_Hale
      &_Stiles_Stilinski_&_Lydia_Martin_&_Jackson_Whittemore_Pack
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin, Jackson_Whittemore, Scott
      McCall, Allison_Argent, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Creeper_Derek, Emissary_Stiles_Stilinski, Magical_Stiles_Stilinski,
      Banshee_Lydia_Martin, BAMF_Stiles, BAMF_Derek, BAMF_Lydia, Possessive
      Behavior, Possessive_Sex, Pack_Dynamics, Magical_Tattoos, Voyeur_Lydia,
      consensual_voyeurism, Dark_Thoughts, Blood, Not_Season_3B_Complient,
      Violence, Derek_Hale_Can_Have_Nice_Things, Pack_Feels, Home_Building,
      Sickness, Consensual_Violence, AU, Sex, Sex_related_things, Off_screen
      cannon_character_deaths, Derek_likes_to_feed_his_Pack, Threats_of
      Violence, Discussions_of_Cannibalism, Mentions_of_Cross-dressing, Just
      generally_beware, Animal_Death, (a_deer_gets_killed)
  Series:
      Part 5 of Sing_Sweet_Sparks
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-02 Words: 11404
****** Like A Moth To The Flame (Baby Let Us Lure You In) ******
by RayShippouUchiha
Summary
     He has a Pack now, has Lydia and Stiles, and they are building a home
     for themselves in the heart of their territory. Beyond that though
     Derek knows that they have already built a home for themselves out of
     each other.
     All they truly need is one last piece, one last member to complete
     their circuit, and then they will truly be whole.
     Or
     Derek's Pack grows ever closer as the territory is blessed, Stiles
     has a small epiphany, and Lydia gets back the one thing missing from
     her life.
Notes
     You guys have all been fantastic and oh so patient with me! Here's
     the next installment of SSS and I hope you enjoy it.
     Shout out to the lovely ericasuniverse who has been the wind beneath
     my proverbial wings when it comes to this fic. Her ask prompts for
     SSS are what got me back into working on it.
     Series Fanmix: http://8tracks.com/authorrbrochu/sing-sweet-sparks
See the end of the work for more notes
Derek had cleared the remnants of the old Hale house away on his own.  He had
filled the trash skip up over and over again with fire scared and rain rotted
wood, with brick and plaster and the half burnt debris that had once been his
entire life.
He kept a few pieces of mostly intact wood at Stiles and Lydia’s requests, set
them carefully aside but didn’t take them back to the loft.  He can’t bear the
thought of that charred stench mingling with Stiles and Lydia’s soothing
scents.
It was hard work even with his strength but he had relished it, reveled in it. 
The last vestiges of his anger, of his rage, had melted away with the labor.
By the time he’d finished and had called in the builders to begin working on
their new home Derek was more at peace, more centered, than ever before.
Now he brings Stiles and Lydia to the construction site often.  He wants them
to see it, wants to show them the clean slate he’s created for them where a
half burned mausoleum had once stood.
They stand strong by Derek on each occasion, stay tucked close to his sides so
they can share their strength with him as they talk about the house that’s
slowly coming together in front of them, about the life they intend to have
together.
It’s a new beginning, a fresh start.  The cleansing rainfall after a forest
fire, the deluge after the drought.  Derek will shed blood and break bone, will
maim and kill any and everything that tries to take it from him.
From his Pack.
He’s not alone either in that fierce surge of protectiveness.  He can see it
mirrored in the bright glow of Stiles’ eyes, in the sharp, pleased curl of
Lydia’s mouth.  This is a fresh start for them as well and they will kill to
protect it too, will kill to protect each other and him.
Derek already has so much blood on his hands but he’d welcome more at this
point if it meant protecting them, protecting what they’re building together.
“It’s going to be done before too long.”  Lydia announces, expression bordering
on smug, as they stare at the half erected walls one afternoon long after
construction has stopped for the day and they’re the only ones there.  Derek
thinks it’s a good look on her, that vicious curl of satisfaction.  “Then the
real challenge begins.  Decorating.”
“There’s something we have to do first.  Something that needs to be done before
it’s finished.”  Stiles moves forward then, steps out from underneath Derek’s
arm and reaches down to tug his shirt off much to Derek’s surprise.  Bare
chested, marks on full display, Stiles turns to Derek with a devilish sort of
smile.
“What’re you doing?”  Derek asks the question even as he steps forward to close
the space between them, drawn as always to the sight of Stiles, to the mating
mark on his neck and the marks of power on his skin.
Stiles tips his head back, trusts Derek to support him with an arm around his
waist as he flings his arms out and leans back until he’s staring directly up
at the sky.
“We need to bless the land.”  Stiles grins with his eyes shut, face turned up
towards the sun.  He straightens up after a few seconds and wraps his arms
around Derek’s neck.  Stiles buries his fingers in the thick of Derek’s hair
and tugs at it sharply.  “So I want you to fuck me.  Right here, right now.  In
the grass and the dirt.  In the forest that’s going to be our home.”
Lust flares to life inside of Derek with the force of a blow, the subtle ember
that’s always alive in his blood roaring like a forest fire at the way Stiles
says our, at the breathy note in his voice when he says home.  Like so much
when it comes to his boy Derek doesn’t have to be told twice.
His mouth is on Stiles’ in the next second, tongue hot and insistent, teeth
sharp and vicious.  Their kisses are little more than bites soothed by rough
swipes of their tongues.  Derek tastes blood at one point after Stiles bites
down on his lip and it just pushes his desire higher, makes his cock pulse and
twitch in the confines of his jeans. 
He kicks Stiles’ legs out from under him roughly, takes his weight into his
arms again and bares him down to the dirt and grass beneath them.  Derek makes
quick work of his boy’s pants and shoes, rips seams and cuts through laces. 
There are extra in the car and besides he’ll buy him new ones, will buy him
anything and everything he wants or needs.  He flips Stiles over onto his
knees, leans down and bites roughly at the cheek of his ass just for the
pleasure of the way Stile’s back bows and he keens high and needy in the back
of his throat.
Derek licks him open, uses tongue and fingers to get him loose and wet and
sloppy as Stiles sinks his nails into the earth beneath them and moans.  Lydia
watches from where she’s leaned up against the car, thighs clamped together
tightly, face flushed and eyes riveted to their every move.  Like it’s been
from the beginning, like it should always be, will always be if Derek can help
it.
“Now Derek.”  Stiles groans as he looks back at Derek from over his shoulder. 
There’s a glow beneath Stiles’ skin, a silver shimmer like there was that night
in the woods.  His Spark sign and the lines of runes that run over his skin
have that red radiance again as well but this time Derek can see it clearly,
can see it openly.
Derek goes up onto his knees and rips the fly to his own jeans open.  He whines
sharply at the relief of having his cock free even as he grabs Stiles and turns
him again.  Derek pulls him until his ass is pressed flush against Derek’s lap
and his shoulders are resting on the ground.  Stiles tosses his head back and
groans when Derek presses his cock inside, the line of his throat vulnerable
and inviting.
Stiles looks more like a fae than ever before, like some wild woodland spirit,
like some changeling from legend.  A vicious, sharp toothed thing that stole
into some innocent child’s crib and took its place.  Derek is so thankful for
him.
Derek fucks him like that, takes him with deep, hard thrusts as Stiles moans
and writhes in his arms, as his boy glows brighter and brighter as their
pleasure builds.
Derek has never see anything as beautiful, as holy, as Stiles connected to the
earth in that moment, fingers buried in the soil and his back arched in a bow
as Derek fucks him.
“I love you.”  Stiles gasps the words out.  Derek has to choke back an
unexpected sob as he bends forward until he can rest his forehead against
Stiles’ sternum even as he keeps on fucking him.
Stiles loves him, says it so openly, freely.  Says it smiling and laughing,
says it in punched out little breathy stops and starts as Derek fucks him. 
Derek has never heard anything more beautiful, more glorious than Stiles
telling him he loves him and Derek will do anything to keep it, to keep him.
Derek sinks his claws into Stiles hips hard enough to draw blood but Stiles
only keens, arches his back again, clamps down around Derek’s cock and comes.
Derek’s own orgasm punches through him then out of nowhere.  It slams into him
so hard that his vision goes dark around the edges and his heart skips a beat
as he buries himself deeper inside of Stiles and shudders.
When he finally gathers the strength to lift his head the first thing that
Derek notices is the way that Stiles’ is still glowing.  The silver shimmer is
a pulse now, a low ebbing rhythm that’s brightest where it’s overlaid with the
red of his Spark sign.  It moves over his skin in waves and Derek traces its
path with his eyes, sees the way it’s running down Stiles’ arms and out into
the earth where his fingers are still buried in the dirt.
The sound of panting off to the side draws Derek’s attention and he looks
towards Lydia.  He’s surprised to see her laid out on the hood of the car,
thighs splayed open beneath her skirt, hands buried in her hair as she shivers
and pants for air.  She’s flushed with pleasure, porcelain skin brushed berry
red across the arch of her cheeks, eyes heavy lidded and dark.
He can smell her, the sweet hint of milk and honey that defines her desire is
heavy on the air, thicker than he’s ever smelt it.
Whatever Stiles has done has affected her too, pushed her over the edge in a
way that’s never happened before no matter how many times she’s watched them. 
No matter how many times Derek has let her set his pace with Stiles with words
or a guiding hand in his hair.
“Stiles.”  Lydia moans out, voice husky and dazed.  “What was that?”
“Us.”  Stiles answers even as he shudders around Derek’s cock, around his
knot.  “That was us, our Pack.  We blessed the land and it’s perfect now.”
“It was beautiful.”  Lydia sounds drugged almost, hazy and sated in a way that
Derek has never heard before but immediately approves of.  Lydia should sound
like that all the time, should sound blissed out and warm like honey’s thick on
her tongue.
“Derek I love you, we love you.”  Stiles pants again before he throws his head
back and laughs, throaty and unrestrained in that way that Derek loves to
hear.  “Fuck, the land loves you.  It’s ours, yours now.  No one can ever take
it away from us.  We’re home Derek.  We’re home.”
Derek can feel it then too, can feel the welcoming thrum of the land beneath
him.  The ground seems softer, the air tastes sweeter.  The trees and the grass
all look greener, lush and healthier than they’d been moments before.  It feels
like home again, like it had felt when he was young and his mother’s power had
blanketed the forest.
Only it’s his now.
His forest, his land, his territory.
His and his Pack’s.
Derek is building them a home but Stiles has claimed them their territory, has
tied their Pack to the land with sex and magic, with love and deep, dark
devotion.
Unable to help himself Derek feels the wolf rise up in him stronger than ever
before.  It’s a grasping and vicious thing beneath his skin now, all feral
teeth and fervent hunger, because it’s finally gotten what it’s wanted for so
long and it’ll do anything to hang onto it all.
He throws his head back and howls his triumph to the trees.
~~~
Lydia calls the contractor again the next morning to officially check the
progress with a smile on her face and joy in her eyes.
~~~
The house’s construction continues to move forward effortlessly without any
sort of fuss.  Derek’s money and Lydia’s iron fist keeps things running
smoothly until the only thing they have to do is wait.
Derek doesn’t mind though, because he’s too caught up in watching his boy and
Lydia to really care.  Their home is being built and if they have to wait a
little while it’ll all be worth it in the end.  His Pack is a source of endless
fascination to him so for once passing the time won’t seem like torture.
So in the meantime Derek notices that there’s something wilder about Stiles
after that day, something darker, richer.
His scent doesn’t really change so much as thicken, becomes earthier, more
natural.  His eyes glint a little brighter by the day, his smile’s a little
sharper.  Derek catches him turning his face into the wind sometimes like he’s
chasing a scent on the breeze.
“I’m your mate and your emissary.  The three of us are Pack.  We’re tied
together.”  Stiles tells him and Lydia when they finally ask him about it a
week or so later.  “That day at the house we blessed the land together, the
three of us, and it accepted us.  I’m just more in tune with it now than I used
to be.  More in tune with the both of you.”
Derek doesn’t completely understand but anything that ties Stiles to him
tighter, anything that brings Lydia closer to them as well, is fine in his
opinion.
Besides he likes the way Stiles looks almost feral sometimes, the way his lip
curls when he snarls, the way his walk is almost a prowl now.  If Derek didn’t
know better, couldn’t smell the magic on him, he’d think Stiles was a wolf.
And as much as he’s never wanted to change Stiles, as much as he loves him just
as he is, it’s satisfying somehow to see the wildness he feels deep inside of
himself shine even more clearly in his boy’s eyes.
~~~
Derek comes back to the loft one afternoon a week or two later with the car
loaded down with groceries and some irritating Top 40’s hit Stiles had been
humming the night before stuck in his head.  He’s surprised to see the jeep
parked out front because he’d thought that Stiles was spending the day at the
Sheriff’s house.
That’s what they call it now, the Sheriff’s house, just like the loft is ‘the
loft’.  Neither of them are a home anymore and neither is the Martin house. 
Their home is being built, it is little more than a skeleton at the moment but
it’s a body in the making and that’s what matters.
Still Derek’s not one to complain if Stiles has changed his plans.  All it did
was save him a trip through town and a night spent constantly ready to fling
himself out of a window if the Sheriff came up the stairs to Stiles’ old
bedroom.
Since Stiles doesn’t rush down to meet him and there’s been no texts or calls
Derek keeps his phone on him at all times now, makes sure it’s charged and
ready in case one of them need him on the rare occasions they’re apart he takes
his time loading all of the bags onto his arms so he only has to make one trip.
The door to the loft swings open on its own then swings back shut and locks
itself behind him once he’s inside so Derek knows that Stiles is well enough to
open the door for him.
Derek finds Stiles sitting at the kitchen table, a sandwich on a plate next to
him. There’s another one settled in front of the seat beside him.  It’s piled
high with roast beef slices and there’s a glass of that pulpy orange juice that
Stiles hates but Derek loves beside it so Derek knows it’s meant for him.
Stiles looks up at him and smiles, that bright and mischievous but still
somehow soft expression of his that always makes Derek’s chest tighten.  It
makes him itch to get inside of Stiles, to have him tucked safely beneath the
weight of his body and milking his knot.  Because there’s so much love in that
look that Derek can’t help but want to return it a hundred times over, can’t
help but want to wring little moans and whimpers out of Stiles’ throat like
it’s his only mission in life.
There’ll be time for that later though.  Derek will ask Stiles to ride him
later on tonight.  Will lay back in their bed and watch the rise and fall of
his boy’s hips as he works himself on Derek’s cock until they’re both sweaty
and blissful.  So instead Derek just lifts the bags up onto the counter and
leaves them there.  Stiles likes to put the groceries away, says Derek messes
with his organization of the kitchen and it’s a convenient exercise for his
every growing telekinesis.  Like with most other things Derek just likes to
watch him work, likes the way Stiles always looks so happy over such a simple
thing.
“I thought you were spending the day with the Sheriff?”  Derek asks softly as
he moves to Stiles’ side to lean down and kiss him, deep and filthy like he
always does.  They part with a small pleased sigh and an unspoken promise of
later hanging in the air between them as Derek turns, pulls out his chair at
the table, and picks up his sandwich. 
“Change of plans.  He had to go in, told me not to worry about waiting up since
he’d be gone till tomorrow.”  Stiles smiles ruefully, mouth turned down at the
corners and amber eyes just slightly dim.
Derek hates it when Stiles wears that expression, that little curve of his lips
that does nothing to hide the small hint of sorrow that Derek can’t completely
erase but does his best to anyways.  Yet he’s so thankful that Stiles is honest
with him now, doesn’t feel the need to hide everything behind large, overdone
movements and blasting sarcasm twenty-four/seven.  Instead Stiles is himself
with Derek and with Lydia.  He lets himself breath, lets his emotions naturally
shift and change instead of brushing everything off or burying what he can’t
avoid.
It’s good, it makes Derek feel good, to know that his mate is so comfortable
around him.
Derek goes to say something, goes to do his best to draw Stiles’ attention away
from the still stilted relationship he shares with his father when something
catches his eye and he stops.  It’s the familiar orange pill bottle that Stiles
has cradled in the palms of his hands that brings Derek up short.  He puts his
food down carefully and pushes the plate off to the side.
“Stiles?”  Derek reaches out and lays a hand over Stiles’.  “What’s wrong?”
“I think …” Stiles stops, furrows his brows harshly.  After a moment of
hesitation he shakes his head, smiles at Derek again, and holds the bottle up
between them.  Derek recognizes Stiles’ ADHD meds instantly.  “I realized that
I don’t need these anymore and it’s kind of thrown me for a loop for some
reason.  It’s kind of ridiculous really that of all the things to make me stop
and take a minute it’s this.”
“What happened?”  Derek is ashamed to admit that he’s not given Stiles’
medication much of a thought.  He’d noticed his scent had grown fuller, richer,
months ago and then it had done so again after they had blessed the land.  He’d
thought that Stiles had his meds under control and hadn’t thought to ask about
them.  He trusts Stiles enough not to worry about them.  His boy knew he could
come to either Derek or Lydia if he needed anything.
“The reminder on my phone went off for me to call in my refill.  I’ve always
counted them out real careful so I don’t end up short by more than a day or
so.  The withdrawals can be a bitch.  But when I went to grab my bottle I
realized I had no idea where it was.  Took me half an hour to find it wedged
underneath the back corner of the headboard only to realize that I can’t
remember the last time I had to take a dose.”  Stiles shakes the bottle and
Derek can easily tell that it’s almost full.
“That’s good isn’t it?”  Derek likes the thought of Stiles no longer being
chained to that bottle, to those little tablets.  “You’re able to focus now and
you’re calmer for the most part.  Not needing the pills is good right?”
“That’s the weird part.”  Stiles taps the bottle against the edge of his plate
before he reaches out and sits it down in the middle of the table.  “I feel
like I’ve been taking them the entire time.  Before, without them, everything
was always off kilter.  I was either too fast or too slow for everything.  Dad
could barely handle me most of the time before I got diagnosed and started
taking them and afterwards he could always tell if I stopped or if I took too
many.”
Derek can imagine a young Stiles, all long limbs and doe eyes, a whirling
dervish of endless energy and ceaseless questions.  He thinks he would have
liked that if they’d met when he was younger, before the fire.  A part of Derek
thinks he would have still liked Stiles even without the tragedy to shape him,
without the loss to hollow him out and twist him.  Another part’s still leery
of that train of thought, still almost ninety percent sure that, child or not,
nothing would have stood in his way when it came to Stiles even then.
“There’s a month’s worth of pills in that bottle Derek, a month that I haven’t
been taking them, and I’m fine.  No withdrawals, no urge to vibrate out of my
skin, no trouble focusing.  Nothing.  In fact I’m better than fine.  It’s just
… strange.”  Stiles doesn’t sound upset so much as bemused.  “I think we burned
it out of me.  Us.  Our Pack.  Our Spark.  I think it made my brain fire right
or something.  Or maybe my mind’s been firing right the entire time but since I
didn’t have access to my magic it went a little haywire.  I’m going to have
Lydia help me look into it.”
Derek nods.  If anyone can find out what is going on it’ll be the two of them
working together towards a common goal.  His Pack, his mate and emissary and
their beautiful, vicious banshee.  They’ll find the answers and Derek will do
anything and everything they need him to in order to help them along the way.
“I guess I’m just kind of disappointed.”  Stiles shrugs lightly but Derek can
see his dissatisfaction in the downward tick of his mouth.  “I used to dream
about the day me and Dad could celebrate it you know?  Like we’d have a party
for the two of us or something for me growing out of my ADHD and finally being
normal.  I mean he always told me I was fine the way I am, that he loved me no
matter what, but I could tell that he was always a bit … disappointed.  Now I
can’t even tell him that I don’t need the pills anymore because of magic.  He’d
ask too many questions, would want details I can’t give him yet.  And if he
went to Scott about it …”
They both know how that would end.  The Sheriff is in the know now but there is
still a lot that had been kept from him.  Especially about Stiles’ relationship
with Derek, about the Pack they’d built with Lydia.  About the fact that Derek
uses every opportunity he can find to fuck Stiles until neither one of them can
think.
Honestly Derek is surprised that Scott hadn’t sent the Sheriff after him
already but he isn’t going to let his guard down on that front.  They haven’t
seen much of Scott or his pack since that night in the preserve but Derek knows
the day will come, he is sure of it.
It is, like so many other things, only a matter of time.
“Hey.”  Derek leans forward so he can nudge Stiles’ head back with the tip of
his finger until they are looking each other directly in the eyes.  “It’ll
happen.  You two won’t be like this forever.  I promise Stiles.  If I have to
find a way to fix it myself I will.  Just give it some time and your dad will
come around.”
Stiles smiles up at him then, small and almost shy in his gratitude.  “I love
you, you know that right?”
Derek has to kiss him, deep and sweet, a soft, slow press of tongues as his
thumbs slide over the sharp edges of Stiles’ cheeks.  They break the kiss
slowly, let it linger between them, before Derek finally pulls away.
“Eat.”  Derek motions towards Stiles’ food, voice gruff.  His cock aches, a
hot, hard line against the press of his zipper, but what Stiles needs at the
moment is something else.  As always Derek is helpless to do anything but give
it to him.  “We’ll watch Star Wars and you can tell me all about how you think
Qui-Gon Jinn is a secret Sith.”
Stiles’ face lights up and Derek knows he’s made the right decision.  Stiles
had taught him how to do that.  Stiles and Lydia both in their own ways have
shown Derek how to be gentle, how to be giving in ways that didn’t involve
blood and pain and acting as someone’s shield against an attack.  They have
retaught him this other, more mysterious part of love and Pack that he’d
forgotten about in the long years since his family had been taken from him.
He and Laura had never quiet managed to get that sort of easy care back between
them.  The way to that kind of comforting peace had been too clouded with smoke
for them, buried too far beneath the ash that had chocked every other aspect of
their lives.
A part of Derek regrets the fact that he’d never had that with Laura and that
now he never will.  But, looking at how Stiles has lit up over something so
simple, something he would have never suggested a year ago, makes that ache
settle down.
He has a Pack now, has Lydia and Stiles, and they are building a home for
themselves in the heart of their territory.  Beyond that though Derek knows
that they have already built a home for themselves out of each other.
All they truly need is one last piece, one last member to complete their
circuit, and then they will truly be whole.
Derek isn’t sure when it will happen, when Lydia will find what he has with
Stiles, but he hopes it happens soon.
Lydia deserves nothing less than the best and Derek and Stiles both want to
make sure she has it.  Both of them want to be there to watch her march
victoriously towards that bright future.
Until then though they will continue to hold her up, will continue to shore up
her defenses and give her everything she needs and wants.
That is, as Derek has slowly relearned, what Pack is for after all.
~~~
Things are calm for the moment and Derek takes the time to watch his Pack, to
learn more about them in all of the small ways that matter.  He takes them out
more often, aware that he can get away with it as long as Lydia is with them
and if she and Stiles sit beside each other.
It irritates Derek to have to hide their relationship.  Especially when all he
wants to do is crowd Stiles up against the checkout counter in the grocery
store and eat at his mouth until everyone knows who he belongs to.  But beyond
the late night movies at that theater Stiles had found it’s too risky for them
to flaunt the exact nature of their relationship in Beacon Hills.
It’ll happen one day Derek knows, but not yet.  It’s still too soon. 
So Derek takes what he can get, takes the both of them out to eat or to shop,
whatever grabs their attention really.  He normally pays since he’s got more
money than he knows what to do with and for the most part he doesn't really
like to think about it.  Blood money a part of him still whispers no matter how
small that voice has gotten over time thanks to Lydia and Stiles.  Plus he
admits that he likes to feed his Pack publicly on occasion, likes the way it
makes something feral and wild curl up satisfied inside of him to know that he
can provide for them in this way too.
Occasionally Lydia will sneak the bill, some glib jib about her daddy’s guilt
money ringing bitter in the air between them.  Derek doesn’t like those moment
and does his best to make up excuses to keep them from happening.  After the
first time Stiles helps him out, does things like saying it’s the man’s job to
pay Lydia just to set Lydia off on a rant about how ‘outdated ideals and gender
stereotyping are not allowed in our Pack or so help me I will shatter both of
your eardrums’ so Derek can sneak the bill.
It normally works and on the few occasions it doesn’t Derek snatches the check
anyways with the excuse that he orders the most food and that he should pay to
be fair.  It’s true anyways.  His body burns through calories faster than
Stiles or Lydia so he eats more and eats more often than they do now that he's
not subconsciously trying to hurt himself anymore.
Stiles is a close second though.  His Spark, the magic that's running rampant
through him now, takes its own toll on his boy if Stiles isn't careful to keep
his energy up and his body fed.
Lydia is, to both his and Stiles’ slight surprise, the one who always has
dessert no matter where they eat.  Although Stiles never turns one down if he
has the opportunity.  Derek's a bit pickier about his sweets though so it's hit
or miss with him.
Still Derek likes watching Lydia eat whatever new confection she orders, likes
to watch her face light up in that subtle way it does when she eats something
sweet or decadently rich.  He likes knowing that she's willing to indulge
herself now, no longer so concerned about calorie counting and being perfect. 
Now she eats what she wants and lovingly bullies Stiles into doing her dance
fitness videos with her in the mornings they’re all at the loft together.
Derek likes watching that too, likes watching them move and stretch together. 
Likes the way sweat glimmers across Stiles’ shoulder blades, likes the way
Lydia laughs, bright and happy when Stiles misses a step and curses.
Most of all he likes the way Stiles’ looks in the thin yoga pants and high
heels Lydia had shoved at him with a wink in Derek’s direction.  Stiles had
gone to protest until he’d seen the heat in Derek’s eyes and then he’d arched a
brow and demanded Lydia help him learn to walk in them.
Later that first night Derek had fucked him while Stiles was still wearing
those heels, had relished the feel of them digging into his back while Lydia
hummed about garter belts and matching colors to Stiles’ skin tone and
something about The Jungle and drag queens.
Derek asks her about it casually one night, asks about the changes and the way
she seems so much freer than she’d even been before.
“I don’t need to obsess with winning anymore.  As far as I’m concerned I
already have and the rest is just … details.”  Lydia tells him with a smirk,
eyes warm and playful but still sharp, still as bright as the bits of silver in
her hair and as cunning as always. 
So now Derek makes sure there's tiramisu and éclairs, tubs of expensive ice
creams and fresh pastries at the loft every day because of it.  Lydia always
kisses him on the cheek when some new sweet shows up at the loft.
The woman who owns the bakery in town smiles every time she sees him now.
Derek knows it's probably because he's almost single-handedly going to put her
daughter through college.
He doesn’t mind.
~~~
Derek is propped up against the head board with Stiles settled firmly in his
lap.  Stiles’ is busy sucking marks into the vulnerable curve of Derek’s
throat, just beneath the line of his beard, too weak to do much else, too
fucked out and soft inside to care to do much else.  Knot swollen and buried
deep inside of Stiles Derek keeps on fucking him slowly through it all.  He
presses his hips up into the swell of Stiles’ ass with soft, almost
absentminded thrusts.  The movements refuse to fall into any sort of rhythm and
come with too much space between them to truly seem connected.
The evening had felt decedent to Derek from the beginning for some reason.  It
had an almost hazy feel to it, like something out of a novel or a poem.  It was
the kind of night for soft soulful jazz and candle light.  For sumptuous sheets
and gasping moans.  For watching Stiles writhe and twist against the curve of
his arms, eyes glazed over and mouth slack with pleasure as Derek took him
apart piece by piece, over and over again.
So he had.  He’d worked Stiles slowly, for what felt like an age.  Had pressed
and pulled, had bent and turned and gently moved his boy into every position he
could think, until Stiles was too weak to hold himself up, too blissed out to
do anything but take it.  And then Derek had done it for him, had taken Stiles’
weight and kept right on sliding his cock into Stiles in that lazy sort of
tempo he’d established.
Lydia had arrived half way through, had glided into the loft around the time
Derek had pressed Stiles against one of the large windows that faced out into
the dark as he fucked him.  Derek hadn’t been worried about being seen, he’d
kept his eyes turned outwards and towards the dark, alert for any shift or
movement.  The area behind the loft had been abandoned but the illusion of
being so exposed had set Stiles off gloriously fast, his cock throbbing in
Derek’s hand as he spilled against the cool glass of the window.
She’d watched them with unwavering intensity, had zeroed in on their every move
like she was committing them to memory.
Derek had thought briefly of asking her if she wanted to film them, if she
wanted them to make something for her.  He’d thought she would like that, the
opportunity to play director, to have them at her every whim.  She liked
leading the both of them sometimes, liked to steer them as they fucked with a
hand in someone’s hair or a gentle nudge here or there when they obstructed her
view.
He’d tabled the idea for the moment but resolved to bring it up later.  Stiles
would always be able to enchant the tape or the memory card if they decided to
do it, would be able to keep it hidden and safe so that no one would ever find
it but them.
At the moment Lydia is still watching them.  She looks beautiful curled up on
the window sill and backlit by the moon, peaceful almost.  She has one of the
silk night gowns she favors rucked up around her hips as she bends and twists
with that special sort of sensual grace she possessed to find a comfortable
position.
It is the perfect evening and Derek feels completely and wholly content.
~~~
The phone calls start two days later.
~~~
At first it’s little more than hang ups.  Lydia’s phone will ring once and then
go quiet, the number restricted.
No one really thinks twice about it, those kinds of things happen after all. 
Then they keep coming.  The phone rings off and on at odd hours.  Then instead
of just hanging up there is silence on the other end when the calls last long
enough so that Lydia actually answers them.
It happens over and over again, the calls coming incessantly with no one on the
other line.  Eventually Derek can see when it begins to unexpectedly wear on
Lydia far heavier than they’d thought it would or could.
Lydia’s face goes wane every time her phone rings and she waits a little longer
each time to answer it.  Derek sees the way her hands clench when it rings, the
way her nails bite into her palms until he has to reach out and pry them open
and gently kiss the marks she’s left behind softly.  It’s such a small thing,
these phone calls, but it wears on her.  She changes her ringtone six times in
three days.
Derek had forgotten how that could happen, how sometimes the smallest of things
could wear down the strongest of people.
Derek and Stiles both hate it.  It consumes them in some ways, fogs over their
minds with a haze of protective rage.  After a week of continuous calls Lydia
is never alone.
Derek stalks her every move when she’s away from them, sits on the overhang
outside her house, slips in through her window at night so she can curl against
his side and sleep.  With Lydia there’s no worries of parents walking in on
them.  Lydia’s door is firmly locked and her mother respects her privacy to a
degree that Derek would find almost worrying if it wasn’t so useful.
So Derek stays with her basically every night as much as he aches with being
separated from Stiles.  But they both want her protected, want her safe and
watched over no matter how much she protests the need.  So they settle for
Derek standing guard at her bedside every night while Stiles watches them from
the screen of her laptop, Skype up and running and keeping the three of them
connected.
“I have tricks up my sleeves that no one will ever see coming.”  Lydia reminds
them both as she brings up a hand to softly stroke the chocker she still wears
around her throat.  “No one will take me without a fight ever again.”
Derek knows she is strong, knows she is powerful, but it doesn’t stop the urge
to hunt, the desire for blood and death in the name of her protection.  It
doesn’t destroy the urge to feel someone’s throat between his teeth, for the
vicious satisfaction of feeling his claws sink into the vulnerable underbelly
of whoever it is who has dared to distress his Pack.       
Stiles is the same, barely one step away from feral most of the time.  He’s
bright eyed and sharp toothed, hands almost constantly alight with a hint of
his Spark.  The table in the loft is littered with tomes and herbs, with the
detritus of his spell work as he weaves protection charms and builds totems for
all three of them.
“If something touches her …” Stiles’ voice is shaky, uneven and almost a growl
after he pulls back from where he’s buried his teeth in Derek’s neck.  Derek
just arches into the move when Stiles dips back down, lets him latch his teeth
back into the meat of his throat.  Derek likes it, likes the idea of baring his
throat to Stiles, of having his boy’s teeth in his skin and his blood in
Stiles’ mouth.
“Nothing will touch her.”  Derek tells him softly, fingers splayed across the
marks of Stiles’ Spark sign that have continued to slowly spread.  “Nothing
will touch either of you, I won’t let it.  I’ll kill anyone who tries Stiles. 
I won’t lose you, either of you.  I can’t.”
“We’re strong together.  Stronger than we’ve ever been.  We’ll burn anything or
anyone who comes for her, for us.  I will rip the core out of anyone who dares
and then you’ll eat the heart from their fucking chest.”  Stiles snarls in
agreement, voice razor sharp and vicious in a way that makes Derek go hot and
hard despite the situation.  Stiles is so glorious when he’s primed for the
kill, so beautiful in his casual cruelty. 
“Yes.”  Derek agrees.  He would too, would do the one thing he’s never done
before, would become the monster the Argents had always accused him of being. 
For her.  For Stiles.  For his Pack.  His family.
“There is power in hearts.”  Stiles tells him softly, like a secret.  “If
something ever happens, if I die first, I want you to eat mine Derek.  It’ll
give you what you need to make sure you see things through till the end.”
Derek nods but stays silent.  They don’t even bother to pretend like Derek will
be able to live on after Stiles, like either of them would be able to live
without the other.  If Stiles or Derek fell then death would only be held back
for the other for as long as it took to hunt down and destroy who or whatever
had killed them.
Derek doesn’t like to think about that sort of thing though, doesn’t like to
think about one of them dying and the other chasing them into death.  Because
as she was, mate-less, Lydia would be left behind, left to linger until her
grief drove her to follow them.  There would be nothing to hold her anchored
into the world.  And no one to temper her wrath.
“The land will help us.”  Stiles traces runes across the skin of Derek’s chest
after he’s calmed down a bit, mouths at his nipple and nips it sharp enough to
make Derek hiss and clench his hand in Stiles’ hair.  “The territory belongs to
you, to us.  If a new threat comes it should help us.  It loves us Derek.  We
won’t be alone against this.”
“We’re Pack.”  Derek reminds him as he tugs Stiles up for a kiss.  “We’re Pack,
we have each other Stiles.  We’ll never be alone again.  Any of us.”
~~~
“We can change your number.”  Derek tells Lydia softly one night when she’s
curled up on his lap, head tucked beneath his chin and her legs stretched out
to where Stiles is gently rubbing her feet.  It is a struggle to keep his teeth
sheathed, to keep from prowling the loft restlessly.  He has to clench and
unclench his jaw, has to constantly flex his hands and focus on the fact that
they are safe and warm and whole.  That his boy is at his side and Lydia is
unharmed.  It helps but he still feels strange, still feels as if his bones are
attempting to twist inside of him in a way he’s unfamiliar with.  “It’s easy. 
Won’t take too long to do.”
“I can’t.”  Lydia whispers, voice soft and slightly lost.  Derek and Stiles
share a look of confusion before they turn their attention back towards Lydia.
“Why not?”  Stiles is the one who asks the question, tone gentle and easy.
“I …” Lydia sounded hesitant.  “I promised I wouldn’t.”
“Who?”  Derek asks but he already knows, can tell by the slow realization on
Stiles’ face that he knows as well.
“Jackson.”  Lydia’s soft whisper only confirms his guess.  “When he left … I
promised I wouldn’t change it.”
“He’d understand Lydia.  There are other ways for him to get in touch with
you.  Email, Facebook, fucking Twitter.”  Stiles grits out.  Neither of them
like that sadness in her, neither of them like the way she’s clung to Jackson’s
memory despite everything, despite the way he hasn’t called her.  They
understand, but they still hate the shadows it puts in her eyes.  “He’d want
you safe.  Want you happy.”
“I promised.”  Lydia stresses again.  “I promised.”
No one says anything about changing her number again.  Instead they take to
cutting her phone off as often as she’ll allow them to.
~~~
It’s 3:30 a.m. when the ringing of Lydia’s phone snaps Derek sharply out of
sleep.  She’d obviously forgotten to turn it off again before she went to
sleep.  Something inside of him can’t handle it anymore, can’t stand the idea
of Lydia being so … faded over something as simple as a phone call any more.
He feels the wolf rise, feels the Spark he shares with Stiles flare as his eyes
go crimson.  Derek has her cell in his hand before she’s fully awake.  The
number’s restricted as always so Derek thumbs the answer button with a calm
sort of detachment as Lydia sits up beside him and Stiles mumbles a curse and
slides down to nuzzle at the curve of his hip.
“If you don’t stop calling her,” Derek snarls, voice slurred from his fangs and
the force of his rage.  He’s aware of the way the two bodies curled around his
own immediately stiffen when he speaks.  “I will hunt you down and I will rip
you apart.  I will make you scream for mercy while I crack you open, while I
pry your ribs back one by one and carve out your insides.  I will feed her your
heart and no one will ever find your body.”   
There’s a long moment of stuttered silence and then Derek hears it, a sharp
indrawn breath.
“D-Derek?”  It’s more of a sob than a question but Derek knows the voice, knows
it so well that he automatically freezes, muscles going rock solid in an
instance.
“Jackson?”  His voice is soft, gentle then, so he hears the way Lydia gasps,
hears the chocked off sound she makes that’s echoed by Stiles.
“Derek?”  Jackson makes a high pitched keening sound, almost a … chitter.  It’s
a sound that is far too close to the ones that still haunt Derek’s dreams.
“What’s happened?”  Derek knows there’s something wrong, can feel it in his
bone.  Jackson isn’t technically his beta anymore, not with the way the last
tendril of their bond had been snapped when Derek had been thrown back into
being a beta, but he can still tell.
“I’m sorry.”  Jackson gasps.  “Derek I’m sorry.  Please.  I’m sorry.”
“For what?”  Derek pulls the phone back and thumbs on the speaker so that Lydia
and Stiles can hear.  “Sorry for what Jackson?”
“Let me come back.  Please let me come back.”  Jackson’s begging then and just
that easily Lydia is crying, tears sliding down her cheeks as she bites at the
heel of her palm to stay silent.  “I’m sorry I left.  I’m sorry.  Please.”
“Jackson.”  Lydia can’t keep quiet any longer.  “Baby.”
“Lydia.”  The way Jackson whines, high pitched and almost wounded, at the sound
of her voice has Derek reaching over to pull Stiles closer to his side.  “Derek
please.  I’m sorry I left.  I’m sorry I let them make me leave.  I’m sorry I
abandoned the pack Derek.  J-Just let me come back.”
“It wasn’t your fault Jackson.”  Derek tells him gently.  He’s healed enough to
admit it now, has been healed enough by Stiles and Lydia to own up to the
mistakes he made.  Jackson had been one of his bigger ones.  “I wasn’t a good
Alpha Jackson.  I messed up a lot and that wasn’t your fault.  That’s on me.  I
fucked up and you got hurt and I’m sorry Jackson.”
“I just want to come home.  Please.”  Jackson begs, voice thick with tears and
desperation.  “I-I need her Derek.  Please.  I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t
be alone like this anymore.  I need a pack and I need her.”
Derek looks to Lydia first, looks to see if that’s what she wants, if that’s
what she needs.  A part of him already knows the answer but he needs to hear
her say it, needs it to be said.  If Jackson is what she wants then Jackson is
what she’ll get if Derek has to fly to London and drag him back personally.
“He’s my Stiles Derek.”  Lydia looks up at Derek then and there is a fire in
her eyes then, a wild sort of determination that shines even through her
tears.  “I’ll scream until the world shatters if it’ll bring him back to me.”
“He’s her mate, our missing piece.”  Stiles sighs and he’s already sitting up
and reaching for Derek’s laptop, or rather Stiles’ second laptop now, and
pulling up travel sites.  “We’ve always known it, deep down.  It’s time to
bring him home Derek.”
Derek knows.  Jackson’s been the shadow that’s haunted Lydia since the moment
he left, the form curled just around her shoulder in the darkness, the ghost
that hasn’t let her rest.  Even when she’d tried to drown him out in Aiden, in
other nameless, meaningless boys who weren’t worthy of her, Jackson had still
been there.
Derek knows that Jackson will always be there for Lydia.
Just like Stiles will always be there for him.
“You can come home Jackson.”  Derek reassures him because he means it, because
Lydia needs it.  Because in some ways maybe he needs it as well, needs the
chance to do right by the last of his original betas.  Or, in Jackson’s case,
attempted betas.  “You have a home here, with us, to come back to.  With me,
Stiles, and Lydia.  You can come back.  You’ll be Pack with us, we’ll be a
family.  I’ll be your Alpha and you’ll be safe.  I’ll keep you safe this time
Jackson.”
“We’re going to bring you home dude.”  Stiles pipes up.  “We’re going to bring
you home and then we’re going to keep you.”
Jackson doesn’t answer, just sobs and keens, that high pitched almost chitter
still swimming in his tone enough to worry Derek.
Stiles is busy on the laptop, a steady stream of calming chatter ringing out
into the quiet loft as he shops airline tickets and talks to Jackson about
leaving, about whether or not they need to come and get him.  Derek knows that
before the hours out Stiles will have Jackson booked on the next available
flight out of London and on his way home.  Or he’ll be wrapping up the details
for Derek to leave and go get him in person.
Either way Jackson is coming back to them.  Back to Lydia.  To their Pack.
Derek hugs Lydia closer to his side, presses a kiss into the top of her hair,
and just holds her tightly.
There is change in the air around them now, like something’s shifting between
them, making way for the piece that’s been missing from their dynamic.
And yet Derek can’t help but worry, can’t help but tense at the sound of
Jackson’s voice, at that fucking chitter that’s just underneath his sobs that
he isn’t sure the others can actually hear.
Derek can’t help but wonder what kind of shape Jackson will be in when he
finally does make it back.
Will Jackson be the wolf who’d left or will he once again be the kanima they’d
been forced to kill once upon a time?
~~~
It takes two days before Stiles and Lydia can coax Jackson into good enough
shape to get him on a plane.
No one sleeps.
Lydia won’t eat.
Derek is a mass of tension and worry but he hands over his debit card when
Stiles asks, holds Lydia when she seems like she needs him to, and does his
best to calm the wolf inside of him.  Still he leaves the loft on the second
night and comes back an hour later with rabbits.
No one says anything when he cleans and cooks them.  Stiles doesn’t joke like
he normally would, Lydia doesn’t kiss him on the cheek while shaking her head
in amusement.  But at the end of it, when the stew he’s put together is done,
Lydia finally eats and that’s good enough for Derek.
~~~
In the end it’s worse than Derek has imagined.
They meet Jackson at the airport, the three of them.  It’s late, the airport is
filled with stragglers and awash with different scents and sounds that break
over Derek like a wave.  Still he picks Jackson’s scent out as soon as he steps
past the gate.
The three of them move towards him as one but the closer they get the more
Derek tenses.  There’s something off in his scent, something that makes the
hair on the back of Derek’s neck rise.  It’s familiar, something Derek will
never forget.
Deep beneath the hint of wolf Derek can scent even from a distance is something
else, something far more sinister.
Dead leaves, venom, scales.
The unique scent of snake. 
Derek’s growling, a low displeased sound, by the time they make their way
towards Jackson but it cuts off when Jackson turns and Derek actually gets a
good look at him.
He’s pale, face wane and his eyes ringed with thick dark circles.  He looks
tired, sick.  Lydia makes this breathy little wounded noise as soon as she sees
him.
Jackson’s eyes go wide and soft and he takes one shuddering step in her
direction before he stops, swallows hard, and looks towards Derek and Stiles.
Derek stares back at him for a moment and then nods ever so slightly.
When Lydia gets her arms around him Jackson folds into her like all of his
remaining strength has finally gone out of him.
~~~
He doesn’t say a word the entire time, just lists weakly from side to side as
they get back to Derek’s car.  Lydia stays curled around Jackson the entire
ride back, wraps herself around him like a layer of finely dressed armor.
He’s unconscious by the time they make it back to the loft but Derek simply
bends down and scoops him up gently.  Jackson groans, low and painful sounding,
before he turns into Derek’s warmth.  Together they all make their way inside,
Jackson’s luggage floating behind them like a little baggage train thanks to
Stiles as Derek carries him into the loft.
Derek lays him out on the bed and then helps Stiles pull Jackson’s coat and
shoes off.  He’s even thinner looking without the thick barrier of cloth but
Derek and Stiles both step back and let Lydia take over.
Derek watches her undress Jackson in a way that speaks of long familiarity and
ease with his form despite the time they’ve been apart.  She’s incredibly
gentle as she moves him but Derek can see the way her hands shake.
But then she gets down to his undershirt and goes to peel it off.  Derek hears
her gasp and he and Stiles are at her sides in an instance.
Stiles curses low and vicious, and Derek has to shut his eyes for a moment to
contain the urge to roar.
Spread across Jackson’s chest, like a smattering of freckles, are familiar
emerald green scales.
“No.”  Lydia snarls suddenly and the high pitched humming whine of her powers
is abruptly stronger in her voice.  “Not again.  I won’t lose him to this
again.”
Derek hears glass shatter in the kitchen, can see the way the thicker windows
behind them have developed long, hair line fractures.
“You won’t.  We won’t.”  Stiles reassures her fiercely, amber eyes bright and
fierce.  “He’s here now, with us, with you.  He won’t turn Lydia, not like
before.  He’s been lonely and afraid so that’s probably what's brought the
kanima back up to the surface but that’s all going to change.  You were his
anchor then Lydia and you’re his anchor now.  We’ll stop this, we won’t let him
revert, but if he does then you’ll be his master until we can fix him.  No one
is going to take him from you ever again.”
Stiles burns bright with his conviction, bright enough that Derek believes him
in that moment.  They will find a way to fix this, for Jackson, for Lydia, for
their Pack.
They won’t lose Jackson to himself, or to anyone else.
Not again.
~~~
It takes time.
Jackson’s weak when he wakes up, body withered down and spirit so close to
broken.  He flinches at loud noises and the biting sarcasm and snark he’d once
had are practically nonexistent.  Instead he hovers in Lydia’s shadow and
barely speaks those first few days.
“The Pack thrives while the Omega dies.”  Derek cannot help but murmur as they
watch the way Jackson curls himself into Lydia’s side.  Stiles makes a low
noise of agreement from beside him and then moves closer to the other pair
while Derek keeps his distance.
Jackson’s leery of the two of them, skittish in the worst sort of way.  Derek
knows that he’s waiting to be punished, it’s that Omega instinct rearing its
head in the face of the Alpha he’d left behind.
But even Derek has noticed how Jackson freezes and stares at him and Stiles
when they kiss.  Jackson watches them like they’re something new and
fascinating before he catches himself and looks away.
Derek knows it’ll be slow going, shoring Jackson back up, getting him to trust
outside of Lydia again.  But he knows that it’ll work, that it has to work. 
Jackson is Lydia’s mate, is Pack, or will be.
Derek just has to be patient.
~~~
Stiles is the one who finds the solution. Derek’s mate is so clever, so
gloriously, wickedly devious and he never fails to make Derek so unbelievably
proud of him.
Tired and obviously frustrated Stiles buries his face in Derek’s chest where
they’re lying on the couch.  Jackson and Lydia are curled up across from them
in the plush loveseat Lydia had made Derek buy.
Derek’s eyes drift shut at the feel of Stiles’ tongue on his neck, at the
dampness of his kiss against the vulnerable line of his throat.  Want spikes
through him hard.  It’s been days since he’s had Stiles, days spent holed up in
the loft as they coax Jackson into being comfortable with them again.  He wants
his boy, wants to get him down and fuck him open, wants the slim strength of
Stiles’ rising above him like a pillar, all bare skin and barely contained
power.
They’ve only held back for Jackson, to make him comfortable, to make him feel
safe.
Derek feels like he’s going to come out of his skin if he doesn’t have Stiles
soon.
Stiles pulls back enough to give him a sly smile and a small wink before he’s
back to work on Derek’s neck, more teeth than tongue in just the way that Derek
likes.  Judging by that and the way Stiles’ cock is hard against his hip, the
way his hand has slide down to palm Derek’s through the line of his sweats,
Stiles feels the same.
Never able to truly deny his boy something he wants Derek lets Stiles touch
him, doesn’t resist when Stiles brings his hand back up and rakes his nails
down the line of his chest.  Instead he just buries a hand in Stiles’ hair and
urges him down gently.
Stiles goes willingly, traces a path down Derek’s stomach with the flat of his
tongue until he’s mouthing at the line of his cock through the fabric of his
pants.  Derek pets Stiles’ hair and growls lowly, a smooth, pleased sound that
always makes Stiles’ heart skip a beat in pure want.
Derek shudders, his head falls back against the arm of the chair and his eyes
slide closed with a sigh, when Stiles finally takes him into his mouth. 
It starts off easy, the languid almost lazy rhythmic pulse of blood in Derek’s
veins accompanied by the heat of Stiles’ mouth, but it turns frantic between
them quickly.
Stiles pulls back off of his cock with an obscene sounding pop and presses
himself up to kiss Derek hard on the mouth.  Derek can taste himself on Stiles’
tongue, a hint of musk and salt, and it’s too much for him to take after so
long.
The sound of Derek’s control breaking is almost audible in the room.
He sits up and moves Stiles around until he’s sitting on Derek’s lap, face
turned towards where Lydia and Jackson are still sitting.  Derek takes a moment
to look at the other two as his claws slide through the seams of Stiles’ shirt
and pants.
Jackson’s flushed, the sharp lines of his cheekbones gone ruddy with shock and
maybe, from the way his eyes have darkened just a bit, something like
anticipation.
Derek turns his attention back towards his boy but he still hears Jackson’s
indrawn breath when Stiles’ clothes are finally gone.  Derek knows what
Jackson’s shock is about, knows it’s to do with Stiles’ Spark sign, with the
mating mark that stands out vibrant and deep on his skin.  He wonders what
Jackson will say when he finally sees Derek’s name carved so lovingly into the
back of Stiles’ shoulder.  Derek doesn’t even think about resisting the urge to
preen as he runs his hands along the long line of Stiles’ torso and grinds the
thick ridge of his cock up against the swell of his boy’s ass.
His mate is gorgeous, is stunning and perfect with Derek’s name and marks
carved into his flesh, with the proof of his own power inked onto his skin. 
Jackson is Pack now, or will be soon enough, and he should see the beauty of
his Alpha’s chosen, his Alpha’s only.
“They’re beautiful aren’t they?”  Lydia doesn’t even bother to whisper, she
just comes out and says it as she strokes a hand through Jackson’s hair
gently.  Derek sends her a sharp-toothed grin over Stiles’ shoulder as he
presses a spit slick finger inside of Stiles.  “So powerful.  We have a strong
Pack Jackson, a perfect Pack.”
“No.”  Stiles gasps out as he throws his head back to rest on Derek’s shoulder
so he can press nipping kisses to the underside of Derek’s jaw.  “Not perfect,
not anymore.  Not without Jackson. You need him Lydia.  We need him.  He makes
us whole.”
In that moment everything clicks together inside Derek’s mind.
His boy is so clever to have done this.  So terribly clever to know just what
to do to break through to Jackson.
“I watched them their first time you know.”  Lydia’s eyes are bright and
cunning and Derek knows that she’s picked up on what Stiles has put into
motion.
They’ll seduce Jackson if they have to, will woo him into comfort and ease with
them, through any means necessary.  Like sirens at sea they’ll lure Jackson
with their song until he’s as willing to dash himself against the rocks as they
are willing to catch him before he succeeds.   
Stiles moans, unashamedly loud and broken, when Derek finally pushes his cock
inside of him.  Derek fucks him hard, reaches up and wraps a hand around the
long line of Stiles’ throat even as he clamps his other hand down on Stiles’
hip and holds him in place.  Stiles back is arched in a taunt bow, body on
display for the entire room to see as Derek’s cock works its way deeper and
deeper inside of his clinging body.
‘Look.’  Derek can’t help but think in Jackson’s direction.  ‘Look at him and
tell me you don’t want this, tell me you don’t want Lydia like this, don’t want
this kind of openness, this kind of closeness between us.  This kind of
freedom.”
Yes, another part of Derek whispers darkly.  Look at my mate, look at how
beautiful he is, how open we are.  Look at the trust here.  Look at the love
here.  Want it.  Need it.  Take it Jackson, take what we’re all offering. 
“Derek’s such a good Alpha now Jackson.  Just watch how he takes care of
Stiles.”  Lydia practically croons as she runs her hands over the breadth of
Jackson’s shoulders and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.  Her
voice is sweet, breathy, and it hums with power.  “Watch how he loves him. 
What how they love each other.  He’ll take care of us too, both of them will. 
We can be together, the four of us.  They’re mated, tied together completely,
and we can be too.  I’ll be yours Jackson, truly yours this time, and you’ll be
mine again.  Like Derek and Stiles belong together.  We’ll live together, in
the house Derek’s building for us.  We’ll never be alone again, we’ll never be
forgotten or overlooked.  Our Pack will be so perfect then.”
Jackson whines again but Derek can see over Stiles’ shoulder just how
enraptured he is in the show they’re putting on.  His eyes are wide and his
face is flushed from a combination of them and Lydia’s voice, seductive and oh
so persuading in his ear.
Eventually Derek loses track of Lydia’s exact words as his focus twists back
towards Stiles as it unavoidably always does.  He loses himself in the give and
take of Stiles’ body, buries his teeth in the mating mark he’d left etched deep
in his boy’s skin as he fucks him.  Stiles just moans louder and writhes.
But when, in the middle of it all, Jackson leans forward and cuts Lydia’s
stream of words off with a deep, desperate kiss Derek can see the way her lips
curl ever so slightly around the edges.
Derek imagines that to her it probably tastes like victory.
He would know after all because that’s what Stiles always tastes like to him.
Victory and the darkest, sweetest type of love.
~~~
The next morning Jackson slides up to Derek’s side, eyes down cast but
shoulders straight, and bares his throat.  It a move of submission and a
question all in one.  A request for the overt type of acceptance that Jackson
still needs but can’t seem to voice.
Derek doesn’t hesitate.
His teeth slide into the side of Jackson’s throat with ease as the Spark he
shares with Stiles flares to life inside of him.  Derek feels it when the ties
take, when Jackson is enveloped into the fold of their Pack, tied to Derek as
his Beta.
Derek feels it the instant his own power grows even larger, feels it when
Jackson’s presence bolsters it higher than before.  Alphas crave Betas for the
power they bring and Derek’s Pack was already dangerous and so magnificently
powerful.  But with the addition of Jackson’s not inconsiderable strength Derek
feels as if they truly could take on the world now.
Still he hopes that no one will give them the excuse or the reason to try.
~~~
Afterwards they drive out to the preserve and Derek drags Jackson into the
woods, Lydia and Stiles trailing behind them quietly.  Stiles’ voice is a low,
steady thrum in the trees and it’s paired perfectly with Lydia’s laughter, with
the peaceful breeze that flows through their territory.
There, in the quiet of their territory, Derek takes Jackson on a hunt, runs
with him beneath the light of the moon as Alpha and Beta.  They take down a
deer together, a buck with an impressive rack and more than one scar who gives
them a fight but falls easily enough.
A fitting first kill to solidify their ties.
Then, in the light of the clearing that Derek likes to take Stiles and Lydia
to, with his mate and Lydia both watching, Derek slices open his wrist and
presses it firmly to Jackson’s already bloody mouth as he wills the wound not
to heal.  For an Alpha to willingly bleed themselves is considered an honor, a
pledge of returned loyalty and protection.
It is a part of his gift to Jackson, as he’d given gifts to both Stiles and
Lydia to solidify their bonds.  The rest will only come in time for what
Jackson needs from Derek is acceptance and care.  Derek will give it to him.
Jackson holds eye contact with Derek for the first time since his return as his
mouth works at Derek’s flesh and his throat bobs as he swallows.
“Good boy Jackson.”  Derek rumbles, eyes bright crimson and his smile is more a
baring of teeth than anything.  “Good boy.”
Jackson looks pleased in a disgruntled but shy sort of way but Derek doesn’t
call him out on it.  It’s not done yet, the bonding process between them. 
There’s still work to be done, still things to learn and do and perhaps
apologize for.  They still have to deal with the scales that are scattered
across Jackson’s chest, the high pitched chitter that hides in his voice
sometimes, but Derek doesn’t focus on that.
Instead he focuses on the fact that the last of his original Betas, the final
point in the dynamic of his new Pack, and Lydia’s other half, is finally his
again.
Derek feels almost as if they’ve come full circle now that Jackson is finally
home.
Now he knows that, with time, their Pack truly will be … perfect.
End Notes
     So what did you guys think? Lydia officially has her mate back!
     Is anyone disappointed/surprised that it was Jackson? I tried to make
     it clear earlier that he was who I intended her to be with so I hope
     this doesn't ruin the series for anyone. There will be more
     development of Jackson and his place in the Pack as well as
     addressing the issue with the scales to come so don't worry about
     that.
     IMPORTANT QUESTION: Sterek is the main focus of this series of course
     but will there be a revolt if I add a more sexual component for
     Jackson/Lydia in the future?
     As it stands I have at least 3 more parts planned for this series so
     as always hit me up and let me know what you think as well as what
     you'd like to see next.
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