Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/439600.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Allison
      Argent, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Wingfic, This_was_written_at_3_am, Comfort, Boys_are_silly_and_oblivious,
      Mates, Pre-slash_warning_is_ineffective!, Awkward_Conversations, Marking,
      Derek_is_a_gentleman_but_he_knows_the_loopholes, Loopholes_being_making
      out_against_the_sink, Wing_hugs!, Kate_Argent_is_really_just_a_passing
      mention, FOR_NOW_(dundunDUN), Sheriff_Stilinski_y_u_no_have_a_name?, It's
      cool_though_you're_still_the_best_dad_ever_even_if_you_are_Johnny_Cage,
      Oh_gosh_this_is_getting_long, Rating_may_or_may_not_have_changed, Derek
      is_being_necessarily_difficult, alpha_pack, Deviation_from_season_three,
      Like_a_lot_of_deviation, Also_notice_how_the_rating_is_forever_changing,
      Only_gets_worse_from_here, And_by_worse_I_mean_better, Curses, Cursed
      Creature
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-20 Updated: 2015-02-18 Chapters: 35/? Words: 68935
****** Stay Away, Sweet Misery ******
by redkislington
Summary
     Stiles has a secret that no one knows about, not even his dad or
     Scott. Derek finds out by accident one day.
Notes
     The fic with winged stiles – my brain's sleep-deprived excuse for why
     hes the only one not allergic to shirts. Title from The Maine's
     'Misery'. Also, I apparently have a thing with wingfic. Sorry?
***** If I Let You In (You'll Crawl Inside) *****
 
They came in not long after his mom died. They were mostly gray, speckled with
soft, earthy colors, feathers darker at the tips like nightfall. They were
probably about as long as he was tall when he stretched them out all the way,
but, he never really knew, given that no one else really knew about them, not
even his dad.
 
He'd made it a point to start hiding them, at first with gauze wraps when they
were still weak enough to keep held down with them, and layered clothes. When
he started getting control over them, he moved on to heavy, thick wraps,
layered over the gauze, wrapping tight, to the point it was hard to breathe
sometimes.
 
He was always so careful hiding them, even when werewolves came into his life,
he always made sure his wraps were secure. He only really let the wraps off in
the seclusion of the woods, not trusting his dad to not see them or catch the
feathers left over the house, and knowing in the daytime he had less of a
chance getting caught there.
 
When Stiles found himself in the woods, then, the wraps and his shirts crumpled
to the forest floor with his wings stretching out behind him after a three week
stretch of binding them, Derek staring at him with wide eyes, he did what he
would've done if anyone else would've seen. He panicked.
 
No. No, no, no. This isn't happening. Just a bad dream, it's just-
 
His thoughts cut off when Derek took a step toward him, and he scrambled back,
gathering up all the wraps and his clothes and rushing back to his jeep,
tucking the wings back and already starting to wrap them up before Derek could
make another move.
 
He was just pulling his t-shirt over his head when he got back to his jeep, and
really, at that point, he shouldn't be surprised seeing Derek there, already
leaning back against it, like he'd been waiting there the entire time. He
frowned at Stiles, and Stiles felt fear curling up cold and heavy in his chest,
making it even harder to breathe than it already was. “N-no. You can't...”
Stiles swallowed, looking away. “You shouldn't have seen that.”
 
Derek stared at him for a long time, then pushed off the jeep. “You can come to
me if you need to let them out again. Someone else might see them if you keep
doing it out here.” With that, he just... left, walking past Stiles like he
hadn't just stumbled his way into this huge, secret part of him. The part that
no one else knew about, not Scott or his dad.
 
Stiles shuddered and fell back against his jeep, feeling like he was about to
collapse, trying to breathe realizing that his secret was out, that Derek knew,
that someone knew, and he was... he was okay.
 
He didn't go to Derek's for a whole month, avoiding him, and wrapping them
tighter than before with that shaking fear of being found out by someone else
making his hands unsteady the entire time.
 
 
The next time he let them loose to stretch out, he wasn't at Derek's. He went
back to the same part of the woods. He barely had plaid button-up off before
Derek was there, growling at him. “What did I say?”
 
Stiles stared, feeling himself shake, the feathers underneath gauze and heavy
cloth vibrating with it. “I... I...”
 
Derek shook his head, growling still, then grabbed Stiles by the arm, pulling
him through the woods until they got to the old Hale house. The hunters had
stopped using it as their hideout for a long time – and that was a terrifying
time for him, always worrying about a hunter coming out and stumbling onto him.
 
Derek pulled him inside, then, when he got the door shut behind him, looked at
Stiles, like he was waiting for him.
 
Stiles felt the blush stretch to his chest. “U-um... could you... not, you
know, watch?”
 
Derek stared for a moment more, before he rolled his eyes and walked past
Stiles. He swallowed, listening until he heard the back door close behind
Derek, then let out a breath and pulled his shirt up and over his head. The
wraps pulled tight around him and he gasped, clutching at the bandages wrapped
too-tight around his chest. How had he gone through most of the month like
this? With a grimace, he untied the knot at the front, unwrapping them enough
until he could stretch the wings out, the gauze and cloth strips loosening and
crumpling down around him, and he sucked in a greedy, deep breath of air.
 
“How long has it been like this?”
 
Stiles yelped and jumped, spinning around and nearly falling on his ass to see
Derek watching him from the doorway. He self-consciously tucked the wings
behind him, watching Derek scowl a little more at him, then stuttered. “F-for
a... a while. Um...” He swallowed. “No one else knows...”
 
Derek's scowl lightened at that. “No one?”
 
Stiles nodded, looking away. He could still feel himself shaking all over,
feathers tickling his back and sides. He startled again when a hand fell onto
his shoulder, and he gaped at Derek. He wasn't... grouchy looking, like he
usually was. There wasn't any disgust or fear or anything that he'd thought
he'd see when someone found out. Derek actually looked... a little like he was
about to smile. But that was impossible. Derek didn't...
 
“You're safe here.” Stiles blinked when Derek pulled him in, wrapping strong,
strong arms around him. He shuddered when Derek's fingers brushed over the
feathers, feeling the marks left over from his wraps. He felt warmth shiver
through him, sparking pleasantly through his wings.
 
Stiles pulled away, tucking them around himself, ignoring the way he was
blushing and heating up all over. “Um, thanks...” He took a few steps away,
curling his fingers into the feathers blanketing his sides. “Why are you doing
this, though?” He bit into his lip. “Why not just... let me do what I did
before? Why are you helping?”
 
Derek frowned at him, just staring at him for a long time. Stiles swallowed,
clutching his arms tighter around himself, feeling panic welling up inside of
him ready to burst into shortened, frenzied breaths and helplessness. Then he
shrugged. “You've helped me enough. Why can't I return the favor for...” He
hesitated a beat, eyes flickering to the wings before meeting Stiles' eyes
again. And... Stiles had to take several breaths before he could convince
himself to calm down a little more. “For a part of my pack?”
 
Stiles gaped a little, the rising feeling of panic fading away. “I'm... I'm
pack?”Even after this? He added on in his head.
 
“Yeah.” Derek got that look from before again, an almost smile, and he nodded.
“You've been pack for a long time, Stiles. There's nothing that's going to
change that.”
 
Then... Derek was just gone, brushing past him, leaving Stiles in the middle of
the burnt out Hale house with his wings curled around him, arms closed around
himself, feeling... safe for the first time in a long, long time.
 
***** I'm Feelin' Pretty Lonely, Baby (Just Let Me In) *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek's POV when finding out about Stiles. Or the part where Derek
     has a secret, too, but he doesn't think Stiles would take to his as
     well as Derek did.
 
Derek thought on some level that maybe, after everything he'd been through for
so many years, that he'd finally broken. He was seeing Stiles in the forest,
bandages and shirts piled around his feet, and beautiful charcoal wings spread
out around him, speckled with shades of the earth and forest, colors faint but
just enough for him to pick out against the gray. And Stiles stood there,
frozen, looking terrified, more than Derek had ever seen him before.
 
He wanted to reach out, dig his fingers into the feathers, feel if they were as
soft as they looked, bury himself in them and curl them around him and Stiles
and just hold the boy in his arms. He... had to admit he'd been getting closer
and closer to the boy, their bond well into friendship, even with as much as
they fought each other. They trusted one another, and... Derek knew that he was
caring more for Stiles everyday, and the wolf was starting to make it's
intentions known even more.
 
Seeing Stiles half naked in the forest, in his territory, vulnerable and even
more special than Derek knew before, it made the wolf crave him.
 
He stepped forward, and Stiles scrambled away, gathering everything up and just
running, wings tucking gracefully behind him. Derek growled, wolf surging up
for a moment, wanting to give chase, pin Stiles to the ground, bury himself in
the feathers and just claim him, over and over again on the forest floor until
they both broke. He reeled himself in quickly, and ran, moving quickly to the
jeep and waiting until he saw Stiles emerge from the trees, looking scared and
trembling, smelling so strongly of fear and panic and exhaustion. “You
shouldn't have seen that.”
 
Derek felt a sting at the words, as if he wasn't good enough to know, like
Stiles didn't trust him enough. Derek stared at Stiles, taking in how much he
was shaking, already wrapped up in bandages again, his plain t-shirt already
pulled over his head, button-up clutched in his hands, knuckles white around
it. Stiles... was Stiles afraid Derek was going to hurt him because of this?
“You can come to me if you need to let them out again. Someone else might see
them if you keep doing it out here.” He felt a possessive rush come over him
the thought of anyone else seeing Stiles like this, even knowing that his
father and Scott had probably already seen them well before him, and he turned
to move back into the trees, before he made the claim he wanted to put on
Stiles known when he lost the small amount of control he had over himself.
 
He let out a breath, already far enough away for Stiles to think he was out of
range to sense the boy. Stiles' scent turned from fear to a soft sort of
anxiety, sour, and then relief, the scent sweet and making the tension
tightening up Derek's muscles flood out of him. He listened, until Stiles'
scent faded and the jeep's engine roar went with it, then made his way back
home.
 
It... made sense on some level. Stiles had always been different from every
other human Derek had met, caring and responsible and selfless to a fault,
risking himself so many times, for everyone, even Derek when he barely knew
him. Stiles scent was also always just a little off, spicer than a usual
human's, just enough for the subtle difference to barely be noticeable unless
there was someone there to compare the scent to. Even then...
 
Derek knew how Stiles felt now, when he found out about Scott. Derek wanted to
discover every little thing he could about Stiles' condition, just as much as
he wanted to bury himself in the feathers. But... Stiles was scared so easily
by him seeing them, he didn't want to find out how much worse it'd be asking
him questions about it.
 
Again, Derek felt a stab of pain, but he swallowed it down, pausing a moment
before he let himself out in the clearing around his childhood home and waited
to see if there was anyone there, hunters or the Argents or any of his betas,
then sighed when nothing came up, just walking inside and crawling onto the
rough mattress he used upstairs and closing his eyes. He dreamed of being
wrapped up in warmth and soft down; smooth, freckled skin against his front,
dark gray blanket of feathers around him everywhere else. In his dream, he
smiled, genuinely and fully for the first time in a long, long time.
 
 
Stiles avoided him then, not coming to any pack meetings, keeping his window
locked with a curtain blocking the view inside of his room, and not even coming
into the forest at all. Derek could smell the discomfort radiating from Stiles
outside of his window and even on Scott, and he worried.
 
Then he picked up on Stiles scent a little over a month after their encounter
in the woods, and he ran to it, tracking Stiles down until he caught him in
that same part of the woods, button-up already crumpled to the ground and
started with his shirt. Derek growled. “What did I say?”
 
Stiles shook, looking a lot more pale than he usually was, and like he was
having trouble breathing. Derek heard the strained wheeze of his lungs, too-
tight wrap of cloth and gauze with the padding of the held down wings squeezing
his body almost to a breaking point. Stiles stuttered, and Derek's growling
deepened before he grabbed Stiles and hauled him through the trees to the
house.
 
When they were safe away from any prying eyes that could be wandering through
the woods, he turned to Stiles, watching him, waiting, wanting to see the wings
unfurl again around him.
 
Stiles blushed, and Derek followed it down with his eyes to the collar of his
shirt, then wondered if it went any further, wanting to tear the cotton away to
see, to follow it with his tongue and-
 
“U-um... could you... not, you know, watch?”
 
Derek looked back up to Stiles' eyes, still brown and wide and scared, but
there was a little bit of disbelief there. Derek rolled his eyes and walked
past Stiles to go to the back door. He paused a moment with it open, then just
closed it, listening as Stiles huffed out a breath, then the ruffle of cloth as
he pulled the shirt over his head. Derek quietly moved back through, peering
around the corner keeping him from view to see the boy gripping the bandages
around him, gasping labored breaths, and finally plucking at a knot until the
wraps tumbled down around him, gray feathers pushing and rising up, bandages
dangling from wings arching up and taking up most of the room, so much bigger
than Stiles, making him look so fragile and small between them, but at the same
time he looked so strong with them. They folded back in and out a few times,
until the bandages were fallen to the floor with his shirt, and Derek took them
in, memorizing the graceful flow that the wings moved in, the way Stiles' back
flexed with it, lips parted and eyes drifting shut.
 
Suddenly, Derek wanted to know if Stiles was born this way, the same way Derek
was born a werewolf, or if he got them some other way, and how. He wanted to
know everything. “How long has it been like this?”
 
That... didn't quite come out how he wanted. All his questions were colliding
and blending together. Is this how Stiles feels all the time? Stiles had
whirled around, stumbling, and the wings moved behind him, hiding from him.
Derek frowned, wanting to pull them out and let Stiles stretch them out again.
“F-for a... a while. Um...” Stiles swallowed, and the wings twitched further
behind him, flush creeping over his skin again. “No one else knows.”
 
Derek wasn't sure if he'd heard Stiles right. “No one?” He watched Stiles nod,
feeling a swell of possessiveness come over him. He was the only one who'd seen
Stiles like this, he wanted to stay the only one that saw him like this. He
understood Stiles' fear when Derek saw him that first time, and why Stiles was
shaking now.
 
Stiles jumped when Derek touched his shoulder, watching the boy gaze up at him
with surprise, his heart beat slowing down gradually the longer he did. Then he
looked confused, staring at Derek with his head tilting slightly, and Derek
felt his lips twitch with it before he pulled Stiles in. “You're safe here.” He
muttered as he greedily brushed his hands over the feathers, feeling how soft
they were, ruffled only by the wraps. He swallowed back a growl when Stiles
shuddered in his arms, gasping quietly at the touch. He wanted to dig his
fingers in, to see just how much pressure he could give before he had Stiles
moaning, clutching at him, desperate.
 
Stiles wiggled his way out of Derek's hold, though, dark feathers curling
around his hips. He was blushing, red splashed prettily over his face, throat
and partway down his chest, and Derek just barely stopped himself from pinning
Stiles to the wall and licking over the blush, feeling the heat against his
tongue.
 
“Thanks.” Derek was pulled out of his thoughts by Stiles' voice, and he looked
up, seeing Stiles backing up a few steps, curling his own fingers into the soft
feathers. “Why are you doing this, though?” Stiles bit into his lip, turning
already-dark lips even darker, redder. “Why not just... let me do what I did
before? Why are you helping?”
 
Derek frowned, and Stiles eyes went a little wide like before, and his breaths
got a little shorter, frenzied, his arms tightening around himself as the sour
scent of panic filled the room. Derek... didn't want to say, didn't want to say
that the reason he was helping was only because he wanted Stiles to himself, he
wanted to keep this secret just between them, so he could be the only one other
than Stiles to touch them, mark Stiles and the wings with his scent and his
teeth and claws. Then he... he had to answer, before Stiles thought maybe he
shouldn't know this, he shouldn't be the one to know. “You've helped me enough.
Why can't I return the favor for...” He trailed off, swallowing down the words
'my mate'. His eyes flickered down to the wings as the words resonated inside
of him, made the wolf want to howl. Stiles was his mate. He swallowed and
listened to Stiles breathe for a few seconds before looking back up. “For a
part of my pack?”
 
Stiles stared at him, mouth hanging open, the scent of panic dissolving into
relief and disbelief. “I'm... I'm pack?”
 
Derek's lips twitched again, and he nodded. “Yeah. You've been pack for a long
time, Stiles.” More than pack. He didn't say. “There's nothing that's going to
change that.”
 
And the smell of Stiles emotions, the relief and happiness and excitement, it
was just... too much, too much to handle without pouncing on him. He brushed
past Stiles, inhaling the scent of his mate and brushing his fingers over the
feathers before moving up to the bedroom upstairs. He was going to make sure
Stiles kept his wings out here, and knowing the boy he wasn't going to want to
stay around Derek shirtless. Unfortunately. Derek smirked to himself as he
grabbed up one of his shirts, ripping two long holes into the back. But this
will be just as good.
 
 
***** Tell Me What Do You See (When You Look At Me) *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek spend some more time together and Stiles has a
     worried moment thinking about letting others know about him.
 
Stiles remembered a lot of times that his secret almost got out, sitting there
on Derek's couch, in his too-big shirt with the back ripped out.
 
They were usually when he was running from – or, you know, into, because
Derek's off-hand comments sometimes about Stiles having no self-preservation
instincts weren't that far off – whatever had decided to terrorize Beacon Hills
for the week.
 
He remembered keeping Derek and himself above water for two hours somehow, and
then he remembered how much they were twitching the entire time, irritated, the
water lapping at the both of them ruffling the already ruffled feathers out of
place and he had to grit his teeth not to show.
 
He remembered the many – many, many – times that his dad would catch him and
grab him by the back of his shirt, and he'd almost have a heart attack, because
maybe if he'd only worn a t-shirt his dad would've noticed the wraps
underneath, or they would've come undone. He grimaced to himself when he
remembered the time they almost did, pulling tight from his dad's grip and he
almost had a panic attack from it.
 
So many times during school Scott would just place his hand right there, and
Stiles would have to remember to breathe. It was so, so much worse after Scott
got his furry little problem because he didn't know if he smelled different
than everyone else, or if Scott would be able to just... just tell that Stiles
was different.
 
And then there was Derek. Derek who always slammed him into walls and Stiles
would feel a zing of pain and a bit of a... a sensation he couldn't really name
through the wings. He would agonize over if Derek noticed how he seemed more
breathless than he probably should for just being slammed into a wall by muscle
and werewolf, or if Derek could see the tension in him whenever someone got to
close to his back because Derek just seemed to have an eye on everything at
every moment. And Derek coming back and living so close to his usual haunt to
take everything off and breathe. And Derek always climbing in through his
window without any warning and maybe seeing the wraps and question him – or
worse, ripping them away. And Derek... Derek knew. He was still trying to wrap
his head around that.
 
I... I should tell my dad...
 
Stiles shuddered and felt his head spin a little at the thought. “Ohh... my god
I can't... I can't do this...” He ran his hands roughly over his hair before
tucking his head between his knees and just breathing. This sucked. Stupid
Derek and his... stupid forest and stupid wolf senses and crap.
 
“Stiles?”
 
Speaking of... Stiles let out a long breath and sat up. He'd almost broken down
in front of Derek before. He would show no weakness. Nope. He... he was okay.
He wasn't... he wasn't okay, but he was going to be. “Hey.” He said lamely,
overly cheery. Derek arched an unimpressed eye brow. “Sup, sourwolf.”
 
Stiles was going to go smack his head several times against the wall as soon as
he could get out and away from witnesses, because he didn't think his whole act
of 'totally fine' was going to get much better if he did that.
 
Derek stared at him for a while before he shook his head and sighed, muttering
to himself a little before he nodded outside without a word. Aaand were back to
not talking. Awesome.
 
Stiles huffed and stood, pausing before he went out and curling the wings
around himself tightly before stepping out. He still managed to hit the tip of
one of them off the door frame. Stupid overly huge wings...
 
He looked up when he bumped into Derek and followed his eyes to his jeep, that
was now in the small cleared lot in front of the Hale house instead of parked
on the side of the road out of view where he left it. Oh... Stiles clutched a
little tighter at the shirt and looked up at Derek. “Guess I have to leave
now?” He didn't really want to. Not that he'd enjoyed spending time with Derek
but... it was more getting to have everything out like this. He wasn't worried
that someone would stumble in and see him, he could stretch the wings out and
everything was painless – mostly, recent life of being chased by monsters and
all, comes with an array of injuries.
 
Derek huffed softly and glanced down at him for a few moments. Then he cleared
his throat. “Do you... need help with the...” Derek trailed off before his face
pinched up and Stiles watched, a little stunned that Derek Hale, sourwolf
extraordinaire, had just offered to help him with something as mundane as
wrapping his wings up.
 
Okay... maybe mundane wasn't the proper word for the situation, but...
whatever.
 
“Um... sure?”
 
Derek's features relaxed and he... he didn't quite smile but his lips twitched
for a second before shifting into a frown and he nodded and walked into the
house again. Stiles rolled his eyes as he followed after. Would it kill him to
show any sign of emotion? Other than anger, kill, and stop-talking-Stiles-I'll-
rip-your-throat-out?
 
When he was back in the living room, Derek was already standing there, curling
the wraps around his fingers like he was almost... nervous. Stiles blinked, and
then Derek was glaring and... yeah, he was just seeing things, had to. Derek
didn't get nervous, just as much as he never laughed or smiled or showed any
signs of being anything other than a robot... or... werebot.
 
“Stiles.”
 
Stiles held his hands up at the growl and pulled Derek's shirt off, draping it
over the back of the couch before hesitating a moment, and then turning his
back to Derek and tucking his wings in as close as he could to his own body.
 
He shuddered at the first touch of Derek's hands firm on the feathers and bit
into his lip, hard. That's... a really weird feeling. Before he never really
got the chance to really... take it in when Derek touched them, seeing as he
wriggled out of his touch pretty damn fast, but... huh. It was weird, but...
pleasant, nice... almost... oh.
 
Stiles' toes curled in his sneakers and he had to swallow back what would've
been an embarrassing sound – that probably would've introduced Stiles' throat
to Derek's teeth finally after the many promises if it got out – when Derek's
hand pressed harder, all warm pressure and fingertips digging in a little. The
feathers shuddered around him and he twitched, a wing swinging out and smacking
again the hard wall of werewolf behind him. “C-can you just... do it, please?”
 
He grimaced at the stuttering, but Derek just eased up, patting the feathers
before he held a hand to Stiles' side, cupping the start of the gauze wraps
there, then he paused. “Up.” He grunted, smacking Stiles' arm. He lifted both
up and swallowed as Derek slowly curled the first layer over the feathers,
pressing down slightly with his free hand. This was... even weirder. It was
like... letting Derek in on another secret, sort of, inviting him in to be this
big part of it.
 
Oh, that's... Stiles huffed out a breath that he hoped didn't sound too shaky
when the hand pressing the wings firm to his back stroked down along them, down
to where the tips flirted with where his back met the curve of his... whoa.
 
“Stop.” Stiles wrenched away, curling his hands around himself and staring up
at Derek. Derek who was standing there looking as innocent as could be, like he
wasn't just about to cop a feel. Stiles licked his lips, before he grabbed the
gauze and wraps. “That's... bad Derek.”
 
Derek arched a brow at that, then stepped forward. “Let me see them.” He held
out his hand, gesturing to the pile of bandages in his hands and he clutched
them a little tighter.
 
“Dude, you just almost touched my ass. Hell no.”
 
Derek stared at him for a long, long time, and Stiles had to keep himself from
twitching. He didn't expect a lot out of this day, but he sure as hell did not
see Derek trying to feel him up anywhere close to happening. “I won't do it
again.” Derek's low, growling voice brought him back and he stared, gaping into
eyes that were halfway red. “Now let me see.”
 
Stiles stared for a few moments more, before he hesitantly handed the bundle
over. Derek huffed and spun Stiles around then pushed the wings down, wrapping
the gauze over it efficiently, around his chest and down to the ends where
Stiles never did, just loose enough to where it was snug but still comfortable.
Then without stopping for a second he started wrapping the heavy cotton around
him, the same way; a few times around his chest and then twice over his
stomach. Stiles tested it when Derek knotted it on his side, smiling a little
when nothing moved. “Awesome.”
 
Derek looked over him, then face scrunched up a little, before he handed Stiles
his shirts. Stiles pulled them over his head, grinning again when he found he
could move a lot easier than usual, too, and the wraps didn't constrict around
his chest or anything. “I think you need to do this for me from now on. Like,
you should use your stalking skills for good to come in before I go to school
to help me.”
 
Derek... didn't look impressed. Stiles shrugged on his plaid and grinned at
Derek before he turned to leave. He stopped when he felt a large hand clap onto
his shoulder and turned to look back at Derek again. Derek didn't say anything,
just... stared. “Okay...” He shrugged out of Derek's hold, hearing a huff
behind him as he opened the door and walked out. Derek was acting so weird...
 
When Stiles hopped up into his jeep he paused for a moment, fingering his keys
which were dumped on the passenger's seat. He was going to tell his dad. It...
it would be okay. It would. His dad wouldn't react that bad... really. At
least... he didn't think...
 
Stiles sucked in a deep breath and started the jeep before driving off the Hale
property. Seriously. He could handle werewolves and hunters and lizard monsters
any day of the week. Why should he be so afraid of tell his dad one little tiny
thing? He'd be totally fine... totally... fine.
 
***** Pressures Building With Time (I Made It Up In My Mind) *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles tells his dad. Derek is also confusing him. A lot.
Chapter Notes
     Meep, this was later than I wanted. Just couldn't find a moment to
     really sit down and write. :/ Hopefully I'll get another one up
     sooner rather than later.
 
 “Holy f-uum.” Stiles glared at Derek, while Derek glared at Stiles and,
hopelessly, licked at the hand over his mouth. Derek's face scrunched up but he
didn't remove his hand. Welp. Couldn't blame him for trying?
 
After a few moments of their glaring contest – which Stiles was going to
convince himself that, while he was definitely not winning, at least he was
putting up a good fight – Derek pulled his hand away, wiping it off on Stiles'
sleep shirt and springing off of the bed.
 
“What the hell are you doing in my room, no, no, in my bed at...” He paused to
look over at the clock. “Six in the freakin' morning? At the rate you're going
you'll get the world record for creepiest creeper things ever done and I'm
including the Twilight creeper and-”
 
“Stiles.” Derek growled. “Shut up.”
 
Stiles stared, sitting up in his bed. “Dude. What the hell is up with you? I
mean, the telling me to shut up thing, that's nothing new but...” He gestured
to his rumpled sheets and made a noise somewhere along the lines of a dying
cat, watching Derek's eyebrows raise high at it and he was not going to blush
and figure out what the hell Derek was up to. “I just woke up to you staring at
me not even five inches from my face and like, straddling me.” He made some
more gestures and Derek watched, unimpressed. “Not typical Derek Hale
behavior.”
 
Derek was quiet for a while, then he shrugged, and said. “You haven't told your
father yet.”
 
Damn him. “N-no... I... how do you know that?” Derek was quiet again. Stiles
groaned and dropped his head to his knee. “Seriously. This new stalker
lifestyle of yours has got to stop.” He made a face into his sleep pants. “It's
creepy.”
 
Again, Derek, who really seemed to be the master at ignoring and avoiding
things, changed the subject. “You have school. Get up.”
 
Stiles grimaced and swallowed down some lame argument about how Derek wasn't
his dad and Stiles wasn't a werewolf so he had no business ordering him around,
but Derek was right, and if he was late again he was pretty sure his dad would
kill him. He groaned as he pulled himself up, then yelped as Derek grabbed him
by his shirt and reeled him over, before pulling it up and over his head. “W-
what are you doing?”
 
Derek just grunted at him, before he was plucking at the wraps and pulling them
off, and Stiles relaxed a little bit. It'd been about a week since the first
time they did this, and Derek had made it a habit to come over – usually after
Stiles was awake and usually not in his bed – and fix his wraps. By now, he was
used to it. Mostly.
 
He bit into his lip when Derek's fingers skimmed over the inside of his wing,
close to where feathers met skin, a part of him that he'd found out rather
quickly was really sensitive. “Why haven't you told him yet?” Derek muttered as
he started with a fresh strip of gauze. Stiles swallowed and shook his head.
This, he wasn't used to. They were usually quiet during this. Derek was usually
quiet period, and he always seemed much more content with Stiles being the
same.
 
“Um...” His left wing twitched when Derek's hand slipped and stroked down it.
He ignored any feeling that it gave him, especially the slow building warmth in
his chest, that was quickly moving its way down south, which was... not good.
“I, I've been lying to him for a while. For...” He closed his eyes. “For almost
ten years. And, I mean, look at me...” The wings twitched and he stopped,
frowning down to the floor, feeling Derek's hands hot on his back. They didn't
do this. Why was he talking?
 
He shifted a little, feeling Derek's hands moving with him, just... holding on.
“Derek?”
 
“I like them.” Derek muttered, moving a hand up to where his wings folded,
pressing in at the arch gently before tracing down with his nails, making
Stiles shuddering. He moved to pull away, but Derek's other hand, holding onto
his wrist, was just enough to stop him. The werewolf didn't speak for a while,
and Stiles was sure he wasn't going to say anything more when he finally did.
“If... something goes wrong you have a place with me.”
 
Stiles mouth fell open and he resisted the urge to turn and just gape at him
because, really? Derek had been acting so weird since he walked in on Stiles
but, seriously, this... this was just.... what?!
 
“Um...” Stiles mumbled then felt Derek start working at wrapping the bandages
around him again, working fast until he got to tying them off. “I... I'm a
little... but, yeah, okay, fine.” He huffed when Derek finished up and stood,
moving to the window quickly. Stiles wanted to reach out, stop him but... he
was still so very, very confused about this whole conversation, and he really
needed to... not think about possibly living with Derek because that way lies
only bad, bad, awkward and embarrassing things, but Derek just... stopped
anyway, his thumb sliding along the sill for a moment.
 
“You should, tell him though. Soon.”
 
And... with that Derek practically flung himself out of Stiles room, leaving
him there, wondering a little bit if werewolves could get sick, because that
was really the only excuse he could come up with for how Derek was acting.
 
After a moment of just staring after Derek, Stiles glanced over at his clock
and jumped into action, pulling on water shirts he got his hands on.
“Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!” Dammit, stupid, stupid Derek.
 
Stiles ran out, not knowing Derek was outside below the sill, a soft smile
tugging at his lips before the werewolf was off into the forest as the teen
sped off to school.
 
 
“Um... dad?”
 
Sheriff Stilinski turned toward his son, frowning when he saw the worried look
and the way he was twitching, picking at his sleeves. “Stiles?” The boy
twitched again, biting into his lip. He looked overwhelmingly nervous, not even
meeting his father's eyes. “Stiles, what's wrong?”
 
Stiles glanced up, then swallowed. “I, um, there's...” He rubbed at the back of
his neck before he grumbled and started pulling off the plaid overshirt. He
paused with the tee and looked over to his dad. “Um, you might want to sit for
this or... or something. Yeah.”
 
Stiles didn't move until the Sheriff was seated at the table, watching his son
with a mix of worry and suspicion. Then Stiles pulled the t-shirt off and he
shot back up at the sight of all the bandages. “Stiles what the hell
happened?!” The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “Who did this to you?”
 
Stiles stumbled over his words for a moment before he sighed, rubbing his hand
roughly over his hair. “N-no one. Dad just... wait a minute, okay?”
 
Slowly, the Sheriff fell back into his seat, staring at the bandages for a
while. Then Stiles pulled at the knotted mess of gauze and cloth at his side,
and they were falling, slipping down and then rising back up when they caught
on...
 
The father's mouth dropped open slightly as he saw gray unfold behind his son.
He was just about to ask, question what happened to his son and when this
happened and how, but then he saw the look on Stiles face. He slowly got up and
pulled his son into his arms, feeling him tense for a moment before he relaxed.
 
After a few moments passed, Stiles slowing breathing the only sound in the
room, the Sheriff pulled away, clearing his throat. “How, um...” He grimaced,
rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
 
“Uh, well, they...” He fumbled over words for a few seconds before he shook
himself and settled back, tucking the wings behind him and pointedly ignoring
how his dad watched them move. “They, I don't know exactly how, I just... I
know that...” He frowned. “They... came in not long after, um... after...” He
trailed off, and judging from the pained look on his dad's face, he knew
exactly what he couldn't bring himself to say. He swallowed. “I... I didn't
tell you because... I...” He shrugged and let out a strained laugh. “I mean,
really, how many kids have come out to their parents saying, 'oh, hey, look at
me, I have wings', right? I mean, I don't really... know how well that's going
to go down and-”
 
“Stiles.”
 
He looked up, shutting his mouth, and his dad just gave him that same
exasperated smile, rubbing a hand down his face. Stiles relaxed; the same
one... same was good, same was very good. His dad huffed out a breath and
crossed his arms. “I am pissed you didn't tell me sooner, but... I get it.
Just... next time something like this comes up, tell me? No matter how
unbelievable it may be?” He hesitated a moment, and Stiles took that moment to
gather up his clothes, wondering if he should wrap up again or just go up and
pull on one of Derek's pre-shredded shirts. Then he jumped when he felt his dad
pull him into another hug, and Stiles smiled a little bit. “We're all we got
left, okay? So, anything, you talk to me.”
 
Stiles choked down the ridiculous urge to cry and nodded. “Yeah, dad, I will.”
Though... maybe telling him about the whole werewolf invasion to his life
should wait until at least another night. “Um, I'm going to... go take care of
some homework now, yeah?”
 
The sheriff nodded, waving his son off with a shake of his head. Stiles rushed
upstairs, feeling like the weight of the world was being flung off of his
shoulders and he felt so relaxed he would probably just melt into the floor if
he stopped a second to let himself. He smiled a little when he heard his window
creaking open outside of his door and pushed it open to see Derek just crawling
through.
 
The werewolf paused when he saw Stiles, looking down at the wings for a moment
before his eyes flicked over to the bundle of clothes and wraps in his arms and
finally up to his beaming face. “How'd it go?”
 
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, 'cause I'm sure you weren't creeping outside of
the window listening in on the entire thing.” Derek didn't respond, just
leaning down and sliding the window closed again to keep open the cold, and
finally crossing his arms and arching a brow at him. Stiles huffed and dropped
the clothes then picked up one of Derek's shirts that was tossed under his bed.
“It went, a lot better than I expected. Like, mostly, he just... seemed
shocked, but, yeah, that's a given, but it was the same. Well... as... the same
anything can be when these come into the picture.” He twitched one of his wings
for emphasis and pulled the shirt over his head.
 
Derek didn't say anything for a while. Actually, he didn't even move for so
long that Stiles was convinced he could just flop down onto his bed and crack
open his history book to get his studying done without any interruptions.
 
Of course, he'd only read about one sentence on the page before he felt his bed
dip beside him, and when he looked Derek was sprawled next to him, reading over
his shoulder. Stiles rolled his eyes, and bit his lip to stop from snarking at
the Alpha because one, he really had to get this reading done, and two, he
didn't really feel like getting his back reacquainted with the wall again any
time soon.
 
He did grin when Derek yawned though, stifling it just a second too late. “Is
the big bad wolf bored?”
 
Derek huffed. “No. Just...” Derek growled a little bit – and Stiles tried to
ignore how the hairs at the back of his neck stood up and the wings shifted
nervously – and ground out. “Haven't been getting much sleep.”
 
“Oh, well, you could crash here while I study if you, you know, wanted.” Crap,
he... really did not mean to say that. But, he couldn't exactly take it back.
That'd just be mean. Now that he really looked at Derek he did look a little
bit pathetic; dark circles just barely noticeable under his eyes, and looking
like he was ready to konk out at any second.
 
Derek looked him over for a moment, then shrugged. “Wake me up when you want me
to leave.” Was all he said before he shifted around and was just... out. Just
like that. Damn. Why couldn't Stiles get to sleep like that?
 
Stiles bit into his lip and moved as carefully and quietly off the bed as he
could to his desk, lest he wanted his throat ripped out by waking the sleeping
wolf. Though, surprisingly, he was able to concentrate a little better with the
soft, steady breaths behind him.
 
It's only about an hour and a half later that he's all done with studying and
homework, and he spun around on his chair to face Derek. Derek who was still
passed out on his bed and...  oh .
 
Stiles watched with a stunned expression as he saw Derek curled tightly around
one of Stiles' pillows, face rubbing slowly against it and making barely
audible snuffling sounds. Never before that moment did Stiles ever think he
could consider Derek anything close to cute or... yeah. Yeah, Derek cuddling
his pillow was...
 
Slowly, like he was stalking a frightened animal, Stiles pulled his phone out
of his pocket and moved over beside Derek, finding the perfect angle, then
snapped a picture, and grinned. He was going to keep that forever... and never,
ever mention it to anyone.
 
Checking the time he decided he'd shower and eat before he would wake Derek up
and he set off. He took as much time as he could doing both, but he only burned
up another hour.  Maybe I could... no... But I don't really want to wake him
up.
 
Stiles watched Derek from the doorway, playing with the hem of one of Derek's
borrowed shirts and pouted.  I never get to see him like this and... it's kinda
nice, when he's not threatening to kill me or growling at me or anything.
 
With a breath, Stiles decided, and prayed to whoever would listen that he would
not be mauled for doing this, and carefully crawled onto the bed beside Derek,
not bothering with the sheets. He managed to wiggle the pillow out of Derek's
arms and settle it under his own head, only for Derek to curl those arms around
Stiles instead, murmuring as he settled in against him... Which apparently
included pushing a leg between his and...  fuck , not good not good  notgood .
 
“Derek.” Stiles hissed, trying to shift away but only managing to push himself
more into Derek and, and if this kept on this was going to be very, very
awkward and  bad and- “Derek!”
 
Derek jerked awake, blinking a few times as he looked at Stiles. His expression
started at annoyed, then slid into realization and horror. “Oh.” Derek said,
lamely, as he pulled away, standing up from the bed and moving wordlessly to
the window. And... and no, Derek was not just going to leave after that. He was
going to stay right here and talk about it because, dammit, Stiles wanted to
know what the hell just happened.
 
“Derek, no, don't you dare jump out. You're going to stay right here and- Derek
!” Stiles sighed as he tried to reach for Derek, his fingers only brushing his
shirt and he slumped against the sill as Derek just disappeared into the dark.
“Fucking. Werewolves.”
 
Stiles grumbled and flopped back onto his bed, feeling awkward now, too big in
his skin and like everything was just way too small and closing in on him. He
turned onto his side and curled the wings around him and forced his eyes shut,
trying to forget about everything that just happened.

 But of course, of  course , he couldn't. He could only lie awake replaying
those last moments in his head, feeling like some freak, because of course
Derek would just run away like that. He wouldn't be caught dead with someone
like Stiles, and waking up like that? Stiles huffed. And here he was thinking
Derek was starting to like him, to care about him...  Silly me...

***** I'm Feelin' Pretty Dirty, Baby (Forgive My Sins) *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles frets over what happened with Derek; Stiles tells Scott.
 
After that, Derek didn't come back to his room. Stiles huffed as he had to do
up his wraps by himself again for school – because while he could go around
freely at home, he was definitely not going to risk it at school, ever, he
wasn't an idiot like some people believed. He sent a text to Derek, saying 'we
need to talk' before he was rushing down the stairs two at a time with his bag
in over his shoulder and out the door with a pop tart in his mouth.
 
He paused in the car for a moment, rolling his phone in his hand. He'd thought
about telling Scott, and maybe letting the pack know, now. He chewed for a
moment before he tapped out a message to him, too, and then pulled out of the
driveway and started toward the school.
 
When he got there, Scott practically jumped him. “Dude, what's up? What
happened?”
 
Stiles waved him off. “I'll tell you after school.” He gave his friend a
strained little smile. “It's not exactly something I can tell you without
proof.”
 
Scott gave him his usual confused frown and nodded. “Okay, um, I'll tell
Allison I'll be a little late then.”
 
Stiles nodded then let out a breath. Okay, good, he wouldn't be chickening out
of this now, Scott would want to know what was wrong so he probably wouldn't
let Stiles get out of it. He checked his phone for a text from Derek, and tried
not to feel too disappointed when there was nothing.
 
He really shouldn't expect any different. It was Derek. Derek was probably
going to try and ignore whatever had happened and avoid Stiles more than he did
before he stumbled into the clearing and found him.
 
“Expecting a call or something?”
 
Stiles shook his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket, grimacing as he
felt the wings tug at his uneven wraps. “Uh, no, it's nothing.” He shoved down
the disappointment and flinched when the final bell before the tardy bell rang.
“Craaap. Okay, I cannot be late again or my dad is gonna bury me, dude.”
 
The two ran down the hall, and with classes and the thought of what he was
going to tell Scott after class was almost enough to get his mind off of Derek.
 
 
“Dude.” Scott stared at Stiles for a few moments as he looked up at him from
where he was sitting on Stiles' bed. Stiles tried not to twitch too much and
curled the wings around him. “So, like, what, are you...”
 
Stiles cut him off with a shake of his head. “I have no idea where they came
from or anything. Just... happened a while ago.” He finished lamely, then
twitched back when Scott reached out to touch one of them. No one else had ever
touched them. Except for Derek... Stiles grimaced. Great.And he'd done so well
just ignoring that problem. Dammit.
 
Scott pouted at him for a moment, hand still stretched out, before he leaned
back. “So does anyone else know about, um, them?”
 
Stiles flushed and nodded. “Y-yeah. My dad, and, I pretty much just told him
last night, and, um...” He coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck.
“...Derek.”
 
Scott's eyebrows shot up at that. “Derek? You told Derek before me?” Scott
looked hurt. And, Stiles really didn't want the guilt trip, because really, if
he ever got up the strength to tell anyone by himself then his dad and Scott
would be the very first to know. It's not his fault Derek was... Derek and just
stalked around in the forest and dropped in on him.
 
“Uh, no. It was more... Derek found out.” He hoped beyond hope that he could
leave it at that. Scott just met him with a blank stare and eventually he
nodded, prompting him. Stiles sighed. “Keeping them... wrapped up like that for
very long gets... uncomfortable so I used to go into the woods where no one
usually came and... let 'em out for a while. And I did that like, a month ago
and Derek just... popped up.”   There. That should do it.
 
“And?”
 
Dammit, Scott.  Stiles glared at his friend as he sat at the edge of Stiles'
bed, like a puppy waiting for his next treat. “And I freaked out and ran away
and then he stalked me back to my jeep and everything was good. That's it.
Nothing else happened!”
 
Scott sat back and nodded, then looked up, face scrunched up, like he smelled
something weird. He hesitated before he asked. “So, are you going to tell the
pack?”
 
Stiles shrugged and flopped down onto the bed beside Scott, tucking them close
to him and just sighing as Scott reached out again and touched the wing closest
to him. It was... different from when Derek touched them. With Derek it felt...
it almost felt like the alpha was digging under his skin and touching his most
intimate parts. And with Scott it was just like, warm. Safety and warm and
summer days running around being idiot kids.
 
Huh. That's... weird...  He really didn't want to think about what that meant.
 
“Yeah, I guess. I'm not going to come out at school though. That's pretty much
like asking to get lynched and burned at the stake.”
 
Scott stared for a moment. “Come out?” He tilted his head, looking parts
confused and parts a little like he just pieced something together. “There
something else you want to tell me, dude?”
 
Stiles stared up at him for a while, trying to figure out what he... oh.Oh no.
“No! No, god, no, um, I'm not...gay, dude.” Well... not for sure. But
theoretically doesn't necessarily count, right? “I meant it like, come out with
these not... out of my non-existent closet which does not exist.”
 
Scott nodded slowly. “Mmhmm.” He opened his mouth to say something else, and
Stiles never wished more he could just disappear or be swallowed up by the
floor or something, when his phone buzzed and he smiled. And Stiles would be
forever thankful to Allison for getting him out of a possibly more awkward and
embarrassing conversation than this one. Any more and he'd probably burst into
flames from blushing.
 
“Sorry, dude, I...”
 
Stiles waved him off. “It's fine, go, man.”
 
Scott grinned at him, then pulled him up into an awkward bro-hug, and rushed
out. Stiles sighed and flopped down onto the bed, reaching for his phone to
check if Derek had answered at all. Still nothing.
 
Stiles pouted, as if pouting at his phone would magically make a text or a call
appear. When that didn't work he just pulled himself up and busied himself
around the house and in front of the tv for a few hours. He didn't have to
worry about his dad being back until around midnight, so he had the house to
himself. Even then, though, he was turning in early, tugging Derek's shirt back
over his head and ignoring how the scent of woods and wolf and Derek made him
feel calmer and more focused.
 
He was just about to crawl in under the blankets when he heard his window
cracking open and he looked up to see Derek crawling through. Finally...
“Derek...”
 
Derek's head shot up and he stared over at Stiles, his eyes flickering red once
before he dropped in, sliding the window shut. “You wanted to talk?”
***** You're The One My Heart Calls Home *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek and Stiles finally have their talk (after a teeny tiny detour)
Chapter Notes
     Meeeep little bit late. Sadly, updates may be like this for a while.
     Sorry, guys. :(
 
“Derek...”

“You wanted to talk?”
 
 
Stiles more wanted to have Derek on the bed with him, curled around him like
before, but he was not going to say that out loud. That was what got them in
this mess in the first place. “Um, yeah, I...” He rubbed at the back of his
neck and shrugged. “I wanted to, um, apologize for what happened the other
night? I mean, I shouldn't have just slipped in like that. I'm always the one
complaining about a personal bubble and all that and...” He trailed off when
Derek made a low growling noise and swallowed. He was dead. So, so dead.
“Derek?” And... oh god, he just squeaked. Great. Perfect. Way to make this
situation better.
 
Derek stalked toward him, growling low in his throat as he reached toward
Stiles and dragged him across the bed. And... really not the time to be getting
horny. Really, really not the time.
 
Derek paused, face only about an inch from his, eyes red. He sniffed the air
for a moment, and Stiles tried desperately to cover up the arousal that he knew
Derek was probably smelling, and was probably going to gut him for, but it was
too late.
 
Then, Derek grinned. An honest, genuine, really real grin, and... and nuzzled
at Stiles' throat. What the fuck?
 
Derek nipped at his Adam's apple, lapping over it and making Stiles shudder
from head to toe and his wings were vibrating against the bed, now, before he
pulled away and his grin was now a wolfish smirk. “I want you to...” He licked
a hot line up the column of Stiles throat, Stiles gasping as he dug his fingers
into the feathers of his own wings, trying desperately not to reach out toward
Derek. “I need you close... All the time, Stiles. As close as I can get, I want
to burrow deep inside you...”
 
Stiles hips rocked up without his permission and he let out a loud breath.
“Okay, yeah, no, off.” Derek growled and dragged his mouth to Stiles' jaw and
decided skimming the sensitive skin with his teeth was an amazing idea. “Oh-
ohmygod, okay. Derek, off.” The alpha leered at him, licking his lips, and
Stiles frowned and pushed with his feet. “Off!”
 
Derek moved, pouting – actually, pouting... Stiles wished he could get away
taking a picture without something vital being violently removed, most likely
with teeth – as he plopped back on his ass on the bed. He looked like a puppy
that'd just been reprimanded by it's owner.
 
Stiles sighed. “Dude, okay, first of all, what the hell? Why, why are you doing
these things to me?” Derek tilted his head. “Why did you just lick me like my
skin is made of wolf nip?”
 
Derek's eyes flickered and he licked his lips. Stiles did not need to think
about that either, fuck. He growled lightly and leaned toward Stiles, and when
he spoke, it was more than obvious that the wolf was in control. “You're mate.”

Oh. That... sort of explains things. But, wait...what?! “E-excuse me? Like...
mate as in, you want to bone me and have werewolf children with me mate? As in,
for life mate?”
 
Derek nodded. Stiles tried to swallow through his suddenly desert dry mouth.
“I... I... when?” He cleared his throat. “You... you need to explain yourself,
seriously. I... There's too many questions, crap, dude, why me? And when were
you planning on-ohhh...” Stiles swallowed down a moan when Derek stalked toward
him again. And... should Stiles be concerned that he's getting turned on by a
wolfed-out Derek?
 
“D-Derek. Come on, we need to-mmm!” Stiles tensed when he felt Derek's mouth on
his. But... it wasn't a kiss, really. It was more Derek latching onto his lower
lip and lapping at it, biting down, easing the pain with little nips once he
decided to let go.
 
“Later...”
 
Stiles shivered, licking his lips, shuddering again when he noticed how
intently Derek was watching them. “N-no. Not later.” He swallowed and sat up,
feeling the wings behind him uncurling. He pushed lightly at Derek's chest, not
enough to push him back but more just... to touch him. Stiles never said he
wasn't greedy. “We are going to talk, before anything else...” As much as
'anything else' sounded absolutely awesome.
 
Derek snarled, but he listened, sitting close to Stiles, keeping his hands on
Stiles thighs as he stared. Stiles puffed out a shaky breath. “Alright, guess
I'll start.”
 
Derek huffed, eyes narrowing as they bled red again. Alright, impatient
werewolf, no good, okay. “U-um, so, right, uh...” Derek tapped a finger on
Stiles leg and Stiles stiffened, feeling his feathers ruffle and stand on end
as his wings shot up, and as he blurted. “So, yeah, I really, really need to
know when you felt like this, about... um, me. And why. I mean, I know why I
might be considered attractive, you know, but...” He sighed. “I know I'm a
little bit much at times and that kind of subtracts from that. Kind of like
Jackson's douchery does from him.” And, great. Perfect time to mention that
Stiles found Jackson attractive. Awesome. Great job mouth. You're so fired.
Well, would be. If... it was even possible to fire my mouth.
 
“Stiles.”
 
Oh, yeah. Talking. “Mmm?”
 
Derek was... whoa. Derek was actually smiling. Granted, it was a small, teeny-
tiny smile but, yeah. And... and Stiles felt like he'd been punched in the gut
without the pain, because it was suddenly so hard to breathe with Derek
smiling, at him, sanely. Derek shook his head and squeezed Stiles thighs, then
dropped his eyes to his hands. “For a while. I've... known you're my mate for a
while.” He paused a moment then lifted a hand up to Stiles' wing, smoothing
feathers down and making shivers crash down his spine and his toes curl. “Since
I saw you in the woods, I knew exactly. I... I'd felt it before that, but I...
never knew what it was.” He smirked and rubbed a thumb over one of the
feathers. “And really? Just a little bit much?”
 
“Oh, har har.” Stiles slapped Derek's hand away, and then regretted it – it
more made his hand sting than phase Derek at all and the wing rubbing felt
really good. He sat up a bit straighter then bit into his lip and stared at the
werewolf across from him. “If you knew for that long then why did you always
act like you couldn't stand me?”
 
The hand that was still on Stiles thigh tightened for a moment before Derek
ripped his hand away and he looked away. Derek frowned when Stiles made a soft
sound in the back of his throat, almost wounded, something he didn't even think
he was capable of making but, there you go. “I...” Derek huffed. “I didn't want
you to get stuck with me. You don't... you don't deserve that, Stiles.”

What? But...What?! “Hold up, I... Let me get this straight. You acted like you
hated me so you could put some distance between us... because you didn't want
me to get stuck with you?”
 
A few moments passed, then Derek nodded, and Stiles frowned – even if it did
feel more like a pout; he was never that much of a frowny person – before he
moved a little closer to Derek, grabbed his hands and purposely ignoring the
sharp points of his nails. “Okay, so... that whole... pushing me away thing to
protect me?” Stiles scoffed, and Derek flinched. Good. “That's not your
decision. If I wanted protecting, you should've let me decide. If I didn't want
to get close to you, you let me figure that out, okay?”
 
Derek's frown deepened and he glared down at the floor for a few seconds,
before he pulled his – now more human – hands away and stuffed them into his
pockets. “I'm not good for you, Stiles. I'm...”
 
“Derek.” Stiles hardened his voice, and he almost cracked a smile when he saw
Derek's head whip up, those green-hazel eyes staring at him, wide. “You've
saved my life, so many more times than anyone else, you risk yourself, to save
me. You protect me, even when I don't need it.” He gave Derek a very pointed
glare at that and, again, had to bite back a smile when Derek shrunk back a
little at it. “Sure, you have baggage, but, I mean, yeah, I'm new to this
but... I think everyone's going to have some issues and, well...” He let out a
breath. “How about we just... figure something out with this whole... mate...
thing, yeah?” And, no, Stiles didn't not almost break out into a gigantic smile
at the word mate. Really, could you blame him for being a little happy
realizing that there was someone who showed some interest in him? To know that
at least he'd been meant for someone? Even if that someone was sometimes-
creepy, most-times-grumpy Derek Hale. He'd make it his mission to make Derek
happier, then.
 
Derek just sat there, quiet, for way too long. Stiles had to physically stop
himself from twitching, squeezing his hands onto his legs, digging his fingers
in and tucking his arms into his sides, and he had to bite into his tongue to
stop from talking, filling the growing silence. Then, Derek looked up at him,
looking sad and lost and so much younger than Stiles had ever seen him.
“Only... only if you're sure. Are you sure you want to... to try anything with
me?”
 
Stiles had the feeling that included any contact with Derek. And... and yeah,
Stiles had to say that, yes, while a life without Derek would probably be a lot
safer, he would kind of sorta hate it. He'd found himself a use since Derek
wiggled his way into Stiles' life, a purpose for something other than being the
comic relief to Scott's dopey-eyed hero. He didn't have to go out and actively
seek out adventures to make himself feel like he was important for something
other than making his friend laugh and reminding his dad of his mom and making
everything harder. He just had to go find Derek, and most of the time, whatever
adventure he'd find with the now-Alpha, it was hazardous, danger around every
corner, and the both of them constantly risking their lives to save people, to
help, to be important. Others, it was just... nice, warm, like the old days of
summer when he and Scott would always wander around and laugh and play,
familiar like it, unfamiliar in the something else that was always an
undercurrent that he could never really pick up until he thought about it
later, and even then, he could really never understand it. Huh. So, maybe...
that was it...
 
Stiles glanced up to Derek, then he just couldn't help himself, he'd always
been a hugger, that was how he'd always tried to fix things when someone he
cared about was upset. He had magical hugs.
 
Derek stiffened up for a moment when Stiles' arms wrapped around broad
shoulders, then when Stiles' wings followed, enveloping the werewolf better
than anything else, he relaxed, falling into Stiles with a small breath.
 
“Yeah...” Stiles said, because while he was a hugger, he was also a talker.
And, while Derek maybe, already knew his answer, what with all of his werewolf
powers and all that, he wanted to make absolutely sure this got through. “Yeah,
I'm sure.”
 
Derek's arms came around him, then, curling tight, and he buried his face into
the mess of feathers on his shoulder. Derek growled softly, contentedly, and
opened his half-green, half-red eyes to Stiles, still looking so unsure and
lost. Stiles felt like his emotions were reflected there, because... he was
sure, he was positive he at least wanted to try. But he was lost, no idea what
to do or where to start, how to do this right or be good at it or anything. He
didn't want to mess up and end up hurting Derek more than Derek was already
hurt, so much. He didn't want to add to Derek's problems.
 
Instead of conveying any of that, though, Stiles just sucked in a breath,
tasting only Derek, and werewolf and something else that he couldn't quite
name, but rolled over his tongue amazingly, and squeezed him, burying his face
into Derek's hot neck and closing his eyes, just breathing Derek in, as Derek
sunk into his body and breathed him in. A silence took up the room, and for the
first time in a really, really long time, the silence wasn't tinged with
memories of a silent house that drove him insane with sadness. It was peaceful,
good. It was home.
 
***** I Feel A Lil' Withdrawl, Baby (Come Pick Me Up) *****
Chapter Summary
     Kind of... mostly filler. And fluff. And silliness. Oh, and Papa
     Stilinski. Derek's POV. Warning for ooc-ness.
 
When Derek woke up next, he was curled around a warm, slightly-smaller body.
His face was tucked into soft down, warm and earthy-spicy smelling.
 
He pulled back a little, seeing Stiles' face, mouth parted and looking so
peaceful. Derek smiled softly, then slowly uncurled himself from around Stiles.
The younger boy stirred a little bit, wings twitching and curling around
himself to make up for Derek's warm disappearing. Derek felt his chest fill up
with warmth and he reluctantly crawled out of the bed.
 
Derek... didn't really know what was going to happen next. Stiles said he was
sure and Derek... Derek didn't even really understand everything that he was
asking of Stiles, what he was asking Stiles to be sure of. Yes, he was asking
Stiles to be his mate but...
 
“Thass really creepy...” Stiles muttered, and Derek jumped a little bit and
looked back down to his mate. The dark feathers parted around him, bleary brown
eyes staring up at him. “D'you hav'ta watch m'sleep?”
 
Derek didn't say anything, just watched Stiles stretch out, wings vibrating
with it. Then Stiles slumped back onto the mattress and sighed. “Yeah, 'course
y'do, creeper.” But he was smiling as he said it, teasing. Stiles sat up
slowly, yawning and stretching out, his toes curling and uncurling, then tilted
his head at Derek. “So...” Stiles scooted forward until he could stretch out
and touch Derek, easily. “Now what, sourwolf?”
 
Derek didn't know. He couldn't answer Stiles even if he wanted to. Derek huffed
and settled down beside Stiles, barely holding back a shudder when Stiles
curled a wing around his back. Derek looked down at the younger boy, into those
wide brown eyes, and just... let his instincts take him.
 
Stiles' mouth was warm and wet against his, his lips chapped from the boy
constantly licking over them. He stiffened under Derek for a moment, lips
frozen for a beat, then two, and finally Derek felt a shaking hand around the
back of his neck and Stiles pressed into him. It was good, great, maybe not
perfect but... the imperfection made it perfect. Kate... Kate had always made
every kiss she stole from him perfect, no passion but all technique. Stiles was
the opposite. Their lips pressed together in bruising force, teeth clacking
together, noses bumping together, but Stiles was nearly whimpering with it,
clinging to Derek like if they separated he'd die.
 
Derek pulled back, one hand pressed firm against the younger boy's jaw, the
other dug deep into dark feathers. Stiles eyes were half-lidded, mouth hanging
open and puffy, red from kissing. Derek's wolf whined, wanting to wreck him
even more, to claim him, mark Stiles where everyone could see. He wanted to
mark every inch of Stiles pale skin, with his teeth, his nails, his tongue. He
wanted to dig his fingers in deep into the feathers of Stiles' wings until it
was clear he was there, maybe even leave marks from his teeth under the
feathers, deep down to where only Stiles and Derek would know where the mark
was, and Stiles could never erase Derek from him.
 
“Fuck.” Derek pulled away from Stiles, taking several steps away. Stiles
blinked up at him lazily, looking hurt and... “No, Stiles, it's not... It's,
it's me, I...” Derek should maybe be a little concerned that he'd started to
pick up Stiles' babbling. And whiplash-inducing tracks of thought, too,
apparently. Fuck, focus. “I... I want to...” He swallowed, watching Stiles'
adam's apple bob at the same time, and shuddered. He wanted to bite right
there, mark him dirtyanddark.
 
Stiles just stared at him for a while, then moved to the edge of the bed
closest to Derek, stretching out his wings and wrapping them around the
werewolf's back, pulling him forward. Derek almost fell forward onto Stiles,
just barely stopping himself with his hands around Stiles' body on the bed.
“Stiles, what are you...”
 
Derek trailed off when Stiles tilted his head back, pulling at his shirt to
show his collarbone, brown eyes staring up at him. Derek shuddered, then pushed
Stiles back enough so he could settle over Stiles' lap, then scraped his teeth
over Stiles' pulse, feeling it pick up under his tongue when he laved over it.
Stiles gasped and shivered under him, curling dark feathers around him, a soft
blanket of warm.
 
Then Derek heard the door down the hall open and close, and the Sheriff was
moving toward Stiles' room. He didn't even know the Sheriff was here, he
couldn't smell him or hear him or anything and...
 
Derek scrambled back and fell under the bed just as the door to the bedroom
opened and Sheriff Stilinski stepped in. “Oh, you're awake already, huh? You
okay, son?”
 
Stiles stuttered a few times before he laughed and Derek heard him shift
around. “Oh yeah, totally. I'm awesome. Super awesome.”
 
Derek dropped his head to the floor and tried not to groan. The older Stilinski
was quiet for a while before he cleared his throat. “Uh huh, well...” He paused
again, and could almost hear the smile on the older man's face, his heart beat
steady as he said. “I'm going to go and get started with breakfast before I
have to go back in. You should, invite your boyfriend to join us.” Stiles
choked and sputtered, and Derek felt his eyes widen as he stared at the
Sheriff's legs in the doorway from under the bed. “I'd like to talk to him
about a few things.”
 
With that, the door closed after the Sheriff, and Derek popped his head out
from under the bed, sharing a distressed look with Stiles – though, Stiles'
face was more unbelievable mortification and 'oh-god-killmenow'. Derek cleared
his throat as he stood up and brushed the dust off of himself – normally, he
couldn't give a shit about wearing a little dust, but... he was about to meet
his mate's father, officially and... Derek was not too proud to admit he was
more than a little bit scared.
 
“So...”
 
“Oh god, no. No, my dad knows about this. What the hell?! Like, really, I
barely know about this and he just walks in like 'oh Stiles, bring your
boyfriend' which, I'm not even sure what this is, like, yeah, I'm your mate but
does that make us boyfriends or-mphh.”
 
Derek pulled back, their lips making a smacking sound as they separated, and
grinned. How bad was it that Stiles' babble calmed him? And, and it seriously
sounded like Stiles was all on-board for being his mate, being with Derek, of
all people. “Would you rather just go down there and get this over with? Or
stay here and freak out while he probably thinks were having sex?”
 
“Ohmygod, okay, okay, point, you have a very, very, disturbing point. Let's go,
god.”
 
Derek watched Stiles' wings twitch and he smiled, brushing his hands through
the feathers for a few moments as he pressed his lips to Stiles' forehead,
hoping to calm the younger boy down a little – which, given how Stiles sunk
down a little, worked pretty well – before pulling him up and moving down the
stairs to meet his mate's father for breakfast.
 
 
“So...” The sheriff set down the newspaper in his hands when they both walked
into to the room. He looked over Derek, then frowned. “Aren't you that Hale kid
that Stiles said was a murderer before?”
 
“Oh... um, about that...”
 
Derek cut in before Stiles could try to babble his way out. “Yes, sir.” He held
out a hand. “It was all a misunderstanding, really.” A horrible
misunderstanding, but... he knew Stiles didn't mean him any harm. And he'd
already apologized so many times that Derek never wanted to hear Stiles say
'sorry' again.
 
Stiles was staring. And he was shocked. Derek felt himself fluff up, feeling
more like a peacock than a wolf as the Sheriff took his hand without
hesitation. “So...” The sheriff drew out as he settled back in his seat, Derek
and Stiles still standing across from him, then he grinned. “I'm sure I don't
have to tell you that if you hurt my boy I'm going to hunt you down and bury
you, right?”
 
“DAD!”
 
“Yes, sir.”
 
Sheriff Stilinski grimaced, nose wrinkling and, huh... so that's where Stiles
got some of his outrageous expressions from. “Stop it with the 'sir's. Just
call me John, son. Now, the both of you sit down and eat before the tension in
the room gets thick enough to cut with a knife.”
 
Derek bit down a smile and sat, having to pull Stiles down to join him. Stiles
fell into the seat with a choked back yelp that Derek could hear perfectly –
and almost had him grinning again – and started loading up his mates plate with
a little of everything.
 
Stiles seemed a little more pacified when he had a small mountain of pancakes,
bacon and eggs in front of him. John didn't say anything about it, but he did
give Derek a little eyebrow quirk before he spoke up again.
 
“So, obviously Stiles told you about his...” John hesitated a little bit,
waving his hand in the air for a few moments before he shrugged. “I'm still not
used to it.” He looked pointedly at his son. “I still don't quite understand it
and I probably won't for a while... Sorry.”
 
Stiles' heartbeat tripped a little bit, but he nodded and gave his dad a fairly
convincing smile. “I know, Dad. It's, uh, it's fine.” He fidgeted a little bit
and glanced between Derek and his father before settling on the Sheriff. “So,
um, what did you want to talk about dad? With, um, with Derek?”
 
John leveled a blank stare at his son, his lips twitching as Stiles pouted and
went back to his food. The father let out a sigh before turning to look back at
Derek. “I wanted to ask you a few questions and set some ground rules first.”
The Sheriff smirked. “I'll let you decide which we'll tackle first.”
 
Stiles' fork tapped hard against his plate and he spoke, soft and quiet. “Do I
have a vote in this?”
 
“No.”
 
“...Damn.”
 
Derek bit into the inside of his cheek – something he noticed he'd had to do a
lot of since Stiles came around – and nodded. “Questions.” Couldn't be as bad
as Stiles' usually are.
 
“Alrighty. What's going on with you and my son and several high school
students?”
 
...Fuck.
 
Stiles' suddenly pounding heartbeat seemed to agree with that sentiment.
 
Derek wasn't sure if it was time to break that to the man yet, considering he'd
only found out his son was something supernatural the other day, not even a
full week. Discovering that the town you're sworn to protect is crawling with
werewolves and hunters? Probably not the best news. Then again, discovering
that your son was dating a werewolf was probably a lot worse.
 
“Uh, well, you see, dad...”
 
John sighed. “Stiles, I'm sure the man can answer for himself.”
 
“But-”
 
Stiles trailed off at the stern look his father gave him and went back to
picking at the remains of pancake he had left.
 
Derek looked over the Sheriff. All things considered, he'd taken what he'd
discovered so far pretty well. And if Stiles got his suspension-of-disbelief
attitude and protective tendencies from anywhere he'd have to guess he got a
good part of them from his father. He hoped, anyway.
 
“We're... a lot like Stiles. Not with the, wings but... We're different.” He
paused a moment, taking in the Sheriff's blank expression and Stiles' panicked
one. “Those high school students that follow me around, they're my pack. We're
a pack.” He reached under the table to squeeze Stiles' leg and drew in a small
breath, imperceptible to the two humans – well, one human and one mostly human
– in the room. “We're werewolves.”
 
Sheriff John Stilinski stared at him for a few moments, then looked back to his
son. Stiles shrugged, then nodded, giving his dad a little smile. “O...kay.” He
glanced back at Derek, frowning. Derek sighed, then let the alpha red start to
bleed into his eyes, his canines growing just long enough to show.
 
John's eyebrows rose up a little, then he sat back in his chair, huffing out a
disbelieving laugh. “Well... Guess... That explains some of the things that've
been happening lately.”
 
Stiles stared at his dad for a little while as Derek let his features shift
back into human, and eventually his face broke into a wide, sort of proud
smile. He felt Stiles relax back and reach under to squeeze the hand still
resting on his leg.
 
Then the older man glanced between the two of them, settling on Derek again.
“Then I'll have to say that if you do anything to hurt my son, that I'll have
to see if Chris has any silver bullets I could use to hunt you down.”
 
Stiles happy smile dissolved into nervous laughter and Derek gave him a small
nod. He was absolutely not going to mention silver didn't do anything to him,
not that he was planning on hurting Stiles anyway.
 
“Good.” John smiled, then stood up after a glance at his watch, pulling on his
jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair as he did. “Glad that we
understand each other.” He looked over to Stiles. “I'll be back late, I don't
want any trouble. At all.” He said the last part with a pointed glanced in
Derek's direction, and Derek had a pretty good guess as to why, if the jump in
Stiles' pulse and his suddenly red face had anything to do with it. “We'll talk
later, Derek.
 
The Sheriff leaned down, giving his son a quick hug, and Derek a small nod
before he was out the door, leaving the two alone in the room. Stiles let out a
breath and brushed a hand over his hair, dark feathers twitching before curling
around behind his back as he stood up. “Dude, that was the single most
embarrassing moment of my life. I can't believe he threatened you.” He groaned.
“Just my luck that I'm not even with someone for ten hours before my dad finds
out.”
 
Derek felt his lips twitch and he gathered up all the dishes from the table
before moving to the sink, feeling Stiles follow after him. “I thought he took
it well.”
 
Stiles paused a moment, then pushed Derek over with his hip and turned on the
water. “The werewolf part, yeah. I half expected him to pull his gun out when
you started getting all toothy on us, but the dating thing.” He flushed a
bright, delicious red again, licking his lips and staring resolutely into the
sink as it filled with water. “I suppose I should be glad he didn't say
anything about my innocence or purity or something. I think I would've died
right there if he did.”
 
Derek bit into the side of his cheek and he... really didn't need to think
about Stiles purity. Or how badly he wanted to dirty him up and mark him up
earlier. Derek let out a breath and curled around behind Stiles as he started
washing, pausing for a moment, his pulse skipping. He smiled slightly, tucking
his face into his mate's wings and breathing in deep, enjoying the scent of
arousal, joy and leftover embarrassment from him.
 
“S-so.” Stiles stuttered, swallowed, then started again, his voice a little
more steady. “Any plans for today? To celebrate our matedom?”
 
Derek rolled his eyes, but untangled himself from Stiles, nipping at the boy's
neck gently before stepping back a few feet. “I could think of a few ways.” He
smirked when a plate slipped out of Stiles' hands to crash into the water,
sending it all over Stiles as he turned to stare at Derek with a half-aroused,
half-shocked expression. “But maybe should wait until you're eighteen for
that.”
 
Stiles' mouth dropped open a little more then he turned back around, grumbling
and rubbing at the water splotches on his shirt and pants. Derek grinned, then
moved right up behind Stiles again, spinning him around and pressing him up
against the counter, ripping the towel out of his grip and staring down into
wide, surprised brown eyes. “But, we can still do this.” Then Derek leaned
down, pressing their mouths together again, feeling Stiles shudder under him
and hearing the wings vibrate against the back wall.
 
Stiles' arms curled around his neck, wet and slippery with soap, and he pressed
up before soft, warm feathers gathered around him, pulling him further into
Stiles' body. Stiles groaned into the kiss, opening his mouth without any
hesitation when Derek pressed his tongue to the seam of his lips. Stiles moved
more naturally this time, less with a feeling that he had no idea what he was
doing, and more just chasing after his own pleasure. Derek threaded his fingers
through the feathers, feeling Stiles shudder just before their mouths parted
with a soft click.
 
“I think I can get into this.” Stiles teased, leaning up for several more quick
kisses before he muttered, “Definitely, I can definitely get into this.” and
pressed up again.
***** And I Know I'll Be Okay (Though My Skies Are Turning Gray) *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek team up to figure out what Stiles is; Derek's in
     trouble (again) and Stiles comes in to save him (again).
 
Stiles sat at his computer, biting into his lip for a moment, wondering if...
if he should really try searching this because it was ridiculous – he'd looked
up so many other ridiculous things as soon as he realized werewolves existed,
but this, this was just silly, because no. With a sigh, Stiles resigned himself
to his own curiosity, and typed in 'angels' into google. Of course, lots of
religious stuff that didn't really help his research. He tacked on
'supernatural', and, yeah, still nothing.
 
Feeling more than a little stupid, Stiles closed the window and slumped back,
wings twitching agitatedly around him. Yeah, he'd tried before to see if he
could figure out why he was the way he was, but just like now, it'd turned up
nothing. His problem was not really knowing where to start. He couldn't just up
and search 'I got all feathery overnight and I'm wondering what the hell I am,
and if I can fly'. That, he'd always wondered but he was way too scared to try
just leaping out of his window to test it out. And it's not like I could just
go swooping around town, people would notice a kid, with wings, flying around
and such.
 
Stiles sighed, pouting as he picked at his jeans, swaying back and forth in the
seat. Maybe... They had something to do with his mom... They did come out
around when she... when she was gone. Stiles flinched. He felt like he'd just
had a thousand-ton weight dropped on his shoulders, and he curled his arms
around the back of the chair pressing against his chest and hugging his wings
around his body.
 
“Stiles?”
 
Stiles looked up, seeing Derek crawling through the window, brow furrowed in
worry. “What's wrong?”
 
Stiles huffed, then realized his cheeks were wet and rubbed at them. “I'm
fine.” He didn't have to be a werewolf to hear his own heart beat harder at the
lie. He smiled tightly. “Just... trying to research this.” His wings twitched
out. “Figure out... what I am.”
 
Derek was quiet, as usual, but then he was crowding up behind Stiles, face
rubbing against the feathers curling around Stiles' arms, just barely perched
on the edge of the chair. Stiles chuckled. “This thing isn't made for two
people, Derek.”
 
Derek growled softly, then pressed in closer, and nipped at the curve of his
wing, making Stiles shudder. “Don't care.” He squeezed his strong arms around
him. “You're hurting...” He shifted around, whining softly, until his lips
where pressing softly against Stiles' pulse, thumbs brushing over and over
again over the soft tufts of feathers settled over his thighs. “I need to
comfort my mate.”
 
Oh. Wolf thing. Stiles leaned back into Derek and sighed, closing his eyes and
just trying to enjoy the warmth of his boyfriend. Derek growled approvingly,
lapping over his thumping pulse before he moved his hands up, stroking over the
wings softly, scratching through a little, petting him. Stiles choked back a
chuckle and hummed, tilting his head back to look into Derek's eyes, that were
somewhere between that fierce alpha red and the gorgeous blue-gray hazel Derek
normally had.
 
“I was thinking about my mom.” Stiles blurted, feeling that saddening weight
hit his shoulders again. Derek made a soft sound in the back of his throat
before he nuzzled against Stiles neck again. He was probably a little
overwhelmed by the emotions Stiles was no doubt shedding off in waves. Stiles
took a breath and continued. “I think maybe her... she had something to do
with, you know.”
 
Derek nodded jerkily, breath puffing against Stiles' shoulder blade, shifting
the small pieces of fluff where the wing met his back with it. Stiles
concentrated on the gentle brush of Derek's fingers, counting each twitch of
his fingers, every time he reached the end and hand to lift his hand up for a
few seconds to start all over again at the top. Eventually, that sad feeling
went away, and he felt more contented than anything. Derek didn't stop petting
his wings, though, and Stiles let him, letting his socked toes curl into the
carpet from the feeling, too.
 
“What do you know? I mean...” Stiles stutters around, trying to find the right
words. “Did you find anything in any of those books you told me about?”
 
Derek's hands paused, then he hummed. “Maybe.”
 
Stiles waited for a few moments, then raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
 
Derek pulled back a bit, opening his mouth to speak before he started slipping
off the edge of the seat. His eyes went hilariously wide for a moment before he
recovered, using a hand to spring up onto his feet. Stiles swayed a little, but
managed to stay on the seat. At least, until Derek hauled him up, and pulled
him to the bed.
 
“I didn't find much.” Derek muttered finally, curling his arms around Stiles
and tucking his face into the wings. “I was just reading through a few old
family books and...” He licked his lips, then looked over Stiles. “I came
across some journals from one of my aunts, who mentioned something about a
guardian angel.” When Stiles gave him a curious look, Derek just gave a small,
little smile. “I always thought she was a little, um, odd, but I remember
someone constantly around her, even on the full moon when other humans in our
pack were gone, that woman was always around. She wasn't a werewolf, and I
remember she was always so caring and protective, of everyone in the pack but
especially of my aunt.”
 
Stiles stared for a moment then he tilted his head. “So, you think that's...
you think I'm a guardian angel?” Stiles shook his head. “But... why would it
come out all the sudden like that?”
 
Derek clucked his tongue – and... Stiles was only just a teeny bit distracted
by how Derek's tongue moved around his teeth with it – and frowned. “That's the
part that I don't understand. Because, you were human before, at least, you
seemed to be.” Derek tilted his head then. “Right?”
 
Stiles nodded. “Before I was six I was the most normal kid on the block. Maybe
a bit less clumsy than I am now but, you know, that's mostly because I don't
have these out most of the time.” Stiles shrugged his shoulders, wings moving
with him. “They help me keep balance.”
 
Derek hummed, brushing a finger down one of the feather's spines. Then he
sighed. “From what I read, most of them just seem to... appear. Like they've
descended down to their charge. Not that many are human boys and then just grow
wings.” Derek made a frownier-than-usual expression. “And then I'm just...
confused why you'd be here, without a charge. From what I could tell, without
anyone to look after they have no purpose. And yet you're here, and you don't
exactly seem to be stuck to keeping just one person safe.” Derek's lips
twitched in that way that now told Stiles he was smiling on the inside, but he
still had to keep up appearances on the outside. “Unless you're protecting the
entire populace of Beacon Hills.”
 
Stiles rolled his eyes, then sighed. “It's the best we have to go on now, I
guess. We need to see if we can find anything else that can help us a little
more.”
 
Derek nodded, but didn't let Stiles move. Stiles blinked up at him, then
grinned when he saw the way Derek was staring at his mouth. “C'mere, sourwolf.”
 
Derek grimaced at the nickname, but leaned down, just licking into Stiles'
mouth and nipping at his lips. Marking them. Stiles shivered a little, then
curled his wings around Derek. Derek made a soft, whimpering noise, tucking as
close as he could to Stiles. Stiles smiled, tilting his head back when Derek
nuzzled in, and had to bite his lip to stop from saying anything about how
Derek was turning into more of a cuddle monster than a werewolf.
 
He could figure it out later. At least they – maybe – made some headway into
it. Tomorrow he could research everything he could about guardian angels and
hope for something to useful to come up. Right now? Right now he just wanted to
stay wrapped up and warm with Derek, hope that it would help with the lingering
sadness he felt.
 
Derek made a soft shushing noise, stroking a hand down his side, and Stiles
grinned, before he closed his eyes and dozed off.
 
 
Stiles woke up with a start in the middle of the night, a tight feeling in his
stomach and Derek gone. There was note left on his desk, and Stiles jumped up,
wincing at the sudden pain he felt, and snatched up the paper.
 
Isaac called, something happened. Will be back soon.
 
Stiles frowned down at Derek's messy writing, then grimaced at the knot in his
gut tightened painfully. He had a horrible feeling, and he had a feeling that
he needed to find Derek. Now.
 
Stiles didn't bother wrapping up his wings, just pulled on one of Derek's
ripped shirts, and tucked them close around him as he raced down the stairs as
quietly as he could, just in case his dad was home. He grabbed his keys and was
out the door and into his jeep in what seemed like nothing. Stiles blinked,
then shook his head and turned the key in the ignition; he didn't have time to
worry about his sudden loss of time.
 
He... didn't really know how he knew exactly where to go but... he did. Maybe
it's a mate thing...
 
When he pulled over to the side of the road, near a thick grouping of trees,
the pain was radiating worse. And he was just crawling out of his jeep when he
heard gunshots, and pained howls ripping through the air.
 
“Derek...” Stiles gasped, before he was rocketing through the forest, feeling
like his feet weren't even touching the ground, and his wings spread out behind
him with his anxiety. He heard his name before anything else happened, and then
he realized he was curled around Derek, hands pressing against the blood
spilling from a wound on the werewolf's leg.
 
“Stiles, what the hell are you doing here?” Derek grunted, eyes going wide when
twigs and leaves rustled around them with footsteps. “Stiles, leave. Now.” The
alpha ordered.
 
Stiles shook his head, curling as completely around Derek as he possibly could,
his body thrumming. He had to get them out of there. With a deep breath, Stiles
pulled his hands away from the wound to curl around Derek, pulling him up, and
then they were off through the woods again, feet not meeting the earth, and
Derek yelping very un-alpha-like before they met the ground again suddenly,
hitting hard and rolling until they came to a stop just before Stiles' jeep.
 
Derek untangled himself from Stiles, eyes bleeding red and wide. “What the fuck
was that, Stiles?!” He panted, brushing a hand through his hair as Stiles sat
up with a wince – his left wing and arm hurt like a bitch. “Were we flying just
now? And, and how the hell did you find me? Why the hell did you just fling
yourself in front of hunters like that?!”
 
Stiles stared up at Derek, rolling his eyes at the growling. He slowly stood
up, brushing off, then grimacing again at the twinge from his left side. “I
don't know. I... I felt like I had to get to you, that you were in trouble
and...” Stiles paused when Derek swayed, eyes flashing red before he stumbled
into the jeep and whined. “Derek... come on, get inside.” He helped Derek up
into the passenger's side of the jeep and felt another twinge in his gut along
with his left upper parts. “We'll get you some help.” Stiles swallowed. “You'll
be back to your old grumpy self in no time, sourwolf.”
 
Derek huffed at the familiar name, then frowned down at his leg, where he was
still bleeding. “You're going to answer my questions, Stiles.” Stiles
swallowed, pulled himself up into the drivers seat and it was only a matter of
seconds before they were rocketing down the street, driving rules be damned. If
I knew the answers, then yeah. Stiles huffed to himself, tucking his injured
arm around his stomach. That guardian angel theory isn't looking so ridiculous
now.
 
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek discuss how finally knowing what exactly Stiles is
     changes things.
Chapter Notes
     Oh gosh this was so late. I have no real excuse for it being this
     late. Sorry. :(
 
In the back room of the vet's office, Derek was laying out on a steel table,
letting his leg heal after Dr. Deaton had treated the wolfsbane in it. To his
credit, the man had only just barely reacted when Stiles tumbled in with Derek,
keeping his wings tucked as close around himself as possible. He just clucked
his tongue and helped them into the back.
 
Derek, though, was growling all over the place. And when the vet left them
alone - after checking over Stiles aching arm - and... whoa, there was a lot of
blood he was not noticing before... - and he decidedly ignored the tugging
sensation followed by a sticky feeling of the blood all over his arm being
cleans and just concentrated on getting Derek to stop growling - Derek turned
to Stiles, frowning. “What happened, Stiles?”
 
Stiles crossed his arms. “I think I deserve a little bit of an explanation from
your side, too, wolf-man.”
 
Derek looked unimpressed. Stiles shrunk back only just a little before he
sighed and scooted closer, leaning toward his mate before he spoke. “I don't
know... I was still asleep and then I just... woke up and I had this horrible
feeling in my gut, like if I didn't get to you that something bad was going to
happen. And then I was just... gone, moving without even thinking of it. And I
knew exactly where you were, somehow, I knew all the right ways to turn and...”
Stiles trailed off, nose wrinkling. “That... isn't something that happens with
mates, is it?”
 
Derek was quiet for a long time, and then he sighed and sat up, covering his
wince up to just a twitchy cheek. “No, not...” Derek let out a breath. “Not
until we've been bonded.” His frown deepened as he stared down at his slowly
healing wound. “There were hunters there... the Argents... And they saw you.”
Fear washed across his features as he swallowed and Stiles reached out,
grabbing one of Derek's hands and squeezing, without even thinking about it.
“I... I don't know if they know it was you but... I wouldn't doubt that they
have some idea of what you are, and that you're protecting me. They're going to
start coming after you, too.”
 
Stiles gulped down the scared noise that wanted to come out. That was... less
than ideal. It didn't help that they had no idea about what Stiles could or
couldn't do or what could hurt him, while the hunters probably carried around
personal handbooks for his and Derek's kind. It was even worse that most of the
Argent family scared the crap out of him.
 
“Okay...” Stiles took a deep, shaking breath and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I can...
we can handle that. They'll be busy trying to get all of us so... they won't...
ugh.” Stiles grimaced. That was stupid. “Okay, yeah, no. Too optimistic. And
naive. I'm not Scott, I can't pull off the stupidly optimistic shtick.”
 
Derek's lips twitched, and he huffed, running a hand through his hair. “We can
make it so, if I can't be around you, then someone else will follow you to keep
you safe.”
 
Stiles let out a breath, feeling his wings vibrating behind him. He nodded
slowly, shifting so he was practically clinging to Derek. “Okay. Okay, that...”
He flinched. “...makes me feel a little better.”
 
Derek looked over Stiles, clucking his tongue and curling his arms around
Stiles' waist, pulling him close. “We'll protect you, Stiles.” Derek growled.
“You're mine. No one is going to hurt you.” He pulled back, his eyes bleeding
red and face twisted into a snarl, and Stiles felt that fear ebb away even more
because, yeah, Derek was terrifying when he was seriously pissed. “Anyone so
much as looks at you wrong I'm going to tear their throat out as slowly and
painfully as possible.”
 
Stiles' wings twitched and he nodded. “Okay.” He sighed and leaned into Derek,
closing his eyes. “Thank you.”
 
Derek hummed, growl vibrating through it halfway, and nuzzled into his wings,
nipping at a few feathers. “You're mine. Anyone who tries to hurt you is dead.”
 
I'll... take that as a violent, but well-meaning werewolf compliment. Stiles
curled around Derek, part hoping to calm him down and part wordlessly
apologizing for being reckless again. He really didn't mean to add to the crap
they were dealing with but, honestly, Stiles would rather be hunted down by the
terrifying Argent family – sans Allison, who so far only seemed to have
inherited bits and pieces of the creepy killer Argent genes – than find Derek
dead and know he could've saved him.
 
He paused, and wondered if... his protective instincts over Derek were part to
what he was starting to really believe he was now. Maybe he was Derek's
guardian angel. Maybe he did have someone to watch over and protect, like Derek
said. Huh. Stiles looked over Derek, watching the werewolf slowly relax as
plush wings curled soft around his body. Then risking my neck so many times for
him makes sense now... Especially...
 
Stiles grinned, remembering that first time that he'd actively helped Derek;
carting the dying werewolf around town in his jeep that had never smelled like
life and healthiness again since, and the painful, rock-in-his-gut feeling when
he heard Derek admit he was dying. Yeah, he was threatened, that... certainly
helped motivate him into action, especially when you considered that was the
time where Stiles was actually scared of Derek, but he just... he had to keep
Derek alive, just as he had to keep his Dad alive no matter how reluctant he
was to listen to Stiles.
 
“What're you thinking about?”
 
Stiles startled and pulled back a little, catching Derek's slight frown before
he tugged Stiles back against him. Stiles blushed and nuzzled against Derek's
hair, smelling the bland scent of his own shampoo – and what a revelationthat
was – and the woodsy smell he'd always associated with the werewolf. Stiles
shrugged. “Just... nothing, really.” Okay, yes, that was a lie. Even if Derek
couldn't smell it or hear or however the hell he could tell how people were
lying so easily, he'd just know because, honestly. This was Stiles. He was
always thinking something, and he knew because Stiles broken brain-to-mouth
filter was always blurting those somethings.
 
Derek stared at him for a long, long time, not speaking or moving. Finally, he
frowned – more than he already was... anyway – and stretched his fingers up to
touch one of Stiles' wings. He flinched; the touch burned for a second, feeling
like a hole being ripped through him with a red-hot spear, and then the pain
was just leeching away. It was slow, but it was gradually feeling better, like
poison being sucked out of him.
 
Derek's expression cleared, going wide and shocked, and then he dropped his
fingers away and made a soft humming sound. “What?” Stiles nudged him, trying
to turn and look at the wing but whatever wound was there was too close to his
back to see. He could see the insane amount of blood though which... when did
his wing get hurt? Stiles definitely needed to reevalute his self-awareness
because there was way too many injuries going unnoticed here.
 
Derek pulled back. “You felt like you had to keep me safe, right? Before?”
Derek watched him with those intense green-blue barely-human eyes as he nodded,
and spoke again before Stiles even opened his mouth. “How was it? How did it
feel, I mean? What brought you there to me?”
 
Stiles had to bite back a smile at Derek's rambling. He shrugged. “I don't know
how to describe it. I just had to be there, with you, right then. I had this
feeling deep in my gut like something bad was going to happen.” He frowned.
“Like if I didn't get to you, something bad was going to happen.” He sighed and
held out his hands. “Like I said before.”
 
Derek hummed softly, then his frown deepened. “I'm your charge...” He sighed.
“That's not good.”
 
Stiles pouted. “How is that bad? I've already saved you more times than I could
count on both hands... and possibly toes.” When Derek didn't even arch an
eyebrow in his direction, Stiles huffed. “I'm clearly capable of keeping you
safe. So why is it that now that I'm your official guardian that it's a bad
thing?”
 
“Because!” Derek growled, eyes going red for a second. “Stiles, you know how
dangerous just being around me is. If you have the instinct to throw yourself
in front of everything that tries to kill me you'll be...” He swallowed, Adam's
apple bobbing, and Stiles sat back, looking over the werewolf who was slumping
back down onto the table, like he'd given up on life.
 
“Derek, it'll be fine.” He hopped up onto the table, his thighs clamping around
Derek's middle as he leaned over him, fingers tangling in dark strands. “I was
okay this time and I've been okay all the times before.” He shrugged. “Sure
there have been some close calls but, come on.” He grinned. “I'm made for this
kind of stuff, apparently. I'm like you're walking, talking, maybe-not-so-
human-after-all shield.”
 
Derek rolled his eyes. Well, that's a start. He leaned back after pressing
their lips together for a few seconds and clapped his hands together, beaming
down at his mate. “Alrightly, I'll go get the doc to check you over one more
time and then we can get out of here and move onto... 'discussing' more...
important things.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows as he leaned closer and closer
to Derek, nipping at his chin and his stubble and his bottom lip before moving
into for a longer kiss, just to... make sure Derek knew exactly what they were
going to be, er, discussing.
 
Derek snorted, lifting up with the barest little flinch before he hopped off
the table. Stiles felt every inch of his body go warm when Derek curled an arm
around behind his back, human-nails digging in slightly on his hip, marking him
through denim. “As tempting as that is, I believe we have some research to do.”
He brushed his thumb along Stiles' wing, stroking slowly down one of the longer
feathers. “You need to know your weaknesses and strengths, especially if the
Argent's are going to start coming after you.” At the mention of the hunters,
Derek's hand tightened a little more, and Stiles' heart sunk a little, knowing
exactly why Derek was holding onto him so tight. I'm... one of the few people
he has, now...
 
Stiles grinned, cracking his knuckles as he held his wings around Derek,
feeling the wolf's contented growls vibrating through them while they made
their way out. “Research is my thing. We'll have time for a repeat performance
tonight with Stiles doing the researching.”
 
Derek huffed out a laugh, sounding surprised, and Stiles grinned to himself. He
was seriously starting to get a thing about making Derek laugh or smile. He
didn't think Derek looking happier and actually seeming like he had emotions
would ever not make Stiles ridiculously happy.
 
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     Allison overhears her father and the other hunters; Stiles and Derek
     discuss the danger he's in.
Chapter Notes
     Ugh, I've been so horrible at updating this. My only excuse is real
     life is slowly draining everything and all the rest of the time past
     work I've been konked out. :/ Sorry, ya'll. :(
 
 Allison knew as soon as the several SUV's pulled up into the driveway, that
something was wrong. She quietly pushed away from her desk and moved down onto
the balcony overlooking the entryway. She kept quiet, crouching down as she
listened to her dad and the other hunters talk.
 
“We almost had him! Just one more second and we would've gotten him!” One of
the older hunters yelled, while her dad frowned, looking over the bookcase that
he'd always had locked before – during the time Gerard was staying with them,
it was always opened, though, and considering that her dad always double
checked the lock now she was sure that was solely her Grandpa's idea. “Where
did he even come from, anyway?”
 
Her dad sighed, pulling a large, heavy-looking book from the shelf and bringing
over to one of the entry tables before he flipped it open. “He was an angel.”
He muttered, scanning through the pages as Allison leaned forward to try and
see at least the diagrams in it. “They tend to just drop in like that.” He
stopped, staring down at a page, fingers skimming over the words as he read.
Allison could only barely make out a picture of, like her father said,
something that looked like an angel.
 
Eventually, her father sighed. “Well, the guardian angel is going to make
getting to Hale more difficult...” He paused a moment to look over the last few
paragraphs. “But as soon as we get rid of him, Hale will be completely open.”
He snapped the book shut, replacing it on the shelf as he spoke. “The bond
breaking would leave him weaker. It'd almost be unfair attacking him after.”
 
The rest of the hunters broke into strategy, of ways to kill the angel and,
after, Derek. Allison bit her lip lightly, fingering her phone in her pocket.
Eventually, she tiptoed back into her room, and texted Scott everything she
heard. She may not like Derek – at all – but she had a feeling that Scott
should know, that there was something else there that was going on.
 
 
ur in trbl dude
 
Stiles stared down at his phone, feeling his wings curling uncomfortably behind
him. He gnawed on his lip for a moment, tapping his fingers against the sides
for a moment before he sent back a text to Scott.
 
What happened?
 
He only had to wait a few more seconds before he got a reply.
 
Allison sez her dad lookin fr angel u might wanna stay away frm derek.
 
Stiles' heart thudded in his chest, and he glanced up to his bed, where Derek
was curled up, finally sleeping since they'd come back.
 
They'd stayed up trying to research as much as they could, Derek keeping watch
as Stiles skimmed through every book Derek still had, and everything on the
internet that could be the littlest bit useful – which, really, wasn't much. He
knew he was still pretty much as breakable as any regular human. Unless he used
his wings as a shield, which were a little bit less destructible, like a
bulletproof vest. It would explain why he was able to pretty much stop the
bullet from hitting Derek at all – and why he had the cut in his arm, which was
partially exposed with how he was mostly curled around Derek.
 
As for any other vulnerabilities, he didn't know. He didn't know if he had an
equivalent to Derek's wolfs bane. He also didn't know if he had any other
strengths from the durable wings and the flying. Like, if he had any healing
powers or anything – it was possibility; really, he was a guardian angel, you'd
kind of think healing would come with the whole guardian thing. The only thing
they could do to figure out would be tests and, honestly, they didn't really
have anything to go on to test with.
 
Stiles frowned, then sighed and stretched a leg out, poking Derek with his
toes. Derek's nose scrunched up before he groaned, voice heavy with sleep as he
spoke. “What, Stiles.”
 
Stiles smiled slightly then scooted forward in his computer chair. “According
to Allison, I have some hunters looking for someone with wings who hangs around
you a lot.” Derek blinked once, eyes widening as he sat up, looking instantly
alert as he stared over at Stiles. The teen chewed on his lip lightly then
shrugged. “Scott suggests that I stay away from you but-hey, Derek, where are
you-”
 
“I can't stay around you, Stiles.” Derek's voice, to probably anyone else,
would sound normal, growly – which, really, one could argue that growly is
Derek's default – but to Stiles it was sad, guilty, alike to the tone he had
whenever he talked about Kate or his family. “I'm just putting you in danger.”
 
Stiles scrambled back, stretching out a wing when he realized he couldn't move
fast enough so the path to the window was blocked. Derek huffed, bringing his
hand up to curl his fingers into feathers for a moment before he glared over at
Stiles. “Stiles...”
 
“No, Derek, come on.” Stiles curled the tip around Derek, pulling him in
slightly, ignoring Derek's pouting as well as he could – Derek had an
unbelievable pout, it made Stiles' heart do some funky things, okay? – as he
finally tucked his arms around the werewolf. “You staying away from me? That's
not going to help this. I'll just follow you, because that's pretty much how
I'm programmed now. I'm going to have to always be around you because otherwise
I won't know if you're okay, and I'll always worry about you and then, I'll
really be screwed because if I'm constantly thinking about you and worrying
then I'm just going to be even more vulnerable.”
 
Stiles took a deep breath, then let it out, staring hard at Derek who was
staring right back, looking a little surprised. Well, Derek's version of
surprise, anyway.
 
Derek tilted his head, expression thoughtful/angry, and then he sighed. “Fine.”
Then he narrowed his eyes at Stiles. “You, are going to be carrying some kind
of weapon around with you at all times. And you are also going to tell your dad
about this, because any help we can get the better.” His frown deepened, and he
ran a shaking hand over Stiles spine. “I... I can't lose you to them, too,
Stiles. I can't...”
 
Stiles heart thumped pathetically in his chest, and his eyes started stinging.
Taking a deep breath, Stiles nodded, pulling Derek back onto the bed before he
curled his long arms as completely around the wolf as he could and closed his
eyes. They'd already gotten through so much; if this did them in, there was
just some major injustice going on in the world.  
***** He's Comin' For You (Yeah, He's Comin' For You) *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek try thinking of other ways to help protect Stiles
     from the hunters.
Stiles lungs weren't really capable of working anymore. He'd been running for
hours it felt like, trying to get away from the sounds of an army chasing after
him. His wings were tucked close around him, so they wouldn't catch on any
branches and slow him down. Of course, if he could just find a clear area maybe
he could try...
Stiles braced himself against a tree and breathed, deep, heaving wheezes as he
tried to think. Okay, he could do this. He knew there was a small clearing not
too far from where he was – he'd been in the forest enough with Derek now to
know it well – and if he could just make it there he could try flying out of
reach. Just around that gnarled oak there past a few pines and then I'm golden.
Okay...
Stiles ran, using the tree as leverage to push off and go faster. His legs felt
like jelly, and the muscles in his back were tight and sore from his swinging
arms, but his wings were all ready to unfurl, twitching and stretching as much
as they could in the little space, preparing. Three more foot falls in dead
leaves, and Stiles broke through a grouping of trees to the clearing. He
grinned, took two more steps, then pushed up off the ground with his feet at
the same time that he brought his wings down, and then he was up, inches and
then feet coming between him and the earth. “Holy shit.” Stiles grinned to
himself, his wings beating around him to keep him airborne. “It actually
worked!”
Stiles was just about to do a victory lap in the air when Derek, Scott and
Isaac broke into the clearing. Derek looked full of pride, and just a teeny
touch angry. Or, you know, a lot angry. But it's Derek. It's written in his
genetic code or something. “Get down here, Stiles, before you hurt yourself.”
Stiles just smirked down at his mate, then tucked his wings in closer, feeling
the soft pressure of the air that was propelling him up disappear and he
dropped. He landed on his ass, bounced once, then flopped onto the ground,
laughing.
Derek rolled his eyes, then, with a very badly hidden – to Stiles anyway –
smile he pulled the boy up. “While that may help you to get away from any
hunters in a pinch, you're still going to have to defend yourself.” He paused
for a moment, staring down at Stiles for a while, blue-green eyes flickering
over the teen's face. The beta's around them shifted around awkwardly before
dispersing, and Stiles had to bite into his cheek to hold back a smile.
Then Derek clucked his tongue, looking up to Scott, who was pointedly looking
away, face scrunched up to a tree. “Would we be able to trust that... Allison
girl with this? Would she tell the other hunters of Stiles?”
Scott looked up, face brightening at the mention of Allison – Stiles had to
resist the urge to roll his eyes, then he had to think, and then worry about
whether he did the same for Derek, now – then he paused, frowning for a moment.
“I... I don't know.”
Stiles watched Derek stare at the beta for a few moments then he huffed. “If we
can't do that, then maybe we can talk your father into teaching you how to use
a gun.”
Stiles paused at the thought of flying through the air, pistols in his hands
going all trigger happy, and he had to, again, bite at the inside of his mouth
as he nodded.
After a few moments, they reset, Stiles being chased by the three werewolves
again through the woods, figuring out different escape routes for different
scenarios. When it got dark, the four of them made their way back to the Hale
house, Derek already rubbing the sore muscles in Stiles' back from the flight
he wasn't quite used to.
And even after they'd left, there was still someone tucked away in the trees,
who had seen everything with wide brown eyes. Eventually, they'd wandered off,
too, picking their way back to their car parked by the road about a mile out.
The onlooker stared into the woods still after, and then they turned the
ignition and started to their own home. They'd have a lot to think over after
what they'd seen.
 
The sheriff was... less than thrilled when Derek brought up possible gun
lessons.
“Dare I ask why?”
Stiles just continued to stare dejectedly down at his swinging feet, wings
fluttering nervously around him. Derek squeezed the teen's hand under the table
as he answered. “If someone finds out about Stiles, and they don't take it
well, giving him some way to defend himself would be a good idea. If myself or
one of my betas can't get to him.”
John Stilinski frowned, concern painting his features. He glanced over to his
son, watching him as he toyed with one of his feathers. “Stiles?”
Stiles startled, then looked up, chewing on his lip for a moment then he
shrugged and gave his dad a little smile. “It's just precautionary.” He dropped
his fingers from the feathers. “Everything's alright.” He resolutely ignored
Derek's staring at him to returned his dad's relieved smile.
“Alright then. I'll figure out some time to get you in to a gun range.” He
paused a moment. “I... guess it would be different for you should you ever have
to actually ever use it; you couldn't exactly be there and have your wings out,
but it's something.”
Stiles nodded. “Yeah.” He stood up and hugged his dad, squeezing tight for a
moment. “Thanks, dad.”
The father chuckled, and glanced over to Derek, who was staring hard to the
table. He squeezed his son back, only pausing a moment when he felt the tickle
of the feathers on his hands. He schooled his features from the confused
expression he could feel before he pulled back, clapping Stiles on the shoulder
as he went off to figure out his schedule. “Sure thing, kiddo. Just, be
careful.”
Stiles nodded. “Always, dad.”
After the sheriff left, Derek looked up at Stiles. “You didn't tell him
everything?”
Stiles sighed, shrugged one shoulder up. “I don't want to worry him.”
Derek frowned. “You need to tell him eventually, Stiles...”
Stiles nodded slowly, then looked down the hall after his dad, voice soft and
small like the werewolf had never heard it. “Iwill. Just... not now.” He
sighed. “He has too much to worry about right now.”
The alpha watched as his mate's wings sagged and he looked over to where his
father had disappeared with a sad expression. He pushed up from his seat and
curled himself around the younger man as well as he could. He pressed a kiss to
the boy's temple, trying to at least comfort him. He couldn't do much except
just try to be Stiles' shadow to protect him, and this.
Derek barely choked down a soft chuckle; it was a role reversal. Where Derek
was usually the one running and trying his best to stay alive while Stiles
scrambled to find ways to keep them all alive, now Derek had to find ways to
help Stiles. How does he keep up with all of us? Derek brushed his hands up and
down Stiles' arms, feeling his angel sag slightly, tension bleeding out to the
tips of his wings. I will keep him safe, even if I kill myself doing it...
***** My Only Hope, My Only Peace My Only Joy, My Only Strength *****
 
Stiles had always felt the most safe around his mom. When she was alive, he was
always following her around, staying glued to her leg so that feeling of calm
and safety washed over him all the time.
 
Of course, there were many times when Stiles wouldn't be able to follow her.
She would kneel down in front of him, her brown eyes wide and frantic as she
spoke to him, her voice that same, steady calm despite it. “Stay here, Genim.
I'll be back soon. Promise.”
 
And he always had, stayed exactly where she told him, waiting for her. After a
few moments he'd start getting twitchy, the way he never was when she was
around, and just when he was dying to go after her and find her, his mom would
come rushing back around the corner, looking slightly worse-for-wear, but she'd
just smile at him and all his nervousness and twitchy muscles and swirling
brain faded off in the wash of calm. “You're back.” He'd always say.
 
She'd always smile at him. “I promised.” She'd always say back.
 
Then, there was the one day where she didn't come back. He was just six,
waiting on the couch at home like she'd asked him to. He waited and waited, a
sinking feeling settling in his stomach like a rock. It was well after night
when he just... he knew that his mom wasn't coming back this time.
 
He didn't cry, not then. He knew he'd have to wait for his dad to come back,
and maybe then he'd know why his mom wasn't going to be coming back. He pulled
his blanket up from the floor where it'd fallen when she'd left, soft, fluffy
white feathers brushing against his skin as he curled it around himself. He
closed his eyes and kept waiting, not feeling much, until his spine and back
lit up with pain.
 
He still didn't cry, though. No, little Genim just curled the feathery blanket
his mother had ever since he could remember, and concentrated on the calm he
didn't think he'd ever feel again. The twitches set in, and his brain swirled
with thought after thought of what happened, what no six year old boy should
ever have to wonder about.
 
And then, when it was pitch black in the room with no sign of either of his
parents, the boy's vision tunneled down and there was a sharp crack, and a rip,
and blinding pain for a split second before he felt that familiar calm again.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny wing curling around him, dark gray
feathers sticky like his back felt, and then he was out, the black creeping in
his vision taking over as he tumbled off the couch.
 
After that, Stiles woke up, the gauze wrapped all around his chest, making it a
little harder to breathe. He sat up, in his bed, and then a note tumbled down
onto his lap. Picking it up, Stiles read the few words on there, then looking
onto his nightstand down more rolls of gauze there. Biting his lip, Stiles
plucked carefully at the gauze, and when it fell away he was smacked in the
head with one of the wings, now clean. The feathers were fluffy, just like the
blanket that he was holding the night before.
 
He stared back at them for a moment, before he hopped off of his bed, and
padded over to the full-body mirror attached to his closet door. And there he
was, the dark gray wings stretching out behind him, each one almost as wide as
his torso was.
 
Stiles... didn't know what to do. He didn't know how this happened, or why. He
wished his mom would've come back. She would've known what to do.
 
With his hands shaking and tears welling in his eyes, Stiles gathered up the
gauze, and started wrapping it around himself. He fumbled, dropping the roll of
gauze over and over until he just curled up on the floor and pulled the wings
forward around him with his hands. He used the wall to help wrap the material
around him.
 
After what felt like hours, young Stiles had managed to keep the wings down,
and he'd pulled a t-shirt just a little too big for him over his head, then
looked into the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy, and he could see the way
his breaths were choppy and hard from the uneven way his chest fell and rose.
 
He glanced back over his room, where it was messy and there were feathers
dropped here and there, and the note in the nest of sheets. He folded the note
up neatly, stuffing it into the back of his nightstand drawer, then carefully
picked up each feather, before he cleaned up the rest of his room, leaving
behind no trace of the wings.
 
Stiles Stilinski wasn't the same since that day his mom hadn't come back. He
knew that he'd also have to hide just how different he was since then, too. And
he'd done pretty well, until Derek.
 
 
“Stiles?”
 
“Hmm?” Stiles looked up, seeing Derek giving him a worried look. He grinned at
his mate and shrugged. “Just reminiscing a little. I'm fine.”
 
Derek frowned, setting aside the book in his hands – which... huh, it wasn't a
bestiary or anything supernatural, weird – to move onto the bed next to him,
curling his arms around the smaller of the two, burrowing his fingers into the
soft feathers. “...I smelled salt.” Derek muttered as he pulled one hand up to
Stiles cheek, and he'd only just felt the wetness there.
 
“O-oh.” Stiles tried to wiggle out of Derek's arms for a moment when he just
gave up and slumped into the werewolf. “I... I was just thinking of my mom.” He
paused a moment, then turned so he was tucked up into Derek's warmth, wings
curling around him to keep it in. “I can kind of see it now... how I got them
from her.” He gave a little smile. “There were so many white feathers all over
the house when she was alive, and she'd even made me this kind of blanket for
me with the feathers on it and in it and...” He trailed off and huffed. “She
said that she'd made it for me so it'd always seem like she was there with me.”
 
Derek clucked his tongue, then, and curled a fraction tighter around him. I
know, I'm sorry, I wish I could've met her. Stiles sighed and tilted his head
up to press his lips to Derek's jaw, smiling when the Alpha made a noise
between a whimper and a purr. “Yeah...” Stiles muttered, turned his head down
again to tuck his face against Derek's throat. “Me too.”
 
***** They Say Never Means Never *****
Chapter Summary
     Someone outside of the pack comes to help Stiles and Derek is kind of
     smooshy when it comes to his mate.
Chapter Notes
     Oh gosh, I'm sorry this took forever. Ugh. :(

Stiles stretched out in the bed, his wings fluttering around him before
everything snapped back in toward the main part of him, nearly smacking himself
in the face with the feathers. He blinked blearily, looking around for a
certain werewolf he couldn't feel in the bed beside him. “Derek?”
 
There was no answer. Stiles frowned and pulled himself out of bed, stumbling
around the room looking for a note or something Derek could've left behind for
a clue.
 
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Not again! Stiles, now fully awake after not
finding Derek or any signs of the werewolf anywhere, practically jumped into
his jeans and pulled on a loose hoodie before he was bounding down the stairs.
He didn't have that sinking feeling in his stomach yet, like last time, but
that didn't mean that Derek wasn't heading into danger. Stiles knew from
experience that Derek was practically a magnet for danger.
 
Stiles was just skidding down the stairs when he heard Derek's voice coming
from the kitchen, along with his dad, laughing. He stopped, having to grab onto
the railing to stop from falling on his ass because of the sudden stop in
momentum, then stepped forward enough to peer into the kitchen.
 
And, huh. Okay, maybe he was... OW, okay, not still dreaming.
 
Stiles rubbed his arm where he pinched it and frowned as he watched Derek,
standing in front of the stove, fumbling with a spatula and skillet full of
eggs, and his dad settled up at the table, a half-eaten plate in front of him,
the both of them talking. Pleasantly. Like his dad hadn't threatened Derek for
dating him just a few days ago.
 
Derek looked up and gave him a little half smile, lifting the skillet from the
heat and turning off the dial on the burner. “I thought I was going to have to
drag you out of bed in a minute.” He scraped the food onto a plate and set it
on the table, then tilted his head in Stiles direction. “You okay?”
 
Other than possibly having an aneurysm... “Fine.” He walked into the kitchen
and blinked when Derek pulled the chair out for him. Okay.NowI'm suspicious.
 
Stiles' dad glanced between the two of them, before he finished up eating and
got up. “Well kids, I've got to be in the station soon so I'll just... go.” He
finished off awkwardly, before he patted Stiles shoulder and shared an odd look
with Derek, and then he left, the front door slamming after him leaving Derek
and Stiles alone.
 
“So...” Stiles started, drawing out the word as he poked at the eggs on the
plate in front of him. They looked edible, he just... he wasn't sure if he
should quite trust Derek's cooking yet. Or intentions. Either one. “Dare I ask
why you cooked my dad and I breakfast and you're being all nice to me?”
 
Derek frowned as he sat across from Stiles. “I'm always nice to you.”
 
Stiles arched a brow. “Oh, yeah, all the wall slamming and growling, that's
being nice. Silly me. I thought all the threats were you being all growly and
werewolfy and crap, not nice.”
 
Derek's frown deepened and he looked away. Stiles did notice, though, the
slight blush bleeding high on Derek's cheeks and grinned. He was so going to
call him out on that later. Right now, though... “Derek, come on. You know I'm
not stupid. What's all this for?”
 
Derek flushed even darker then sighed. “Just... Trying to get on good terms
with your father.” He shifted slightly, and Stiles felt a sudden pang of
sadness as he got it.
 
“Oh.” Stiles muttered softly, then looked back down to the food. He frowned,
then looked back up. “What were you two talking about?”
 
Derek's blush darkened and his wide, innocent eyes dropped to Stiles plate.
“It's not going to kill you.” He huffed, and Stiles grinned. He knew Derek was
avoiding the subject, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get it out of
Derek somehow later. For now, though, he was going to let it slide. It was too
early to interrogate people.
 
“Oh my god.” Stiles stared down at the plate of fluffy perfection. “This is
actually good.”
 
“...I'm going to just pretend I'm not offended by that.” But Derek looked like
a peacock... werewolf. Whatever. He was sitting straight, looking proud. “I
used to cook all the time before... everything.” He made a vague gesture but...
Stiles understood it perfectly well. Before Derek's life fell apart, because of
one Kate Argent. Stiles took another angry bite of eggs just at the thought of
her. He wished he could've gotten a shot at her before Peter killed her...
 
“Well, you should do it more. If I ate like this all the time... Mmmm...” He
hummed around another mouthful and Derek grinned happily.
 
While Stiles scarfed down the rest of his breakfast, they'd decided they were
going to go out for more training sessions. He was trying to fly more, longer,
just in case he had to get away and he couldn't stop for a while. Scott showed
up a little while later to help him with sparring, just in case he lost he
weapon.
 
It was around about midday when Derek stopped, growling low in his throat and
eyes going blood red. “Stiles, get inside the house, now.”
 
Instantly, Stiles panicked. He shoved it down enough to run past Derek and into
the Hale house. He heard a car pulling up into the drive, then Derek's
constant, rumbling growl. His heart picked up, thumping hard against his ribs.
 
Swallowing, he slowly crawled up enough to peek out the window, and saw Allison
standing with her crossbow in hand, Derek half-shifted and looking near
murderous.
 
Stiles frowned when he saw Allison talking, and for one moment he wished he had
all the werewolf super hearing with everything else. He moved as quietly as he
could, knowing Derek would probably lash out even more if he knew that Stiles
was in Allison's view, Stiles moved back out of the house so he could hear.
 
Allison held her hands up. “I'm not here to hurt anyone, I promise.” She
flinched back at Derek's growling but immediately after straightened up. “I
overheard what my dad was going to do. And...” She glanced back to the house
when she saw Stiles and... oddly, she didn't hesitate at all when she saw him,
even as the wings twitched and folded around him protectively. “I know about
Stiles. I have for a while.”
 
Derek growled again and shifted down onto all fours, starting to look even
hairier around the gills, his eyes glowing a deep, dark red.
 
Allison clenched his jaw, looking determined, then held her crossbow up. “I'm
here to help. I want to teach him. So my dad and the others won't hurt him.”
 
Derek relaxed, only just a little, and frowned. “How can we trust you?”
 
Allison stared at him for a moment then looked back to Derek, shrugging. “You
can't.” Derek growled and she moved the cross bow in her hand, taking it so the
handle of it was facing toward Stiles. Derek looked back, before he quickly
spun back around to face Allison, snarling, muscles bulging as he moved back to
hide Stiles from her. “I know you have no reason to trust me. I also know that,
if I do anything to harm anyone here or your pack, you'll tear me to pieces.”
She smiled when Derek huffed and looked back to Stiles, tilting the crossbow
again. “I want to help Stiles.”
 
Stiles glanced down to Derek, who still looked wary, but moved slowly out of
the way. When Stiles moved forward, though, he kept close behind, barely any
room for air between them. With a shaky hand Stiles took the weapon from
Allison, and it felt heavy and odd in his hand but, he felt safer. He looked up
to Allison and gave her a shaky smile and she grinned at him.
 
Then she started schooling him, twisting around to his side, so she could move
his hand around, fixing his grip on it, before she glanced around, looking for
a target, then she turned him around toward a tree, half broken. She then
glanced toward Scott, who was watching them – or, more likely, Allison – with a
soft smile. “Scott, could you make us something to hit, please?” She ask,
soundly perfectly professional, considering the two were madly, tragically in
love just months ago.
 
“Oh yeah, yeah, I'll...” He waved his hand as he jogged over to the tree they
were facing and made three messy circles in the bark with his claws. Stiles
could practically hear Derek rolling his eyes behind him and Stiles bit his lip
to stop from laughing, his wings straightening, before Allison shifted closer,
fixing his finger around the trigger and leveling his arms.
 
“Fire.” She muttered, and Stiles squeezed the trigger, watching it sail through
the air until it buried itself in the bark, just riding the line of the outer
circle of the target.
 
“Good.” Allison turned toward him, then looked over his shoulder to Derek. “I
can sneak some supplies out. A harness so if he has to run, he can just hook it
there and it wouldn't be in the way, and bolts. I can come out here for lessons
every day after school and during the weekend, and any information I hear, you
hear.”
 
Derek frowned, but he nodded. “You can teach him more today, then you come back
tomorrow. You will call before you come here.”
 
Allison nodded, then turned back to Stiles, fixing his position again and
stepping away to watch him shoot again. He hit a little closer to the center of
the target and she grinned. “Tomorrow we can practice with you in the air. And
maybe we can figure out a way to make moving targets for you.”
 
Stiles grinned, and moved the crossbow back into her hands to watch her reload
it. “Thank you for this, Allison.” He tilted back to Derek. “I can still have
my dad help, too.” He grinned. “I might actually get through this.”
 
Derek gave a small twitch of his lips and pulled Stiles a fraction closer,
nuzzling into the soft rasp of his hair. “I'll make sure you do.” He tilted his
head a little further down to press a chaste kiss to his temple, feeling the
wings flap around him with Stiles joy.
 
“Okay.” Stiles cried giddily and took the crossbow, firing again, keeping it
this time as he reloaded it just like Allison did, taking in her little smile
as he did, and aimed again. He squeeze his finger on the trigger and this time
it sailed through the air, before it embedded into the center dot of the
target. He grinned and glanced around to everyone in the clearing, knowing with
their help, he was going to survive. His smile softening, he looked back to
Derek, voice going quiet. “Okay.” He muttered, and Derek gave him a small
little grin back, before he ordered Allison away for the day, and they started
their own little 'training' session.
***** Won't You Lay You're Hands On Me *****
Chapter Summary
     A new threat runs into town, attacking the pack. Derek notices
     something off about them, and he takes care of Stiles.
Chapter Notes
     Oh gosh this is too laaaate. I meant for this to come out a lot
     earlier, but a lot happened in real life recently. I'll try to write
     when I can. Also, goes without saying, but I'm deviating from season
     3. :P For anyone who's still with me, if there is anyone, I couldn't
     thank you enough for sticking with me.
     Aaaand the rating may or may not have been upgraded.... Maybe.
     Possibly.
Stiles gasped, his shoulders aching, wind whipping violently around him as he
churned his wings faster and harder through the air than he'd ever managed
before. The sounds of wolves running beneath him, panting heavy and growling.
 
He turned hard, feeling the wind buzz harshly against his right wing and
reached out, grabbing onto a tree and quickly tucking his wings in around him,
hoping the dark and the earthy colors of his feathers helped him blend in, that
he was high enough above them to be out of range of their senses.
 
They'd come out of nowhere, one moment he, Derek and Isaac were in a small
clearing just about a half mile away from the Hale House. Derek was rubbing his
back, helping relieve the ache in his shoulders from an hour of flight
practice, and Isaac was running around, burning energy and entertaining Stiles
with flips or purposeful falls with flailing limbs that Derek playfully teased
Stiles with. The next moment, Derek's hands were pushing at him, Isaac was
growling, spinning on his heels to face the forest in the direction of the
house. Then there were bone-rattling roars, and several pairs of red eyes
breaking through the trees.
 
Stiles stiffened when he heard the wolves moving below him, leaves crunching
under their feet. He sucked in a quiet breath, trying to stop his wings from
trembling. Just wait... wait until they're gone... then you can go back and
check on Derek...
 
He could feel Derek through their connection, he could tell Derek wasn't too
badly hurt, but the thought of leaving Derek to deal with that many alphas had
Stiles fighting a panic attack. Just breathe...
 
One of the alpha's growled lowly, making Stiles have to squeeze his eyes shut
and tense up all over just to stop himself from shaking. He heard the other one
huff, sniffing around, until it snarled and slammed into the tree. Stiles
gripped tighter as his perch shook beneath him, readjusting his wings around
him to help him regain his balance. He strained his ears for the sound of their
footfalls, leaves crunching away from him. He flinched when one of them howled,
the sound rattling his bones, and the sound of their departure quickened until
Stiles couldn't hear them anymore.
 
He let out a breath and slowly stretched out his wings, peering down from where
he was perched on the tree top. He uncurled his arms and scooted back on the
branch he was straddling before he heaved himself off and tilted his wings back
to catch the wind, giving him time to level out. Keeping just below the tops of
the trees, he unhooked the crossbow Allison had given him from his belt loops,
glad he'd remembered to have it on him today, and kept an eye out for any more
alphas that were heading near the Hale house.
 
Thankfully, he didn't have to use it. All signs of any unfamiliar werewolves
are gone, including when he circled quickly around the house and the clearing
they were in. He landed in the leaf covered driveway in front of the house,
bouncing on his toes slightly to get his land-legs back after flying for so
long.
 
The door opened, and even before Stiles could turn around, he was being knocked
fully to the ground by Derek. The alpha searched him all over, hands gentle as
could be. Stiles looked him over in return, cataloging the damage; a deep gash
in his cheek that was already stitching itself back together, and claw marks on
his forearms.
 
“You okay?” Isaac's small voice came from behind Derek. Before Stiles could
answer Derek was burying his face into the curve of Stiles' throat, breathing
deeply.
 
“Fine.” Stiles mumbled into Derek's hair, pulling his head back when strands
caught onto his lips. He could hear Isaac relaxing, the beta stepping a few
feet back from them to give them their space as he pulled out his phone,
probably to tell everyone else what just happened. Stiles let out a soft
breath, ruffling Derek's hair, as he curled his arms around the alpha. He let
his wings spread out, and instantly he felt Derek's fingers digging in,
burrowing into feathers, clinging to them.
 
Stiles' lips twitch, but he stayed quiet. Instead he tucked himself into
Derek's body, curling the wings in just enough for the tips to wrap around the
base of the alpha's back, and closed his eyes.
 
Derek huffed, glaring at the room, at the world in general. Of course there
would be a rival pack invading in his territory while hunters were out for his
mate. It was his life, why wouldn't this happen. Derek glanced over to Stiles,
who he'd moved once the younger man had fallen asleep beneath him onto the
couch. To top it off they're alphas...
 
Derek remembered the scent, a stomach-churning mix of rotting flesh and fresh
blood layered on an unfamiliar wolf. The panic he felt in that moment. He'd
shoved Stiles away, hoping that he would have enough time to get away before
the trespasser came. Then, just before Stiles was taking off into the air,
about six different alphas broke through the tree line, three breaking off
after Stiles immediately.
 
Before they could get too far, though, Derek was pulling one of them back,
claws digging into it's ankle before he twisted his arm back sharply, feeling
the bone snap under his hand and the howl of pain vibrate through his fingers.
A second later he was pinned by another alpha.
 
The fight was long, and bloody on the enemy alpha's part. The one that had
pinned him was weak, seemed entirely new to even being a wolf, let alone and
alpha. He'd turned her until she was the one pinned underneath him, caught the
sharp look of fear replacing her cockiness, and slashed across her throat. She
got one last second to claw at his arms, trying to push him off, before she
sagged beneath him.
 
He was just turning to see how Isaac was dealing with any more stragglers when
a howl broke through the air. He felt panic for a moment, straining to feel
Stiles through the bond. Nothing seemed like it was wrong but... the bond was
new, there was no telling if Derek could actually tell if Stiles was okay or
not through it.
 
The other alphas all seemed to vanish, disappearing in all directions, leaving
the one Derek had killed where she lay. Isaac wasn't too badly injured,
considering, just a few scrapes and bruises. Derek tilted his head up to the
sky, searching for Stiles once he'd deemed any danger gone and his pack
alright.
 
“Unnngh...” Derek blinked, brought back to the present by Stiles waking back
up. Honeyed-brown eyes fluttered a handful of times, and dark wings stretched
until the feathers at the tips trembled, then Stiles sat up, face scrunched up.
“...Derek?” Stiles looked up at him. “Those were alphas, right? As in,
multiple, in a pack, alphas?” Derek nodded, and Stiles bit his lip. “So... an
alpha pack? This actually exists? And, judging by tonight, wants to kill me?”
 
Derek choked down a growl at the thought of it. He took a deep breath, feeling
his chest expand then shrink, then shrugged. “From what I could tell, at least
some of them aren't very experienced. Maybe newly turned, even.”
 
Stiles frowned. “Really?” He leaned back into the couch cushions, eye brows
furrowing as he spoke. “How would that be possible? In order to become an alpha
you need to kill one, right? Is some guy going around making all these
werewolves and... what, finding some random alpha for them to kill?”
 
Derek shrugged. “It seems a bit like it. Though how they'd have the control to
form an attack against us, I don't know. Taking multiple new werewolves and
giving them the power of an alpha in their first month sounds like a death
wish, to me.”
 
Stiles shook his head, then glanced up to Derek again. “Did you get a hold of
Deaton, or anyone else? This sounds like something they should know.”
 
“I called Scott.” Isaac's voice made Stiles jump, but he recovered quickly,
grinning at the beta. “He called Deaton, and Allison. They should all be here
soon.”
 
Derek gave Isaac a thankful nod; he'd been fretting over Stiles so much that he
hadn't thought about contacting anyone about the attack. He looked back to
Stiles, just catching the younger boy wincing as he stretched out his wings
again. Derek frowned, then looked up at Isaac. “Would you mind waiting for them
here while I have a word with Stiles?”
 
Isaac blinked once, then flushed and shook his head. “Um, no, it's... yeah,
that'd be fine.”
 
Derek looked back to Stiles, biting back a grin when he saw red blooming across
his cheeks and neck, then nodded his head back to the stairs, standing up to go
up to the master bedroom.
 
Stiles scrambled up, almost running ahead of Derek, but he slowed, following
after his mate. Derek listened to Stiles pounding heartbeat and grinned to
himself.
 
As soon as they were inside the room, Derek shut the door behind them, and
before Stiles could speak, he moved the boy onto the bed, laying on his
stomach, and moved over him, straddling him. He heard Stiles heart beat hard
again and chuckled softly, stroking his hand down the center of Stiles back,
underneath the shirt he was wearing. The shirt that he was borrowing from
Derek, their scents mingled together in the fabric. Derek leaned down to breath
the scent in, his wolf growling contentedly.
 
“Um... Derek...?” Stiles stuttered. Derek hummed, leaned back up to work his
fingers into the skin between Stiles wings. Stiles groaned and sunk into the
bed, his wings twitching as they spread out and relaxed.
 
“You're sore.” Derek muttered, moving another hand up to rub the base of one of
the wings, grimacing along with Stiles when he felt the knot of tension there
from overworking them.
 
“Mughhh...” Stiles moaned into the pillow, arching up into Derek's hands. They
sat there for a while, Derek slowly working the tension out of his mate's back.
After a few minutes passed, Stiles wiggled underneath him. Derek lifted up,
giving the younger man room to move a bit, just enough for him to pull the
shirt off before he spread back out, sprawling across the sheets. “Mmkay... Go
at it.”
 
Derek hummed, pleased, and returned his hands to Stiles' back, massaging both
of the wings at the same time, leaning forward to nuzzle at the warm space of
skin between them. Stiles groaned, turning his face into Derek's pillow. Derek
could smell the arousal coming off of Stiles in waves, heady and strong. The
scent was spicy, but achingly sweet, it made Derek want.
 
A deep growl rumbled out of him, vibrating through Stiles' skin, and he licked
his lips, tasting some of the sweat on Stiles' back. As much as he wanted to,
though... he was going to wait. He rumbled again and licked up Stiles spine,
getting another taste of his mate's skin to hold him over, before he pulled
back, sitting up and resting back on Stiles' ass.
 
“Derekkkk.” Stiles whined, arching up, pushing his butt into Derek's crotch.
Derek clamped his jaw tight, feeling his fangs practically pop out and his
claws just skirting Stiles' skin as he yanked them back. “Please, please... I
need it, Derek. I need you to touch me, fuck me...” Derek's mouth went desert
dry, he moved back a little only to be knocked back by a particularly forceful
buck of Stiles' body. Stiles pause a moment in his rambling then moaned, the
sound rattling to Derek's core. “Claim me, Derek, please...”
 
Derek froze, feeling his jaw drop open at Stiles' words. His wolf howled
achingly to do exactly what Stiles wanted. But... but he was going to. No, he
had control. He could wait, he would wait.
 
The alpha sucked in a deep breath, letting his chest inflate all the way, then
let it out and pushed off. “No, Stiles.” He bit into his cheek when Stiles
whined. “No, we... have to go down and talk with everyone. Tell them about the
attack, remember?”
 
Stiles tilted his head to the side, his bottom lip puffy from where he was
biting it, then he sighed. “Not fair...” He whined again. “Why can't Isaac tell
them? He was there, too. They can just wait a bit for us to finish up, right?”
 
Derek stared down at Stiles body, where he wanted to rake his claws over the
pale expanse of his back, lick over his marks, mark Stiles all up with his
claws and teeth and come...
 
Derek shook his head violently, trying to shake out the images that were
rushing around his brain and pumping more blood down south. “I can make a deal
with you if you go right now?”
 
Stiles perked up, turning so he was partially facing the alpha, brows raised in
question. Derek swallowed and shrugged. “I can help you after the meeting. No
touching.” He emphasized. He'd already done enough touching. He just had to
wait a few more months, that was it. Then he could have Stiles fully... Just...
a few months. “We'll figure it out then. Or, I could go down there and you can
stay here and get off alone.”
 
Stiles jumped up, nodding. “Okay, okay.” He huffed. “That's better than
nothing.”
 
Derek smiled, feeling his lips curl just slightly more when Stiles' heart
thumped, his mouth dropping open. “Good.” He crawled off the bed, pulling
Stiles up with him, and started toward the door. He could hear Stiles' wings
fluttering around him, almost irritated. It should mean that he was feeling a
little bit better, at least.
 
Before he walked out, Derek turned back around to make sure Stiles was
following. He swallowed, watching Stiles flattening the feathers on his wings
to try to get rid of the marks Derek's fingers left, pouting as he did, bottom
lip still puffy and red. Just a few months... He reminded himself, facing back
toward the door when Stiles looked up. Just have to control myself until
then...
***** You've Got Me Beggin' *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek strikes a deal with Stiles, the pack gathers to talk about the
     alpha pack, Derek and Stiles get some alone time together (read; sexy
     time).
Chapter Notes
     Yay! Got next chapter up a little early since I finished the one
     after this. That and tomorrow is going to be stupid busy so getting
     it up now.
By the time they'd made it down stairs, Scott and Allison were already walking
in, Isaac welcoming them in, still with a slight blush to his face. And...
Stiles was going to pretend that Isaac couldn't hear a thing they were saying
up in the bedroom. It made him feel not as bad to think that Isaac was
blissfully unaware that they were arguing about whether or not they were going
to sex it up now or later, or that he heard the way Stiles was begging for
Derek to...
 
Derek cleared his throat, and Stiles shook his head to clear it. Right, not the
time. Sexy time was later. Now was discussion time and possibly war strategy
time. Head, thoroughly out of the gutter now.
 
“Hey.” Scott smiled, rushing halfway up the stairs to grab at Stiles. His
friend checked him over, making sure he wasn't hurt, just like Derek did
earlier. “You're okay.”
 
Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I ran away and then held onto a tree until they went
away.” At Allison's look of confusion he shrugged. “They weren't very good at
being werewolves.”
 
“Which brings us to our first point.” Derek called, coming down the rest of the
way from the stairs and looking up at Stiles and Scott until they started down
after him. “From the way they performed and reacted, almost all of the alphas
seemed entirely new. Whether it's true, or if they just never accepted the
change and embraced it, or ignored it, we don't know.” He paused, looking
around at everyone and nodding for them all to follow him into the den, where
Derek and Isaac had moved anything that could be used as some form of
furniture, from the crates and ratty pillows to the actual couch pushed up
against the wall with rips and stuffing flowing out.
 
“So.” Allison started, and Derek flinched, turning his eyes on her, where she
was perched on the edge of the couch. “You're suggesting that they just took a
handful of people, turned them, and somehow made them all into alphas?” At
Derek's nod she frowned. “How would that work? That kind of power just can't go
out freely, can it? You have to kill the alpha before you to become one, isn't
that how it usually goes?”
 
“Yes.” Derek hesitated slightly in answering. Stiles reached out to grasp
Derek's hand. He knew it had to be hard for Derek to share any kind of
information with someone he'd seen as an enemy for so long, and probably still
saw as an enemy. But Allison had seemed like someone they could trust, at least
partially.
 
Derek sagged a little when their hands laced together and breathed out a sigh
before he continued. “We also have no idea how many there are. Or if they could
make more, how long it would take to make up for any losses they have.” He
glanced over to Isaac. “Counting from last night, there are at least five of
them.”
 
“So, what do we do?” Scott spoke up, looking up to Derek. Stiles felt himself
sag in relief along with Derek, glad his friend seemed to be accepting Derek
more and more.
 
“We'll have to see if we can find where they're hiding. And, if we can find
who's in command of them. If we can take him out, then it should be easy to
take care of the rest of them.” He stood up off the couch, slowly untangling
his hand from Stiles' as he spoke. “There's the body of one of them not too far
from here. When Deaton comes he can examine her to find out more about them,
see if they're really what they seem to be. Before then, though, we can try to
pick up any scents or marks from her that could hint us to where they're
hiding.”
 
He looked back to Stiles. “I want you to stay here with Isaac. If they decide
to come back while we're out then at least you can have someone here to protect
you.” He looked to Allison. “And you can come with us.”
 
Allison looked ready to argue, but before she could get a word out Scott was
standing up, squeezing her hand. Her mouth shut, and he huffed, but followed
after the two wolves. Huh. Stiles watched them leave, noticing how Scott and
Allison were still holding hands as they followed Derek out.
 
“Wonder when that happened...” He muttered once they were gone.
 
Isaac shrugged, getting up off the crate he was sitting on and flopping onto
the floor by Stiles. He tilted his head up, a small, shy smile curling his
lips. “So, you're really okay?”
 
Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Werewolves... “Yeah, I'm good.”
 
Isaac grinned. “Good.” He dropped his head back down to look straight ahead for
a moment. Just a second later, tilting it back again to look back up at Stiles.
Well, more specifically, at the wings. “Would it... um, be weird if I...”
 
Stiles bit his lip, he wasn't used to them being touched that much. Well...
with Derek, he was but... it was different with him. He remembered the feeling
of when Scott did, how different it was, then shrugged. It couldn't hurt.
 
He stretched out a wing, slowly, holding it within the beta's reach. Isaac
reached up, hesitating a moment, then curled his hand up, using just one finger
to trace lightly along a line of feathers. Again, it was a different feeling,
but not unpleasant. Just soft, gentle warmth radiating through him. He glanced
back down to Isaac and smiled. Isaac looked fascinated, happy.
 
“They're so soft...” He muttered, then glanced up at Stiles, pausing another
second, before he unfolded his fingers to stroke along the arch.
 
The two sat like that for a while, Stiles keeping himself partially right
there, the other feeling for Derek's presence, waiting for something to happen
on the other end of his connection. After a while, he started dozing a little
bit, Isaac warm where he was leaning against Stiles' leg now, fingers brushing
gently through the feathers.
 
When Stiles woke up next, Isaac was moved over, laying against his other leg,
and Derek was pressed into his side, talking quietly to Scott, who was sitting
on the floor near him. Stiles glanced around the room; Allison didn't seem to
be there anymore, and there were several candles laid out to light up the room,
the little light that was shining through the windows earlier gone now.
 
“What'd I miss?” Stiles shifted, letting everyone know he was awake now.
Though, judging from the way Derek's hand was clutching at his side since he'd
woken up, he'd known.
 
Derek huffed, looking annoyed. “We couldn't find anything. It smelled like
she'd covered it up, she just smelled of mud and blood. There was a hint of
something under it, but it was too vague to pick out.”
 
Stiles nodded sleepily, then remembered Deaton was supposed to come. “What
about our favorite mysterious veterinarian? Did he drop by to check her out?”
 
Scott nodded. “He did, but he couldn't find much.”
 
Derek sighed. “He took a blood sample from her, and from Scott and myself. He
says he's going to come back to us to see if he can find anything different
about it. But just from examining her, he said she seemed like a normal alpha.”
 
“He also took her body to do some more tests with the equipment.” Scott
mentioned. “I'm supposed to come by tomorrow before work to help him.”
 
Stiles nodded, still sleep-lagged, his brain taking in the information bit by
bit. He stretched out a bit, trying not to move Isaac too much, then tipped his
head onto Derek's shoulder. Derek smelled off sweat, earth and... coffee, a
little bit. Stiles hummed and turned his head so his nose was buried there,
breathing Derek in. He felt Derek's pulse jump against his cheek and smiled
slightly.
 
He jumped when Scott clapped his hands together. “So, since I have to get up
early I think I'm going to go. I'll see you guys tomorrow sometime, bye.” He
rushed out, standing and nearly running out the door. Stiles buried his smile
into Derek's shoulder, trying not to laugh. It felt really good that he could
finally get some revenge for all the times Scott had over-shared about Allison.
 
Isaac stretched out a little, before he stood up too. Stiles opened his eyes to
look up at the beta, catching him yawning and looking anywhere but at the
couple. “I think I'll go to bed, too.” He looked between them and flushed
slightly. “Um... night?” Stiles bit into his cheek as Isaac turned tail and
walked down the hall to his room. The 'please don't wake me up with your loud,
awesome sex' was unsaid.
 
Derek shook his head. “You're terrible.”
 
Stiles grinned, tilting his head up to smack a kiss to Derek's stubble-covered
jaw. “Yep.” He shifted against Derek, moving so he was straddling the alpha,
catching the flicker of red in his eyes. “So, I recall a certain deal we made.
Where you helped me achieve orgasms?”
 
Even Stiles could hear Isaac's groan down the hall. Derek choked back a laugh –
that was partially moan, even if Derek wouldn't admit it – and pushed Stiles
off of him, grabbing his hand to pull him up the stairs. “Terrible. Completely
and absolutely awful.”
 
Stiles beamed and hopped off one of the last step, pulling Derek to a stop and
nipping at his shoulder. “You love it.”
 
Derek didn't argue, just reached back and grabbed Stiles' by his thighs,
lifting him up and carrying him the rest of the way into the bedroom. When
there, he dumped Stiles onto the bed, then paused. He looked unsure as to
whether or not he should climb on with him, red just barely seeping into hazel.
 
Eventually, to Stiles' disappointment, Derek pulled up a chair, moving it just
out of Stiles' reach, and sat, licking his lips while he looked Stiles' over.
Stiles shuddered under Derek's heated gaze, watching as the red rim grew wider,
and Derek's teeth a little longer.
 
“Okay.” He relaxed a little, leaning back in the chair and letting his legs
fall open, making Stiles' mouth water and his arousal come rushing back in a
huge, crushing wave. “Tell me what you want me to do, anything, except touch
you.” Derek's already-lust-rough voice rumbled, sending tremors through Stiles
body.
 
Oh god... Stiles' brain came up with so many options at that moment, every one
seeming better than the last. Maybe... start with something small... Stiles
sucked in a breath, already feeling like he wasn't getting enough air, and let
himself relax into the bed, moving up against the wall so he could watch
better. “Um, shirt off, I guess...”
 
Derek smirked, then straightened up, and slowly, pulled his shirt up and off,
tossing it somewhere neither of them seemed to pay attention to. Stiles
swallowed, letting his eyes drag over every inch of Derek's muscled chest.
 
“Next?” Stiles jumped, looking back up to Derek's face. Derek looked a little
less toothy, though his eyes were still that bright, powerful red. Stiles
swallowed, settling more into the bed, letting his hands drop to rest on his
thighs. He caught Derek's smirk widening, but ignored it in favor of thinking
about what he wanted next.
 
“So... would full nudity be out of the question?” Stiles tried, his mouth
already watering at the thought of Derek, completely uncovered, all bare just
for him.
 
Derek tilted his head, thinking it over, then stood up. He bit his lip lightly
and popped the button on his jeans, the sound muted by the fabric of them, but
all too loud in the quiet room. Stiles watched as the alpha slowly, so slowly
dragged the zip down. Derek then shucked them off, tossing them vaguely in the
same direction of his shirt. He hesitated another moment, his thumbs tucked in
the band of his – thankfully, wonderfully – tight briefs.
 
They were pulled down an inch, then another, enough where Stiles could see the
thick, dark trail of hair start toward little – or from the looks of things,
big – Derek was. Then, Derek stopped, sitting back in his chair with his smug
little smirk. Stiles whined, squeezing himself through his jeans. Derek
chuckled and licked his lips, nodding for Stiles to give him the next command.
 
Stiles... figured he might've been pushing a bit for this one, but... he could
try. “Could you... talk for me?”
 
Derek arched a brow, frowning slightly, then his eyes brightened, a wolfish
grin spreading across his face. “That's it, just talk? What do you want me to
talk about?”
 
Stiles licked his lips, not noticing the low growl from Derek when he did.
“Um... about... about what you'd want to do to me...?”
 
This time, Stiles could hear the growl loud and clear, his body trembling at
it. He quickly worked the snap and zip on his own jeans off and reached inside
to hold himself, waiting for Derek.
 
Derek rumbled again, and when he started, his voice was low, husky, almost
feeling like a physical presence against Stiles body. “The things I would do to
you, Stiles. I think about it every minute of the day. I would keep you locked
up all to myself if I could, just play with you all day long.” Derek hummed,
tracing his thumb along the rough trail of hair at the v of his hips, chuckling
when he noticed that Stiles was watching the movement. “I'd lay you out,
explore every inch of you, slowly, for hours, just touching, tasting every part
of you, until you can't take it anymore... Then I'd start to open you up...”
Stiles groaned; Derek had moved his hand down, rubbing over his obvious hard on
as he spoke now.
 
Derek shifted, watching Stiles as he took a breath. His dark gaze was glued to
where Stiles had his hand shoved in his pants. He growled suddenly. “Show me.”
 
Stiles shivered hard, then lifted his hips, shimmying his jeans and boxers down
enough to pull himself out. Derek rumbled, low and dangerous. The sound made
Stiles hips hitch up, a bead of pre-cum forming at the slit. Derek licked his
lips, then continued talking. “I'd fuck you open with my fingers and tongue,
until you were writhing with it.” A corner of his mouth twitched up and he
chuckled lowly. “Maybe until you came, maybe multiple times. Then, when you
were pliant, lazy from orgasm, I'd finally push in my cock.”
 
Stiles' orgasm crashed onto him, almost the same feeling as falling, then
suddenly hitting solid ground. He brought a hand up to bite into, trying to
quiet himself as he came. Before he could, though, Derek was up, snatching his
hand away, and pushing his mouth onto Stiles, swallowing every moan.
 
Slowly, Stiles relaxed, pulled his hand off himself with a sticky sound that
made him wince, and opened his eyes – he couldn't even remember when he'd
closed them – to look up at Derek.
 
Derek was panting, staring down at where Stiles was a complete mess, his hand
and crotch sticky with release. Stiles glanced down, and swallowed around the
hard lump that dropped in his throat. Derek was rubbing himself through his
boxers still, just the head peaking out about the waist band. But that didn't
matter, the way Derek's fingers were curled around himself, it framed him
enough that Stiles could practically see everything. “Fuck.” He breathed,
feeling his dick twitch at the sight. Derek groaned at him, then white was
pumping onto his abs.
 
When Derek was finished, he collapsed down onto the bed beside Stiles, panting
heavily.
 
Stiles kept his eyes on the mess on Derek's stomach, as he waited for Derek's
breathing to even out a bit, and for Derek to settle back into the bed a bit.
Then he looked up at him. “Could I taste?”
 
Derek choked and dropped his head back on a groan, eyes squeezing shut tight.
 
Stiles grinned and leaned forward. I'll take that as a yes.
***** Chapter 16 *****
“Oh my god, please tell me you guys are decent.” A door slammed loudly. “No!
No, not decent!”
 
Stiles blinked awake, looking around the room.
 
“I knew there was a reason Isaac looked traumatized. Why did I even...”
 
Scott?
 
Stiles hopped up out of bed, taking a look at Derek first – who was just as
Stiles left him, mostly naked, sticky with cum, and completely debauched – then
himself, before he grabbed his boxers off the floor where he'd kicked off his
pants, and wiped himself off. After he was as clean as he'd get without a
shower, he tugged on his pants and opened the door, and flashed Scott a nice,
big, shit-eating grin. “Hey Scott, ol' buddy, ol' pal.”
 
Scott looked like he was about to either faint or throw up. “I hate you.” He
shoved at the door, then gave a silent shriek and looked away. Stiles looked
back to see Derek had moved and now his legs were spread nice and wide facing
the door. Scott whimpered pitifully. “At least put some kind of warning, a sock
on the knob or something.”
 
“I'll put a condom up, make sure you know.” Scott made a sound like he was
dying, and he heard Derek snort behind him. Stiles nudged Scott with his foot,
done with his fun for now. “What's up?”
 
Scott sighed. “Other than my severe need for brain bleach...” He shifted on his
feet. “Deaton says he found something odd about the girl and needs you guys to
come in. Preferably clothed and showered.” He grimaced and looked to the
ground. "I'm going to go meet up with Allison to help her get some supplies
from her house while her dad's gone."
 
Stiles nodded and saluted his friend. “Sure thing, we'll be there in about an
hour.” Then he grinned, feeling a little bit evil. “For now... We have certain
naughty things we must do.”
 
He closed the door, chuckling when he heard what sounded like Scott crying.
Derek stretched and moved up so he was leaning back on his forearms, shaking
his head fondly. “I think you broke him.”
 
“Correction, we. We broke him.” He winked. “I could hear you laughing back
here.”
 
Derek rolled his eyes, then got up. He moved toward Stiles and grasped his
chin, pulling the younger boy in for a kiss before he tugged him to the
connected bathroom. Which... was actually quite elegant, clearly remodeled, and
fully functional from the looks of things. Huh. “I didn't think you'd even have
running water. I definitely didn't think you'd have all of this.”
 
Derek blushed a bit, shrugging. “I... may be fixing up some things around
here.” He turned on the shower – which, looked expensive; smooth, new tile and
sleek, shining shower heads, two on opposite walls, and enough room for the
both of them to stand in comfortably – and started pulling off Stiles clothes.
 
When Derek started tugging his own briefs down Stiles gave him a look. “I
thought you were against full nudity in front of me.”
 
Derek shrugged. “I can make an exception for a little bit. It'll be faster if
we shower at the same time.”
 
Stiles didn't argue, mostly because Derek chose that moment to tug the last
piece of clothing he wore completely off. Stiles swallowed and stepped back
into the shower, Derek following after with a small grin.
 
Derek... was being maybe a little bit selfish.
 
After the long, long night he'd spent getting Stiles off with just his words
and body, Derek just couldn't help himself. He'd restrained himself almost the
entire time, just wanting to pounce on Stiles, actually show him everything
Derek was saying he'd do to him.
 
Derek licked his lips and glanced back, watching Stiles as he washed himself,
already smelling like Derek from the two of them being wrapped around each
other all through the night. Even as he was washing most of it off, he was
using all of Derek's soaps, almost mimicking his scent.
 
Derek swallowed back a contented growl and focus back on his own shower. It
seemed like the more time he spent around Stiles, the harder it was to remember
that he was waiting, and the longer those few months felt.
 
“You done?” Derek jumped at the sound of Stiles voice, loud in the enclosed
space of the shower and turned. Derek was temporarily distracted by the beads
of water clinging to Stiles' eye lashes, and the way his wings twitched from
the water running down them. He spent another second patting his past self on
the back for the idea to invest in this shower. Past Derek was a genius.
 
“Mmm. Mostly.” Derek eventually muttered. Feeling bold he reached past Stiles,
rubbing against him and lightly tracing a hand over Stiles warm and mole-
spotted chest, watching it redden under his fingertips, reaching with his other
hand to grab his body wash. He grinned at Stiles as he'd pulled back, Stiles
staring at him with his mouth hanging open. “I'll be done in a little bit if
you want to start drying up.
 
Stiles silently bobbed his head, still gaping, then scrambled out of the shower
when Derek started soaping up.
 
Derek laughed to himself, feeling a genuine smile curling his lips, and
concentrated half on washing the suds off his body and half on the sound of the
towel brushing over Stiles' skin.
 
When he was done, Derek turned off the water of his shower head and stepped
out, grabbing his towel off the... Hm...
 
Derek pulled the towel off the rack that actually wasn't his towel and looked
up to Stiles, watching the teen curling Derek's towel around his waist, wings
still twitching from the water clinging to them, and Derek had to choke back a
growl. Stiles... Stiles had to know at least half of the things he was doing to
Derek. The image from last night, of Stiles leaning over Derek's stomach,
licking off his cum. Fuck... He wanted to just ravage him then, push Stiles
down and just... drive him insane. Slowly, thoroughly insane, just as he was
always doing to Derek.
 
“Der, you okay?”
 
Derek blinked from where he was staring at Stiles' stomach, right where the
thick trail of hair was leading under the towel that radiated Derek's scent.
“Uh?” Stiles grinned and Derek shook his head, cleared his throat and glared.
“What.”
 
Stiles snickered, then cut himself off, choking back more laughter as he turned
around and looked over his shoulder to Derek. “Think you could help me get
these straight and dry them off?” He stretched the wings out for emphasis, and
Derek was probably always going to be surprised just how much room they took up
when they weren't tucked around Stiles small body.
 
“Mmm.” Derek hummed, a little bit of a growl melting into it. Any excuse for
him to touch Stiles was a good one. Just... helping out my mate. Derek told
himself as he reached out, grabbing a hand towel and patting the feathers dry,
gently moving them with the cloth into place. He tried his best to ignore the
sound of Stiles' heart beat speeding up, or the scent of Stiles' arousal that
seemed to be filling the room up just as much as his wings did.
 
The grooming – Derek also ignored how pleased his wolf was about the thought of
grooming Stiles – took about ten more minutes, so by the time that Stiles and
Derek were padding downstairs, dressed comfortably because they'd both agreed
that today was going to be a lazy day after they'd finished meeting with Deaton
and the pack, it was already nearing noon.
 
Despite that, Derek could smell fresh coffee and donuts – probably enough to
feel a small army and then some. Stiles groaned when he saw the stack of pastry
boxes, practically running into the kitchen and tackling them, then groaned
again when he saw his salted-maple-bacon bars. “Whoever did this, I love you
forever and ever.”
 
“Love you too, Stiles.” Isaac teased as he walked past Derek, grabbing one of
the coffees sitting next to the box of donuts. Derek had to resist wrinkling
his nose at the strong scent of peppermint radiating from the cup and Isaac
just shrugged at him, sipping from it with an appreciative hum. Granted, they
only got a little bit of the effect from the coffee, so they really just drank
them for the taste, but still. Derek grabbed a thankfully black coffee – with a
spoonful of cream and a dash of milk just how he liked it – and snuck around
Stiles to steal away one of the boxes with normal donuts.
 
When they'd had their fill, the three of them killing off two of the seven
boxes – teenage werewolves; they were just ravenous – and Derek was working on
his second coffee, they took off. Isaac stayed behind to wait for Scott and
Allison, just in case they showed up before the meeting with Deaton finished.
Derek and Stiles hopped into the Camero once they'd had Stiles wings wrapped
up, just to keep them out of view while they were in public.
 
“So, what's up doc?” Stiles smirked as he walked in, making Derek roll his eyes
fondly and Deaton just give the both of them a blank stare. Stiles huffed and
leaned back against one of the exam tables in the room he was it. “What'd you
find?”
 
“Well.” Deaton looked up to Derek, “I wasn't exactly sure, when I first saw it,
what it could be.” He started out of the room, motioning for the both of them
to follow. He walked down the hall, then went through a door that was
restricted to the public, holding it open for them and then locking it
afterward. He walked them over to a table, a sheet laying over it. When Deaton
lifted it, the girl was underneath it, white and cold and smelling of decay.
Derek wrinkled his nose but stepped closer when Deaton pointed to a mark in the
center of her chest.
 
It was a black, messy circle, a crescent moon splitting the inside of it with a
symbol Derek couldn't recognize, the outside of it spreading out into three
spirals. Derek raised his eyebrows to the vet. “What does it mean?”
 
Deaton frowned. “It has several meanings.” He traced the shape of the moon.
“This, with the markings on the inside, is a symbol to give power through the
moon, through all of it's phases, control.” He moved to the spirals. “These are
used to tie the mark together, shaping it and concentrating all it's power into
the core of the person using it, thus why it's marked at the center of her
chest.” Then to the symbol Derek couldn't recognize. “And this... this is one
of the markings of an angel.” He glanced up to Stiles, who looked to be taking
all of this information in like a sponge, and who blinked up from the girl's
body to stare at Deaton.
 
“Like... my type of angel?” When the vet nodded Stiles frowned. “Okay. So what
does that mean?”
 
Deaton looked back down to the girl, following the smooth, curving lines of the
mark, almost following the shape of Stiles' wings when they were curled loosely
behind him, but instead it curled out near the end, curving up around the moon.
“This means they had an angel give them this mark, and from out it's formed
around the moon, it seems like it was given for protection as well, a blessing
on her.”
 
Derek snorted. “It didn't seem to do much good to her, did it?”
 
Deaton shook his head. “Which could mean either the angel that gave it to her
died, or they took away their blessing.” He shrugged. “Either way, there's no
way for me to find out which.”
 
Derek nodded. “So, did you find anything else?”
 
Deaton hummed, reaching under the table to pull out a group of papers. He
flicked through them as he spoke. “Her blood, the sample I got from her was
off. Not by much, it was something I caught just at the last second.” He looked
up to Derek. “Comparing her blood sample to yours, with your alpha power, it
doesn't match. The cells in her blood seem weaker, and less stable.” He paused
a moment. “And, there was something else that was odd about it...”
 
Clink.
 
Derek started, then looked around the room for the source of sound. He frowned,
not finding anything, then looked back down to the corpse. Now... now that
Derek looked she seemed different. He couldn't quite place how, though.
 
In the background, Derek could hear Deaton talking, but... he couldn't
concentrate on the words. Something felt off suddenly.
 
Clink.
 
Derek blinked, unsure if he saw... did... did she just move...?
 
Derek watched in disbelief as her hand twitched, her nails tapping against the
table, so slightly he couldn't be sure if she'd really moved. Then her chest
rose with an inhale as the back mark on her chest started glowing a hot red,
tendrils of smoke rising up in the air. This wasn't good.
 
“Stiles.” He pulled back on the teen. “Stiles, we have to go.”
 
Stiles glanced back at Derek, then looked to Deaton, or... where Deaton was.
Stiles stiffened then nodded, following Derek to the door.
 
Then there was a roar that made everything in the room shudder, and the table
behind them crashed into the wall right beside them. Derek spun around, seeing
the girl there, looking more wolf than girl now. She... didn't seem like an
alpha though, she seemed more out of control than any alpha should be.
 
“I thought she was supposed to be dead!” Stiles yelled out, scrambling after
him out the door as the girl lunged toward them, hitting the wall with a
sickening crunch that was followed by a pained howl.
 
Derek huffed, tugging Stiles along as he ran down the hall. They were just
reaching the counter, where Deaton was waiting, a bag of mountain ash covering
most of the counter aside from a section just big enough for them to get
through. Derek glanced back, the cursed. The girl wasn't much girl anymore, now
in the shape of a beast similar to what Peter looked like, that first year he
knew Stiles. One of her wrists were broken though, her hand limp as she ran on
all fours after them, eyes red and wild, no sign of humanity behind them at
all.
 
Derek turned back around and leaped over the barrier, tugging Stiles after, and
Deaton swooped in, sealing the line of mountain ash. The alpha hit the barrier,
whining for a second, before she started growling, snapping at Derek and
Stiles.
 
“Derek...” Stiles muttered, staring at her where she was swiping at them,
seeming obsessed with getting to them. “Are we going to get with the killing,
anytime soon?”
 
Derek looked up at Deaton. “Would I be able to kill her? She just got up after
last time. Is there a way for me to keep her down?”
 
Deaton shrugged, opening his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, there
was a flash of black in front of Derek's eyes, then a splash of red with the
scent of blood sparking through his senses. Derek blinked, and the alpha roared
out, before she crumbled to the floor. Stiles was perched on the counter top in
front of her, his wings burst through the wraps and his clothes and blood
sprayed over his arm where he was holding a... part of a picture frame, it
looked like.
 
Stiles was breathing hard, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet room, and his
wings folded in slightly, enough for Derek to see Stiles face where... his eyes
looked off. Lighter, much brighter than Derek was used to, to the point they
almost looked like they were glowing a very light gold.
 
“Stiles?” Derek inched forward, gently put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, then
jumped back when Stiles flailed around, slipping from his crouched position
onto his butt on the counter. “Are... what was that?”
 
Stiles blinked, looking between Derek and Deaton, who was staring at Stiles
almost in fascination. He slowly looked back to Derek, shrugging his shoulders
up a little. “I... just followed my instincts?” He tilted his head back to look
at the girl. “I sort of just... moved without thinking about it.”
 
“Interesting.” Deaton murmured, causing the both of them to stare at the vet.
He nodded toward Stiles, lifting up one of the strips of cotton and gauze
dangling from the ripped holes in his shirt where the wings tore through. “It
seems like Stiles is becoming more accepting of his powers.” He settled his
gaze onto Derek. “Every time his charge is in danger, more of them seem to
surface.”
 
Stiles perked up, grinning. “Cool, so I actually have powers?”
 
Deaton nodded. “Of sorts. You don't have any control over them, though, and you
may never get control.” Stiles sagged slightly as Deaton continued. “They only
come out when needed, when you or your charge is near any threat, just like
now.”
 
Stiles nodded, then looked over to Derek. “Are we done, then?” He looked over
his hands, nose wrinkling. “I would like to get this cleaned off before it
starts drying anymore.”
 
Derek glanced over to Deaton, who huffed and waved them off to the bathroom in
the lobby. Inside, Stiles started washing the blood off, oddly quiet. Derek
looked over the teen, watching how he shook slightly as he scrubbed at his
arms.
 
Stiles jumped as Derek curled his arms around him from behind, nuzzling into
Stiles' neck as he spoke. “You alright?” When Stiles nodded Derek huffed out a
laugh. “You're shaking, Stiles. Even if I wasn't a werewolf and could smell how
upset you were, that sort of gives it away.” He pressed a kiss to Stiles
shoulder, looking up, meeting Stiles' eyes through their reflections. “What's
wrong?”
 
Stiles was quiet for a few more moments, his almost-frantic scrubbing calming
down slightly. “I...” He started, then sighed. “I'm just not used to this,
okay.” He shrugged. “I'm used to being the sidekick, the person that everyone
drags along because... I don't know, for entertainment value and to talk the
bad guys into the ground, I guess.” Derek pressed his lips tight, narrowing his
eyes at Stiles to convey how much he wasn't agreeing with anything Stiles said.
Stiles ignored him though, looking away. “Now I'm... I'm stronger, I'm useful.
It's just weird.” He laughed lightly. “I always thought I was just a freak with
wings and ADD. My superpowers were always annoying people and being impulsive.”
 
“You were always a hero to me...” Derek muttered, squeezing Stiles a little
tighter. “You were never the sidekick.” He reached a hand up, forcing Stiles to
look at him. “Even before you seemed to be anything more than human, you were
saving me. You were more vulnerable than any of us, but you were always there,
throwing yourself in front of the threats, protecting everyone who was more
powerful than you.” He grinned when Stiles blushed slightly. “Even before I
found out how physically strong you were, you were always useful, you made up
for you weaknesses. There's not many people who can do as much as you could.”
 
“Okay, I get it, you-”
 
“No, you don't.” He reached forward to turn off the water, then turned Stiles
around to face him. “You were, are, and never will be useless, Stiles. Even if
you lost all your powers, you'd still be my hero.”
 
Stiles' blush darkened, his wings dipping low. He looked away, clearing his
throat before he glared at Derek. “I hate you, you know.”
 
Derek leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' lips, grinning through it
when Stiles deepened it. Minutes later, when they parted, Derek leaned his head
against Stiles', laughing breathlessly. “Love you, too, Stiles.”
 
Stiles sighed, like it pained him to say it, but his heart beat and the smile
spreading his lips contradicted his tone. “Love you, too, Sourwolf.”
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Notes
     I know everything's a bit confusing. I'll try and explain it all
     soon. :)
Scott walked through the woods, a body bag with the corpse of the alpha girl
inside it on his shoulder, with the sneaking feeling like he was being watched.
 
“Dude.” Scott looked back to Isaac, who was trailing after him. “Stop staring
at me.”
 
Isaac blinked once, then rolled his eyes and jogged closer to Scott. “I'm being
cautious. She's gotten back up from the dead once already. What says she's not
going to again?”
 
“Um, Deaton and Stiles do?”
 
Isaac rolled his eyes again, and really, Scott didn't think that was necessary.
“Yeah, well, I don't trust our track record that she'll stay dead.” He lifted
the bag off of Scott's shoulder and dropped it to the side, then handed Scott
one of the shovels he was carrying with him. “This should be good here, let's
just get this done so we can get back to the house.”
 
Scott just shrugged and started digging. He still kinda had that feeling that
he was being watched but... he didn't think anything of it now. Figured it was
just nerves about what was going on around them and, as Isaac said, the
possibility of the alpha getting back up again.
 
It took them about an hour to finally finish hiding the body. It was dark by
the time they were finally heading back. The sound of the two shifting and
running through the woods back to the Hale house died off, and golden eyes
shone high above the small clearing they'd chose to get rid of the body,
flickering over the area of freshly dug dirt, before the person they belonged
to shifted, branches cracking underneath them, and they were taking off,
pushing off the tree and into the sky, soaring through the air with a whistling
sound, white feathers falling after them along with the broken branches that
collapsed to the ground.
 
 
“I just have a bad feeling about this...” Derek frowned as he cleaned Stiles'
wings. The couple was squeezed together on the couch in the living room at the
Stilinski house – the Sheriff was going to be out on patrol for another hour or
so atleast – Stiles with his head held down, his fingers tracing shapes around
Derek's ankles, his wings stretched out around the alpha. Derek had his legs
tucked around Stiles' waist, and a scrub brush in one hand while he smoothed
down feathers with the other, occasionally he leaned down over the side of the
couch to dip the brush in the soap water beside them. There was blood on them
from what happened at the vet's office, and Stiles was still a little shaken by
what happened. “I don't understand how she could've just... come back like
that.” He frowned. “And why that mark on her chest reacted how it did.”
 
Stiles shrugged, his wings bobbing slightly. “I don't know.” He huffed out a
laugh. “I'm new to all of this. From what Deaton said it's connected to one
of... someone like me. That they're working for the alpha's.”
 
Derek could feel how tense Stiles got at the mention of the other possible
angel. He hummed, nuzzling into the patch of skin between Stiles' wings,
licking a line along his spine and grinning when he felt all that tension bleed
out with the shudder that racked Stiles' body. Derek dropped the brush into the
water, satisfied that Stiles' wings were as clean as could be and scooted
closer, tucking himself around his angel. “Well, at least we know a way to keep
them down, now. That symbol seemed to give them power.” He frowned. “It seemed
to take away her control, though. Not that she had much in the first place
but...”
 
Stiles shook his head, untangling himself from Derek's arms before he stood up.
“I need to see if I can find something about this. Maybe the bestiary has
something I missed...” He glanced over to Derek, who was sitting on the couch,
looking a little bit like a lost puppy. Stiles had to repress a smile, in a way
it was so weird to think that this man who was sitting there in front of him,
who had just burrowed his way into Stiles was the same one who used to slam him
into walls and smash his head into steering wheels. “If you don't mind too much
you could help me.”
 
Derek shot up immediately, following after Stiles down the hall close enough to
rest a gentle hand at the base of his back as they walked. Stiles bit into his
lips to suppress a smile and curled a wing around Derek in return, feeling the
alpha practically melt at the touch. He was still amazed how much he affected
Derek, and he would probably never stop being amazed. The part of him that
wasn't totally and completely overwhelmed by their bond, and that didn't think
about or even care how improbable the fact that he, scrawny, plain looking
Stiles aside from certain attributes, and Derek, who looked like he'd just
strutted out of Stiles' wildest wet dreams, were together. That small, self-
conscious part of him was in complete awe of how he'd bagged Derek Hale, of all
people. The rest of him was just... content. Happy like he hadn't felt in a
long, long time...
 
“You okay?” Derek's voice knocked Stiles' out of his own head, and he looked up
at Derek, smiled as he reached out and smoothed out the worry lines creasing
Derek's brows.
 
“I'm fine.” He shrugged. “Tired, I guess.” He pulled Derek the rest of the way
into his room and flopped into his computer chair. Derek settled on the bed,
still watching Stiles worriedly, but a little less so, so Stiles was going to
take it as a win.
 
He searched his desk for a bit, looking through the mess of papers and notes
scattered over it, then grinned when he pulled out what he was looking for.
“Here, look through this.” He handed Derek the little book of notes that Derek
had talked to him about before. Derek gave it to him a few days later, deciding
it would be in better use in Stiles' hands than just sitting around in the ashy
remains of the Hale house, and Stiles had read through most of it in one night.
It was written more like a journal that a collection of notes and observations,
but there could still be something useful in it that Stiles missed. “See if you
can find anything about those markings. Or how this other angel reacted around
the pack.” He shrugged. “It may not be exactly the same in this case; we won't
have any idea how the one we're dealing with now feels about the alpha pack,
whether it's helping them because they're forcing it or what.”
 
When Derek nodded and cracked open the book, Stiles spun back around in his
chair, clicking around on his computer until he had google brought up and the
bestiary with the few notes Allison had stolen from her father's bestiary while
he was gone. Stiles stretched out, knowing that once he started he probably
wasn't going to be getting the chance to get back up again for a while. He
tilted his head back to see Derek stretched out on the bed, his hazel eyes
flicking up to Stiles for a moment, a smile curling his lips for a second
before he returned his attention – or most of it – back to the journal. Stiles
grinned and turned back to the computer, stretched his fingers and buckled down
for a long night of research.
 
 
Hours later found Derek sprawled even further across Stiles' bed, trying to
focus mostly on the words in front of him, but distracted by Stiles' scent on
the sheets, and the way his scent was starting to mix with the teens. It was
subtle, just a small amount of Derek's scent coating some parts of Stiles'
room, but it was enough to have Derek's wolf happy and panting under his skin,
wanting to just toss the book away and roll around in Stiles sheets to spread
even more of his scent around.
 
Derek restrained himself, barely, but he did. So what if he was occasionally
rubbing up against the bed as he moved, he was just getting comfortable. That
was it. Derek was behaving himself.
 
Okay, so maybe he wasn't so much. Derek shifted in the bed again, wiggling his
head against Stiles' pillow and rubbing the rest of his body against the rest
of the bed. Derek lifted his head up from the book, making the pillow drop off
the side of the bed, Derek's almost constant moving shifting it and his sheets
all over the place. Stiles was still perched in his computer chair, almost
exactly how he'd been the three hours before when they'd started. As far as
Derek could tell, Stiles was completely focused on his work. Derek smiled,
proud of his mate, but... then again, almost everything Stiles did made Derek
swell with some kind of positive emotion; be it pride, or happiness, or love,
or... well...
 
“Mmph.” Derek jumped when Stiles groaned and focused back on his mate, who was
stretching out in front of the computer, his eyes pinching shut and wings
shuddering behind him. Derek licked his lips, that other... positive feeling
making a certain part of him swell as he watched. He scooted a little bit on
the bed until he could reach the fallen pillow and firmly pressed it over the
bulge forming in his jeans.
 
Stiles turned around then, looking tired. He huffed. “I don't think I can read
any more, everything's starting to blur together.” He blinked once, then
noticed where his pillow was and flushed, making Derek shift just a little
more. He really wanted to lick that at that mark of red coloring his throat,
and where he knew it colored Stiles pale skin even further under his shirt.
Stiles didn't comment on it though, he just stood up and walked over to Derek,
pulling the book that he'd stopped paying attention to a long time ago out of
his hands and setting it aside on the nightstand. “We should go out to eat or
something, take a break.”
 
Derek nodded, twisting around out of his awkward position – his legs twisted to
the side, feet at the head board, his torso twisted around toward the foot of
the bed and head nearly hanging off the edge – and brushing himself off,
ignoring Stiles laughter when he took in the messy state of his bed and grabbed
Stiles' hand, lacing their fingers together. Stiles' laughter cut off almost
immediately, and he squeezed Derek's fingers, following him downstairs for them
to figure out what they wanted to do.
 
Eventually, they just decided to order in. Stiles started scrolling through the
TV guide, deciding on some cartoon that Derek barely paid attention to while
they waited. Just after the delivery boy left – who Derek, again, didn't pay
attention to more than giving him the money for their order and his tip –
Derek's phone buzzed in his pocket. He set the bags of food on the coffee table
and pulled his phone out while Stiles reached out, digging into his noodles
like he was the ravenous werewolf and not Derek.
 
He pulled up the message from Isaac, saying they'd finished disposing of the
girl and all was well and they'd gotten back to the Hale house safe and sound.
Derek felt himself relax, let out a relieved breath and put his phone away,
grabbing his food as he leaned into Stiles. Derek smiled slightly, as Stiles,
without looking away from the screen or the food, unfolded a wing, and tucked
it around Derek like a blanket. The alpha hummed contentedly, pressing a kiss
to his mate's neck, feeling the skin beneath his lips heat slightly, and
settled in to just watch mindless TV with his mate – or... more accurately,
watch hismate as he watched the mindless TV.
 
Hours later, well into the night, Sheriff Stilinski was just walking back into
his home. He turned and locked the door, taking off his holster and starting to
unbutton his uniform shirt when a quiet snore made him jump. He peered into the
living room, then smiled softly. There, his son and Hale were curled up
together on the couch, leaning into each other as they slept. He shook his head
fondly at the two, then walked upstairs to his own room. He'd leave them alone
for now. He'd save the teasing for the morning.
 
He chuckled to himself, setting his belt and gun on his dresser and looking up
to the picture on his dresser, of Eva and Stiles, when he was much, much
younger. His little hands were tugging on her long, brown hair, his face tilted
up to watch his mom, eyes wide and mouth open in a smile, and her face was
scrunched up in laughter, her brown eyes almost seeming to glow in happiness.
The sheriff's smile turned a little sad, his throat closing a little bit as he
reach up to stroke his thumb over the image of his late wife and his son.
 
“Aren't you proud of our little boy, Eva?” He wanted to say. “He's happy, he's
found someone that seems to care so much for him. He's doing so well, isn't
he?” He sighed, wiped his eyes, and moved away, getting ready for sleep after
his short talk with his wife.
 
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stilinski family moments and Derek, too; Stiles and Derek continue
     researching and decide to talk to Deaton more about what he knows.
Chapter Notes
     This week was a crazy, insane, emotionally-taxing week, it might show
     through this chapter a little bit, especially near the end. Just,
     warning ahead of time the writing in this one is a little clunky. :/
     Also, can you say "filler"? (I'm sorry! D:)
Stiles slowly blinked awake, wincing as a stream of light chose that exact
moment to spill through the window and fall right into his eyes. He shifted a
little, huffing and rotating his arm that was pressed into Derek's side all
through the night. He couldn't even remember when they fell asleep...
 
“Finally awake?”
 
Stiles jumped, startling Derek awake with a flailing arm. The alpha grunted and
twisted around on the couch, grumbling about something Stiles couldn't hear,
because there was his dad in the doorway, smirking at them, a cup of coffee in
his hand. “Uh...”
 
“You two are sweet, I don't think I've ever seen anything that adorable in my
life.” The sheriff grinned and shifted his mug to one hand, and tugged a camera
out of his back pocket, waving it around. “I made sure to take a lot of
pictures for you.”
 
“Daaad.” Stiles groaned. “I hate you...”
 
John chuckled and shrugged, walking back into the kitchen. “Well, if you hate
me then I guess you don't want any of the coffee I brought you.”
 
“Oh god, I love you.” Derek mumbled as he got off the couch, not seeming even a
little ashamed as the sheriff burst out laughing.
 
Stiles shook his head and stood up, stretching as he did, and followed after
Derek, who was throwing back black coffee like water. Stiles snorted and looked
up to his dad. “When did you get back last night?”
 
The sheriff managed to finally compose himself and shrugged. “Late.” At Stiles
worried look he explained. “It was just a robbery, no guns involve. The
property damage was the reason I was in so long.” He looked over to Derek, who
looked a lot more awake and aware, was watching the two of them carefully with
a little bit of a sad expression, then turned back to his son. “I'm gonna have
to head in again pretty soon. You two behave, alright?” He teased, before he
leaned down to hug his son, then crossed over to Derek, giving him a short hug,
too, before he was rushing out of the room.
 
Derek looked a little confused, but pleased, his lips curled up just a little
as he took slower, smaller sips from his mug. Stiles grinned, glad that his dad
seemed to be more accepting of Derek, then he stretched again, tucking his
wings in behind his back before he leaned back against the wall of the kitchen.
“I'm going to do some more research today, if you want to help.” He paused for
a moment. “I was actually thinking of maybe going to Deaton. He seems to know a
lot about what I am.” And, he also seemed to know what Stiles was before anyone
else. If the way he was completely unfazed by the giant black wings he was
sporting when Stiles walked into his office with Derek those few weeks ago was
any indication.
 
Derek nodded. “That's a good idea actually.” He tipped the mug back, swallowing
down the rest of the coffee inside, and stood, stretching as he did. “We'll go
to him after it closes, call Scott to tell him to stay. We can pick up where we
left off last night for now.”
 
Stiles followed Derek up the stairs to his room, and the two tucked back in to
their research, Stiles sending a quick text to Scott before he settled into his
computer chair and started reading.
 
 
“Hey.” Stiles perked up. “Derek, look at this.”
 
The werewolf closed the book, moving off the bed and crouching behind Stiles to
look over his shoulder. “What is it?”
 
Stiles pointed to the symbol on the screen, similar to the mark on the alpha's
chest. “It's what Deaton was talking about, without all the additions tailored
for the alphas. It's a mark of power.” He read the excerpt under the image out
loud. “The mark is one that can do many things. It can be changed for whatever
the maker wants, as long as it holds most of the original lines and intentions.
It's usually applied with the makers blood, mixed with a specific combination
of herbs, and is then burned into the applicants skin. The mark, without any
changes, will give it's wearer more strength, and endurance, and a tougher
skin.”
 
He tilted his head up to Derek. “Think maybe we'd be able to do that for you
and the pack?”
 
Derek shrugged. “Maybe.” He paused a moment then nodded to the printer. “We
should ask Deaton about it first.” He leaned closer. “Does it say anything for
wolves? It might not work for us, that might be why she lacked control.” His
brow furrowed as Stiles turned back to the screen to read more. “And what made
her come back from the dead. We don't know if the other alpha's have their
marks in the same place, and we may not have time to find it before...” He
trailed off when Stiles flinched, the angel nodding as he scrolled further down
the page.
 
“Nothing on that, I'd guess it's something that this other angel added. As for
wolves... I can't find anything on that.” He huffed, shifting around in his
seat. “It mostly goes on about other magics. Protection spells and offensive
magics but... the ways to use them don't make sense to me.”
 
Derek pulled back as Stiles started printing off the page. “Something else we
can question him about, then.” He stepped back until his legs hit the bed and
sat down, picking up the journal again. He hadn't found anything useful in it,
it was mostly a log of that their old guardian did for the family. He huffed.
Not that it helped in the long run, Derek thought grumpily, a sour taste –
somewhat like fire and ash – filled his mouth. He quickly shook himself out of
his dark thoughts, noticing the muscles in Stiles back were tense, and brown-
gold eyes were watching him carefully across the room. “Have you heard anything
from Scott?”
 
Stiles frowned at the slight shake in Derek's voice as he spoke, but didn't
comment on it. “No. I think he is at work now, though, so I could try calling
him.” He turned his head back to the printer for a moment as it finished,
flipping through the printed pages to make sure it got everything before he
turned back and stood up. “I think I'll wait a bit, though.” He settled on the
bed beside Derek. “They don't close for a few hours so we have time.”
 
The alpha nodded, feeling a little more relaxed already with his mate starting
to curl around him. Stiles pulled the both of them down until they were both
laying on the bed, shifting himself and motioning Derek around until they were
facing each other. He tucked himself into Derek's chest, rubbing his face into
the curve of the Alpha's throat, nipping lightly at the smooth skin there.
 
Derek swallowed, choking back a moan when Stiles followed the bob of his Adam's
apple with his lips. The position should've made him feel vulnerable, made the
alpha growl and thrash and reclaim control, but... he didn't. The wolf was
content, whining under Stiles' touch, making Derek want to chase after it when
Stiles shifted, pulling away just for a split second, and then making Derek
want to moan and just sprawl out under the boy when he curled his long-fingered
hands over the small of Derek's back and over his chest.
 
“It's okay.” Stiles muttered against his skin, pulling back just enough to look
into Derek's eyes. The alpha whined, unable to choke it back this time, and
Stiles just gave him a soft, gentle smile. It was weird, ever since Derek had
found out about Stiles, he'd never really seen how he fit as an angel. He was
always too mischievous, or excitable and, well, human-like. He babbled and
laughed and he flailed, but... here, smiling at Derek, reaching his hand up
from Derek's back to comb through his hair, he fit, like he'd just dropped down
from the sky just to love one little broken creature...
 
Derek sucked in a deep breath, blinking away the sudden burn in his eyes and
trying to swallow away the sudden tightness in his throat and pulled Stiles
back down. Soft feathers folded around him, pulling him a little closer to his
mate. Stiles tucked his head back under Derek's chin. The angel told him again,
“It's okay. You're okay.” and “I'm here. I'll always be here.”
 
It will be.Derek thought, feeling something come loose in his chest as he
squeezed Stiles as close as he physically could. I might be... if you stay. 
***** Don't Let Them See *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles goes to talk to Deaton alone and finds out something about his
     mom, but still leaves with more questions than answers.
Chapter Notes
     AH! I'm sorry I'm late! My muse just didn't want to cooperate and was
     being dumb. :(
It was dark when Scott finally texted back, giving them the all clear to come
in. Stiles unraveled from Derek, the werewolf groaning and pouting a little –
not that Stiles was going to comment on it. Stiles gathered up the pages from
the printer, then paused a moment. I wonder...
 
“Would you mind going down and getting the jeep started?” Stiles grinned at
Derek. “I just wanna get a jacket on real quick, it's a bit chilly.”
 
Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment as he left. Stiles turned to
his nightstand and pulled open the drawer, lifting it up slightly to pull it
out of the track. He reached in to the very back of the opening, where the
track was worn and the walls were slightly splintered from years of use, and
pulled out the slip of paper hidden there.
 
It was old, the paper thin and creased as he unfolded it. The ink was still
thick and dark, though. Don't let them see. Don't let them know.
 
Stiles chewed on his lip as he read over the few words again, for the first
time since his wings came in. He folded up the note and shoved it into his
pocket; he had a feeling he'd be finding out about it soon.
 
 
When they walk in, Deaton's waiting for them, his hands clasped together on the
counter, and his expression the usual calm, collected one he always seemed to
wear. “I'll talk to you in the back, Stiles.” He said simply, then glanced to
Derek. “You can wait here for us to finish.”
 
Derek opened his mouth to argue but Stiles cut him off, tugging off his jacket
so he could stretch his wings a little as he walked back behind the counter.
“It's okay, Derek.” He smiled at the alpha. “I'll be fine.”
 
Derek frowned, but didn't follow him, falling into one of the chairs in the
waiting room with a little huff. Stiles turned back to the vet and followed
after him down the hall, until they came into an empty operating room, furthest
from the lobby. Deaton turned around once the door was shut and gave Stiles a
nod to speak.
 
“Okay, so...” Stiles pulled out the folded print-outs of the mark. “What can
you tell me about these?” He handed the pages to the vet and shifted on his
heels as the man scanned over the pages. “Would I be able to use it for Derek
and the pack?”
 
“It's not advised.” Deaton set the pages down on the operating table and looked
over Stiles. “These type of spells work best for your charge. Using it on
others isn't exactly safe, for you or the one you're using it on.”
 
Stiles nodded. “Is that why that alpha was like that?”
 
“Most likely.” He looked up at Stiles. “Do you want me to gather the herbs you
need to do it?”
 
Stiles chewed on his lip lightly, then shook his head. “I'll talk to Derek
about it first. Is there anyway for me to practice before? I don't want to risk
messing it up.”
 
Deaton smiled at him. “Yes, I can help you. It's quite simple, actually. Just a
matter of drawing the lines right.” He paused a moment, glancing over Stiles
and his twitching wings. “I have the feeling that this wasn't the only thing
you came to talk to me about.”
 
“Uh, yeah.” Stiles swallowed and reached out of his pocket, pulling out the
note he'd dug out of his nightstand. “You didn't... have anything to do with
this, did you?”
 
Deaton glanced over the words then back up to the angel, expression not
changing as he nodded. “I did.” He passed the paper back across the table to
Stiles. “I made a promise to help you. I was simply keeping that promise.”
 
Stiles swallowed. “Was it... my mom? Did she...” He trailed off, the sudden
lump that formed in his throat making it hard for him to continue talking.
Deaton nodded slowly, then handed back the print-outs with a small smile.
 
“There are other spells that could help. Most of them are for protection, or
even healing. They only really work for you or your charge. I'll make a list
for you and send them with Scott along with the herbs for them.” He paused a
moment, regarding Stiles carefully, his gaze lingering for a moment on a spot
of Stiles wing. There was a scar there, small but it seemed like nothing had
grown back from it, no dark tufts of feathers, and the skin was an angry red.
Where he was injured when he was saving Derek... “You should be careful in the
meantime, Genim.” Stiles spun back around to Deaton, gaping at him. Deaton gave
him a small, knowing smile. “You're not invincible. You don't need to protect
everyone around you.”
 
Stiles nodded, then gathered up all of his things and left, an uneasy feeling
in his chest at Deaton's words. It almost felt like there was something he was
missing but... he didn't know what it could be. He reached a hand up, rubbing
lightly at the scar on his wing, walking blindly down the hallway. Somehow,
coming to Deaton for answers just seemed to bring up more questions...
Though... given all the other times we've tried, I shouldn't be surprised by
that...
 
“Stiles?” The teen looked up and smiled when he saw Derek. The alpha had
abandoned his seat and looked like he was busy wearing a hole in the tile floor
with his pacing while Stiles was gone. “You find out anything?”
 
Stiles nodded. “Yeah, he's going to give me a list of spells that I can use.
And, if you're willing, the herbs for that protection spell.” He shrugged.
“You're the only one I can use it on, though.”
 
“That's fine.” Derek glanced over to where Stiles was rubbing at his wing then
jumped up, rushing over to him. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
 
Stiles huffed and batted him away. “No, it's fine. I'm fine.” He dropped his
hand, tucking all of his notes and papers into his pocket before he tucked his
wings in, pulling on his coat. “Could we go home? I can tell you everything he
said when we get back.”
 
Derek nodded, rushing to get the door for Stiles and not even looking the
slightest bit embarrassed when Stiles snorted at him. Derek just gave him a
little pleased smile and followed him outside.
 
The ride home was quiet, but the silence was comforting. Derek kept his hand on
Stiles' thigh the entire way back to the Stilinski home, his thumb brushing
over the rough material of his jeans in soothing circles. Stiles chewed on his
lip as he drove; he wondered how Deaton knew his mom. And why he needed the
help, if... maybe she knew she was...
 
He shook his head and let out a breath, pulling the jeep into the driveway and
setting it into park. He glanced over to Derek when they didn't immediately get
out of the car.
 
The alpha frowned at him. “You smell like hurt...” He leaned in, nuzzling into
Stiles' shoulder. “What is it?” He mumbled, lips tickling against Stiles
throat.
 
Stiles swallowed and shrugged, popping open his door. “It's nothing. Just
thinking.”
 
Derek hummed and reached over to pull the door shut. He licked lightly at
Stiles' neck, whining. Stiles sighed and combed his fingers through Derek's
hair. “I'm just thinking about something Deaton said... about my mom.”
 
The alpha pulled away a little, looking over Stiles with eyes just slightly
rimmed in red, then leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his mate's lips.
Stiles licked his lips when they broke apart, tasting Derek on them, then
opened the door again. “C'mon. Let's get inside before it gets too late.”
 
Derek hesitated, but eventually he complied, hopping out of the other side of
the jeep. The walk up to the house should've really only taken a few minutes,
if that, but it felt like an eternity. When they finally got inside, Derek was
pulling off his jacket, allowing Stiles to stretch his wings out. He draped
Stiles jacket on the stair railing, then pulled his off and tossed it over the
railing as well. When he was done, he turned back to Stiles and raised his
brows.
 
Stiles nodded his head over to the couch in the living room and walked in,
hearing Derek following after him. His dad shouldn't be getting back for a
while, so they'd have the time to talk without him overhearing them.
 
Once they were both comfortable, sprawled out on the couch with Stiles cradled
in Derek's arms, the alpha combing his fingers gently through the younger man's
hair, their legs tangled together in front of them, Stiles finally spoke. “He
said that the spell is supposed to only work with my charge, using it on anyone
else isn't safe. Said that was probably why the alpha was the way she was, the
spell was unstable.” Derek hummed, tracing patterns through Stiles hair. The
angel relaxed a little, closing his eyes and just letting Derek continue
working away at his nerves. “I'm going to be practicing with him on how to do
it, just so when I do it for real I don't mess up.”
 
He felt Derek nod, pausing the soothing tangle of his fingers in Stiles hair
like he was waiting for something more. Stiles sighed then, playing with the
hem of his shirt as he spoke, quiet in the equally quiet room. “He talked about
my mom, too. I guess he knew her before...” He trailed off, then cleared his
throat and moved on. “He'd made a promise to her, apparently, to keep me safe.
He was the one who helped me hide them when they first came in, I think.”
 
Derek's fingers twitched against his scalp, then continued their slow roll and
twists through his hair. “He didn't say anything else?”
 
“No.” He sighed, blinking away the wetness in his eyes and then turning in
Derek's arms so his face was tucked into the curve of Derek's throat, so he
could feel the werewolf's thumping pulse against his lips. “I had this feeling
something was missing from everything he was saying but... I don't know.” He
shrugged. “He always seems to leave little tidbits of info out whenever we go
to him for something, could just be that I'm used to something missing.”
 
Derek growled softly, but didn't say anything. Instead he shifted a little
underneath Stiles, moving so they were both laying down on the couch, and then
he traced his hands down the center of Stiles back, and back up. He paused at
Stiles wings, tracing through the soft down there and across the sensitive
bundle of nerves where wing connected to skin.
 
Stiles sighed and closed his eyes, pushing everything else to the back of his
mind except for the feeling of Derek's hands on him. There wasn't much he could
do right now. Everything else could wait until the morning...
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles starts his spell practice with Deaton, and gets the feeling of
     being watched as he leaves.
Chapter Notes
     \o/ I'm on time this time! :D The next chapter may or may not be
     kinda sorta naughty. You'll have to come back to find out. :P
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles... still really hated needles...
 
He stared at the gun in Deaton's hand. It was smaller than most tattoo guns
were, more like a thick pen with a cord attached. He frowned as Deaton handed
it to him, then again when Deaton turned him to the dummy on the table.
 
“So...” Stiles started as he brought his shaky hand to the doll and rubbed his
thumb over the little switch on the side that would turn it on. “Angels use
tattoo guns, huh?”
 
Deaton chuckled. “This is easier. Usually these marks are time-consuming,
having to be made out by hand with just a silver needle and the ink. This is
quicker, and much cleaner.”
 
Stiles grimaced as he clicked on the device, feeling it vibrate in his hand. He
let out a breath and glanced down to the image Deaton wanted him to trace, a
simple circle with a crescent moon tucked inside, the moon stylized with long,
smooth lines inside of it, curving slightly with it, like a wing cradling the
moon. Slowly, he pressed the pen down, watching as the needle slowly made a
sloppy circle as he drew. His hand was shaking too much, but he felt better
knowing that the needle wasn't piercing real skin, not being able to see blood
welling up under the ink.
 
He pulled away after a moment, looking between the picture on the mark he'd
left on the dummy. He... had the basic shape down, at least?
 
Deaton clapped a hand on his shoulder, making Stiles jump so much his thumb
clicked off the gun and his wings nearly knocked the man's hand off in their
rush to fan up. The vet chuckled softly. “It'll take some time to get used to.
In the meantime, you can practice it just on pen and paper at home. I'll give
you more modifications to it as you go on, whatever you wish to add to it.”
 
Stiles nodded, wings slowly lowering, then turned back to the dummy. He glanced
back to the image, then turned the dummy a little so he had a clean part to
work with. He flicked his thumb over the switch again until the pen was buzzing
in his hand, then moved slowly over it, bracing his arm with his other hand to
try to keep the shaking down. The finished product was a little better, but
when the lines had to be precise, better wasn't going to cut it.
 
Stiles chewed on his lip and turned back to Deaton. “What happens if I don't
get it precise?”
 
“The spell doesn't work.” Deaton looked over his work as he spoke. “But, with
this kind of spell, it has to be done in a specific area, right over the heart.
There's no do-overs if you don't get it exactly right the first time. There
aren't exactly any ill effects if the lines aren't perfect, that I know of
anyway, but it's still important to get it right, since you only get one
chance.”
 
Stiles nodded, turning the doll again and trying to trace the image into the
fake skin again. “What about... what it said I do after I finish inking it in?
About burning it in?”
 
Deaton gave a small chuckle. “That's something I'll teach you after you perfect
this. It's simple enough to do.”
 
Stiles nodded, pausing to check and see how his lines were before he thickened
them. It was near perfect, just a little bit oblong but the details were right.
He'd think making the circle perfect was something he could fix on his own. As
he fixed up the lines on it to the right thickness, he thought about what else
he'd add to it. Obviously protection, Derek definitely needed that. He had a
good amount of control, but maybe he could add something that would make his
control even better, sharper. He'd have to see everything he could do, and then
talk it over with Derek. For now, he had to focus on getting the basic mark
right.
 
Stiles pulled back and set the pen down, looking back at Deaton. “Better?”
 
“Much.” He turned around, gathering up a few papers, then handed them to
Stiles. “Here are some of the other marks you can do from this base. You just
need to figure out what you want and them how to tie the together smoothly.
Once you get it perfected and figure out what you want I can gather the ink
ingredients and instruct you on how to put it together.”
 
“Okay.” Stiles glanced over the pages, grabbing up the basic image and grinned
up at the vet. “Thanks.”
 
Deaton nodded. “If you have any more questions or anything you need help with
just come to me.”
 
Stiles gave the vet a small smile and set aside the gun, looking over the room
to make sure he hadn't left anything and pulling his jacket off the chair near
the door. He pulled it on as he left the room, tucking his wings in under it.
He'd come by himself this time, no Derek waiting outside for him. The alpha had
to catch up with training his betas, and he'd also mentioned about setting up
something special to surprise Stiles when he got back.
 
Stiles grinned to himself, pushing the front door open and walking out, not
really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his jeep. He
wondered what exactly Derek was planning, he figured it couldn't be something
sexy, considering how adamant Derek was about waiting until Stiles was
eighteen. Stiles rolled his eyes, but he still had a fond smile on his face. If
there was anything that was any good about waiting, it was how much he
anticipated when that day would finally come.
 
The teen pulled his keys out of his pocket, getting ready to unlock the door
when he felt something... off. He raised his head up and looked around, the
parking lot was seemingly empty, along with the rest of the street. It wasn't
late enough for the streets to be completely deserted like this, sure Beacon
Hills wasn't exactly the most exciting place, but there were enough people that
went out at night for there to be at least someone on the road.
 
Stiles unlocked the door, checking the back seat and all around inside the jeep
before he opened the door and hopped in. He started it up, taking another look
over the area, and still finding nothing. If it was any of the alphas around,
he'd figured they would've tried attacking him already, same with the hunters.
He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, what would be just watching him
and not doing anything. Taking a deep breath, Stiles shook off the uneasy
feeling, but kept alert as he started driving out of the parking lot.
 
He still had that feeling that someone, or something, was watching him, but he
never saw anything. There were no road blocks, or massive accidents the way he
drove, either. Maybe, he was just paranoid. It'd been too long since something
happened, maybe he was just waitingfor something to go wrong.
 
Stiles swallowed down the lump in his throat, relaxing a little when there
started to be more traffic on the streets. He really hoped he was just
imagining things, because if there was something else out there wanting to get
him... He inhaled deeply, letting his chest expand, then breathed out through
his nose. They would try to be prepared, it there was anything. Just...
hopefully it would wait until they dealt with the alphas and/or the hunters
first.
 
Not that Stiles thought he could be that lucky, just hopefully life could throw
him a bone just this once.
 
 
The rest of the way to the Hale house was pretty uneventful, no weird feelings
of being watched or red eyes glaring at him from out of the tree line. Stiles
still took a moment to check around before he got out of the jeep, and then he
was instantly shoved back into it by about two-hundred pounds of werewolf
muscle jumping at him.
 
“Are you okay? I had this weird feeling, did anything happen to you?” Derek
rumbled, his hands searching wildly over Stiles, shoving the jacket off and
even checking over his wings.
 
Stiles shuddered at the feeling of Derek's hand smoothing over his wings, his
fingers digging gently through feathers. He wasn't sure he could ever get used
to that amazing feeling that burned through him whenever Derek touched them. He
gently pushed the alpha away, grinning up at him. “Perfectly fine. No arrows
flying out of nowhere, or raging alphas chasing me, and I even managed to not
kill myself with giant needles at Deaton's.” He held his hands out and fanned
out his wings to show Derek. “Not a scratch.”
 
The alpha relaxed a little, his worried frown smoothing out. He turned to where
Scott and Isaac were waiting in the clearing out front of the house, Scott with
this expression a little bit like he'd just watched his brother making out with
someone, and Isaac with a fond, happy little smile on his face. Derek rolled
his eyes at them and nodded over to the house, growling when they didn't
immediately start moving.
 
Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek, pushing his fingers into the alphas hair and
turning him back to face him. “So, Mister Big, Strong Alpha, I heard something
about a special surprise for me?”
 
Derek's little frown at the betas immediately turned into a big, happy grin.
“Yes, I remember something like that.” He leaned down, brushing his lips
against Stiles ear as he whispered. “Gonna have to wait for the two of us to be
alone, first.”
 
Stiles heart jumped in his chest and he grinned. Derek pulled away a little,
just enough to lean a little further down so he could press their lips
together. The two stayed like that for a while, just lazily kissing with Stiles
pressing further and further into the jeep, until Derek had to put a hand up
against it and wrap the other one around Stiles waist to keep them both up.
Derek's thumb brushed lightly against the arch of Stiles wing, making him gasp
and arch up into him. The alpha took advantage of the moment to push Stiles
flush into the jeep and take full control of the kiss, turning it from the
slow, gentle press of lips it was to something a little dirtier.
 
“Oh mygod, you guys, stop it!” Scott's voice broke them apart, the two of them
licking their lips to chase the taste on one another and looking to the Hale
house to see Scott leaning out the door, and Isaac behind him with a hand over
his mouth to try and stifle his laughter. “You can make out some other time.
Get inside, now!”
 
Stiles huffed and looked up at Derek, who didn't even look the slightest bit
embarrassed or guilty. In fact, the alpha was wearing a big, proud grin, his
lips just slightly reddened from Stiles'. Oh... that was... nice. Stiles leaned
forward to try and capture Derek's mouth again when Scott yelled at them again.
“Hey! No! Stop it!”
 
They both sighed and turned to Scott. “Okay, dad, we're coming!” Stiles yelled.
He turned back to Derek, then before Scott had time to start up again he dove
in for a quick kiss. He could hear Scott giving an exasperated huff and the
door shutting as he felt Derek's lips curling up under his.
 
“Weshould probably get inside.” Derek muttered once they broke apart.
 
Stiles sighed and nodded. “Fine.” He pouted, wanting to just spend the rest of
the night until Scott and Isaac left kissing Derek. Kissing Derek was always a
good thing, it made him forget all of the bad things that seemed to just
constantly follow them around.
 
Derek paused a moment, then smirked and, before Stiles could protest, tugged
Stiles up against him, his hands under Stiles thighs and forcing the teen to
wrap his legs and arms around Derek. Derek pressed their mouths together before
Stiles could complain about not having to be carried around by the big strong
alpha. Stiles melted against the wolf, closing his eyes and letting Derek kiss
him. He was okay with the carrying now. Perfectly fine with it. He wrapped his
wings around the both of them and licked into Derek's mouth, shivering at the
feel of Derek's chest rumbling with a growl, and then shuddering as the alpha
dominated the kiss, practically attacking Stiles mouth with little licks and
nips of teeth.
 
Stiles didn't listen to anything else as they entered the house, not even
hearing Scott's whine of frustration and Isaac embarrassed laughter. Just
Derek's heavy breaths and his own heart beat that was thudding heavy in his
ears, matching Derek's that if he just pressed a little harder, and really
concentrated, he could feel in the werewolf's lips.
 
Meanwhile, outside the house, golden eyes blinked slowly in one of the trees
high above the clearing. The creature that possessed those large, wide golden
eyes didn't move much other than to tilt it's head a little further down to
look over the jeep that Stiles and Derek were just pressed against for a good
fifteen or so minutes. It sat there for a while, just blinking slowly, looking
between the jeep and the house as if it had lost something and wasn't quite
sure where it had gone. With a soft sigh, it shifted on the branch it was
perched on, and flew up into the sky, darting off in a quick flash of white and
gold against the dark night sky.
Chapter End Notes
     Also, I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW
     stuff. Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you
     want to keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my page.
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek give Stiles his promised surprise. Stiles has nightmares of
     something stalking him.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is up a little earlier than usual since I'm not going to
     get much time to post it tomorrow. :/
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Derek laid Stiles out across the bed, the sound of Isaac and Scott's heartbeats
long gone down the road. Stiles dark wings were stretched out fully, his chest
bare, already marked from Derek's stubble, red and sensitive from the teen's
throat to where his jeans were still on, with the fly spread open.
 
“So...” Stiles breathed out, chest heaving, pupils swollen wide and flushed red
all the way down halfway to his chest. He grinned when alpha red eyes flickered
up at him from where Derek was mouthing at the pale, soft expanse of his belly.
“What's my surprise?”
 
Derek hummed, licking up Stiles stomach to his throat, sucking lightly at the
sensitive skin, then leaned over to the nightstand. Stiles heart picked up
speed, and he could hear the teen breathing heavier. Derek grinned.
 
He pulled it out, but before Stiles could see he hid it behind his back. Stiles
frowned at him, but that went away pretty quickly when Derek leaned back down
to nuzzle into Stiles neck, licking and sucking at him. Derek shifted forward a
little until his lips were brushing against Stiles ear. “We're still not going
to have sex, yet.” He felt Stiles sag under him, groaning with frustration,
then he pulled out the toy.
 
Stiles blinked, mouth dropping open slightly as he stared at it, then back to
Derek. “Really?” Stiles said eventually, laughing a little bit, but his flush
deepened, heart beat picking up just a little more. Derek grinned and nodded,
setting the vibrator on Stiles chest and rolling the remote in his hand.
 
“I figure it's something we can get some use out of.” He nipped at Stiles jaw.
“Now and after your birthday.” He dropped down a little, taking the toy back in
his hands and flicking on the side on the side of the remote so I vibrated to
life, before he tossed the remote to the side. He grinned when he saw Stiles
swallow heavily, then dropped his eyes back down to his hands. He slowly
dragged the vibe down Stiles' stomach, watching the angel twitch underneath the
touch, wings fluttering against the bed. Then he drew a wide circle around the
obvious bulge in the boys jeans. “I can't do much with you right now...” He
smirked as he paused in the middle of the second circle, catching the toy
between Stiles thighs and slowly inching it up between his legs. “I do plan to
tease you all night long, though.”
 
Stiles shuddered at Derek's arousal-thickened voice, then again when the alpha
shifted the toy so it just grazed the teens erection. He immediately moved away
from it, though, dragged it back up a few inches before he pulled it away,
lifting up from Stiles body and grinning as Stiles panted beneath him. “Flip
over.” He ordered, and Stiles eagerly obeyed, rolling over between Derek's legs
onto his stomach, spreading his wings out and tucking his head into his arms.
 
Derek inhaled softly, taking in the view of Stiles pliant underneath him, skin
flushed between black feathers and back rising and falling with his breaths. He
took a moment to enjoy it, memorize every curve of muscle beneath the mole-
spotted skin, then let out a breath and leaned down over Stiles, moving the
still vibrating toy up along his spine. Stiles shuddered hard, gasping softly,
twisting his head around so he was burying his red-flushed face into his arms.
 
Stiles' hands gripped the sheets below him tightly, arching up as Derek trailed
the vibrations up between his wings, lips falling open on a moan. “Oh my god.”
Derek breathed, shifting it over just enough so it was pressing up where wing
met skin. A cry punched out of the boy beneath him and Stiles gave one hard
twitch that almost threw Derek off of him, then Stiles' scent got stronger,
heavier.
 
“F-f-fuuuh, D-D-Der-Derek!” Stiles cried out, twitching constantly as the vibe
stayed pressed right up against that sensitive spot of skin. Derek fumbled for
a moment and quickly pulled it away, reached over to grab the remote and turn
it off. Stiles slumped back into the bed, just falling boneless underneath him,
wheezing, just barely moving with tiny little aftershocks after his orgasm,
body practically vibrating.
 
Derek swallowed, feeling like he was on fire. He dropped the toy beside them,
and smoothed a hand against the skin between his wings. Stiles whimpered,
arching up to the touch. “They're so sensitive...” Derek traced a finger around
the soft down at the base of the wings, Stiles trembling and letting out a
whine that made Derek shudder.
 
“S-st-oh... St-t-st-stop. P-pluh-please, D-Der, uh, Derek.” Stiles nearly
sobbed, and Derek looking up at the teens face again, catching the tracks of
tears on his face, smelling the salt and feeling the way Stiles was vibrating
underneath him. He pulled his hand back, Stiles letting out a wet breath and
melting down onto the bed.
 
“Sorry.” Derek muttered, lifting up off of Stiles' body. Stiles whimpered,
reaching a hand back and shaking his head.
 
“Not... don't... don't apologize.” He inhaled deeply, shaking out his wings. He
tilted his head back to watch Derek, managing a small, tired smile. “Felt
good.”
 
Derek nodded, turning so he fell on the bed beside Stiles, looking over the
angel who was taking deep breaths, his heart slowly coming back down to a more
normal rate. After a few minutes passed in silence, Stiles lifted up, tucking
his still trembling wings behind him, and grinned at Derek. “So, is it my turn
to use it on you?”
 
Derek swallowed as Stiles lifted up the toy, looking more like a devil than an
angel as he smirked at the alpha. Derek shifted and laid down, spreading out
and letting Stiles crawl over him. The vibe came alive in the boy's hand, and
his teasing little smirk spread as Derek's eyes widened slightly.
 
The sound of the alpha moaning echoed in the home, followed by Stiles playful
laughter. The two spent the next hour, or more, teasing each other and finding
all the little spots that made the other arch and moan and loose all coherence.
 
 
“I did have another surprise for you...” Derek muttered softly, the two of them
freshly showered, spread out across the stripped bed in sweats, the alpha
tracing figures across Stiles stomach.
 
Stiles hummed, nuzzling into Derek's throat, inhaling deeply and making a
pleased sound. It really shouldn't have turned Derek on as much as it did. He
cleared his throat and lifted up, grinning down at Stiles as he blinked. “Do
you wanna see it?” Derek asked, his smile softening as Stiles nodded sleepily.
He stood up off the bed and nodded for Stiles to follow him. Stiles stumbled
up, tucking his wings around himself and padding after the alpha. The wolf
walked out of the bedroom, then down stairs, and further down into the dark
basement.
 
“Where are you taking me, Derek?” Stiles asked, sounding a little more awake as
he tried to look around the room. Derek made a shushing sound, his red eyes
turning back to the boy, then there was a click, and the area flooded with
light.
 
Stiles gasped softly at what he saw. He'd only been in the basement of the Hale
house once, and it wasn't something he really wanted to remember considering
that it was soon after Derek was tortured in it, the smell of burnt flesh
lingering in the air still, strong enough for Stiles to smell. He'd tried to
block it out, and mostly he succeeded, so he didn't remember much of what he
saw there... but he did know it looked absolutely nothing like this.
 
It actually looked liveable, and well-lived in on top of that. There was a nice
couch tucked against the wall, the red fabric looking soft and inviting, and
the walls were restored, burnt brick and mortar repaired and cleaned, the floor
covered with a soft carpet that Stiles dug his toes into as he looked around.
It was plain, no decorations up or anything, but it was homey, nice. Stiles
turned toward Derek, who was smiling softly at Stiles, blushing, his arms
tucked behind him as he watched the boy take in the room. “When did you get the
time to do this?” Stiles asked, because he knew the both of them were
ridiculously busy the past few weeks, it wouldn't have given them that much
extra time, as Stiles knew all too well from barely getting his assignments
done for school, and lucking out on tests without the time to study.
 
Derek shrugged. “I found time.” He took the few steps towards Stiles to close
the distance between them, leaning down to rub his face into Stiles' hair,
bringing a hand up to cup the curve of Stiles' head. “What do you think?” He
asked, sounding nervous.
 
Stiles swallowed and glanced around again. “It's nice.” He admitted. “But,
why?” As far as he knew, Derek didn't have many plans to rebuild the house. The
bathroom, yes, but he figured that was going to be the only thing that was
going to be restored.
 
Derek flushed again, but he just smiled and shrugged. “I want to make this more
of a home. I...” He paused, taking a breath and pulled back to look at Stiles.
“When I'm done, and when you're ready, I want... I want you to stay here, with
me.”
 
Stiles couldn't help it. As soon as Derek said it, he smiled, wide and bright
up at his alpha. “Yeah.” He reached up to press a quick kiss to Derek's curling
lips, tucking his face into Derek's neck. “Yeah, I'd... I'd like that.”
 
Derek growled happily, nuzzling into his mate, pulling him close. “Good.” Derek
rumbled, closing his eyes and just feeling his mate breathing against him,
feeling his mate's heart thumping against his chest. “Good.” He repeated,
quieter, the two of them bundled together as Stiles curled his wings around
their bodies.
 
“Good.” Stiles agreed, pressing a kiss to Derek's collarbone as Derek ducked
down to bury his face into the soft feathers of his wings.
 
 
Stile woke up sometime in the middle of the night, curled around Derek on the
couch in the basement, heart beating fast and hard, blood rushing in his ears
and the fading panic of a nightmare clouding his mind. He couldn't remember
what he dreamed about, what made him so panicked and had him choking back a
scream, Derek just barely shifting and whimpering softly, not waking up yet but
close to it.
 
Stiles looked around, everything looked normal, but... he had that feeling
again, that feeling he had just the night before of being watched, not
necessarily by something evil, or something out to kill him, but still
something that made his stomach twist uneasily. He blinked once, slowly, his
wings shifting behind him, hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he
looked around again. There was no one there, other than Derek and himself. Not
even Scott or Isaac or his dad.
 
He shook his head, he was just being paranoid, he guessed. He took a deep
breath and fell back to the couch, curling around Derek. He closed his eyes,
and the image of bright golden eyes flashed through his mind, just for a
second, before he fell back asleep.  
Chapter End Notes
     I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW stuff.
     Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you want to
     keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my page.
***** Chapter 22 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles finally sees what's been stalking him for the past could
     weeks. Derek comes in just as Stiles collapses and brings him to
     Deaton to find out what was making him mate so panicked as he was.
Stiles was getting better with the marks, and the crossbow. He always seemed to
be practicing both, so he was glad that he was getting good at them. He pulled
away from his work, looking over the mark he'd traced down on the paper to find
any mistakes he might've made. He grinned, finding nothing wrong with the mark.
He had to test it out with the tattoo gun, but he was pretty sure he was good
enough to ask Deaton for the herbs for the ink.
 
He looked over the pages that Deaton had given him a week ago, of all the
different variations he could incorporate into Derek's mark. They'd decided for
the spell to give him protection, strength, control, stronger senses and a
higher tolerance for magics and harmful herbs. It wouldn't make him completely
immune, the stronger spells would break through Stiles' spell, but mountain ash
would have less of a power of him, and wolfsbane would be much less effective
against him.
 
Stiles paused a moment, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise on end
as he got that now familiar feeling of being watched again. He'd gotten that
feeling at least twice everyday now since that first time. He frowned, glancing
around his room, rising up to look out the window. There was no one there, just
as he figured, just as it was every other time he looked. He always expected to
see golden eyes staring at him out of the dark, like he'd dreamed of every
night since that first time.
 
He didn't know what it meant, who would be watching him like this. Well, other
than the obvious, the hunters or the alphas. But they wouldn't just... watch,
like whatever this was did. He'd been vulnerable all the times he'd felt it, if
it was someone like them who wanted to hurt him, well, they would've hurt him.
 
Stiles sighed and pulled out of the window, running a hand through his hair as
he turned back to his desk. At least he could be thankful that it hadn't done
anything to him yet.
 
Outside, on the roof of the Stilinski house, the creature with golden eyes that
had been haunting the angel's dreams, tilted it's head, listening as the teen
moved around in his room. It inched slowly closer to the window, peering down
into the room, watching Stiles as he fell down into his chair and flipped to a
new page in the sketch book, sketching the same mark he'd just finished,
perfecting it. It reached out to the sill, a hand with too-long nails, coated
in dirt and with mud caked under the jagged talons on it's long fingertips
curled around the wooden window sill. Then it stopped, gasping softly when the
Camaro parked outside the house, the alpha getting out and walking up to the
front door. It fluttered it's wings, golden eyes widening as Stiles lifted his
head up. It just caught Stiles turning toward it, his own eyes widening in
surprise before it was up in the air, gone within the time Stiles was at the
window, breathing heavily as he searched the sky.
 
It... it was there... Stiles gulped down a lungful of oxygen, trying to even
out his breathing as he looked wildly around the backyard his window faced.I
saw it, that... whatever that had the gold eyes. It was here. I know I saw it!
 
“Stiles?”
 
Stiles jumped, spinning around to find Derek staring at him, looking worried.
“What?”
 
Derek furrowed his brow, frowning at the teen as he fidgetted. “You... you said
you saw something. Something was here?” He inched forward and Stiles twitched
back. Derek stopped, eyes wide as he stared at Stiles, and Stiles breathed
heavily, panic rising heavily and thick in his throat, making it difficult to
breathe.
 
“Stiles?” Derek called as Stiles' vision blurred. “Stiles!” He called again,
sounding more panicked as stars danced across Stiles' vision, feeling like he
was falling and hearing nothing but blood rushing in his ears, just a flicker
of gold in his vision before everything went black.
 
 
“Stiles!” Derek yelled as Stiles collapsed. He thought for a moment he saw
Stiles' eyes flicker gold, just like in Deaton's office when he'd killed the
alpha, but it was too quick for him to tell. He rushed over to his mate,
catching him before he knocked his head against the window.
 
As soon as he'd pulled up to the Stilinski home, he could tell something was
wrong. There was a weird scent washing over the home, acrid and heavy, like
sickness, and soon after he'd stepped into the house, his own heart pounding,
the scent of Stiles' panic hit him like a tidal wave, and he'd heard the teen
yelling as he rushed up the stairs.
 
“It... it was there.” Stiles whimpered, sounding lost, and tired like Derek had
never heard him. “I saw it. It was here!I know I saw it!” Stiles cried, and
when Derek got into the room, Stiles was standing by the window, eyes wide,
entire body shaking as he searched the sky.
 
Derek frowned, gathering Stiles up into his arms and glancing out the window.
There was nothing there, and now he'd noticed that the scent of sickness was
mostly gone, not as thick in the air, but still here just a little. He shook
his head; he could look for it later, now he needed to help Stiles. Maybe...
take him to Deaton. He'd obviously seen something that made him like this,
scared him this much. He searched over Stiles, looking for any kind of wounds,
then lifted him up when he was satisfied Stiles wasn't hurt.
 
He carried Stiles out of the house, gently setting the teen into the
passenger's seat of the Camaro and throwing himself into the driver's seat to
speed off to Deaton's. He flipped his phone out as soon as he was well on his
way and dialed Scott to tell him what had happened, that they were coming in.
He hung up once he'd finally managed to get his point across to Scott, and
convince the beta that his friend was alright. He gripped the wheel tight,
enough for it to creak underneath his hands, and concentrated halfway on the
road, and the other half on Stiles. The teen was going to be okay. They were
going to figure out what had visited Stiles, what had made him that fearful.
Derek growled, his eyes bleeding red and his claws piercing through the
steering wheel. They were going to find it... and Derek was going to kill it.
 
Up in Stiles' room, the window sill creaked, the wood cracking just a little
under a hand print of dirt and blood that stunk of sick. The wood turned rotten
as the blood soaked in, curling in on itself slowly, paint peeling away and
wood breaking down and chipping away.
 
 
Deaton looked up as soon as Derek walked in, carrying Stiles in his arms.
Deaton looked them over, then nodded for Derek to follow. Derek drew in a deep
breath, wincing; he could smell some of that sickness sticking to Stiles' skin.
His hands tightened around the teen, wondering if this creature touched his
mate. He swallowed down his growl, then laid Stiles out on the table when
Deaton told him, keeping a hand on Stiles' shoulder even as Deaton gave him a
pointed look about it.
 
Deaton sighed. “It seems he just suffered a panic attack.” Deaton looked up at
Derek. “Did you see anything before he passed out, or hear anything?”
 
Derek shook his head. “No, I... I didn't see anything. Just... when I walked in
Stiles seemed frantic. He was saying he saw something.” Derek paused, frowning.
“I smelled something sick when I walked in, I can still smell it on him a
little.”
 
Deaton nodded then, looking over Stiles, then back up to Derek. “Can you tell
me where it is on him?”
 
Derek paused, reluctantly removing his hand from Stiles' shoulder to lean down
over the teen. He sniffed out the scent to one of his hands, and when he lifted
it up Stiles' skin looked red, almost like it was burned.
 
Deaton frowned, pulling on a pair of gloves before he took Stiles' hand. He was
only able to hold Stiles hand for a few moments before he winced, dropping
Stiles hand back down to the table, and pulling off the gloves, that were now
burned through. Derek stared. “What is that? What's wrong?”
 
Deaton huffed. “I'm afraid Stiles has a cursed being after him.” He turned
around and started digging through some drawers behind him. After a few
moments, he came out with a bundle of herbs and vials of salves in his arms. He
brought out a mortar and pestle and added in various herbs and dusts and a
sticky, clear liquid into it, blending it together as he spoke. “It could be
looking for him to help it. If it hasn't attacked him yet, or approached him,
it shouldn't be seeking to harm him.”
 
Derek glowered at the light purple paste Deaton was blending, wrinkling his
nose at the musky scent of it, that was thankfully overpowering the sick scent.
“Then why is he like this? He's hurt. It obviously did something to him.”
 
The vet nodded slowly, cleaning off the pestle and pulling on another pair of
gloves to rub the paste into Stiles hand. “Cursed beings are dangerous to
angels, they taint them. The more the cursed creature stays around him, the
more it will affect him.” He tilted Stiles hand around, checking for more of
the reddened, burnt areas. “They can infiltrate the angel's mind, especially
during sleep. The more time around them, it'll slowly cause him to be more and
more paranoid, lose a bit more of his sanity when around it.” He gently set
Stiles' hand down and looked up to Derek. “There's not much you can do to stop
it, there's not much to do to kill something cursed like this. The best way to
get it to leave Stiles' alone is for it to get Stiles to do what it wants.”
 
Derek huffed. “So I can't kill it?”
 
Deaton rolled his eyes, but nodded. “You can't bring any kind of physical harm
to it, no.” He walked over to the sink, cleaning up the mortar and pestle and
setting it aside. “It needs to be cured, and it won't have any reason to follow
you around anymore.” He turned and nodded to Stiles hand. “Let the paste sit on
the burn, it'll harden and chip off by itself. It's going to suck out the
cursed substance from Stiles' system.”
 
Derek nodded, then looked up at the vet. “What should I do?”
 
“Just help Stiles.” Deaton looked over the boy. “The creature might not
approach him with something else around. He may need some time alone for it to
come to him. I might be able to make something to cloak your scent from it so
you can watch Stiles to make sure it doesn't hurt him, but for now it doesn't
seem lethal.” He looked back up to the alpha. “Stiles should wake up as soon as
the paste does it work. Maybe an hour or so. I can have Scott watch him if you
would want to investigate Stiles' room to remove any left over cursed
substance.”
 
Derek frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but Deaton gave him a pointed look
and handed over the left over paste he'd scraped into a bag. Derek reluctantly
took it, and Deaton gave him a pleasant little smile. “Just brush it onto
whatever is cursed. You'll be able to smell it where it is. By now it should
have rotted whatever it touched.”
 
Derek nodded and looked up as Scott walked in. He pointed at the beta, growling
lightly. “If Stiles wakes up, you call me immediately.”
 
Scott, thankfully, didn't argue. He nodded and walked over to Stiles side as
Derek walked out. He huffed and tucked the bag into his pocket, wrinkling his
nose at the smell of it. Of course something else had to wriggle it's way into
their lives, something else to add more problems. Derek sighed and stepped into
his car, he backed out and raced out of the lot, just barely staying within the
speed limit, wanting to just get this over with so he could get back to Stiles'
side. After what happened he felt uneasy leaving his mate. He did have that
connection to him, so he could feel if something came back to hurt the boy, but
he still didn't feel safe leaving him.
 
He pulled over onto the street in front of the Stilinski home and stepped out
of the car, then paused when that scent of sickness was strong like when he
first came by the last time. He growled lowly and burst into the house, racing
up to Stiles' room and throwing the door open. He stopped when he saw the
creature there, a wall of sick-stench hitting him like a train. He choked back
the urge to gag and stared at it, as it stared up at him with gold, wide eyes.
 
It's hands were stained with a black gunk, that make the wooden floors below it
creak and groan, rotting at it's touch. Behind it, it had white wings spread
out behind it, almost as big as Stiles but molted, feathers dropping out of it,
leaving behind gray, sickly-looking skin. It made a groaning noise, backing up
a few steps, wheezing as it scrambled back when Derek stepped forward.
 
It moved more like a scared animal than human, it's eyes seemed clouded over as
while. The closer Derek looked, he noticed it's eyes were trembling in it's
sockets, and when it's darkened lips parted, he could see rotted, black-coated
teeth, and the stench of sick got stronger. Derek covered his mouth and nose as
he got a bit closer, and it whimpered softly, scrambling back until it hit the
window sill and fell backward. It thumped against the roof a few times, before
it seemed to get it's wits about it and was up in the sky.
 
Derek growled softly, then let out a breath and swallowed down the feeling of
nausea. He pulled out his phone and dialed Scott's number, dropping down to his
knees to check on the rotted hand prints on the floor.
 
“Derek?”
 
“Put me on speaker, Scott.” He muttered as he pulled the bag of paste out of
his pocket. He waited for a moment, taking a scoop of the paste on his finger
tips and rubbing it into the rotted spot. When Scott gave him the okay he
huffed. “I found the cursed creature. It looks like it was an angel, like
Stiles, but it looks very sickly.” He scrubbed it in with his claws, wincing
slightly as it stung at his fingers for a split second. “It ran pretty soon
once I got close to it.”
 
“I see.” Deaton's voice came through the phone. “It must be desperate if it
came back that quickly.” There was a shuffling sound after a moment before the
vet spoke again. “Just spread some of that paste I gave you across the window
sill, it should keep it from returning for the night.”
 
Derek frowned. “Is there anyway to keep it away for longer?”
 
Deaton huffed. “I could figure out something, but for now that should work.”
 
Derek hummed, spreading the paste on the next mark, then paused. “Did... is
Stiles awake?”
 
“Not yet.” Scott spoke up. “He's okay for now, Derek.” He paused a moment.
“I'll call if anything happens.”
 
Derek's lips twitched into a deeper frown and he mumbled his thanks to Scott
before hanging up. He moved across the floor, covering up the rest of the
cursed spots on the floor and then spread the remains of it across the window
sill. He frowned when he saw how a hand print of it on the sill had nearly
completely rotted the wood out.
 
Derek didn't want to know what made that angel the way it was, what made it
cursed like that, to the point it looked sickly and more animal than anything
else, act with seemingly little human thought. He shuddered, smearing the paste
thick over the sill. He sharply tugged his mind away from the thought of Stiles
ever becoming something like that and finished up, tossing the bag away and
snapping the window shut, just in case.
 
He wasn't going to take any chances of that angel coming back for Stiles. He
was not going to let it hurt him, whether it meant to or not. He wouldfind a
way to rip it to shreds if it ever laid a finger on his mate.
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles wakes up and is filled in on the cursed being following him.
When Stiles regained consciousness, it was slow. It felt like there were lead
weights on his eye lids, and all his limbs were weighed down. His head ached,
sharp throbbing pain ricocheting around his skull making him wince. He could
hear voices around him, but it was like he was trying to listen to them through
a thick wall of cotton. He groaned, wincing as the sound made his head ache
more, how it brought attention to how raw his throat was.
 
“Stiles.”
 
Derek's voice was clear, worry and a hint of anger coloring his tone. It seemed
like everything was lifted away, all the walls and weights preventing him from
coming awake fully thrown off, and he blinked his eyes open, wincing when he
was met with a bright light that pierced through his eyes and stabbed into his
brain.
 
“Fuck.” He cursed, voice still rough and thick. The light was quickly turned
away and he was finally able to actually see. Derek was leaning over him, brows
furrowed and hands gripping Stiles like he'd be lifted away if he didn't hold
onto him. Scott was on his other side, looking a mix of confused and worried
that, at any other time, Stiles would be laughing at. Just above his head
Deaton was there, watching over Stiles carefully.
 
“How are you feeling?” Deaton asked, and Stiles winced.
 
“Like my head's about to cave in.” He looked up to Derek, sighing as the
werewolf moved a hand up to the base of Stiles skull, some of the pain leeching
away. He blinked up to the vet again. “What happened?”
 
Deaton continued to calmly watch him, even as he spoke about how Stiles had
something cursed vying for is attention. He felt that when you're talking about
something cursed that had Stiles knocked out for half a day, calm was the last
thing you should be.
 
“So, what exactly are we supposed to do about this thing? Because I would
really rather not go through this again. Can we just kill it and get it over
with, please?”
 
Deaton sighed, shaking his head. “You need to help it. Then, it will leave you
alone.”
 
Stiles did not like this plan. He didn't like it one bit. Going by Derek's
vaguely pissed off look, he felt the same about it.
 
“Okay, so, how exactly am I supposed to help it? You did say something about
how I had a panic attack and passed out because of this thing, right? I didn't
imagine that?” Deaton nodded, lips drawn tight together but Stiles ignored that
and continued on his rant. “Then how the hell am I supposed to do that? It
touches me or even gets near me and shit goes bad, doesn't it? I'm not supposed
to be near this thing!”
 
Deaton sighed again, then turned his back on Stiles. Stiles was just about to
start yelling again, because no, he just found out that there's this cursed
thing that's been following him around for who knows how long, and it isn't
safe for him to be around, because it apparently messed him right the hell up,
and here Deaton was suggesting he should be getting all close up and personal
with it. He stopped when he heard Deaton riffling around through something, and
let out a breath when the vet turned back around.
 
“I can give you something that'll make it easier for you, you'll have more
tolerance over it. The only way for you to get rid of it is to help it. Cursed
beings, when they find someone that can help them, they don't let go of them.
It's your only choice, and it's better for you to get it done with before your
other problems decide to show their ugly heads again.”
 
Stiles huffed, narrowing his eyes at the pendant Deaton was holding up. It was
filled with some sort of purple dust that glittered when the light hit it, in
glass that was shaped into something that looked almost like a serpent. It hung
on some string that looked rough and itchy and like it was made years before he
was born. He frowned but took the pendant. “So I just wear this and being
around it won't effect me?”
 
Deaton nodded. “As much. You'll feel weaker and woozy but as long as you don't
spend too long around it you should be fine.” He looked over to Derek. “I'll
make the dust to cloak your scent so you can be there. As long as it doesn't
see you immediately and you don't threaten it, it should stay.”
 
Stiles sat up, grimacing as his vision blurred and his brain felt like it was
swimming in his skull. He relaxed as Derek's hand rubbed along his back, the
soothing motion making the sudden wave of nausea he felt go down a little. “So
can I leave now?”
 
Deaton nodded. “Don't strain yourself.” He glanced up to Derek as the alpha
moved to pick Stiles up off the table, Stiles grumbling about it but not
stopping him. “Just make sure to rest until you feel completely better.”
 
Derek rumbled, pulling Stiles close to his chest as he walked out of the
office. Stiles let out a small puff of breath and pressed his face into the
curve of Derek's throat, feeling the alpha's growl resonate through his chest.
 
When they got back to the Stilinski home, Derek mostly let Stiles walk,
supporting most of the teen's weight after he stumbled with his first step, and
he completely moved past the living room, instead lifting Stiles up to bring
him up the stairs and into his bedroom, depositing the boy on his bed and
curling up behind him. Derek lifting Stiles up just enough to pull off his
shirt and jeans, digging out a pair of sweats for the both of them and pulling
them on over Stiles' uncooperative legs. When he was finished dressing himself
down, tossing his jeans and shirt off somewhere Stiles couldn't see, Derek
pressed himself up behind Stiles, nipping at his wings as they twitched around
the wolf's shoulders. He buried his face into the skin between them, moving his
hands so one was pressed up against the teen's stomach and the other against
the thumping-beat of his heart against his chest. Stiles relaxed as the
lingering pain in his head melted away, letting out a little sigh at the
feeling.
 
Derek pressed his lips to the stretch of skin between Stiles' shoulder blades,
rubbing his face again it gently as he murmured. “Love you, Stiles.”
 
Stiles smiled sleepily, all of his energy draining away with the pain. He
reached a hand down to lace his fingers together with Derek's against his
stomach and pushed back into him, closing his eyes. “Love you, too, Der...”
Stiles mumbled, just before he was dragged into sleep.
***** Chapter 24 *****
Chapter Summary
     The hallucinations caused by the cursed being get worse.
The rest of the week, Stiles kept getting that feeling of being watch again.
When he was practicing with the crossbow, or perfecting the mark for Derek, or
even just curled up on the couch with Derek. He shuddered, feeling uneasy as he
felt the burn of those eyes on his back from the window, a wave of nausea
rolling over him from the memory of seeing it, how his heart just sunk down
into the pit of his stomach and panic gripped tight at his insides, to the
point he couldn't breathe and his vision went blurry.
 
He let out a slow, shaky breath into Derek's chest, trying to keep calm. The
alpha shifted slightly below him, mumbling as he came awake, and curled his arm
tight around Stiles, pulling the angel close to him. The wolf nuzzled into
Stiles' neck, lifting his head up to whisper into his ear. “I won't let it hurt
you again...” He murmured sleepily, rumbling softly when Stiles wriggled in his
arms, trying to get closer. “I'll protect you.”
 
“I thought that was supposed to be my job.” Stiles joked, trying to ignore the
uneasy feeling he had. Derek hummed, tucking his head back down to lick at
Stiles throat. He couldn't quite understand it, but somehow it made him feel
better. I'm hanging around wolves too much... Stiles thought fondly, reaching a
hand up to curl into Derek's hair.
 
“You need someone to protect you.” Derek responded, lifting alpha-red eyes up
to him. “I want to protect you. Keep you safe, with me always.” Derek leaned
back in to brush his lips against Stiles' skin, humming softly, the vibrations
from it traveling along his spine like electricity and Stiles could feel his
unease slowly melt away.
 
Stiles tucked in against Derek, sighing. “Thank you...” He felt the wolf's
pleased growl rumbling through his own body, causing him to relax even more
into the alpha. Derek tilted his head up just enough to press their mouths
together, leading Stiles into a slow, languid kiss. Stiles wings curled in
around them, and he closed his eyes, letting Derek's gentle affection ease him
back into sleep.
 
 
Stiles could hear groans, the low voice wheezing and wet. “Help...” It called,
the word dissolving as the person was overcome by a fit, hacking and coughing,
the sound of something wet and thick hitting the ground. “Help...” It called
again, sounding pained.
 
Stiles tried to look around, but it was dark around him, there was nothing that
he could feel or see, all he could hear was this person, and he could smell
blood and sickness, the air stale around him. “Hello?” Stiles called out. He
didn't know where Derek had gone, or how he'd gotten out of his bedroom and to
where ever he was now. Maybe if he found this person they could help him. If he
helped them first.
 
All of the sudden there was a bright light, breaking through the dark. It
stabbed into his eyes, making his head throb painfully. It stayed blindingly
bright, even behind his eyelids. He felt a breeze whirl around him, the sound
of something falling in front of him, then the light faded. Stiles blinked his
eyes open, trying to get the dots of color from his vision so he could see.
 
“Help me...”
 
Stiles' vision cleared, just as suddenly as the light had shone, and he looked
down. There was someone kneeling there in front of him, head bowed, hands
clasped on their knees. Their shoulders shook, quiet sobs coming from them,
and... and in seconds the person was covered head to toe in blood, red seeping
thick over their skin, their sobs getting louder and louder as the red got
darker, blood caking heavy on their skin.
 
Stiles swallowed and reached out, his hand shaking. His fingertips brushed
against their shoulder, and then their head shot up, eyes wide, mouth opening
wide with a crack, all other movement of their body stopping for a few seconds.
Then they inhaled deeply, and screamed, and Stiles watched in horror as large
white wings broke through their back, spraying blood and flesh across Stiles
face.
 
“STILES!”
 
Stiles gasped, sucking in a deep lungful of air until he coughed and doubled
over, tucking his head between his legs as he tried to get his breathing back
under control.
 
He jumped when he felt a hand spread over his back, scrambling back and away
from it before he looked up to see-
 
“Derek...” Stiles voice was rough, scratchy, like it'd been used for way too
long. Or like he'd just spent the past hour screaming.
 
Derek was staring as Stiles in worry, looking shaken up. “You... are you
alright?” Derek asked.
 
Stiles took a deep breath; his heart was still pounding painfully hard against
his ribs, the images from his nightmare still swirling around his head. Why the
fuck had he dreamed that? What... what was happening to him?
 
He felt Derek inch a little closer to him, hesitating a moment before he placed
his hand gently against Stiles shoulder. Stiles felt sick, the memory of what
happened to the person when he touched them in the dream combining with how
Derek almost seemed afraid to touch him. “You... you started screaming. And,
when I tried to wake you up you wouldn't move. You just... you wouldn't wake
up.”
 
Derek sounded... he sounded terrified. Stiles hadn't ever heard Derek like this
before. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, swallowing down the growing nausea
he felt. What was it that was scaring Derek like this? Was it what was
happening to Stiles? Or... or was it Stiles himself?
 
“I'm fine...” Stiles said, now feeling just how much he was shaking, hearing
how his voice sounded so ripped apart. He reached back to squeeze Derek's hand
on his shoulder, feeling some relief when the alpha didn't pull away. “I'm
fine...” He repeated. “I'm fine.” He lied.
 
 
Stiles waited. He was alone, in his room, waiting. And waiting and waiting. He
felt like screaming. Why was it doing this to him? Why, if it had no intentions
to hurt him, was it making him crazy like this? He took a deep breath and
fluttered out his wings, wincing as that same image skipped across his mind
from the nightmare, the feeling of the blood hot on his face as it splash up at
him from the person.
 
“Help... me...”
 
Stiles straightened up, swallowing as he turned toward the window. He saw
something move across the room. He heard groaning, wet hacks and coughs making
his stomach turn, wheezing breaths making the hair on the back of his neck
stand up and his wings straighten in apprehension.
 
“Help, help... help me...”
 
“No. No, no, no, no no nonoNO!” Stiles jerked into his desk, pinching his eyes
shut tightly, covering his ears with his hands. He could still hear it. The
pleas for help, the groans, the sound of blood splattering across the ground...
the screams.
 
He heard the window crack open, and he froze, his spine arching so much he was
surprised it didn't break, then he screamed. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”
 
All the sounds died off, leaving Stiles panting and shaking at his desk. He
slowly turned to look out his window. It was still closed, the purple paste
still there, no sign of anyone or anything being there. He inhaled deeply,
trying to calm down. He was just... imagining things. Hallucinating. Deaton
said that this cursed being would affect him strongly. This was just... that.
It was just making him see and hear things.
 
He didn't feel better. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and stared down at
his desk, with the pictures of marks all spread across it. How... many of these
type of things are there? What if... there are more? What if they all try to
come to him?
 
Stiles shuddered, dropping his hand onto the desk to steady himself, something
cool and real there. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to center himself.
There was a crash behind him, loud, making him jump and spin around. There was
a tall creature with wings that were once white spread out behind it, wings
broken and bleeding red, some of the blood so caked on it was almost black. It
was covered completely in blood, it's gold eyes blazing as it stared at him,
leaning down so it was right in his face, that sickening stench of illness and
blood and death making him gag. It grabbed him by the shoulders, nails digging
in like claws, and cracked open his mouth, jaw popping out of place with a
slick creaking noise, and it screamed. “HELP ME!”
 
Stiles dropped for the floor, the creature gone, not even a sign of it, his
shoulders uninjured, no claw marks or golden eyes watching him from the dark
corners of his room to jump him. Stiles heaved, pressing his head to the floor,
trying not to throw up. Why had it gotten so bad? Why was this happening to
him?
 
Stiles sucked in a deep breath and stood up, shaking all over. He used the wall
to support him as he stumbled to the window. Maybe flying would help. He could
clear his head. He hadn't been able to stretch his wings and soar for a while.
He hobbled up onto the sill, feeling his entire body shaking all over. He
didn't think about Derek just downstairs, didn't think about why he had to
stay, just that he had to get out, leave and get some fresh air, do something
other than just sit around and wait.
 
He stepped out onto the roof, pausing a moment, hearing footsteps following up
the stairs, and hearing a creak on the roof beside him. His stomach dropped
out, and he slowly turned his head. Just as he saw a red gleam from the side of
the window, pain was blooming through his skull from something hitting him,
hard. He felt his eyes roll back before everything went dark, feeling himself
falling before his body was caught by something hard.
 
Golden eyes watched from a few feet away above the window, the owner whimpering
softly in pain, then it stopped, watching as an alpha dragged the boy off the
roof and too the ground, slinking off into the shadows with the angel draped
over his shoulder. It whined and looked around, then leaped off. It paused a
moment, sensing the other alpha, the one that was always around the angel,
inside, rushing up the stairs, just a few minutes too late. It paused, waiting
outside the window. It could bring the good alpha to the alpha packs hideout,
help the angel, more than it could help him. 
 
It sat quietly on the roof outside the window, watching as the alpha threw open
the door, eyes burning red, and then his eyes landed on it, and he growled, the
rest of his features shifting as he stormed toward it. It didn't move, didn't
protest as the alpha pulled it through the window, didn't struggle as it's skin
burned from the barrier put up on the window sill, or when the alpha pinned in
roughly against the wall. It was going to help the angel, and whether the alpha
would follow or not... it would just have to hope he would.
***** Chapter 25 *****
Chapter Summary
     With the help of the cursed being, Derek finds and saves Stiles from
     the alphas.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Derek could sense there was something wrong almost immediately. He'd stormed up
off from the couch, ignoring the look he got from Deaton and rushed up the
stairs. He tried to see if he could feel around for Stiles at all, feel any
specific emotions or anything. Nothing. In fact their connection seemed... it
seemed weaker, a lot weaker.
 
Derek growled, already shifting as he got to the top flight of stairs and ready
to leap into the room when he was hit with that wall of sick-scent. He wrinkled
his nose and took a second, breathing in through his mouth to try fighting down
his nausea, and opened the door. And through the window was that same creature,
the angel with broken wings and covered in blackened blood and smelling of
death, it was sitting there just watching him, expectant, and when Derek took a
step closer he could smell the scent of Stiles' pain underlying the sickness.
The alpha saw red, letting himself shift as he let loose a roar that echoed
throughout the house.
 
“What did you do to him?!” Derek yelled, yanking it out of the window, ignoring
the pained whimper it made when it passed through the barrier, and slammed it
up against the wall. He ignored the way it almost burned to touch it, like just
contact was draining all the pleasant feeling from his body, making where he
touched light up with the pain of fire and needles and poison. “Where is he?!”
 
The creature made another whining noise, then wriggled underneath him. Derek
growled and squeezed it's shoulders, letting his claws pierce through skin.
It's eyes flickered over his face, pausing in it's struggles for a moment
before it surged up, forcing it's head to knock into Derek's. Derek was just
about to pull back, ready to raise a hand up to rip it's throat out, when
something flashed into his mind.
 
Stiles, being dragged off the roof by a large man, who looked up at him,
his red eyes glowing menacingly.
 
Derek gasped, like he'd just been dragged out of water and was trying to get as
much oxygen as he could in one breath, and stumbled back, the creature slumping
back against the wall and not running. It just... watched him, carefully,
patiently, like it was waiting for something.
 
Derek turned around, seeing Deaton giving him an expectant look. “You should
get going Derek.” He called, like he knew exactly what Derek had just seen.
Derek shook his head, he'd figure it out later, he had to leave, he had to get
to Stiles.
 
He turned back to the creature, and it lifted up it's mangled wings. There were
long claw marks in the wings, skin blackened by dirt and blood and bruising,
the last joint of the left wing looking dislocated and the top arch of the
right looking like it was broken. How the creature managed to fly, he had no
idea, given the pain whimper it gave when it shifted the wings at all. It gave
him an expectant look, then turned to the window. Derek paused a moment, then
scratched of the dried paste, following closely behind the creature as it
climbed out the window. It leaped across the roof onto a nearby tree and
climbed near the top, looking down at Derek when it got high enough.
 
“Hey, what are you...” Derek trailed off as gold eyes stared down at him from
one of the higher branches of the tree.
 
“Follow.” A raspy, barely there voice spoke, before the angel was up and
flying, wobbling slightly before it got a little bit of a rhythm going. Derek
glanced back at the vet one last time before he took off after the creature,
keeping an eye on it from down on the ground.
 
He followed for what felt like hours, the growl that started rumbling in his
chest five minutes in growing louder and louder, until the angel was suddenly
banking down, crashing through the trees ungracefully and falling down in front
of him. It stared at him for a moment, then glanced to the side. Derek
reluctantly looked over, not trusting it one little bit, and saw an old
abandoned building there, smelling of old chemicals, oil and blood.
 
“In there.” It rasped, and Derek looked back at it. It was wincing, wiping off
blackness from the corner of it's mouth, gold eyes glancing over to him. It
hung it's wings down low and tucked them in. They wouldn't fully fold in like
Stiles' could, too injured to have full control over them. It started walking
inside, and Derek followed closely behind it. He wasn't going to let it out of
his sight, if it made one move to try and leave he was going to rip it's head
off, whether he could actually kill it or not.
 
He said this out loud, and the creature nodded, and turned back to him. “Quiet
now.” It muttered before they walked inside.
 
The inside of the building looked just as bad as the outside. The walls were
decorated with smoke damage and burns, blood that seemed fresh splashed across
the entry way. Derek paused, then growled. Stiles.
 
The angel turned back to him and pressed it's finger to it's lips. Derek
frowned, but cut himself off. He could smell other wolves here, too, alphas. He
felt a twist of guilt in his stomach as they moved down a hallway, following
more of Stiles' blood. If he stayed with Stiles, this wouldn't have happened.
He closed his eyes, trying to reach out his senses, listen for Stiles heart
beat.
 
“I think I need some time alone for a little.” Stiles had muttered the night
before. Stiles had been fidgety and jumpy all week, ever since... ever since
that first dream. He'd had so many nights since then of screaming, waking up
pale and sweat-slick, scent turned sour from fear. “You can go and meet Deaton
and I can stay here, it'll just be for a few hours. Nothing will happen then.
The window is blocked off with that herb mix.” Stiles looked up and gave Derek
a smile. “I'll be fine. I just... I think I need to try and work some of this
stuff out of my system. Scream into some pillows, maybe punch some stuff. If I
wear myself out I might not have a nightmare tonight.” And of course, Derek had
to listen. His mate wanted it, so he listened. He wasn't going to be far away,
he did make that argument, but he was going to give Stiles some time alone.
 
He stopped, focusing back in now. He was going to save Stiles. Stiles wasn't
going to be hurt again because of him. No, Stiles wasn't going to be hurt
again, period.
 
They stopped at the end of the hall, where the long bloody hallway formed into
a set of stairs stained with red, doors with bright red hand prints on them. If
he concentrated, now Derek could feel Stiles through it; the pain, the anger,
and lingering fear of his mate. He could just hear Stiles heartbeat, still
strong and loud like always, just a touch quicker than usual. Stiles was alive.
Stiles was still alive.
 
The angel paused a moment, then looked back at him. It's wide eyes seemed to be
giving a warning, and it raised a hand up to cover it's eyes, then gave him a
pointed look. Derek frowned and it frowned right back at him, then pushed the
door open. It kept one of it's hands up, and if Derek looked closely enough, he
could see it's finger's shaking, the creature wincing as it drew it's fist
tighter. He wasn't sure exactly what it had planned. He could only hope if it
turned on him he would be fast enough to counter it, and that after that the
alpha's wouldn't find the opportunity to strike.
 
They didn't have to continue much further before Derek could hear voices.
 
“He's not cooperating.” A high pitched female voice said, almost pixie like.
“We should just kill him off, we can find another just like him somewhere else,
I'm sure.”
 
A low, distinctly male voice growled, and there was a slamming sound followed
by the female whining. “No! No killing him. Aurik wants him alive.” A beat, and
then the sound of footsteps before Stiles whined, chains rattling. “He'll break
eventually. They all do.” They was a sound of electricity, and Derek had to dig
his claws into his palms to stop from just lunging down the hall when he heard
Stiles screaming, the scent of burning flesh overpowering the sickness sticking
to the creature he followed. The sound of sparks died off as the lights
flickered above them before going out completely. “It'll take time. He's just a
little stronger than the others.”
 
There was a sigh. “We'll have to resort to other matters of making him do as we
want, then.”
 
There was a pause, then, and Derek felt Stiles' panic. The cursed angel paused
a moment, then made a soft, gasping sound before it was taking off down the
hall, Derek following closely, already shifting, ready to fight as the scents
of the alpha's got closer, Stiles' heartbeat arching higher and faster.
 
“Ugh, what is that stench?” The female alpha complained, and they turned a
corner, a door at the end of the hall lit up, and Stiles was there, so close.
 
There was a beat, Stiles' panic dropping off, then ratcheting higher than
before. “No. No, no, no. Not here. Why? Why won't it leave me alone?!” Stiles'
voice was rough, and then one of the alpha's growled, and there was the sound
of flesh colliding hard with flesh, then a sickening pop and Stiles screaming
so loud his voice just deteriorated, the sound shaking him to his bones, his
pain flooding Derek's senses, ripping a growl from Derek's throat, the door
right there.
 
They burst through, and the angel leaped in, ripping one of the handles off the
door, the metal rusting and bending in it's grip. It flew across the room and
plunged it into the female's chest, twisting it as she screamed until the alpha
slumped underneath it. Where the angel touched her skin turned black and
sunken, all life draining out of her.
 
Derek turned away, growling as he lunged at the alpha near Stiles. His vision
went red when he saw how Stiles was slumped over, his arms bound above him in
shackles, his wings forced spread by thick bands that cut into them, dangling a
few feet off the ground. Stiles was hiccuping, tears running constantly over
his face, and his body was twitching every few seconds, pained whimpers falling
from his mouth.
 
Derek pinned the alpha to the ground, roaring as he plunged his clawed hand
into the alpha's chest. The male alpha lifted him up, roaring right back, then
he stopped. The cursed angel was behind the alpha, hands locked around his chin
and the back of his neck, and it twisted and lifted up until the alpha's head
separated from the neck, spraying blood over the both of them. The body
crumpled to the ground, and Derek looked to the angel, watching it toss the
head away before it looked over to Stiles and whined.
 
Derek moved over to his mate, jumping up and tugging down at the shackles with
all of his might until they pulled away from the ceiling. The bands snapped,
and Stiles slumped to the ground with a pained cry. Derek cradled the boy in
his arms, searching over his body for wounds. He couldn't hold back the growl
that climbed up his throat when he saw Stiles wing, the tip twisted at an
angle, blood flowing freely from claw marks around it. Stiles body was littered
with burn marks, skin blackened and raw, two little round puncture marks at the
center of each one, and he had a nasty bruise forming on the back of his head.
 
“Derek.” Stiles whimpered, clinging to the alpha, and Derek pulled Stiles
closer, carefully, glancing up and around the room to see the cursed angel
waiting by the entrance, looking impatient. Derek gathered Stiles up and
started out of the room, being careful with his injured wing. “Derek it
hurts... It hurts so much.”
 
Derek swallowed, shifting his hands so he had one palm pressing to the skin
between Stiles' wings, sucking the pain out of Stiles. His knees nearly buckled
from the rush of pain flowing into him. How was Stiles even still conscious? He
glanced to Stiles wing, how the skin was darkening around the injury with a
bruise, blood not letting up as it continued to leak out freely. Need to get
him to Deaton. Derek started running down the hall, ignoring how Stiles' pain
was making his entire body throb like all his bones were broken, just
concentrating on holding onto Stiles and getting them out of there.
 
When they'd gotten outside, the cursed angel was gone, it's footprints of
blackened soil and graying mulch just suddenly ending. Derek didn't pay much
attention to it, sure it'd be back soon enough. He wasn't quite sure why it'd
helped them, but... he wasn't going to complain. He tucked Stiles against his
body, trying to soothe the boy as best he could. Stiles had dissolved into
soft, wrecked hiccuping sobs that he buried into Derek's chest, and,
alarmingly, Stiles wings weren't moving.
 
Derek was so used to seeing Stiles' wings moving almost constantly. They were
practically sentient, moving and reacting with Stiles, and sometimes without
his permission. They constantly twitched or rotated or just... moved, somehow.
The fact they the both were completely still now, just simply dangling there,
not even tucked up against Stiles body just, hanging out, was unsettling.
 
“Just hold on, Stiles.” Derek muttered, watching Stiles eyes flutter open for a
moment before they dropped back closed, the boy murmuring softly as he sagged
in Derek's arms. He kept breathing, his heart still beating. Derek listened to
those two things, starting to run back home. “Just hold on...”
 
Chapter End Notes
     I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW stuff.
     Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you want to
     keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my page.
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek gets Stiles back home and Deaton helps to put Stiles back
     together physically from the injuries he sustained from the alphas.
Chapter Notes
     Next chapter might be delayed a little due to RL events. Haven't been
     able to write up the next chapter yet so... we'll see. Hopefully I
     can have it up in time. :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Stiles regained consciousness, it was sharp, quick, like the crack of a
whip. It felt like one, two, lines of fire spearing up through his right side,
ripping a scream from his throat. Hands pressed him firmly back down into
whatever soft surface he was lying on and the pain leached out a little,
causing him to sag in relief.
 
“What's wrong?” Came Derek's voice, sounding angry.
 
There was a sigh, then the snapping of a pair of gloves and Deaton spoke. “His
wing is broken. Unfortunately, it's a rather bad break, it tore through some
muscle and skin, and it'd be safe to say it splintered, so there are going to
be bone fragments scattered through there.” The vet made a soft tutting sound,
and Stiles bit into his lip when that pain came rushing back for a second,
before it disappeared again, and Derek grunted in pain. “The fact that it was
done by an alpha makes it worse. It's going to take some time to heal. I'll
need to set it and remove some of the fragments before it gets too deep into
the healing process.”
 
Derek growled, and the hand pressing into the small of his back twitched in
agitation. Then Derek took a deep breath, and the hand relaxed, palm spreading
flat across Stiles' sweat-slick skin. “What do you need?”
 
Deaton paused a moment, then Stiles could hear him moving around. “I'll just
need a few things from the office. Make sure he doesn't move, we'll move him to
a better area to do the operation when I get back.”
 
There were a few seconds, then the door shutting, and Derek was shifting around
him. Stiles blinked his eyes open, lifting his head just slightly to see Derek
kneeling in front of him, looking scared and worried and relieved all at once.
“Does it still hurt too bad?”
 
“No.” Stiles swallowed, looking over Derek for a moment, before he had to drop
his eyes to the floor. This was his fault. He shouldn't have left. He knew that
it was bad to leave, that if he left something was going to happen, but he was
too panicked to think about it. He could've just gone downstairs and told Derek
he needed to get out. And Derek would've been there, and none of this would've
happened. “I'm sorry...”
 
“What? Why? Stiles, this isn't-”
 
“No.” Stiles cut him off. “It is my fault. I should've just gone to you. I was
an idiot just walking out, I got myself caught by them because I was scared of
some stupid thing messing around with my head.”
 
There were a few seconds of silence, then Derek was lifting a hand up to curl
around Stiles' chin, his thumb stroking along Stiles' jaw. “Hey, Stiles, look
at me.” When a few seconds passed and Stiles made no move to obey Derek, the
alpha leaned forward to press a soft, gentle kiss to Stiles' forehead.
“Please...”
 
Stiles sighed, but looked up to his alpha. Derek looked over him, his gray-
hazel eyes taking in Stiles face, he brushed a finger lightly over one of the
bruises marking Stiles' cheek. The faint hurt wasn't enough for Stiles' to
flinch away, just enough to help him focus more on Derek, rather than the
floating-through-cotton feeling he had from the immense pain from his back. It
was a little like his wings were coming through again, the pain was so bad.
Stiles took a breath and focused back on Derek, just concentrating completely
on Derek's light eyes.
 
“That's better.” Derek muttered, running his fingers lightly through Stiles'
hair. “It's not your fault... I don't blame you.” He smiled softly. “You
panicked. You get a pass on this. You don't need to fret about this.” There was
a pause, then Derek was looking up over Stiles, and Stiles could feel the small
feathers around where wing met skin raise up.
 
“It's here, isn't it...?”
 
Derek nodded slowly, then looked down to Stiles. “It helped me. And it seemed
to leave like it knew it was hurting you.” He shrugged. “It's not that bad.”
 
Stiles sighed. “When I'm not bedridden I could help it but right now it's not
really appreciated.”
 
Derek waited a few moments, then dropped his gaze back to Stiles. “It's gone
now.” He looked over Stiles, eyes lingering on Stiles' wings for a few moments.
“It's weird, that they're not moving as much.” Derek reached the hand he had
pressing against Stiles' lower back up along his spine, brushing lightly
through the soft down against his back. “I'm glad to have you back...”
 
Stiles nodded slowly, then bit his lip. “Could you...”
 
Derek just smiled before Stiles could finish talking, leaning down and pressing
their mouths together in a long, slow kiss. When they did finally pull apart
Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles', the both of them panting heavily as
they caught their breath.
 
Stiles felt better, reassured with Derek there, with Derek close to him and
touching him. He was terrified of the alphas, he couldn't move from the
shackles and his wings... he felt sick every time they touched his wings. He
could endure the cuts they started out with, and the electrical prod they used
after, but when the larger alpha broke his wing he couldn't take it anymore.
The pain was indescribable, and it didn't end, even now it hurt just about as
bad as when Derek was carrying him out of the building. But with Derek there
with him, the longer the alpha stayed by him, touching him and kissing him, the
more the pain started to fade a bit. It might've helped with Derek taking the
pain away.
 
“Thanks.” Stiles muttered, watching Derek's eyes light up and his lips curl
with a soft smile. He nodded, and ducked back in to meld their mouths back
together again, stealing a little more of Stiles' pain away and drawing the
boy's mind further and further away from the incident with the alpha pack.
 
 
It was a few minutes later when Deaton returned with a briefcase in hand, and
between Derek and the vet they'd moved Stiles into the center of the room on
his stomach. The vet pulled a syringe from the briefcase and, before Stiles
could move to see, injected his side, putting him under within a few minutes.
 
Deaton looked up to Derek. “You'll have to leave for this next part.” When the
alpha made no move the vet raised his eyes, calmly looking at him as he spoke.
“He'll be fine, Derek. The sooner I can get started the sooner Stiles' pain
will be relieved.”
 
Reluctantly, Derek left, grumbling a little as he did, focusing his senses in
on Stiles in case something went wrong. He listened to the boy's steady
heartbeats, the rhythm of his light breaths, as he walked outside.
 
He glanced over to the window looking in to the den, where he'd seen the cursed
angel from a few moments ago. The ground again was dying underneath it, grass
and mulch turned black, a pair of footprints there that looked burned into the
ground. Derek walked over, shifting his nails into claws and letting his
canines lengthen, just in case, and stopped when he saw something hanging above
the window.
 
There was a braided, black cord, on it a smooth, perfectly round white stone,
the center of it carved into a perfect circle that reminded Derek of the marks
that Stiles had been practicing for weeks. He sniffed it for wolfsbane or
mistletoe or something else harmful, then pulled it off the small tack it was
hung up with. He flipped the stone over and found something else scrawled in
the back, a jumble of symbols that made Derek's head ache just to look at. He
huffed and pocketed it, then looked in on Deaton. The vet had the injured wing
spread out on a cloth, catching the little drips of blood falling down as he
dropped bone fragments in a tin next to him. Derek couldn't see the rest of the
wing, how bad the break was through Deaton's body, but he could smell the
blood, and the little twinges of pain whenever a new fragment was pulled out,
Stiles' face twitching on some but never waking.
 
Derek sighed, leaning against the wall as he watched Stiles and Deaton through
the window, focusing on the boy lying unconscious on the floor. The other part
of his focus was on the soft pained whimpers at the treeline behind him, that
now familiar scent of sickness.
 
“Why'd you help us?” Derek asks, still facing the window. “I could've just
ripped you to pieces, gotten rid of you to keep Stiles' from hurting, but you
stood up to me to help him. Why?”
 
There was no answer, just the sound of the creature shifting on the branch,
whimpering softly in pain. Derek huffed, but didn't speak to it again, watching
over Stiles carefully as he listened. After a few more moments of shifting, the
creature finally dropped to the ground, walking over to stand beside Derek. He
could hear the groan and hiss of the earth dying beneath it's feet as it moved,
until it stopped, settling beside Derek with a soft sound.
 
“Needed to.” It said softly, voice still rough and thick. It lifted up a hand
to wipe away some of the black from around it's mouth and looked up to Derek.
“Needed to help him.”
 
Derek frowned. “Why though? Why him and not someone else to help you?”
 
It shrugged, turning it's gold eyes back to the window, where Stiles was lying
still as Deaton now shifted the broken bone back into it's proper place. The
bone was splintered, the break jagged and Derek could see where muscle and
sinew was ripped apart by the alpha. He saw red, and he heard the creature let
out a low hiss. When he turned it looked infuriated, it's jaw set as it's gold
eyes seemed to glow even brighter. It let out a slow breath, and finally
answered again. “It had to be him.” It muttered, before it was stepping back,
kicking off the ground and wobbling in the air for a moment before it was
taking off.
 
Derek watched it until it's dark shape disappeared in the night sky, then
turned back to the window to see Deaton finishing up with Stiles, stitching the
really bad wounds closed and attaching a cuff over the break and around the
base of Stiles' wing to keep it from moving. The alpha let out a breath,
watching the vet gather up his things and raise up from the ground. He turned
toward the window, as if he knew the entire time that Derek was looking in, and
nodded toward the angel lying on the floor. “You may come back in, Derek. I'm
sure when Stiles wakes up he'd like to see you.”
 
Derek nodded, watching the man walk out of the room, and started to come
inside. He rubbed his thumb over the small stone pendant in his pocket,
frowning slightly. He'd have to ask Deaton about it. Right now... Derek thought
as he walked inside, closing the door behind him as he pulled the necklace out
of his pocket, settling in on the counter dividing the entry way from the den.
I need to be with my mate...
 
Derek walked across the room, listening to Stiles steady heartbeat, his breath
puffing out softly, just slightly uneven. Stiles' uninjured wing twitched, and
just that little bit of movement had relief flooding through him, Derek letting
out a breath that felt like he'd been holding in forever, at least since Derek
saw Stiles in the abandoned building that night.
 
The alpha fell onto the floor beside the boy, bringing a shaky hand up to
gently brush through the soft feathers of that wing. It moved again, arching up
into his hand, and Derek smiled, allowing himself to dig his fingers further
into them, brushing gently through them, rustling the feathers and smoothing
them down in gentle passes.
 
Derek continued that for a while, not paying attention as minutes went by,
until Deaton was coming back into the room, all packed away ready to go. The
vet spoke softly as Derek kept his eyes on Stiles, not even pausing in the
gentle stroked up and down Stiles' wing. “When he wakes up he can move, he just
needs to be careful with his injuries. He's house-ridden for at least a week
while it heals, and after that he can't wrap them so he'll have to avoid the
public. No flying for a month, possibly earlier if the tissue is restored by
then, but that's something we'll work on later.”
 
Deaton paused a moment, and Derek glanced up, seeing him staring at the pendant
that was left hanging outside the window. “Ah, I see Stiles' friend left a gift
for him. It'll be useful, it's a charm that angels use to help heal their
wounds in a more timely matter.” He picked it up and looked it over for a
moment, before holding it out to Derek. “It'll speed up how fast his body
restores it's self to about the same as a werewolf's body would, maybe a little
quicker.”
 
Derek nodded slowly, still a little skeptical of it. Of the creature, even
though it had helped them. Just because it helped once doesn't mean it wasn't
going to hurt them. “Should we use it?”
 
Deaton shrugged. “There's none of the curse residue on it, you'd be able to
smell it if there was, so it wouldn't hurt Stiles that way, and the aura coming
from it only has good intentions. Also something you'd be able to tell, though
Stiles is probably more qualified for that kind of sense.” He pressed it into
Derek's hand and stepped back. “You should consider yourselves lucky you have
someone watching over you like that. Especially over Stiles.” There was another
beat of silence, and Derek had the feeling that he was missing something, that
Deaton was leaving something out. Then again, that happened a lot, so, it could
just be a feeling. The man's scent and heart didn't say he was lying or giving
a half-truth or anything, either.
 
“Okay.” Derek took the pendant, twisting the knot of the necklace cord in his
fingers as he watched Deaton leave. “If we need anything, I'll call.”
 
The vet nodded and with that he left, leaving Derek alone with Stiles. He
hesitated a moment, then set the pendant gently on Stiles' back, between his
wings, ready to snatch it up just in case and call Deaton back if it backfired.
At first, nothing happened, then there was a small flicker of gold light from
the stone, light that divided into small tendrils and slithered across Stiles'
body, following a jagged and jumping path along him until they curled around
his wounds. He couldn't see under the cast, but he could see the burn marks
along Stiles' torso slowly sewing shut, the light fading gradually until it
disappeared completely along with the wound.
 
Stiles' free wing twitched, and Derek stopped his staring for long enough to
resume his stroking along it. The boy made a soft sound in his sleep, pinching
his eyes shut a little tighter as the lights flickered across his face healing
up bruises and scrapes there, and finally they all gathered up into one point
around the brace, working slowly on the wing. It didn't seem like it was making
much progress, because soon the light just exploded into little bursts around
it and fizzled out, the stone's light dying out. He huffed and lifted it off,
setting it aside and running his fingers lightly along the brace. Stiles gave a
pained whimper, and Derek immediately pulled his hand back. No, that was still
injured. Maybe the wings take more power to heal?
 
Derek frowned, scritching his nails along the arch of Stiles' wing, feeling it
move up into his hand. He was glad they were reacting normally again, life
coming back to Stiles' animated wings was a good sign. He leaned down, brushing
his face against the feathers, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive, giving
skin near the tip. As soon as the other one healed he was definitely going to
be spending some time grooming and teasing them, they were long overdue. And
hopefully with the further decreased number of alphas they'd get a little bit
of a reprieve.
 
Speaking of... Derek fished out his phone from his pocket and pulled up Scott's
number, swiping his thumb over the call button and pressing it to his ear,
ruffling and then smoothing out feathers as the phone rang.
 
“nn... 'lo?” Scott's sleepy voice carried through the phone.
 
“It's Derek. We had a situation.” Derek spoke calmly, quickly throwing in
afterward. “It's okay now, we're all back home and recovering. The alpha's came
and took Stiles but he's back. He'd just hurt, and it's going to take him some
time to heal up, so we'll need some extra security, just in case.”
 
There was some rustling on the other end of the phone, then Scott, sounding
much more awake, spoke up again. “Stiles was hurt? How? He's gonna be okay,
right?” There was a pause and then a loud thump, the teen grunting like he was
hit – or more likely fell – and then a door closing. “I'll be right over there.
I can bring my mom over to check him out, too. Get a second opinion. I'll bring
Isaac and Allison, too.”
 
Derek scrunched his nose up at the mention of the Argent girl. He still didn't
exactly trust her, but Stiles would probably like her to be there. But while
he's hurt she could also alert the other hunters about his weakened state and
they'd have another problem on their hands. “Just Isaac, Scott. And most of his
wounds are healed, it's just, his wing was broken, and it's going to take some
time. He won't be able to fly for a while or leave the house while it's in the
brace. He'll probably want some company and any extra help we have to keep back
threats the better.”
 
“Right.” Scott said, thankfully not protesting about Allison. “It'll take a
bit, but we'll be there.” And with that, the teen hung up.
 
Derek huffed, shaking his head as he tossed his phone off to the side. He
glanced down at Stiles, and noticed something... different.
 
Stiles' breathing was slightly off, quicker, rasping a little probably from the
scream he let loose earlier that night, and his heart was slowly ticking up
higher and higher. Derek reached out, placing a gentle hand over the back of
Stiles' neck, curling the other one through his wings. The boy's eyes were
flickering wildly beneath his lids, cold sweat slicking his skin. He's having
another nightmare.
 
“Stiles, calm down, it's only a dream.” Derek murmured softly, leaning down to
say it directly into his ear, feeling the wing beneath him buck up into his
stomach. “Shh, it's okay, you're safe, you're okay.”
 
Stiles let out a scared whimper, twisting around. “Derek.” He cried, sounding
completely wrecked, terrified and small like Derek had never heard him. It
practically ripped his heart to shreds.
 
He blinked away the tears welling in his eyes and pressed a kiss to Stiles'
ear. “Yeah, I'm here, you're okay. You're alright, Stiles. Whatever it is, it's
not going to hurt you. You're okay.”
 
Derek continued whispering reassurances to his mate, listening as his heart
rate slowly came down, his breaths becoming more even. It took a few minutes,
Derek rubbing his hands over Stiles' neck and wing, feeling the pulse thumping
softer and softer against his thumb, until Stiles let out a breath and blinked
his eyes open, whining softly as he shifted.
 
“Don't move yet.” Derek admonished, clamping his hands down to keep Stiles from
moving too much. “Just rest for a bit then I'll help you up, but right now you
need to rest.”
 
Stiles nodded, then tilted his head back, just enough to nudge Derek's hand up
into his scalp, where he ran his fingers through Stiles' hair, massaging and
scratching as he shifted around to sit in front of Stiles. The boy looked up at
him, his eyes still holding a little apprehension, but it was mostly gone now,
now that he'd realized whatever nightmare he was having wasn't real. Wonder
what it was about... could be the curse still affecting him or the alphas... He
felt a growl rumble through his chest. If they weren't dead I'd be going back
and killing them as brutally as I could imagine...
 
“Derek?” Stiles' tired voice called, and Derek came back, looking down at his
mate and giving him a small smile. Stiles twitched and shifting forward just
enough to lean his head onto Derek's knee. “I'm sorry...”
 
Derek shook his head, brushing the hair back from Stiles' face. “Stiles... I
already told you not to apologize for that...”
 
Stiles sighed and nodded. “I know.” He paused a moment, lifting his arms up
from his sides to pillow his head. “I was having a nightmare about the
alphas... that they broke my wings completely apart, and beat me and burned
me.” He closed his eyes tightly, letting out a shaking breath. “It felt so
real... I could feel everything... It hurt so much...”
 
Derek choked back a whine at how lost Stiles sounded, how miserable he sounded.
He wished he could help Stiles, keep those nightmares away. The best he could
do was what he just now did, soothing Stiles out of the dream, waking him
slowly with reassuring words and gentle touches to bring him back into reality.
It didn't feel good enough. He felt like he was letting his mate down. I'm
supposed to protect him...The alpha looked over the angel, taking him the cast
on his wing, how pale he looked, color just now returning to his skin, still
smelling a little bit of fear and pain. What a great job I'm doing...
 
With a soft noise, Derek moved around until he was lying beside Stiles, curling
him up gently into his arms and then he pressed his palms to the skin between
Stiles' wings, wincing slightly as he took away some of the boy's pain. He felt
relieved as Stiles relaxed a little in his arms; Derek was going to try and
find whatever he could to help him, no matter what it took. He wasn't going to
mess up again with his mate. His mate was never going to get hurt ever again.
 
Derek's chest rumbled with a low growl as he tightened his hold around Stiles
just a little, licking at the drying sweat on his neck. Crimson eyes glowed
softly in the dark of the room, and several feet away at the tree line were
golden eyes, watching carefully over the couple. It was carving into a small
stone, much like the pendant already inside the house. It's wings twitched, the
more heavily damaged one sending a spark of pain throughout their body, and the
gold eyes closed for a moment, a pained whimper echoing softy in the clearing.
Soon, it just had to wait. It would stop soon.
Chapter End Notes
     I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW stuff.
     Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you want to
     keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my page.
***** Chapter 27 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles comes to terms with the injuries he sustained from the
     encounter with the alphas.
Chapter Notes
     Much shorter chapter than usual, I'm sorry! This week was crazy for
     me so I didn't have much time to write. Good news is there's lots of
     hurt/comfort in this and the next chapter so if that's your thing,
     you're in luck.
     (Also, I'm sorry. Take up any complaints you have with the fake alpha
     pack. Thank you.)
Stiles took a breath, shifting his wings slightly, wincing when a shock of pain
ran up his side. Dammit. He relaxed the muscles in his back, letting his wings
droop. He looked up to Deaton, who was finishing up the removal of the cast,
and Derek, who was watching over him, worried, just as he had been since he
found Stiles.
 
It had been a few days since the incident, and Deaton had always been
complimenting how well he was healing but... Stiles was worried. He couldn't
feel anything most of the time, his right wing was fine, he could move it well
enough once the bruising caused by the straps the alpha's held him up with
healed, but his left wing just... there was nothing. No feeling, no pain, or
pleasure when Derek traced his wings across it. Nothing. It was terrifying.
 
He was terrified of never being able to feel anything in it again, of not being
able to fly again or wrap his wings around Derek again. He hated it, he hated
the alphas for doing this to him, and that stupid cursed thing for starting it,
and himself for not being stronger. If he was just a little stronger... maybe
this wouldn't have happened, maybe he would've spent that night curled up with
Derek, wings blanketing them both, maybe the both of them sleeping all through
the night instead of waking up from nightmares or watching over the other.
 
He felt Derek squeeze his hand, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself
not to cry or scream or something.
 
He listened to Deaton, the vet's careful words about the condition of the wing,
how it was healing well, but the lack of movement concerned him. How the break
might've damaged something deeper that they didn't know about. Avoiding the
topic of how Stiles may never be able to move his wing again.
 
He was silent, walking with Derek without really watching to see where they
went. He let Derek move him into the car, let the alpha coddle him and tried
not to flinch away from Derek's hand as he gently stroked down the wing,
sucking away some of the pain. He stared out the window in continued silence as
they drove, leaving the town and driving further into the preserve, until they
stopped in front of the Hale house.
 
Derek stepped out, walking around to the other side as Stiles didn't move, and
helped him out. Stiles felt his healthy wing twitch when Derek's fingers
brushed over it when the alpha curled an arm around behind his back, but the
other one stayed completely, terrifyingly still. Stiles felt his stomach turn
and he paused, tugging Derek to a stop as he closed his eyes and swallowed down
the feeling of nausea.
 
“Stiles? Stiles, what's wrong?” Derek seemed to be going into panic mode,
swinging around so he was in front of Stiles, bracing him with hands on both
arms, voice trembling just enough for Stiles to tell. “What is it?”
 
Stiles swallowed, and blurted it out, what he'd been fearing the most ever
since he woke up. “What if... What if I can't ever move it again?” Stiles
opened his eyes slowly, taking in Derek's worried expression, concentrating on
those blue-gray eyes as panic crept up through his body, a feeling of dread and
anxiousness clamping tight around his lungs, making it more difficult to
breathe. “What... Derek, what if I can't ever fly again? It's my only safe
place. If someone's after me I can't run away, they'll catch me on the ground.
If I can't fly I'm... I'm dead. I can't get to you if your in trouble. I
wouldn't be able to save you. Derek, I... Why won't it move? Why isn't it
moving if it's healing well? Why isn't it moving, Derek? Why?!”
 
Stiles felt the world around him tilt and spin, and that nausea finally
overcame him as he collapsed, legs giving out from under him. He never felt the
hard ground beneath him, just a pair of strong hands guiding him slowly to his
knees, rubbing his back as he heaved, tears burning in his eyes, his throat
stinging from stomach acid when there was nothing else left in his stomach to
expel.
 
When Stiles regained consciousness, he was laying on the couch in the living
room, changed into a pair of loose sweats with a soft plush blanket draped over
him and a bucket pulled up next to him. A few feet away was Derek, changed into
more comfortable clothes and looking freshly showered. He was rolling a bottle
of water between his hands, and next to him he had a bottle of mouthwash.
 
Stiles blinked slowly, his eyes not quite wanting to cooperate yet, and cleared
his throat. “You... cleaned me up.”
 
Derek nodded, then held out the mouthwash without a word. It already tasted a
little bit like Derek had cleaned out his mouth, judging from the faint taste
of mint, but he swished it around anyway. He spit it into the bucket and took
the water when Derek offered that, swallowing down around half of it to soothe
the lingering burn of his throat.
 
“I'll keep you safe if... if that does happen.” Derek murmured after a few
moments of silence passed, his eyes to the ground. “I'll bring all of Beacon
Hills down to protect you, if I have to.” Derek reached out, gently taking
Stiles hand's in his, squeezing them lightly. The gentleness contradicting the
fierceness of his words. “I'll find a way to make you fly away, whatever it
takes. If I have to give up everything I have to give you that, I will.” Derek
leaned down, pressing his trembling lips to Stiles shaking hands. He drew in a
deep, shaking breath, blinking back tears, judging from the added shine to his
eyes. “I'll help you through this, however I possibly can. I promise you, I'll
be there with you through everything. I'm not ever going to leave you, no
matter what.”
 
Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying and failing to keep his
hands from shaking as Derek spoke. “I...” He swallowed again, his voice
cracking, and shook his head. “Thank you...” He dropped to the floor, ignoring
the loud thumping sound of the bottle hitting the floor, and pulled Derek into
his arms, feeling relief flood through him as the wolf pulled him tight to his
chest in return. They knelt there together, in the middle of the living room at
the Hale house, that was slowly coming back together piece by piece into a real
home, just breathing each other in.
 
It still made Stiles sick just to think about losing his wings, losing that
feeling when he soared through the sky, losing a part of his constant companion
since he was so young. But... he felt like maybe he could get through it,
maybe, with Derek's help, his mate's help, he could get through it.
***** Chapter 28 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek tries to find a way to help Stiles fly again.
It'd been two weeks since the last check up with Deaton. The one where they
were both told that Stiles' wing was healing well, but he might not have
feeling in it for a long time, if ever again. Hearing those words sent a cold
all the way through Derek's body. It was like he was back in school, being
pulled out of class, being told his house had been burned down, with his family
inside of it. His mate was hurt, to the point that he could be paralyzed in
that part of his body. It hurt him, felt like his insides had been frozen over
and shattered.
 
He'd taken it on himself to care for Stiles since then. He'd massage his
shoulders, keeping the muscles moving while Stiles couldn't, as Deaton
suggested. He held the boy when he got that faraway look in his eyes, and when
he trembled and his breaths stuttered in his sleep from nightmares. He
sometimes would get out of the bed to research, looking up treatments for
damaged wings in birds, all the various ways people had made to help with
flight when the creature couldn't do it by itself anymore. He looked through
harness designs and even half-cracked theories on gaining human flight.
 
He'd still work on the house at times, too, when Stiles needed some space.
Usually Stiles would catch up on all the homework he'd been missing from the
days he'd taken off since the attack, or he'd be in the finished room in the
basement with Scott and Isaac. Sometimes, Stiles would wander up, find Derek in
whatever room he was working on that week, and watch, taking in how the
scorched, ruined walls transformed.
 
There'd be others, where he'd sneak off outside, not going too far, just enough
to not wake Stiles, and close enough so he could still hear his heartbeat and
soft breaths as he slept, and work outside. He worked the warm, soft leather,
punching holes in the straps in front, working a small buckle on the opposite
one. He connected wire and leather and metal together until it formed a rough
outline of Stiles' large wing, testing how it moved as he tugged at a handle on
the front of the harness. It was crude, but he would make it work.
 
Tonight was one of those nights he worked on the harness. He was testing the
flapping mechanism in it, when he felt a gentle breeze behind him, and the now
familiar scent of illness. There was a pause as he settled on the ground,
stretching his legs out to balance the harness as he pulled the release handle
on the front of it, watching as it moved. He'd have to figure out an easier way
to move it than the pull lever, but for now it was what he had.
 
The cursed angel made a soft sound, then stepped around to his front. It
reached out, then paused, not quite touching. It frowned, before it hovered
it's hands over the wing, and then to the giant gap in the back of the harness
where the other wing would go through.
 
He frowned, looking up at it, and it shrugged. Then it tilted it's head as it
looked over the harness, and straightened up. It held it's hand up above the
base of the harness and made a soft clicking sound as it pulled it's hand up
about an inch with each click. Derek stared for a moment, trying to comprehend
what it was trying to get across, then he nodded. He could make another
mechanism, that would shift the wing a certain way when the lever was pressed a
certain way.
 
It sat back on it's heels, then smiled softly at him. It wasn't was
intimidating now, even with the black-stained teeth that were jagged and
broken, like it'd been hit in the mouth. After a few visits from it, and it had
actually helped him with the harness and pointed Derek to certain herbs or
artifacts to help Stiles. He knew maybe he shouldn't but... he trusted it.
 
He paused a moment, looking up at it. Now that he actually looked it over there
was something just slightly familiar about it. Something he couldn't place, no
matter how much he looked for it. The angel tilted it's head at him, blinking
and giving him another small little smile. That was it. That smile. It was...
so familiar but... how?
 
“Derek?”
 
Derek jumped when he heard Stiles' voice and scrambled to put away the harness,
careful not to damage it. When he gathered himself up, the angel was gone,
leaving only a blackened piece of land where it was kneeling. Derek huffed and
looked up to their bedroom window. He couldn't see Stiles through it, but he
could hear him, soft breaths letting him know that the boy was awake, and
rustling of sheets as he sat up, calling for his mate again. Derek ran into the
house, taking care not to make too much noise, and rushed up the stairs. He
walked into the bedroom, his heart thumping in his chest with Stiles when the
boy looked up at him with a sleepy whine.
 
“What is it?”
 
Stiles flushed and dropped his eyes to the blanket for a moment, then looked
back up. “I... Could we... maybe...”
 
Stiles trailed off, and Derek smiled softly, walking across the room to settle
in the bed next to Stiles. “Could we what, Stiles?”
 
The boy turned a deeper red and whined, falling into Derek's body, clinging to
him and nuzzling his face into his neck. Derek made a soft sound and curled his
arms around Stiles' back, lightly kneading the stretch of sensitive skin
between his shoulder blades, finger tips just grazing feathers. “Tell me...”
Derek muttered, his lips pressed to Stiles' temple.
 
Stiles let out a breath, shifting so his mouth was pressed to Derek's skin as
he spoke. He could feel more than hear Stiles words as he asked. “I know you
wanted to wait but... I, I need you... I need something, Derek.” He huffed,
breath wet and warm as Derek's body flushed with heat at his mate's words.
“Please, could... could we...”
 
Derek hummed, nipping as his mate's skin, cutting off the rest of his words
with a soft gasp. He had wanted to wait, and honestly, they didn't have too
much longer to wait, just another month an a half or so. But... he could figure
out something. Derek dipped down, nuzzling into Stiles' throat, nipping at the
skin there, too. He watched as a soft red mark bloomed up, even just from the
light pressure his teeth left. He rubbed against it, irritating the skin
further from his stubble before he nipped again, a little harder, feeling
Stiles arch up into him with a whimpering sound.
 
“Derek... Please...” Stiles begged, and Derek relented. He dragged one hand
slowly down Stiles' stomach, feeling the muscles clench underneath his touch,
then traced his fingers over Stiles hardening erection. He barely touched, but
it was enough to have Stiles surging up, grunting like he'd had all the air
knocked out of him.
 
“Shh... I'll get you there. Just be patient.” Derek admonished, pushing Stiles'
hips back into the bed. Stiles groaned, then gasped when Derek traced figures
between his wings, skirting at the base of them, catching soft down and
sensitive muscle with the rough pad of his fingers. Stiles turned his head to
the side, exposing his neck, chuckling breathlessly when Derek growled, his
eyes flashing a deep crimson red.
 
The wolf took control, then, Derek ducking down to bite into Stiles' exposed
skin, making the angel moan loudly, his hips pumping up into Derek's. He
rumbled, shoving Stiles' sleep-bottoms out of the way, hard enough for them to
rip at the seams, and gripped around Stiles' cock, pumping it and thumbing at
the head, until Stiles gave a low, pained sounding grunt, and warm cum was
pumping out across Derek's knuckles.
 
He gave a pleased rumble, waiting until Stiles looked up to him to bring his
spunk covered hand up to his lips to lick it up. Stiles moaned, then scrambled
at Derek's jeans. He managed after a few seconds to pry them open with his
orgasm clumsy fingers and immediately wrapped his fist around Derek. The wolf
growled, humping into the angels grip, licking around lengthened canines to
taste the cooling cream on his knuckles. He was suckling one of his clawed
fingers clean when Stiles found the sensitive bundle of nerves right under the
head of his cock and he growled, cumming all over Stiles' hand and stomach.
 
Afterward, when Derek had licked Stiles cleaned, still seeing everything in
red, feeling his features slowly shift back to normal, Derek curled Stiles up
into his arms, pressing his face into the younger boy's neck and breathing him
in as he slowly regained control of himself. Stiles raised a shaky hand up to
his hair, stroking gently through it. “Thank you...” Stiles muttered, feeling
more relaxed under Derek's attention than he'd felt in days, his limbs all
loose and his heart thumping steadily, at a sure and smooth pace rather than
quickened and uneven as Derek had been familiar with.
 
Derek rumbled, licking gently at Stiles' throat, tongue catching on the patch
of a bruise he'd made earlier, teeth marks just deep enough to draw little
lines of blood. After another few minutes, Stiles was asleep, and Derek watched
as the sun rose up behind him, painting the room and his angel's face with
warm, golden-orange light. He soon followed his mate into sleep, sure that he
was safe, sure that Stiles was better and that he was taking care of him, just
as he should.
 
 
Outside the window, the broken angel settled down onto the tree overlooking the
bedroom. She watched them carefully, taking in how Derek held Stiles like he
was protecting him from the entire world, like he'd bite and tear apart
anything the deemed to hurt him. With a little smile, she flew up.
 
She was never quite sure if Stiles would be completely safe with the wolf.
She'd known wolves, she'd been around them for the past ten years, she'd known
what they were capable of. Speaking with Derek, and seeing how the wolf reacted
around him, she was sure. Genim would be safe in his hands.
 
She landed, wincing as her wings bent and creaked, and she spit out the excess
blood pooling in her mouth, grimacing at the taste of illness and darkness that
she should've been used to now. With a sigh, she walked into the abandoned
building, where the alpha's were, head bowed and giving of a submissive aura,
despite wanting to maul them all, and winced as she was immediately beaten
down, not letting out a cry even as her wing snapped painfully against the
wall, breaking even further.
 
“You let him get away.” The wolf growled, eyes a dangerous red, voice rough and
animalistic as a clawed foot slashed across her chest. She took it, keeping
quiet. The wolf growled more at her silence and whipped her across the room.
She sagged in relief as he chased after her again, glad her silence angered
him, drew him away from trying to capture Genim again. She would keep him safe
like this, keep him from having to endure what she has. She would die, if she
had to, to keep him away from this.
 
After all. She though as her ribs cracked under another assault, closing her
eyes, enraging the alpha further. What else was a mother to do, if she couldn't
protect her son?
***** Chapter 29 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles has a dream of his mother, Derek and Stiles decide it's time
     to prepare the spell for Derek.
“Genim...” Stiles stirred, unused to the hearing his name, grimacing as he
buried his face into his pillow. “Genim, sweetie. Wake up. I have something to
tell you...”
 
Stiles blinked. Wait. No, it... it couldn't be... “Mom?”
 
“That's right, Genim. Now, open your eyes.”
 
He was scared. He... he didn't want to hear his mom's voice, after so many
years of not hearing it, not being able to see her or cling to her when he
wanted to, and not have her actually be there. He didn't want this to be some
cruel dream. “Genim, please. Look at me.”
 
Stiles swallowed, and opened his eyes, looking up.
 
There was his mom but... she was off. Just slightly. She looked haggard, thin
to the point her ribs showed through her tattered and black stained shirt, and
she had large white wings stretched out behind her, but they were damaged,
broken. She smiled at him the same, though, bright and powerful, like the
summer sun. She reached out, brushing a thumb down along his cheek, wiping away
tears he hadn't realized he'd cried. “That's my boy... My beautiful son.” She
whispered, then knelt in front of him, brushing a hand gently through his hair,
making his breath catch because he hadn't felt his mother's touch for so long.
He'd missed her so much.
 
“M-Mom...” He sobbed and she shushed him, tracing her skinny fingers down along
his face. “I... Where'd you go, mom? Why didn't you come back?” He sobbed
again, reaching out for her. She grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers
together, and leaned down, kissing his forehead like she always did before she
was gone. “Was it, was it something I did, mom? Was that why you didn't come
home?”
 
“Oh Genim, sweetie...” She cooed, shaking her head. “No. Nothing you could ever
do could ever make me leave.” She looked over him. “I missed so much... You've
grown so big and strong.” She traced her fingers along his injured wing and...
he could feel it. He could feel her touch and... it-it moved. He sobbed again,
feeling too much, overwhelmed by everything. “I wished so much I could be back
with you, and with your father. I never wanted to leave you. I want you to know
that.” She pressed their forehead together, both hands cradling his head,
rubbing gently into the dip behind his ears. “I loved you both so much, and I
still do. I'm trying so hard to get back to you but there's... there's a
problem. Mommy's trying to get back but it's hard. I promise one day you'll see
me again. I promise you.”
 
Then, Stiles felt a tugging sensation in his chest, and when he looked up, he
could see through his mom, like a ghost, like she wasn't actually there, and he
panicked. “No, no. Mom. Mommy, please, don't leave me again, please. Please
stay, please!”
 
She pulled back and gave him a soft, sad smile as she faded even more. “I'm
sorry, Genim, but mommy has to go now.” She reached down to grab his hands and
squeezed tightly. “I'll come back to you, soon, Genim, I promise. Soon.”
 
 
Stiles jolted awake, looking around the room frantically, already well aware
that it was too late. He sagged in disappointment and squeezed his eyes shut,
trying to stop the tears from coming.
 
“Stiles?” Derek muttered sleepily, sitting up slowly. “What's wrong?”
 
Stiles took a deep breath and gave Derek a strained smile. “It's nothing.
I'm... I'm fine.” He settled back down into the bed and pulled Derek down to
him, ignoring the way the wolf was frowning at him. “Just... bad dream, is
all...”
 
Derek's frown deepened, but he didn't press the matter more. He just settled
down beside Stiles and curled his arms tightly around him. Stiles let out a
shuddering breath, and gripped onto Derek as tight as he could. He couldn't
have Derek disappear on him, too, just like... just like his mom did ten years
ago and just then. He couldn't, he'd break. So he'd hold onto Derek as tight as
he possibly could to stop that from ever happening.
 
Derek seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, because soon the wolf pulled
him closer, turning them so Derek was caging Stiles in with his body, touching
him on every inch of his body. He pressed their mouths together lightly and
nuzzled against him, leaning down to whisper to the angel. “I'm not going
anywhere. I promise.”
 
Stiles' eyes filled with tears at the familiar words, but he didn't speak. He
just held on tighter, pressing his face to Derek's chest, listening to the
steady heart beat inside, concentrating on it and Derek's warmth to help him
remember that Derek was still there, that he'd still be there even when Stiles
closed his eyes.
 
 
The next day found Stiles in the middle of the living room, drawing the symbol
for Derek over and over again, surrounded by pages of it. He had it pretty much
perfect every time now, meaning that soon he'd have the means to protect Derek
more efficiently. He felt his wing twitch behind him, and paused. His wing
moved in the dream... he could actually feel it move. But... after, when he
tried for hours while Derek fell back to sleep, it didn't move, didn't even
twitch, no matter how he tried. He couldn't feel anything in it. It was
frustrating.
 
He frowned down at the circle on his paper, wondering just what his dream
meant. Why, after so long, would he dream of his mom again? And why would she
say what she did? Usually, right after she died, he always had dreams of her,
but nothing like this. In his dreams before she'd hold him, the both of them
quiet, maybe sometimes she'd hum to him or card her fingers through his
feathers but that'd be it. Maybe... Maybe she's... alive?
 
He shook the thought out of his head before it could take too much of a hold.
He didn't want to get his hopes up. With a huff, he continued drawing, taking
his time to get every piece right. Once he was done he pulled back, examining
it closely, making sure there were absolutely no mistakes.
 
After finding no possible flaws in his work, he pulled his phone out, scrolling
through his contacts until he got to Deaton's number. He called it and, upon
getting the vet's voice mail, he started speaking. “Deaton, it's Stiles. I was
wondering if you could get to work on that special project we'd talked about. I
think I'm ready.”
 
With that, he hung up, and flipped away the page, starting the outline of the
same symbol again. He was going to get as much practice for it as he possibly
could before he had to do it for real on Derek.
 
Speaking of... Stiles turned, smiling when he saw Derek padding out of the
bedroom. After their little tossle in the sheets and the quick nap afterward,
Derek had changed into a pair of low-hanging sweats that fit him perfectly,
revealing a little bit of the thin trail of hair on the alpha's navel. Derek
grinned at him, scratching a hand through his already messy hair as he moved
into the kitchen, probably following the scent of coffee there. Stiles shook
his head and returned to his drawing.
 
He lost a little track of time then, concentrating too deeply into making the
lines perfect and making sure all the right details were there, that when Derek
crawled up behind him, and curled loosely around him, he jumped.
 
Derek chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Stiles' neck. “Morning.”
 
Stiles hummed, dropping the drawing and tilting his head back to connect their
mouths. The kiss was slow, languid and flowing, easy and lazy like this
morning. When they finally pulled apart Stiles smiled into Derek's mouth,
scratching his fingers gently through the little soft hairs at the base of
Derek's neck. “Morning...”
 
The alpha gave him a goofy grin and looked over Stiles shoulder, taking in the
many drawings around them. He hummed, then made a small, sort of strangled
sound. “Stiles.” He said, sounding like he just realized something important.
“There's probably... other angels that got injured like this, right?” Stiles
blinked, turning back to the wolf, shrugging his shoulders and nodding slowly.
“You think maybe there's something we could find to help with the healing?
Maybe someone else came up with something to help them move again.”
 
Stiles paused a moment, then nodded. “Maybe.” He wiggled out of Derek's arms
and stood up, stretching out his numb legs and his wings. “Worth a look.”
 
The two bounded upstairs, pulling out the book Deaton had given him and scoured
over it, looking for any hint of what to do for a paralyzed wing, like Stiles
had. They spent a good few hours, and eventually Deaton called to set up a time
to get the ink from him, and Stiles called it quits. He frowned, his healthy
wing twitching irritably.
 
Derek sighed, squeezing Stiles' hand in his. “We'll figure something out
eventually.” He leaned across the bed to the angel, nipping his his pouting
lip. “I promised, remember?” He reminded with a playful little grin.
 
Stiles huffed, but he smiled. He knew it was silly to get his hopes up but...
he believed Derek would eventually find something. Somehow, he just knew.
“Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes at Derek then, trying to figure out a way to take
the conversation off of the sensitive topic, then grinned, his eyes settled on
Derek's chest. “That tattoo is gonna look so good on you...”
 
Derek flushed but smirked. “Yeah?” He stretched out, and Stiles followed him as
he slowly reclined until he was leaning back on his elbows, chest rising with
every breath. “It's probably gonna be real sensitive afterward, you know.”
Derek grinned when Stiles let out a little groan, tracing his fingers lightly
along the arch of Stiles' wing, making him shudder. “Maybe like this, where I
can't help but shiver anytime you even so much as graze it.” He paused a
moment, tracing circles into the feathers as his expression shifted from
teasing to curious. “Since you're transferring magic into me, would you be
transferring that same sort of bond into it? Like how they're only sensitive
like this when I touch them, would the tattoo be the same?”
 
Stiles paused, halfway bent down over Derek's throat, and pulled back. “I
dunno.” He grinned, licking his lips, giddily watching as Derek's eyes traced
the path of his tongue. “We'll just have to find out, won't we?”
 
Derek hummed, his pupils blowing up until his eyes were practically black, just
a small sliver of red around the edges as his fangs lengthened in his mouth,
the wolf rumbling out a growl just before he flipped them over and dove in,
sucking and nipping marks all along the angels shoulders and throat.
 
Stiles gladly returned the favor until Derek was just as marked up and messy
with bruises as he was, then he giggled as he rocked his hips up into Derek's,
the wolf whining and unable to decide if he wanted to arch into them or away.
 
In the end, about an hour later found the couple curled up together for an
afternoon nap, both sticky and exhausted from their respective orgasms.
 
 
It was many hours later, all light gone with the new moon. A hunter was moving
through the preserve, flashlight in hand but turned off, and a shotgun in the
other. He frowned as he saw an odd patch of ground, burned and dead. Kneeling
down, he ran his fingers over the dead grass, and quickly drew his hand back
when it stung, like he'd just touched a flash rather than a blade of grass.
 
Behind him, dead, golden eyes flashed open, and large, white wings, stained
with black, stretched open. The creature bent down above the hunter, mouth
cracking open, groaning.
 
The hunter sprung up, spinning around to shoot whatever creature was behind
him, but he didn't get the chance. The gun was yanked out of his hands as the
creature shot a hand up, some force ripping it from his grip. It tilted it's
head as he dug out a knife, and then grinned as it leapt at the hunter, long
arms with long, dirty fingers stretching out and grabbing the man by the
throat.
 
The hunter screamed, only for a second, before it was suddenly cut off, the
silence that followed eerie and unnatural. The angel with dead, yellow eyes
gave a satisfied hiss as it dropped the hunter's body to the ground, his blood
on it's hands, his body a grayed husk of dried skin and bone. It was just
turning to leave, when it caught the scent of something familiar. A creature
like what it used to be. An angel, uncorrupted.
 
The creature grinned, slowly, and gracefully rose up into the sky. It would
have a new toy, soon.
 
***** Chapter 30 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles marks Derek and they discover a few of the advantages to Derek
     being marked with Stiles' magic.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry about the delay on this chapter, new job has been a bit
     difficult to get used to. Might come late next week, too, but
     hopefully I can get back on track and have these updated by Thursday/
     Friday again. :P
Derek leaned back into the soft chair moved to the center of the den, his eyes
closed as he listened to Stiles and Deaton move around him. He was calm,
breathing even and slow. He'd been reassured that the tattoo would stay; unlike
regular ink, this was imbued with an herb blend ages old used in angel magics,
and it had a great deal of magic going into it. And, the pain would be minimal,
just a gentle stinging sensation, like a mild sunburn.
 
He let out a gentle breath, and peeked an eye open. Deaton was just handing off
the bottle of ink to Stiles, who was settled into a stool pulled up by the
seat, and needle gun in his hands. “It should heal fine on it's own after
you're done, no need for ointments or any sort of first aid for it. Just try
not to irritate the skin around it for twenty-four hours.” He paused, grabbing
up his bag that had all the tools Stiles was now holding in his hands and
spread out on a table dragged over by them, then nodded and turned to leave.
 
Stiles waited until the door clicked shut then turned to Derek, letting out a
breath. “Ready?”
 
Derek gave Stiles a soft smile and nodded. “Yeah.” He reached over, squeezing
Stiles' fingers softly. “Relax.”
 
Stiles' lips twitched along with his wing, then he drew in a deep breath,
holding it for a few moments before he breathed out again, giving Derek a
pointed look. Derek rolled his eyes and settled back into the chair, relaxing
his body and closing his eyes.
 
Stiles' hand brushed up against his chest after a few minutes of rustling, and
Derek restrained the urge to push into his touch. There was a soft click, then
a buzzing sound, and Derek felt the first sting of the needle, followed
immediately by a rush of power. He held his breath, feeling magic spark across
his skin, sink bone deep into him, Stiles' presence something in that moment
completely melded with his.
 
“Oh.” Derek breathed, opening his eyes, looking up to Stiles. His lips were
moving, and the wolf could hear the angel muttering something, softly, the
words sounding like a jumble of vowels and breathy sighs. Stiles' eyes were
shifting from their usual brown to a sort of golden color, metallic and bright,
unreal. Derek watched, amazed, the faint hurt secondary to watching Stiles.
 
As the angel kept drawing his mark into Derek, he could feel more magic sinking
into him, controlled and concentrated, growing hot and pulsing in his chest.
His wolf arched up into it, practically purring at the feel of it, the feel of
Stiles' magic stroking through his fur, making his tongue loll and his legs
ache to run howling through the woods.
 
After a few minutes, another surge of energy crashed over him, stronger than
the last two. He heaved in a breath, fighting himself to keep from arching up
into Stiles like he so wanted. Derek squeezed his eyes shut, the sensations
running through him too much all at once; the primal urges of his wolf, the
feeling of new strength coursing through his blood, of the deep connection with
Stiles, deepening with every line he drew into Derek's skin. He felt like he
was going to burst from it all.
 
Suddenly Stiles' paused, pulling the needle up with a soft breath. “Am I
hurting you?”
 
Derek wanted to laugh. God, no, hurting him? It was the furthest thing from
pain. Instead, he swallowed around a dry mouth and shook his head, his voice
ragged when he spoke. “No.”
 
Stiles paused another second, then Derek felt him shifting, and... and not even
feeling it physically, he could feel Stiles... Stiles aura shifting, his magic
moving with his body. Then Stiles chuckled and Derek felt that power spike
inside of both of them, along with the sudden burst of Stiles' arousal that
tasted like liquid fire across his tongue. Fuck.
 
“Oh.” Stiles said, still chuckling a little. “No, that's... definitely not
hurting you.” He could hear Stiles voice drop, and smell and feel his body
shifting gears into sex. “We'll take care of that when we're through here,
don't worry.” Stiles purred, brushing his fingers gently over the straining
erection in Derek's jeans. Derek groaned and dropped his head back, shuddering
all over. “I don't have much more to go, just a few touch ups.”
 
Derek nodded, digging his claws into the arm of the chair when Stiles continued
tattooing. He didn't even know when he'd shifted, but now that he did he'd
realized he'd managed to shift fully into his beta form, and when he tried to
shift back the transition was smooth, nearly instant and completely painless
whereas before there was a little discomfort as his features moved or grew or
shrunk. He wondered if that was because of Stiles' magic, something that came
with the variety of spells he was weaving into one mark.
 
Curious, he focused on his senses, to see how much they'd improved. He
stretched his hearing as far as he could, and it took him a moment to realize
he could hear the sounds of traffic from the city five miles out at most, and
he could smell the scent of old stale coffee from the coffee shop a couple of
blocks down, and even the scent of pack nearly the same distance away, moving
closer, and Deaton moving farther and farther away.
 
Though, his senses weren't improved that much, it was his connection with
Stiles that had grown so much, to the point that Derek couldn't quite remember
how it felt not to be able to feel everything Stiles felt, to feel Stiles'
breaths and, and even feel the steady pace of Stiles' heart in his own chest,
like every part of them, every vital organ keeping them alive was connected,
helping to keep the other alive, too.
 
Suddenly the buzzing of the tattoo gun died off, and Derek blinked his eyes
open. There Stiles was, leaning over him, his eyes fading from that bright,
brilliant gold they took on whenever that non-human part of him started to show
through a bit more. Stiles let out a breath, his wing sagging behind him, and
he traced over the tattoo with his thumb.
 
Derek arched up, feeling like he was being shocked with a thousand volts of
electricity, without the pain. No, it just felt... sudden, sharp, like a whip
crack against his skin, blooming up heat and a pleasure where Stiles' thumb
traced along the line of the circle. Stiles' bit his lip, watching Derek slump
back down when he drew his hand back, the wolf nearly slipping out of his chair
as he just fell, boneless, feeling like he was falling from the sky back down
to earth rather than the few inches into the chair.
 
“God.” Stiles breathed, sounding just as wrecked as Derek felt. “I can... I can
feel you. I can feel everything about you.” He set down the gun and moved so he
was straddling the alpha. Stiles hesitated a moment, then reached out, touching
his palm to the mark, and Derek felt like he was being shoved out of his body
only to be shoved right back in through a little hole in his skin. He... he
could feel Stiles' presence in him, like Stiles had crawled right in with him,
and suddenly his wolf was rearing up, and his features were shifting, his bones
rearranging and moving and coarse fur sprouting all over his body. He was
shifting into an alpha, for the first time, and he wasn't controlling it.
 
He panicked at first but... nothing happened, the wolf didn't react much past
arching up into Stiles' hand, and Stiles stared, his mouth dropped open as he
watched.
 
“Did... did I just...”
 
The wolf licked at Stiles fingers, before slipping out of the chair onto the
floor. He felt Stiles suddenly sliding out of his body and Derek was back in
control. He looked down at paws instead of fingers, and his muzzle felt too
long and awkward on his face, and just walking was odd for him. He looked up at
Stiles, and then felt something unlocking in his chest before he was melting
back into his human form.
 
Derek breathed out, shuddering. Everything was just so intense. He flexed his
fingers against the wood and fell back onto his ass from where he was on his
hands and knees after the transformation. He gasped softly as Stiles' traced
his long fingers along Derek's jaw, lightly scratching through stubble. “I
forced you to shift?”
 
Derek shrugged, arching up into Stiles' hand. “You more pulled the wolf out.”
He turned his head, licking at Stiles' fingers, still feeling feral, the magic
still buzzing under his skin like a living thing, like Stiles was still tucked
inside of him. He looked up at Stiles. “You can control it, apparently.”
 
“Part of the spell?”
 
Derek shrugged again; it could've been the spell, or his wolf reacting to
Stiles' presence inside of him, along with the magic pulsing through him like
blood. He said as much out loud. “I really don't know but... It's not... it
wasn't bad.” He tilted his head up, staring directly into Stiles soft human-
brown eyes. “It could be useful.” He added. “I felt so much more powerful in
that moment, with you guiding the wolf out, putting your magic behind it. If we
need that extra strength, we can use it.”
 
Stiles nodded, then glanced down to the mark, dropping his hand from Derek's
stubble. “It actually worked...”
 
Derek rumbled out a growl of pleasure when Stiles' stroked over the tattoo
again, watching the boy's lips twitch when he arched up into it. Stiles licked
his lips then slid out of his seat, kneeling in front of Derek. He leaned
forward, pressing their mouths together, the sensation of them melded together
making his head buzz.
 
Along with his own arousal, Derek could feel Stiles', hot like a furnace that
was steady and constantly building up heat, until it felt like flames were
licking across Derek's skin, making him pant with need when they pulled apart.
 
Stiles looked over Derek, his mouth open and wet, hand resting gently against
the tattoo. Slowly, Derek felt more magic seeping into him through their bond,
sensitive and delicious, making him gasp and arch up into Stiles. Stiles eyes
slowly faded from their usual chestnut brown to that golden color, glittering
as the angel looked over him, the scent of his arousal thick and heavy and
sickeningly sweet in the room.
 
They both jumped when the door slammed open, Isaac and Scott tumbling in.
Stiles scrambled off of Derek where he was straddling the alpha, and... Derek
didn't remember when exactly they'd gotten into that position. Isaac paused
when he entered the room, then wrinkled his nose and brought his shirt up to
cover his face, while Scott made a sound like he was dying and just spun around
on his heel to leave, complaining loudly about how the two of them could never
keep it in their pants.
 
Stiles cleared his throat, blinking the gold out of his eyes, the magic fading
from Derek's body in a slow, steady trickle of energy. “So did you... did you
guys find anything?”
 
Isaac, used to their near constant states of arousal around one another,
shrugged and answered from behind his shirt. “No, no sign of the alphas. The
only thing was a bit of fresh blood by the entry way but their trail
disappeared after that. Hopefully they moved out of the county, and not just
the building.”
 
Stiles huffed. “Unlikely.” He glanced down to Derek. “With our luck they're
still in town, doubling their numbers somehow. Maybe raising the dead, since
they seem to be so good at that.” He grumbled, then turned to Derek. “We have a
bit of an advantage now, though, I guess.”
 
Derek nodded slowly, sliding his hands up along Stiles' back as he did. Stiles
lips twitched into a small little smile, but he didn't say anything else. Isaac
coughed and looked away from them, muttering something about going to check on
Scott.
 
Derek didn't pay much more attention to anything else after the beta left,
instead, all his attention was settled on his mate. His mate who was sitting on
top of him, smiling down at him, his eyes in a sort of limbo between his human
brown and the supernatural gold. Stiles moved his good wing to drape around
them, the feathers tickling Derek's skin as they did. Stiles' mark throbbed
pleasantly when the soft down skimmed over his neck and he bit down on a moan.
He wondered if it was just as sensitive as Stiles' wings, if it would react
like this anytime Stiles even touched him, like now.
 
The wolf arched up into the smaller boy, closing his eyes as a pleased growl
rumbled through him. Stiles chuckled softly, then leaned down over Derek. His
soft, full lips brushed over Derek's ear, making the alpha gasp and his hands
dig into Stiles' skin, then Stiles spoke, running his hand gently over the
tattoo.
 
“Just think of tonight... when we'll test to see just how sensitive it is.” He
huffed out a small laugh, scraping a nail over the lines of ink, making Derek
whimper, pleasure racking his body. “See just how much you can take before you
go crazy.”
 
“Um.” Isaac yelled out, and the two froze again. “I think it's time we get
going and let you two get back to your... your...” The beta choked up and then
the two boys scrambled away, like Derek and Stiles just couldn't wait one more
little second to have each other.
 
Stiles snorted, beaming down at the alpha as he shook his head at the beta's
behavior. His eyes almost instantly fell on his mark, his grin widening just
enough for Derek to notice, and his fingers tracing over it again. Derek
groaned, dropping his head back into the chair, arching up into his touch
slightly.
 
Stiles licked his lips, then pulled his hand away, giving Derek a shy little
smile. “Sorry. I... I just like seeing you with this...” He glanced down to the
mark again, licking his lips, like he wanted to taste it. Derek shuddered at
the thought of it. “It's like a constant reminder that you're mine now, a
permanent reminder.” Stiles muttered reverently, his hand going right back to
touch despite pulling away just seconds before.
 
Derek hummed, closing his eyes and letting Stiles touch the mark, shivering at
every little brush of skin against it. He smiled to himself as he started to
drift a little bit under Stiles attention. He'd return the favor of marking up
Stiles one of these days. Decorate Stiles' throat and collar with bites, mark
him dark purple and beautiful, all his.
***** Chapter 31 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the long wait. New job is taking up nearly all my time now.
     I'm going to try and get back on track soon. :(
Derek traced the darkening marks along the back of Stiles' neck while the boy
slept, a small smile on his face as he did. He still felt shaky, like his
entire body was vibrating still from the intensity of his three orgasms that
Stiles had wrung out of him, solely by lavishing all his attention on the mark
that throbbed on his chest.
 
Stiles' wing twitched, before it tucked around Stiles' body like a blanket,
exposing the hickeys and teeth marks even more for the alpha. He rumbled in
appreciation and licked across them, chuckling when Stiles squirmed in his
sleep, smacking his lips and making little pleased huffing sounds.
 
Derek was able to sit and admire his mate in the early morning light for a few
more seconds, before he could sense something approaching, something not pack,
and something dark.
 
The alpha growled, smelling that same sick scent he'd been expecting to come
around for a while that hadn't, but this... this was different. This thing
wanted to hurt them, he could feel it. He felt a spike of heat rush through his
chest and he shook Stiles awake, glad when the angel woke completely alert.
Stiles sat straight up, head tilted in the direction the threat was coming
from, then he snatched his phone off the floor where it'd fallen off in the
night and dialed Scott while Derek hopped off the bed and let himself bleed
into his alpha form, feeling his bones and muscles shift underneath his
darkening skin.
 
“There's something coming.” Stiles explained when Scott finally picked up.
“Something bad. Not like the alphas, it's not a wolf. I don't know what it is,
Scott, but it's coming here and it feels malicious. Just get here with the
others ready to kill something.”
 
Then Stiles hung up, and looked up to Derek. “Do you want me to stay?”
 
Derek answered with a growl. Of course not. Stiles was already injured. There
was no way he was going to let anything hurt him ever again. He was going to
get Stiles safe and locked away from whatever creature had dropped in to harm
them this time. Stiles sighed, but nodded, gathering up a small pouch that
contained that same herb mix Deaton had made to ward off the cursed angel from
before. “If anything goes wrong, I'm going to be coming up here.” Stiles
warned, just before he was racing out the door and down the stairs into the
basement.
 
The wolf felt his chest rumble with a growl, and he faced the windows, where he
could feel the creature drawing closer. He felt his fur stand on end, his claws
and teeth growing hot with the urge to rip apart this thing encroaching on his
territory with the intention to harm his mate. Derek waited, until he could see
the dark form of the creature drawing closer, and closer, until it dropped down
just below the wall of windows in the bedroom, falling below to the first
floor, closer to where Stiles was.
 
Derek snarled, bounding down the hall and down the stairs. He was just
descending into the den when the door blew inside, skidding across the floor
until it smashed into the wall right infront of the alpha. He dodged it, moving
back just for a moment before he leaped forward, spinning around to face the
creature, letting out a roar that rattled the walls when he saw it.
 
He was tall, broad, wide-spread wings stretched behind him, his features sunken
in, and clothes tattered and stained with blood. His eyes were golden, but
nothing like what Derek had seen with the other angels he'd met; there eyes had
nothing behind them, they were absent of any emotion or feeling. The sight of
the man had Derek's hackles rising.
 
The man tilted his head, mouth opened slightly, like a snake scenting the air
for prey, then he smirked. Derek growled when the man lifted his hand up to the
alpha, and he lunged when the man moved.
 
Derek felt a sharp, sudden pain bloom through the side of his head, his neck
snapping back and his body suddenly flying through the air. His back hit the
wall, hard, and he let out an involuntary whimper, ducking his head down to
cover his muzzle with a large paw. The man simply smirked at him again, and
started moving toward the basement stairs, where Stiles was hiding.
 
Derek growled, surging up, ignoring the pain radiating from his jaw when it
moved, and leaped to the angel again, swiping at him with his claws. He felt
the give of flesh under his nails, and there was a quick moment of relief, that
Derek had gotten into him as much as the man had him, but then it was gone. The
smirk melted off the man's face, replaced with a dark look, his eyes going a
molten gold, and he grabbed Derek's paw. Derek gritted his teeth as his hand
was crushed, the pain making him cry out as he shifted back to human.
 
He fell to the floor, holding his broken hand to his stomach, the pain of the
bones settling back into place just as bad as the break. His vision wavered as
he forced himself back up, back in the path of the angel, growling, baring his
fangs and brandishing his good set of claws. He was not going to let this thing
get to Stiles. Even if it killed him. He would protect Stiles with his last
dying breath.
 
The angel hissed at him, wings spreading out wide enough to fill the room, and
it almost seemed like the light was being sucked out of the room, the angel
seemed to be getting taller, more intimidating. Derek didn't move, didn't
flinch at all, just growled, flashing his alpha red eyes at the creature, ready
to lunge and bite and rip him apart.
 
The angel huffed, sneering at him in disgust. It's eyes flashed golden, then it
swung out. Derek felt a hard pressure in his chest, like a kick, and he was
flying off to the side, back crashing into the wall with a painful crack that
had him crying out. He looked up through blurred vision, seeing the angel
coming towards him, away from the basement stairs. Good. If I can distract
him... then maybe Stiles can get away...
 
The angel took one more step towards him, before the door to the basement was
blasting off it's hinges, rocketing across the floor straight into the angel,
knocking him out of the way. Derek looked up, seeing Stiles storming up from
the stairs, eyes glowing gold and the strong scent of magic practically pouring
off of him in waves.
 
No. No, no, no, no, no. Derek was panicking. He didn't want Stiles involved in
the fight. He doesn't want Stiles hurt, not again.
 
He whipped around when the intruder threw the door off, growling, wiping off
the smear of blood from his temple. Just as he was taking a step to move toward
them, Stiles shook his head, thrusting his hands out toward the angel, sending
him skidding backward like he'd been hit with a brick wall. Every time the
angel tried to move, Stiles would knock him back about five feet, again and
again. Until Derek could see blood pouring from the angel's nose, and his lip
cracked and bleeding down his chin, getting worse as Stiles kept pushing.
 
Finally the angel was pushed up against the windows facing the clearing to the
front of the house. Stiles' eyes lit up, almost bright enough to illuminate the
room in front of him, and Derek could actually see the magic building up around
Stiles' finger tips, swirls and wisps and gold and silver light whirling around
his wrists and hands. “No one hurts my mate.” Stiles warned, his voice
sounding... odd. Like it was layered with a thousand different other voices. He
lifted his hands up, then pushed one last time, magic exploding from his
fingertips and sending the angel crashing through the window. Derek could hear
him hitting a tree about half a mile out, knocking it and himself to the ground
with a crash.
 
Stiles seemed to deflate, shoulders dropping and magic falling away. He let out
a breath and turned toward Derek, gold bleeding out of his eyes as he walked
toward Derek.
 
“You okay?” Stiles asked, softly, gently touching Derek's shoulder and broken
hand.
 
“Fine...” Derek murmured, shifting a little against the wall. He flinched when
Stiles' hands lit up with a softer magic, pale silver slithering down his
fingertips into Derek's wounds, helping him heal and coating the pain in
warmth.
 
Derek relaxed into the wall, staring over Stiles, taking him in. Finally, he
cleared his throat. “How...” He swallowed when Stiles' looked up at him, light
brown eyes. “How did you do that?”
 
Stiles stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged, dropping his eyes back
to his hands. “I don't know.” Stiles let out a breath. “Just, I could feel your
pain, and I just... lost it.” The magic faded away, the last tendrils of silver
bleeding into Derek's skin. Stiles rocked back onto his heels, dropping his
hand from Derek's shoulder onto his hip. “I couldn't think of anything else
other than killing the person who hurt you.”
 
Derek swallowed, pulling Stiles toward him. Derek curled his arms around him,
digging his fingers into Stiles feathers, tucking his face into the boy's neck.
 
***** Chapter 32 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek recover after their encounter with the enemy angel,
     and the pack encounters a familiar face in need of help.
Chapter Notes
     Ahhh! Sorry about being so late and for the short chapter. Work has
     been crazy, having to cover a lot of shifts for everyone so I haven't
     really gotten time to do much writing. I'll try to get the next one
     up sooner. :/
Stiles rocked back onto his heels, dropping his hand from Derek's shoulder onto
his hip. “I couldn't think of anything else other thankillingthe person who
hurt you.”
 
Derek swallowed, pulling Stiles toward him. Derek curled his arms around him,
digging his fingers into Stiles feathers, tucking his face into the boy's neck.
 
 
The two sat there for a few moments, breathing each other in, Derek checking
over Stiles for injuries as he held him and Stiles allowing it, tucking a wing
carefully around him.
 
It was a few moments of silence, then there was a screeching sound, and a
bright burst of light followed by debris flying around them, wood and glass
flying into them. Stiles tensed, and Derek watched the magic bleed back into
him, eyes going molten gold, before he was lifting away from Derek facing the
angel that had come back, now bloody, arm hanging limp at his side, but looking
absolutely livid.
 
Stiles' wing twitched out, and then he was lifting his hand up, magic swirling
quickly and dangerously around his fist. “I'll give you a chance to leave
peacefully.” He warned, watching the angel carefully, the angel watching
Stiles' hand like the loaded gun it was. “If you don't, I'm going to rip your
wings off, and put my fist through your skull.”
 
Derek felt a shiver run up along his spine, the charge of Stiles magic in the
air making his skin pebble up with goosebumps and hair stand on end. Did
Stiles' magic become improved after connecting with Derek? Or... or is it just
because he was hurt, like Stiles had said? Derek watched, the enemy angel's
wings falling and his antagonistic stance falling. He frowned, but backed away,
eyes always on Stiles until he was far enough that he could simply kick up off
the ground and fly into the air.
 
Stiles waited a few moments then let the magic melt away. He huffed and glanced
back to Derek, scratching at the back of his neck. “I... We probably can't stay
here tonight...”
 
Derek glanced around; it was true, what was beginning to shape back into a home
from the burned remains he'd known for so long, was now wrecked again. Windows
broken, walls shattered, doors ripped from their hinges. Derek sighed, and
looked up when Stiles' offered him a hand to help him up. He lifted up to his
feet and nodded. “We'll get Scott and Isaac to help rebuild tomorrow. For now
we can go back to your home.”
 
Stiles nodded, then looked up when the sound of a car's engine cutting off came
from the huge hole in the front of the house. Scott and Isaac piled out,
Scott's mouth hanging open as he took in the damage. “What happened here? Looks
like a war broke out.”
 
Stiles frowned. “Another angel, this one, though, wants to kill us.” He raised
his brows at them. “You're late, by the way. Could've used some help.”
 
Just as Derek was thinking over how they could've gotten a hit in with Stiles'
continuously attacking it, the two betas ducked their heads. “We got a little
tied up.” Isaac answered. Scott seemed to perk up, like he was remembering
something and he nodded.
 
“You two need to come with us.” When neither man moved, simply staring at the
two betas in confusion, Scott gave a slightly frustrated sigh. “Now, it's
important.”
 
 
Following the beta for nearly half an hour found them at the very edge of the
preserve, about half a mile from the alpha pack's hideout. They broke through
the thick grouping of trees, into a small clearing, where at the center was...
 
Derek's heart dropped at what he saw, that sense of dread and the scent of
illness that seemed to get stronger the closer they got making sense when they
found the angel that had helped him before with Stiles. She was sitting on the
ground, bloody and even more broken than when he'd last seen. She had several
deep claw marks running along her arms and torso, and her wing bent at an angle
that made his stomach roil.
 
Stiles' breath hitched, and when Derek looked at him he saw the boy was turned
away, grimacing. He felt a brief flicker of pain through their connection, and
watched as Stiles glanced up to the two betas.
 
Isaac cleared his throat, gesturing to the unconscious angel. “She... she ran
into us like this. It was hard to understand most of what she said but we did
understand...” Isaac paused, and Scott carried on for him.
 
“She asked for you, Stiles.”
 
 
Stiles looked up between the two of them, then back down to the other angel. He
couldn't see her face through the blood and blackness that coated most of her
body. He was a little leery of any other angels like him, considering that one
had tried to kill them just moments before, and the other one he'd met had been
dropping around him everywhere, cursed, nearly driving him crazy with the
nearly constant contact of the cursed vibes it always gave off.
 
Still, he didn't have any sort of bad feelings about this, about her, so he
stepped forward, glancing back to Derek and feeling a little more relieved when
he saw the alpha following closely behind him, keeping a close eye on him and
the angel. When he'd gotten just barely close enough he dropped down on his
knees beside her, looking over her wounds without touching. He didn't know
really why she'd ask for him, unless it was for help, since it was obvious she
needed it. He didn't really know much about magic, just what he'd done for
Derek. And what he'd done unconsciously, by instinct.
 
Stiles frowned, a little hesitant to to get much closer than he already was. He
let out a breath and reached out slowly just barely tapping his fingers to her
shoulder.
 
He felt magic snap up out of him, sparks of pale gold light leeching out of his
hand into her skin. She lurched forward, gasping and coughing, blackness flying
out of her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head. He could feel the
wolves rushing around them, and he could feel the energy he was giving off. He
concentrated on that, on that warm feeling of the magic, and tried to think
about pushing it into the woman's body, to help her.
 
After a few moments he could feel the air around them becoming lighter, like a
thick, black fog that he didn't notice before was lifting, and he when he cut
off the trail of magic from his fingertips she slumped back, chestnut brown
hair falling into her face and the black coating her skin slowly falling away,
cracking off and burning away into ash that disappeared in the wind.
 
Stiles watched, mouth hanging open as piece by piece the blackness fell away,
revealing the woman underneath. And... Stiles could feeling Derek coming up
behind him as he gasped, tears spilling over his face and throat burning with
emotion when he realized just who it was underneath all that blackness.
 
“Mom...?”
 
 
***** Chapter 33 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles' and Derek find a new ally in the angel's mother; Derek is
     told a terrible secret in the dark of the night.
Chapter Notes
     Ugh, sorry this took long to update again. Work is being a butt and
     this past week I've been pretty badly sick. But never fear! I have
     the next two chapters mostly drawn out, so hopefully I can get some
     time to write them out.
Eva let out a breath, unhindered for the first time in a long, long time, and
opened her eyes to see her son kneeling in front of her, his mate right behind
him. She heaved in another breath and smiled tiredly. “Genim, my dear sweet
Genim.” She stroked a hand through his hair, wiping away a stray tear from his
cheek. “You've grown so much since I last saw you.” She glanced over him, then
lightly traced her hands along one of his wings. “And your wings are nice and
strong.” She glanced up to the alpha standing behind Genim, who didn't look as
surprised as everyone else in the clearing about her identity, more relieved.
“And your mate. I could never thank you enough for helping him, and me.”
 
Genim was still sitting there, stunned, tears flowing freely down his face. The
alpha nodded, giving her a soft smile that fit a lot more naturally to his face
than the scowl she'd usually seen him wear. She smiled back, before dropping
her gaze back to her son. “Genim, it's okay.” She rubbed away the tear streaks
on his cheeks, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “I'm here,
everything's alright.”
 
Genim blinked once, shaking his head slightly like he was coming out of a
dream, then he let out a small sob before falling forward and hugging her.
“Mommy...”
 
She smiled, running a hand down along his spine as he cried, letting him let it
all out. She pressed one hand gently to his injured wing, letting her weakened
magic mend it slightly, renewing broken bone and torn muscle.
 
She could hear his breath stuttering out of him, his wing arching into the
touch. She noticed the alpha settling down beside them, and when he noticed her
looking he gave her a grateful nod toward Genim's wing.
 
Eva smiled back, then drew the alpha in together with them with one of her
large wings and closed her eyes as Genim started to wind down, now just
clinging to her desperately. She'd missed this. She'd almost gotten to the
point of forgetting it, the corruption so thick and consuming in her mind,
but... Genim had shone through that darkness, even brighter when she'd finally
found him again.
 
She wasn't going to want to let go of this ever again...
 
 
Things were fairly calm between Evangeline's reawakening to now, Scott and
Isaac back at the McCall house after being assured that Stiles was fine, just
shocked, and Stiles, Eva and Derek in the Hale house, down in the remodeled
basement curled up a spread out blanket by the room heater Derek had brought in
not too long ago. How long it'd stay calm, Derek couldn't really say. Maybe for
the night, given the angel that had attacked them seemed at least a little bit
put off about Stiles' power. Hopefully they'd have the week to prepare, but the
alpha knew that was pushing it.
 
Derek looked over to the two angels, taking in how Stiles was curled into Eva,
her wings tucked around the younger boy. Her body was still littered with
little marks, scars that stretched long and deep like claw marks, large
circular shaped scars like there was once a chunk of flesh ripped out by teeth.
He could only imagine what the alpha's had done to her, especially if they'd
kept her for all the time she'd been missing.
 
Derek felt a growl rumble out of him, unbidden. Eva looked up, dark brown brows
raised. The alpha frowned. “We need to get rid of the alpha pack.” He sat up,
tucking his legs underneath him as he spoke. “They're going to come back to
kill us at some point, and they've already harmed to two of you enough.” He
snarled. “I can risk anyone else getting hurt because of them.” Because I
wasn't able to stop them.
 
Derek jumped when he felt a hand skim across his thigh. He looked up to see the
angel smiling softly at him. “Not everything falls on your shoulders, Hale.”
She glanced down to Stiles, who by now was soft asleep, and grinned. “I may not
have been here long when that fire happened, but I'd met the angel who took
care of you.” Before the alpha could speak she continued, moving her piercing
gaze back up to him. “She'd always said you were like that, even before the
accident.”
 
Derek stared for a moment, then frowned. “That... it wasn't an accident... I-”
 
Eva hushed him, shaking her head. “I know. And it wasn't you, either.” She
paused as he tried, and failed to find words, then finally she opened up her
arms. “Come here.”
 
Whining, he obediently crawled under her wing, tucking up next to Stiles. The
senior angel clucked her tongue. “I think for now, we all need to rest. Get our
heads about us. And then tomorrow we can make a plan.”
 
There was a soft sound from Stiles, then, and the boy shifted, murmuring
sleepily as he clutched tighter to the both of them. “You'll... be here still
tomorrow...?”
 
Derek felt his heart ache at the words, at how small Stiles' voice was. Eva
didn't speak for a few moments, and for once she seemed a little shaken, not
calm and collected and cool like Derek had seen her since the curse was sucked
out from Stiles' magic. She swallowed heavily, and nodded, clutching Stiles a
little tighter. “Yes I will... I promise.”
 
There were a few beats of silence after that, before Stiles' heart evened out
again, his breaths falling into gentle snores. Eva didn't speak again, just
patted Derek's head as she stared ahead, humming softly.
 
Eventually, wrapped tightly around Stiles, Derek drifted into sleep, the soft
sounds of his mates breaths dragging him under, and the soft song the angel's
mother sang like a blanket of peace and warmth around them both.
 
 
Thwip.
 
Derek opened his eyes, to find it was still the middle of the night, and Eva
was gone.
 
He sat up, carefully, so not to wake Stiles, and stretched out his senses
searching for her, trying to ignore how his stomach sank and how his mind was
starting to suggest the worst.
 
“I'm up here.” A soft voice called.
 
Derek looked up toward the bedroom, where the voice came, and he glanced down
to Stiles.
 
“It's okay. I can watch him.” Eva's voice came again. “I want to talk, Derek.”
 
Reluctantly, the alpha followed, keeping an ear on his mate as he climbed the
stairs quietly up to the top floor. He followed the wreckage from the fight
earlier down the hallway to the destroyed bedroom, and inside found Eva sitting
on the window sill, staring down at the clearing below, where the crater was
left by the crazed angel that had tried to kill them before.
 
“I want them dead.” Her first words were spat out as soon as Derek entered the
room. Then she looked back at the alpha, her expression softening slightly.
“I... They took so much from me. From my Genim. I thought I'd never get to see
my son again.” She closed her eyes. “They're evil. The reasons they're doing
this? Turning my kind insane to help them? It's just for power, for territory.”
She took a deep breath. “That is not how I was raised. I was raised to slay
anything that misused it's gift that way. They turned me...”
 
She trailed off, letting out a huff of a breath, then dropped her head. She
waited until Derek was standing closer, before she spoke again, her voice low.
“Derek, I... I'm not going to be able to live for much longer.”
 
“Wha-”
 
Eva spun around, snapping her fingers and effectively cutting off the rest of
whatever Derek was going to say. She shook her head. “They turned me, Derek.
They... they made me fallen.” She sucked in a deep, labored breath. “Once we...
once we become cursed, Fallen, there's no turning back. We can be cured for a
short period of time but... that taint is always with us. To truly rid it from
my soul I have to be reborn. I have to die.” She wiped angrily at the tears on
her face and shook her head, seemingly forcing herself to continue. “I'll start
to forget things at first; I'll forget what they did to me, I'll forget who you
are, who Genim is. I don't want that. I want to die... how my ancestors did. In
battle, against something evil, that needs to be cleansed from this world.” She
looked to Derek, tears making her golden-brown eyes shine a little brighter. “I
want you to help me kill the alpha pack, and free any others under their
influence, as I was.”
 
Derek blinked, then again when he felt wetness on his face. He swallowed and
nodded. “Yes. They... Our tradition's, too. An alpha pack shouldn't exist, and
a pack shouldn't fight for the reason's they're fighting.”
 
Eva smiled and stepped up off the sill. She brushed a hand over his cheek and
nodded. “Thank you.” She paused a second then cleared her throat. “Don't...
tell Genim about this. I'll... I'll tell him in my own time. He should hear it
from me.” Derek nodded, and she gave him a little smirk. “I'd love to be able
to see the two of you building your own family... I'd give anything...” She
trailed off again, sighing and dropping her hand.
 
Derek hesitated, not sure if he should say, but... “If it's anything...” He
started, pausing when she looked up. He gave her a small smile. “I would've
liked you to be there, too.”
 
Eva's face lit up with a smile, and in that moment he could see Stiles there,
in the brightness and the slightly crooked curve of her mouth, how her eyes lit
up like that same magic he'd seen Stiles using and she gave a soft laugh.
“Thank you.” She said again, meaningfully. Without any more warning than that,
she pulled him into a hug, wings beating at his back until he fell forward into
her surprisingly strong-squeezing arms. “I'm glad my son found you for a mate,
Alpha Hale.”
 
Derek couldn't help the little grin that twitched up onto his lips, despite the
whirlwind of emotion around them from Eva's confession. “I'm glad he did, too.”
He muttered, closing his eyes as he listened to Stiles' still even breaths
below them.
***** Chapter 34 *****
The next morning was full of planning and prep for the battle that was looming
over them. Scott and Isaac were back, training in the back yard, bearing thin,
hand-woven necklaces that Evangeline had made – containing trinkets for
strength, stability, and clarity. Stiles was working on some spells - mostly
trying to voluntarily invoke that power he had when attacking the angel before.
The young angel was with Derek and Eva in the kitchen, as they discussed the
plan of attack.
 
“I have an idea.” Eva said, perking up. She snapped her fingers, holding her
hands out for Derek's arm. When he hesitated she grinned. “It's a mark, like
Genim's, just without the claim. It'll imbue you with a part of my power, give
you the ability to neuter any Fallen. This would include, any being that has
that darkness in their souls, being the alpha pack. Even if they weren't around
any other Fallen than me, their souls would've been tainted since they'd
dragged me down into one.”
 
“It's like an instant kill?” Stiles spoke up, distracted from his magic for now
to pay attention to them.
 
Eva shrugged. “Not... exactly. It wouldn't kill them instantly, but it would
leave them very close to death.” She looked over to Stiles. “With some
training, I should be able to teach you the basics of the spell, too.”
 
Derek frowned, looking over the two. Watching how Stiles beamed wide and bright
and excited, and how Eva looked happy, just a little hint of sadness in her
eyes as Stiles went on about how much he would absolutely love that. He felt
his chest ache as he remembered their conversation from last night, the thought
of Stiles' happy, excited expression crumbling away when he finds out what's
going to happen to the mother he just got back.
 
“Well Derek?” He focused back into the present and looked up at Eva, who was
giving him an expectant look. “What do you think?”
 
He cleared his throat and nodded. “Fine, that'd be...” He stood up. “Fine. I'm
gonna go check on Scott and Isaac. We can do it some other time later.”
 
With that he left, hearing the last bit of their conversation as Eva focused
back on Stiles, instructing him, the soft glow of magic behind him not the only
thing that raised the hair on the back of his neck.
 
He by-passed the back door completely, running out the front and shifting as
soon as he was out the door, and he kept running from there.
 
 
By the time Derek had gotten control of his emotions again and shifted back to
human form, he'd found himself at the cemetery, in the cold rain that'd started
pouring about halfway through his run. He let out a breath, and walked down one
of the many stone paths that cut through the cemetery toward a row of
tombstones near the back of the lot.
 
It was the first time since... in a long time that he'd visited. He can't even
really remember being at the funeral. He huffed; right, because he wasn't
there. He was drowning himself in guilt and sorrow in the back of Laura's
Camaro while she was there, watching their family be buried. She'd set
everything up all by herself, even set up their route across country and the
schooling and housing for them in New York when she couldn't take being in
Beacon Hills anymore, and packed their last remaining belongings by herself
before they'd taken off.
 
He smoothed his thumb over his mother's headstone, the smooth granite with an
inlay of moonstone readingTALIA. He gave the smallest little twitch of a smile
before wiping at the mix of rainwater and tears on his face. She did everything
perfectly, as always. She wouldn't have made all the mistakes he did. She
would've been a perfect alpha if she'd had the chance. She would've known what
to do every time Derek didn't. She always had.
 
“Derek?” The alpha startled, choking mid sob as he spun around to see the
Sheriff. John looked him over, looked at the torn and tattered clothes barely
hanging onto him, then sighed as he started pulling off his jacket. “I'm not
going to ask.” He muttered to himself. He started to swing his jacket over
Derek's shoulders when the wolf jumped, and he paused, staring over him again.
“Son, you may be a... a werewolf, but I'm not going to let you stand out in the
cold rain with barely anything on alone, alright?” When Derek didn't move again
he started tugging the warm coat over the alpha, speaking softly now that Derek
was allowing him closer. “Now, why don't you come back with me to the cruiser
and we'll talk about this, okay?”
 
The wolf hesitated, feeling undeserving of the Sheriff's generosity, but he
followed.
 
The rain continued pouring down as the Sheriff waited for him to get up into
the Cruiser, and he gave Derek a worn-out smile as he pulled himself up into
the driver's seat, pulling the door closed and pausing just a moment after the
thud of it closing before he spoke. “So... Do you want to talk about it? As far
as I've seen you haven't visited. Why drop by now?”
 
Derek chewed on his lip lightly, looking away. He didn't know how to explain
it. Seeing Stiles and his mom together it made him yearn for his own family.
This was the closest he'd get to being with them again. He stiffened. Stiles'
mom...John's wife... He didn't even know that she was still alive. Derek
paused, and then he could catch the scent of flowers; calla-lilies,
specifically, radiating from the back seat. And tears fairly fresh that weren't
his own.
 
Oh.
 
John sighed, shifting the cruiser into drive and pulling out onto the street.
“It's alright. We don't have to talk about it. I can drive you home now if you-
”
 
“Could we... Go to your home?” Derek muttered, looking up at the Sheriff's
surprised face. “I... Um, I wanted to talk to you about something...”
 
John stared at him for a few moments, then finally nodded, turning onto the
road in the direction of the Stilinski home. “Alright, son.”
 
Derek felt a slight pang in his chest at the word, but he relaxed back into the
seat. Hopefully Stiles wouldn't be upset with him. Or Eva. But... he had a
right to know his wife who he'd thought was dead for so long was alive, even if
she wouldn't be for much longer... right?
 
 
“Derek?” Stiles called as he walked out into the back lot of the house, where
Scott and Isaac had been training since morning. “Mom wanted to ask if...” He
trailed off, looking up when he realized Derek, actually, wasn't there. Isaac
and Scott looked up at him in confusion.
 
“Derek's not with you?” Scott asked quietly, and Stiles could feel his body
sagging, a cold, creeping feeling sinking over him.
 
Without another word, he shot up into the sky, heart pounding in his chest,
hoping, praying, that the alpha's hadn't gotten a hold of his mate. Or worse.
 
Stiles swallowed, scanning the ground and trying desperately not to think about
all the worst scenarios of where Derek had gone. He might've just decided to go
out for a run. Stiles was used to that. Derek did that a lot. Just... not
usually when there were people from all sides trying to kill them.
 
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he reached through their
thread of connection, trying to feel for the alpha. Derek's emotions were hard
to tell, the feeling from them confusing and a little all over the place. He
didn't seem like he was in any particular danger aside from that, in fact, he
seemed to be with someone safe, or somewhere safe at least. Stiles sighed and
continued looking, glancing over the cemetery for a moment.
 
He paused there, jerking to a stop mid air and plummeting a few feet before he
caught himself and landed somewhat gracefully by a more than familiar
tombstone. One that had calla-lilies in the small vase at the base of the
stone, and a single, pure white feather tucked in the vase with them.
 
Dad. Mom was back now, for a while at least – hopefully for a long, long time.
Dad had no idea. He needs to know. Stiles frowned. He'd been selfish, he'd
missed her so much he sort of... never thought about letting his dad know. He
felt a pang of guilt, and shuddered when he could feel a mimic of that feeling
that wasn't his, just a few minutes older, only hanging around enough for him
to pick up and sense because of it's familiarity.
 
Derek...
 
 
***** Chapter 35 *****
Chapter Summary
     The Stilinski family is reunited, and Derek wonders if he did the
     right thing.
Chapter Notes
     !!!! OH HI HELLO THERE I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD WITH THIS ALSO BACK
     FROM THE DEAD OH HAI
     Ahem, anyway, yay, wing!fic is back! After endless months of trying
     to work on it, and either not being to write, not having time to
     write, or other things getting in the way of writing this
     *coughmycomputerdeleteditcough* IT'S BACK!
     Now, I dunno how soon this will be updated again. I'm still busy in
     RL with work and family and in the process of moving, but I'll try my
     darnedest to update as much as possible. I love this AU so much and
     I'm glad so many others loved it too. Even today I'm still getting
     some comments on it and that just blows my mind, because it hasn't
     been update in over a year. For those of you who are still reading
     this and paying attention to it, I love you and I'm sorry I'm
     terrible at keeping up with this. D:
It was quiet in the Stilinski kitchen. Not a single sound was made in the room,
even the entire house, after Derek finished speaking. Quiet enough that Derek,
with his enhanced hearing, could scarcely pick out a sound. John's breath had
halted, stuttering to a stop at the mention of Eva's name, and his heart seemed
to be thudding dully, slowly, like it was in shock, like it didn't want to
believe his words.
 
When the Sheriff did finally speak, it was low, soft and quiet, like if his
words were spoken too loudly it'd take away from what he'd found out. “Eva...
Eva's alive?” He swallowed hard, hand gripping the edge of the table he sat by,
knuckles white. “She's... How could she be alive?”
 
Derek opened him mouth to speak, then paused. He could hear the familiar rustle
of wings, and a moment later Stiles walked in, his head low, wings tucked up
behind him. He glanced up at his dad, who looked halfway to tears. Stiles
sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, nodding, giving a small, simple
smile. “Yeah, mom's alive. She'd been alive all along.” He drew in a quick
breath. “She'd been taken by alphas. A group of them. Apparently they take our
kind to use us for our magic.”
 
There was a long moment of silence, only the sound of Stiles' wings twitching
restlessly as he opened his mouth to say something else, then closing it with a
small grimace. Finally, he sighed and looked up. “I've known for about half a
month. I didn't even think to come straight home to tell you. I just... I was
just thinking that I had mom back.”
 
Derek bit into his tongue at that, knowing that though she was back, it would
only be for a little while. He had promised not to tell Stiles about that. He
watched as John slowly got up from his seat, crossing the room to grab onto his
son. Stiles looked scared and painfully sad for a moment, before the father was
pulling his son into him, squeezing tight.
 
Stiles let out a breath of relief and his body sagged, wings stretching out
slowly. Derek heard John mutter to Stiles, asking if he could see Eva, and he
decided he should leave the two alone.
 
Derek turned, leaving the kitchen, focusing in on his own heartbeat and breaths
to keep from eavesdropping, and walked outside.
 
It had stopped raining by now; now everything had a fresh, cleansed scent to
it, like the rain had taken all the dirt and dark from the world and washed it
away. He sucked in the scent, tasting it on his tongue. Clean and clear...
 
A light breeze flowed across the back porch of the Stilinski home, and Derek
glanced up to find Eva landing gracefully, her expression a little sad, but at
the same time relieved.
 
“When you were gone, I figured you'd come here.” She sighed, smiling when Derek
glanced away. “I'm not angry. I just... I wasn't sure how much better it'd be
if he knew. For either of us.” Her last words were wistful, tinged with hurt.
 
“I think...” Derek muttered. “I think he'd rather know, though.”
 
Eva didn't say anything else, she simply moved past him, laying a gentle hand
on his shoulder as she passed into the house.
 
Derek closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He wondered if it really
was the right thing to do, to bring John into all of this, but... If my family
was alive, I'd want to know...
 
“I think you did the right thing.” Derek opened his eyes, turning toward
Stiles' voice. Stiles was across the way from him, leaning against the porch
railing, his wings tucked comfortably around his body and curling around his
hips. “I can tell you're beating yourself up over it.”
 
Derek stared over at his mate, watching as the younger man stretched his legs
out, looking off to the side, watching the wind make a nearby chime dance in
the fading light. “I know I should've probably been the one to tell him, but...
I had my mom back, after so long, I didn't really think about anyone else.”
Stiles sighed, looking away. “If anyone should be beating themselves up over
this, it's me.”
 
Derek huffed, pushing away from the wall and crowding in around Stiles. He
braced his hands on either side of Stiles' hips against the railing, feeling
feathers tickle his wrists, and he ducked his head down into his mate's
shoulder. He shook his head, nipping at the boy's skin for even thinking such a
thing. “Stop it.” Derek admonished. “You don't get to do that.”
 
Stiles smiled up at him, a little sadly, but with that always present humor and
mischievousness. “Nah, that's your shtick, right?”
 
Derek narrowed his eyes. “No, I mean... you got your mother back after thinking
she was dead for so long. Anyone else would've blocked all the rest of the
world out because of that, even the important things. So you don't get to feel
anything other than elated that she's here.”
 
Stiles nodded. “I know.” Stiles chuckled softly. “My dad gave me the same
speech while you were out here.” He laughed lightly. “You both are more alike
than you think.” Stiles lifted up a hand and started counting away on his
fingers. “Always beating down my shame and self-deprecation, always giving me
those loving but very 'why-me' looks when I start to get away from myself,
always very, very over-protective...”
 
Derek growled, nipping at the three fingers Stiles had up and then pulling the
boy into him, gripping firm fingers into his hips through the edges of the
wings. He tilted his head down, bringing his lips very close to Stiles'. “And
you're very annoying.”
 
Stiles grinned. “The cute kind of annoying, though, right?”
 
Derek rolled his eyes and just kissed up. Kissing always shuts him up.
 
Stiles hummed, coiling his arms around Derek's shoulders, letting himself be
lifted up onto the railing when Derek moved his hands down to Stiles' thighs.
Stiles' wrapped his legs around Derek's body, hooking his ankles behind Derek's
thighs, his knees meeting just above Derek's lower back, and he flattened his
palms to Derek's shoulder blades. The angel pulled back, just a little bit, to
bite at Derek's lower lip as he glanced over the werewolf's face, his pupils
blown so full of lust that it made his eyes look black.
 
Derek swallowed, watching Stiles' lick his lips, his now reddened, wet, pouty
lips, and felt a full body shudder go through him. He didn't quite know how
they got from talks of each other's guilt, to this. He kind of thinks it was
his own damn fault. Stiles hummed, looking over the wolf, arousal pulsing off
of his body, the scent so think Derek's head felt clouded with it.
 
“Ahem.”
 
Derek jumped out of his skin, scrambling back from Stiles, nearly dropping him
over the other edge of the railing, and turned around to see Eva standing
there, smirking at them. “U-um... This-”
 
“You better not say 'isn't what it looks like'. Because it's exactly what it
looks like.” She shook her head at the two of them. “Oh well, boys will be
boys.” She sighed. “Just make sure to come inside soon, fairly decent so John
doesn't know. He might not be able to take seeing his underage son being looked
at like that.” She paused for a moment, glancing over to Stiles, who was hiding
behind his wings, only the bottoms of his legs sticking out below them, the
sweetly-sour scent of embarrassment quickly overcoming any lasting scent of
arousal. “And dinner's in about fifteen minutes.” She turned, her voice melodic
and teasing as she walked away. “Try not to have too much fun, boys.”
 
The click of the door shutting was loud, especially compared to the hollow
silence that followed for a few panicked breaths. Then Stiles peered through
his wings over to Derek, pouting. “When the next month is gone by, and you're
finally ready, can I just stay with you forever, because I dunno how much I'll
be able to take coming home to both my parents knowing I'm doing-the-do with
you.”
 
Derek flushed, more embarrassed from Stiles' words than the scenario they
presented. “How do I love such an idiot like you?”
 
Stiles shrugged. “I ask myself that everyday.”
 
Derek's chest rumbled with another growl and he swooped in, ducking down and
slipping inbetween Stiles' barrier of dark feathers and his body. “I'll educate
you in detail later tonight exactly how.” He glanced over to the door. “Right
now... maybe we should go inside before your parents suspect we're doing
anything.”
 
Stiles' blinked up at Derek, then smiled, nodding. “Mmkay.” He tugged on
Derek's head. “Just one more kiss first...”
 
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