FIC: Teen Wolf -- The Old Familiar Sting (4/5)

[the_deep_magic]

Title: The Old Familiar Sting (4/5)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
For summary and warnings, please see part one
One / Two / Three

Derek slept so well with Stiles tangled against him that the morning light filtering in through the blinds made his heart sink.  Stiles was still asleep, breathing wetly against Derek’s shoulder, and Derek stayed still as long as he could, trying to delay the moment when Stiles would wake.  But eventually Stiles’ eyes blinked open and he rolled over to stretch, and Derek averted his eyes for his own mental well-being.

They ate breakfast in silence, since Stiles seemed just as disheartened about leaving as Derek felt and for once didn’t seem to have the words to fill the emptiness.  Derek did manage to get a smile out of him, though, by deftly peeling the last orange and handing half of it to Stiles.

He offered to leave the Wii, but Derek declined; he thought playing it alone would be a bit sad, even for him.  Stiles did leave a few movies, though, because “no, really, dude, you have to watch this” – enough, Derek suspected, to get him through a few sleepless nights if he needed them.

Saying goodbye was strange, since Stiles lived less than fifteen minutes away and Derek knew Stiles would be checking up on him.  Still, Stiles had essentially been living with him for almost a week – was that all it was? – and had spent the past three nights in Derek’s bed, but that was over, probably for good.

“Call me,” Stiles said earnestly.  “Call me all the time, not just when you can’t sleep or you’re having nightmares.  I mean, of course call me then, no matter what time it is.  But please, for my own peace of mind, call me or text me or send smoke signals, because otherwise I’ll be over here picking your lock again.”

“I’ll get a deadbolt,” Derek said, trying hard not to smirk.

“Yeah, like that’ll stop me,” Stiles laughed.  “And just… please think about what I said about Isaac and Boyd?  I’m not going to say a word to anyone, and you don’t have to tell them everything, but don’t shut them out.”

“I’ll think about it,” Derek sighed, though in truth he knew it was the right thing to do.  He just had to work up the courage to do it and, no matter what Stiles said, to be prepared if they wanted nothing to do with him.

Stiles set down his bags and slipped his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him in tight.  “It’s gonna be tough,” Stiles murmured.  “But don’t try to do it alone again.  That’s all I ask from you.”

Derek couldn’t find his voice, just nodded with his face pushed into the crook of Stiles’ neck and tried not to think what it would be like without that scent to calm him, ground him.  Anchor him.  Fuck.

Once Stiles was gone, the sound of his Jeep receding as he drove away, Derek did pushups until his arms started to shake.  He rolled over on his back on the floor.  All he really had to do was wait a few minutes and he’d heal enough to keep going, but he was too restless even for that.  He’d intended to wait a few days before trying to contact Isaac and Boyd, but suddenly his loft seemed so empty.  Why had he moved into such a ridiculously large space?  It startled him to realize that, for the first time in recent memory, he didn’t want to be alone.

He was surprised that both Isaac and Boyd answered their phones, knowing it was Derek who was calling, and even more surprised that they agreed to come over that evening in the absence of anything trying to kill them or the rest of the town.  Derek was half-expecting to have to lure them over with the threat of some mythological creature; it turned out all he needed was the promise of pizza.

Isaac arrived first, and there was an awkward moment where Isaac made an aborted move to hug Derek – he’d obviously been spending too much time with Scott – but instead pulled back and said, “You’re looking good.  You had us all worried there for a little while.”

Derek had never practiced the traditional scent-marking or encouraged casual touch among his pack, so he could hardly start now without suspicion.  Or having to offer up an explanation, which he didn’t think he’d be up for any time soon.  But he rested a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and squeezed.  Isaac went very still for a moment, but he didn’t flinch away.  His eyes went wide as he looked at Derek’s hand, but when he looked back at Derek, he gave a serious nod, like he understood.

Derek wasn’t sure what to do about Boyd, who had always seemed even less comfortable with physical contact than Derek.  But Boyd was the one who initiated it, putting his hand out and grasping Derek’s forearm, which forced Derek to do the same.  It was more than a handshake but less than a hug, and Derek even got an almost-smile out of him.  He’d been the one to tip Stiles off in the first place, and it suddenly reminded Derek that the entire apartment must reek of Stiles.

If Isaac and Boyd noticed, though, they didn’t say anything.  Nor did they ask why Derek had been completely absent for weeks, and Derek felt the weight of guilt descend on him.  No pack member, not even an alpha – especially not an alpha – should separate himself from the pack with no warning or explanation.  Still, if they weren’t going to ask, Derek wasn’t eager to tell them the specifics.  All he could try to do was move forward.

Isaac and Boyd chatted with each other stiltedly while they ate, and Derek waited until after the pizza was gone to address them.  When he cleared his throat, they both looked at him expectantly, and Derek had to resist the urge to simply flee the room.  Instead, he took a deep breath.  “I owe you both an apology.  I didn’t forget that I grew up as a werewolf and you didn’t, but I took advantage of it.  When a packmate dies, the pack should mourn together.  But I wanted to be alone, so I essentially abandoned you, and no alpha should do that.”

Both betas stared at Derek, Isaac more openly than Boyd.  “I didn’t…” Isaac started hoarsely.  “I wasn’t even sure if we were still a pack.”

It hurt Derek to hear that, but it was no worse than he deserved.  “We are.  And we still can be… if you want to.  Going off on your own is dangerous, but I’m not sure what’s going on with Scott.  He’s not exactly an alpha, but the three of you might be able to form a pack, plus…”  He didn’t want to say Stiles’ name.  “…whatever humans want to join you.”

“What would happen to you?” Boyd asked.

“I wouldn’t create more betas, if that’s what you’re asking,” Derek replied.  He’d sure as hell learned his lesson on that one.  But it was time to say what he really needed to say, what he hadn’t been able to say when Boyd and Erica were leaving and Isaac had already been drawing away from him.  “You’re free to do as you want, but I’d prefer if you stayed.  I gave you the bite, so your safety and well-being are my responsibility.  And I need pack just like you do, I’ve just been trying to deny it.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes.  “You’ll become an omega if we leave.”

Derek’s insides clenched at the word.  To be completely on his own, with no pack…  “It’s possible.  I don’t know for sure.  But my obligation is to you, not the other way around.  I want to… to start over.”  He tried not to look at Boyd.  “It won’t bring back the people we lost, but there are still things I can teach you.  And not just about fighting, but about being a pack.  There’s still something to be gained in staying together.”

When Derek did look at Boyd, he was surprised to see one side of Boyd’s mouth quirked up.  “Just say it, man.  You want us back.”

Isaac picked up on Boyd’s mood shift.  “Better yet, sing it.  Wasn’t there a Jackson 5 song?”

Recent personal growth aside, Derek couldn’t help rolling his eyes.  “I’m not going to sing it.  But yes, I want you back.  Both of you.  Even Scott, if he’d consider it, though I don’t expect him to.”

To Derek’s surprise, Isaac nodded.  “I can talk to him about it.  I don’t know what he’ll say, but I can at least bring it up.”

“I want us to be prepared,” Derek said, “in case something or someone else comes after us.  Defeating the alpha pack bought us some time, but there may be other challenges, over territory or just over pride.”

“Or other mythological creatures,” Boyd interjected.

Derek groaned.  “That, too.”

“It’s a good thing Stiles has been working on the bestiary,” Isaac said with just the tiniest of smirks, and it confirmed for Derek that they knew something had gone on with Stiles.  They didn’t seem to want to ask about it, though, and Derek wasn’t going to volunteer any information.  But he genuinely hadn’t known Stiles had kept up with the bestiary.

“We’ll make a list of all the resources we have.”

The three of them talked a little longer about where to start, but their renewed alliance was still too tense and fragile to discuss much more than that.  The best Derek could do was say, “I wasn’t there for you, after the alpha pack.  You deserved better from me, and that’s what I’m going to try to be.  Better.”

Both Isaac and Boyd nodded tentatively, and Derek showed them out with the promise of another meeting soon.  Not only did they need to plan for possible threats, but they needed to solidify their bonds with each other again.  They hardly felt like Derek’s betas anymore, but he sensed their willingness to return, their need to be part of a pack, and he felt something he hadn’t felt for a long time, something dangerous: hope.

The fear of it kept him wide awake long past midnight.  Was he doing the right thing, bringing these kids back into his life?  Or should he have just let them go?  Isaac had Scott, and Boyd was resourceful enough to find a new pack if he didn’t want to join them.  Derek had promised to try to be better, but what if he couldn’t?  What if he kept destroying everything he touched?

He made it to precisely 2:47 a.m. before calling Stiles, getting out of bed to wander downstairs for a change of scenery.

Stiles’ voice was raspy with sleep, but he sounded completely unsurprised.  “Nightmares?”

“Not yet.”

“Ah, can’t sleep.”

“No.”

“Isaac and Boyd still on your mind?”

Derek managed to stop himself before asking how Stiles knew, because of course Stiles knew – hell, he was probably there when Isaac told Scott.  “I’m still not sure I did the right thing.”

“Derek, they need you as much as you need them.  If they’re not throwing themselves down at your feet and groveling, well… imagine what you’d do in their position.”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t trust me.”

“That’ll change with time.  But they’re willing to give it a shot.  As long as you, and I quote, ‘keep your fat alpha head out of your ass this time.’”

“Isaac?”

“Boyd.  I know, it surprised me, too.  It’s probably the longest single sentence he’s ever said to me.”

Derek sighed.  “I still don’t even know if I’m back to normal, and normal was obviously not cutting it the first time around.”

“Give yourself a break, man.  You gave them a choice, and they chose you.  They might not be the only ones, either.”

At first, Derek thought Stiles was talking about himself, but then he thought better of it.  “Scott?”

“He’s still being stubborn for the moment, but I think he was impressed with what you said to Isaac and Boyd.  He tried to hide it, but the Scott-face doesn’t do ‘hiding’ so well.”

Derek snorted, digging some baby carrots out of the fridge.  He wasn’t really hungry, but they didn’t really taste like much, so it sort of evened out.

Stiles listened to him crunch for a little while before saying, “I think he’ll come around.  He’s never wanted to cut you out of his life.  Not entirely.”

“Not even when you were encouraging him to?” Derek asked dryly, snapping satisfactorily into a carrot.

“Hey, that was, like, half a year ago.  I’ve grown tremendously as a person since then.  Also, you stopped wanting to brutally murder me at some point.  That helped.”

“I never wanted to murder you.”  Derek paused.  “Well, not brutally.”

“Oh, good, so you’d have made it quick.  Past-me appreciates the consideration, he really does.”

“You turned out to be useful.  I’m glad I kept you around.”

Stiles gasped.  “That… that may be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Derek winced; Stiles’ tone was sarcastic, but there was some underlying truth there.  If “useful” had been the nicest thing Derek had ever called Stiles, then Stiles was some kind of saint for sticking around as long as he had, refusing to let Derek push him away.  That or the world’s most stubborn, meddling asshole.  Probably a bit of both, actually.

Derek must have been silent for a long time, because eventually Stiles said, “What can I do to help you get to sleep?”

Come over here and put your arms around me.  “I don’t know.  Talk to me.  That usually makes me zone out.”

“Ha fuckin’ ha.  I’m not fooled by your ‘I barely tolerate Stiles because he is oh-so-pretty’ act anymore.  Put the carrots away and get back in bed, dickweed.”

“You should start a therapy program,” Derek said, shoving the carrots back into the fridge.  “It’s your compassion that really sells it.”

“What am I going to do with all these compliments, Derek?  I’m going to end up with a serious ego disorder.”

Derek climbed under the sheets and pulled the blanket back up.  “Okay, I’m in bed.”  The fact that it was the guest room bed, still saturated with Stiles’ scent, was something Stiles didn’t need to know.

“Good,” Stiles said, followed by a monstrous yawn.  “Just relax.  Isaac and Boyd are fine.  They’re safe.  We all are.”

“Won’t always be,” Derek muttered, just to be obstinate, but he put the phone on speaker and laid it on the pillow so he could get comfortable.

“Doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that right now, we’re safe.  You’re safe.  You’re in a safe place.  No horrible beasties or bad thoughts.  Not here.  It’s just you, and I know you’re tired.  You’ve had a long day.  Can you feel it tugging at you, just behind your eyes?  Your mind wants to rest.  Let it.”

Derek grunted, which drew a soft laugh out of the tinny speaker beside him.  Stiles kept talking, his voice getting heavier and heavier with sleep, until at some point it was gone entirely.  Derek didn’t know how long it took him to finally drift off, but the phone was still next to his head when he woke up in the morning.

&&&

The nightmares came back.  Not as bad as they had been in the weeks after the alpha pack, but Derek still awoke in a cold sweat once or twice a night.  Sometimes he called Stiles; sometimes he didn’t.  Derek would have felt guilty about all the late night calls except it was still summer and half the time he’d get 3 a.m. texts from Stiles anyway, just to see if Derek was awake.  Derek learned pretty quickly to turn the text alert sound off at night, just in case he had managed to fall asleep by then.

Less than two weeks went by before Isaac and Boyd returned… with Scott.  And Stiles.  Derek should have been prepared for it, as well as he knew Stiles and as much as they texted, but Stiles must’ve figured it was probably too obvious to mention.  It was even stranger than Derek would have imagined, having Stiles back in the loft, but surrounded by other people.

At least Scott looked as uncomfortable as Derek felt.  Derek was still trying to think of something to say to put him at ease when Stiles busted out the Chinese delivery menu.  “Okay, orange chicken for me, mu shu pork and veggie lo mein for Scott.  Does this place serve egg rolls by the gross?  Because I have a feeling we’re gonna need ‘em…”

Something else Derek should have learned from Stiles by now – food was the great problem solver, at least among teenage males.  Once Stiles had reached enough of a consensus to call the order in, Scott started bragging about being able to fit six egg rolls in his mouth at once and Boyd and Isaac were placing their bets (Isaac: pro; Boyd: con).  Stiles kept clamping his hand over the phone to yell at Scott about what a liar he was, and Scott told them all to listen to his heartbeat, hear if he was lying.

“It doesn’t work if you’re lying to yourself,” Derek cut in, and even Boyd burst out laughing at the wounded look on Scott’s face.

But that seemed to break the last of the tension, even with Scott, and when Derek had them all sitting around the table – he wanted to get through this before the food arrived, because there would be no concentrating afterwards – he brought up the need for preparation to protect the territory.

“What exactly are the bounds of our territory?” Boyd asked, and Derek pulled out a map.  Some of the border areas were fuzzy, with the neighboring packs either very loosely established or absent entirely.  It was Scott who suggested twice-weekly patrols.

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.  “Scott,” Isaac said nervously, “are you…?”

Scott bit his lip, and Derek couldn’t help but notice Stiles staring intently at Scott, like this was something not even they had talked about.  “I don’t… feel like your beta, Derek.  But I still feel like I’m in your pack.  Is that even possible?”

Part of Derek wanted to roll his eyes and tell them that being born a werewolf didn’t come with a manual, but he needed to be honest with them – all of them – without sarcasm.  “I don’t know.  A lot of what I know about us comes from growing up in a mostly-born pack, where things like status are more straightforward.   Since I wasn’t the one that bit you, I don’t know for certain if you were ever actually my beta.  But obviously humans can become pack by birth or marriage or strong emotional ties, so it seems possible for a werewolf.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Derek could see that Stiles looked surprised at that, but he had to work this out with Scott first.  “So you’ll help me?  You’ll help us?”

“As long as you don’t try to pull that I’m the alpha crap with me,” Scott retorted, and something instinctual and angry rose up in Derek’s chest.  But one look at Stiles, who was watching him carefully as if he knew the fine line Derek was treading, and Derek pushed the feeling aside.

“I’m going to try to work things… differently,” Derek admitted.  “I’m – we’re all – going to need to work together.  That includes letting each other in on plans.  If you have a problem with that, let me know now.”

Derek was proud of himself for getting that last part out without a snarl, and he hoped it would be enough.  Scott seemed to seriously consider his words, and at last he nodded.

“Okay, awesome!” Stiles cut in brightly, though Derek could hear the relief in his voice.  “Care Bear Hugs all around.  Isaac told me you said something about listing our resources?”

“Yeah, that should probably be our first step.”  Before Derek had even finished speaking, Stiles had whipped out a pad of paper and a pen.

They were all arguing about just how much they could trust Deaton (Scott and Isaac wanted him to be their first contact in the event that shit went down; Boyd and particularly Derek were less certain, to say the least; Stiles was mostly trying to mediate), and things were about to take a turn for the ugly when the doorbell rang and the food showed up.  Stiles looked so relieved he slumped down in his chair.  It was obvious how much he had invested in this alliance.

Despite the fact that they still had so much to hash out, Derek declared a moratorium on pack business until after dinner.  It was hard to be tense when they were all seated on the floor around the coffee table, Isaac shoveling beef and broccoli into his mouth like someone was about to take it from him, while Boyd and Scott were still arguing over the egg roll thing.  Eventually, Stiles was nominated as the referee, tasked with choosing the egg rolls to use (Scott: “If Boyd does it, he’ll just choose the biggest egg rolls.”  Boyd: “You threatened by big egg rolls, Scott?”) and giving the final call on whether or not Scott had succeeded.

It turned out that by grouping them together cigar-like, Scott could, in fact, fit the circumference of six fairly large egg rolls in his mouth at once, and when it was determined that he wasn’t unhinging his jaw (everyone had agreed on no abuse of werewolf healing powers), Stiles – looking just as surprised as everyone else – declared Scott to be a non-liar and his pants to officially not be on fire.

When Boyd told Scott he now had to eat the egg rolls without removing them from his mouth, Scott wordlessly flicked him off and everyone dissolved into laughter yet again, including Derek.  He had the sudden thought that this was what his teenage years should have been, doing stupid stuff with friends instead of sneaking around with an older woman and, later, trying to keep his grief under control as he and his sister ran from city to city.  The stab of regret was almost physically painful, but it was hard to hold on to when Isaac was mournfully fishing a $10 bill out of his wallet and Scott was trying to trash talk Boyd through the mouthful of egg rolls and Stiles was laughing so hard he was actually crying.

Derek had this now.  It would have to be enough – it was enough, considering the depths to which he’d sunk.  And he had Stiles to thank for bringing him back.

But he couldn’t afford to think about that now, especially as Scott was pulling the soggy egg rolls from his mouth one by one.  “You should try this, Stiles,” Scott said, then turned to Derek.  “He’s got a huge mouth, and not just metaphorically.  He used to wipe the floor with everyone playing Chubby Bunny at summer camp.”

Stiles’ eyes flicked to Derek for a split second, and then his cheeks heated fast.  “Uh, thanks but no thanks.  You’ve already slobbered over enough of the food.  Oh, and you do have to eat those.  Referee says no wasting food.”

“But they’re all gross now!” Scott protested.

“So’s your face.”

“You are all twelve years old,” Boyd grumbled, but he was smiling as he collected his money from Isaac.

Once the bickering had died down and the rest of the food was eaten – leftovers were a rarity among werewolves – Stiles was able to get them all back on track surprisingly quickly.  They decided to discuss Deaton another time and went on with the list.  Stiles got them up to date with his translations and revisions to the bestiary – apparently Lydia was helping out much more than Derek had known.  They split up the patrols and decided to meet again the next week.

Derek desperately wanted to talk to Stiles alone, but he had driven everyone over, so he couldn’t hang back after they’d finished.  Even if he could have, Derek didn’t think Scott trusted him enough yet not to eavesdrop on the conversation, so he said goodbye to them all, making sure to touch Isaac and Boyd on the arm as they left.  He would bring that up, bonding through touch, sometime later.

When they were gone, he went to the fridge to get a bottle of water and saw the edge of a folded piece of paper sticking out from beneath the bag of baby carrots.  It looked like it had been torn from a pad, and on the inside was a pathetic little doodle of a howling wolf and, in Stiles’ handwriting, You’re an A+ alpha.

&&&

The next day – in the middle of the day – Stiles called Derek for once.  Stiles tried to start with some inane chitchat, but Derek just sighed.  “What do you want, Stiles?”  He didn’t mean to sound so annoyed, especially after last night’s success, but he could hear Stiles’ nervous heartbeat over the phone and he wanted to get to the point.

But, of course, Stiles evaded.  “Who says I have to want something to give you a call?  Maybe I just want to… chat?”

Derek snorted.  “Pretty sure you’re aware I’m not the chatty type.  You can’t already be checking up on me, because you last saw me 16 hours ago, and if this were about the pack, you’d have spit it out already.”

“Well, um,” Stiles said, and Derek could hear the click of a dry swallow.  “It is kind of about the pack.  Last night, you said… humans could be part of a pack?”

“You didn’t know that?” Derek asked, frowning even though he knew Stiles couldn’t see him.

“You never said either way, and the internet is… let’s go with ‘unreliable’ on these things.”

“There were humans in my family, both adults and children.”  It was Derek’s turn to swallow uncomfortably.  “Peter’s wife was human.”

“Oh.  I didn’t know.  Is there… I mean, you said birth and marriage, but is there a ritual for a human to become part of a pack?”

“There are some rituals, usually done at weddings, but they’re mostly symbolic.  It’s really the emotional ties that matter.”

“Oh.”  Stiles paused for a long time, and if Derek hadn’t heard him breathing, he would’ve thought the call had dropped.  “Am I part of your pack?”

“I assumed that’s why you came last night.”

“I was mostly there in case you needed a buffer from Scott.  And because I wanted to see you and I didn’t think you’d turn me away.”

Derek’s heart clenched.  That Stiles would even think that…  “I would never turn you away, Stiles.  Your loyalties have been divided because Scott’s your best friend, I get that.  But once you stayed with me… I forget that you can’t feel it the way I do.  At least not yet.”

“But if Scott joins your pack…”

“There won’t be any doubt,” Derek said, and then took a deep breath.  “And even if you weren’t pack, you do know you’re… you’re important to me.”

Stiles chuckled.  “Yup.  According to some sources, I’m even useful.”

“No, not just that.” Derek didn’t have any idea how to say what he wanted to say.  “Of course we’re all better for having you around, but I…”

“Feelings stuff?” Stiles asked softly after a few moments of pained silence.

Derek gripped the phone so hard he worried he’d crush it.  “Yeah.”

“If it helps, um.  Me too.”

“You were right, though.  I’m better, but I’m still not ready.  Especially if I can’t even say it.”

“That’s okay.  I’m probably not ready either.  For all I know, I could go all nuts on you and either run screaming or be that clingy guy.”

Derek was pretty sure that any way Stiles handled a relationship would be better than the way Derek would, but he felt like a huge weight had been taken off his chest, even if he couldn’t think of the right thing to say next.  So he went for a change of subject.  “Thanks for being here last night.”

Stiles’ laugh sounded a little rueful.  “I kinda wish I could have stayed.  Y’know, for old time’s sake.”

“’Old times’ meaning ‘two weeks ago’?” Derek said instead of I wish you could’ve stayed, too.

“God, it feels like a lot longer than that,” Stiles sighed, and Derek tried – and failed – not to read too much into it.  “You’re doing better, though.  With the nightmares.”

“So far, yeah,” Derek admitted.  “But it feels like this dark cloud that’s always hovering over me, and I never know when it’s going to descend again.”

“Talking about it helped, right?  I know you didn’t want to talk specifics when it came to the actual dreams, but if you ever need somebody to listen…”

“Thanks,” Derek said, though he still wasn’t sure that talking about the details wouldn’t make them worse.

“Hey, look, I gotta go.  My dad’s got the afternoon off and we’re going to see some terrible action movie.  Hopefully there won’t be anyone else in the theater and we can heckle the screen.”  Stiles paused.  “Keep in touch, okay?  And I’ll see you at the next pack meeting.”

Derek wanted to tell him he was welcome any time, but that seemed like it might come across wrong, and besides, he could practically hear Stiles’ grin as he said the word pack.  “Just… not Chinese again.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat another egg roll.”

&&&

That night, Derek woke up gasping from another fire dream.  It wasn’t much different from the ones he’d been having for years… except for one thing.  Behind the blackening basement window, pounding on the glass and screaming in terror as the flames grew higher, was Stiles.

&&&

Derek didn’t relapse, but only because he was able to stop himself from making the drive to Oregon.  If Terrence had been local, Derek had no doubt he’d have been shooting up again immediately.  The dreams didn’t come every night, and Stiles wasn’t always in them, but when he was, Derek awoke feeling physically sick.

It was like some kind of cruel reminder that everything he cared about, he destroyed in the end.

He occasionally checked in briefly with Stiles – anything else would’ve invited suspicion – and answered when Stiles called him.  He didn’t slip back into the threats that had largely dominated their interactions before, but neither could he fake the banter that had started to come so easily in the past weeks.  Derek wasn’t stupid enough to think he was fooling Stiles, but Stiles seemed to grudgingly respect the distance Derek was putting between them.

“You okay?” he asked at the next pack meeting when Isaac, Boyd, and Scott were playing Super Smash Bros. and yelling at the TV.

Derek bit back on an I’m fine, because that would immediately arouse Stiles’ suspicion.  Instead, he said, “Not sleeping well.  And all the pack stuff… it’s overwhelming for me after such a long time.”

He was lucky Stiles couldn’t hear the lie.  Stiles just nodded solemnly and said, “I’m not trying to be overbearing, I just want you to know I’m here.”  His face was neutral, but there was a sour tinge of sadness to his scent.

Stiles didn’t stop showing up in Derek’s nightmares.

&&&

It was a damned good thing they’d made contingency plans, because it wasn’t three weeks since the first official pack meeting that the shit hit the fan.  Derek wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry at his utter relief that at least the timing of this clusterfuck had been convenient.

It started with Boyd smelling something strange on the outer edge of the territory.  Or rather, not smelling something strange.  Derek went out to have a look and found an area about ten feet in diameter that simply had no odor.  For someone who relied so heavily on scent, it was like spotting a black hole, and it was extremely disconcerting.  He went farther behind the area, guessing that whatever it was had come from outside the territory, and got a trace scent of some unfamiliar humans and werewolves.  The scents seemed to be equally fresh, and it could have been a pack with multiple humans, but why the sloppy attempt to hide all their scents?

Derek only knew of one type of humans who both knew how and bothered to hide their scent.

“Hunters?” Scott asked back at the loft.

“Has to be,” Derek said.  “I just don’t know why they were traveling with werewolves.”

“Could they, uh,” Boyd started, and for the first time Derek could remember, his voice faltered.  “Could the wolves have been taken captive?”

“I suppose it’s possible, but it didn’t happen there.  The scent trail was relatively fresh, and there’s been no rain or high winds lately to cover over any signs of a struggle.  And hunters don’t generally travel around with their prisoners.”

“Could they be working together, the hunters and the wolves?” Stiles piped up from the corner.  He had seemed hurt by Derek’s gradual pulling away, but he dutifully attended the pack meetings.

“No,” Derek said simply.  He wasn’t trying to shut Stiles down, but he caught a slight wince around the edges of Stiles’ eyes.

“Well, how else do you explain it?” Stiles asked.  “Just because you’ve never heard of it happening doesn’t mean it can’t.  We know the hunters don’t all follow the rules.”

Isaac shook his head.  “What kind of werewolf would be foolish enough—”

Derek would have reflexively shot a look at Scott if Stiles hadn’t cut in.  “Omegas, maybe.  Werewolves that wouldn’t have had a chance on their own.  Hell, maybe these hunters are the human equivalents of omegas.  They’d be safer together, but where could they go?”

Derek sighed, realizing Stiles was probably right.  “A large territory with a small, fractured pack and two inactive hunters.”

“I don’t know how fast word travels, but shouldn’t they have heard we defeated an alpha pack?” Isaac asked.  “Why would they risk it?”

“Don’t underestimate omegas,” Derek warned.  “Some are all the more vicious for having been rejected or were too antisocial to ever really belong in a pack.  And we did defeat the alphas… at an incredibly high cost.”

“So what were they doing at the edge of the territory?” Stiles asked.  “And why only partially cover their scent?”

“Surveillance, maybe,” Boyd said.

“And they could have just gotten sloppy,” Derek said.  “Didn’t think I’d even try to find a scent trail.”

Scott swallowed loudly.  “Uh, wouldn’t that just make them idiots?”

“Stupid and vicious is a seriously bad combination, dude,” Stiles said with a groan.

“So, uh,” said Isaac.  “What do we do?”

Derek shut his eyes for a moment, not convinced of his own decision-making capabilities.  “We try to arrange a meeting.”

“Won’t that just turn into a bloodbath?” Boyd asked.  “Because I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

“It might,” Derek admitted.  “But they haven’t made a move yet.  They have to know we’re patrolling the borders, so they could’ve tried to pick us off one at a time, and they haven’t.  There’s going to be a confrontation eventually, and I’d rather it be on our terms.”

“So what do we tell them?” Scott asked.  He’d been gaping at Derek, probably because he’d expected Derek to suggest they just try and slaughter the whole lot of them.  “’Get the hell off my property’?”

“Essentially.  This is our territory and we have no intention of giving it up.”

“And if that goes south?” Stiles asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

“We’ll defend ourselves,” Derek said flatly.

“We’ll need backup,” Stiles said, and Derek’s chest twinged with his use of the word “we.”

Scott turned to him, seeming to know exactly what he was thinking.  “I told you, dude, Allison and her dad are out of the game.”

“With any luck, we won’t need them to actually do anything but show up,” Stiles replied.  “They have hunters; we need to have hunters.  Ones who follow the code and have connections.”

“No,” Derek growled, slamming his fist down on the table so hard the wood cracked.  “We are not bringing the Argents into this.”  He might have a fragile, unspoken truce with Chris, but Derek still didn’t trust him not to give into years of training and start taking out omegas on sight.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Derek,” Scott said.  “There’s too much we don’t know.  Maybe after we find out how big the pack is, who’s in it—”

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Derek said, feeling like he finally needed to take charge.  “I don’t know of any other way to contact them, so I’m going to leave a note at the scent blind we found.  We’ll meet at my… the old house at night.  That way we’ll have some territorial advantage.  I’ll let you know when I’ve got the meeting set.”

He looked around from face to face, as though daring anyone to speak out against him.  Only Stiles looked like he wanted to say anything, but he kept his mouth shut for once.  But Derek felt he owed it to them all to say “I want to avoid bloodshed, too.  But I can guarantee you one thing – they’re not here to ask to share.  Trying to meet them in the open, face to face, is the best chance we have of ending this peacefully.”

The mood was somber as the four others left, Stiles driving them once again.  He shot Derek a look as he walked out the door, but he didn’t attempt to hang back.   Derek expected to hear from him, but he assumed he’d get a phone call, not the pounding on his door half an hour later.

Stiles’ expression was so open and concerned that Derek had to muster all his will to keep from slamming the door in his face; he didn’t think he could deal with this right now.  Or ever.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked.  “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Actually, Derek had been himself lately – his old self, or at least an approximation of it.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He felt more than saw Stiles bristle at that.  “Don’t try to bullshit me.  I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to, but don’t try to act like nothing’s changed in the past couple of weeks.”

“I’m clean,” Derek said, the edge of a snarl creeping unbidden into his voice.  “The pack is working together again.  Isn’t that what you wanted?

Stiles looked a little thrown by that.  “Well… yeah.  But it’s not really about what I want.”

“No, it’s not, is it?” Derek snapped.  It was too easy, falling back into this role.  He didn’t even have to try.

Stiles narrowed his eyes.  “You ever heard of a ‘dry drunk,’ Derek?  It’s someone who’s not using but still acts like they are.  It’s reverting back to self-destruction.”

“If you thought my plan was so shitty, you should’ve said so,” Derek shot back, hoping the misdirection would take.  He just needed Stiles out of the loft before he said something he would really regret, either in rage or in need.

“Under the circumstances, I think it’s the best we can do.  Although I still think we should at least let the Argents know what’s going on, because it will inevitably affect them, too.”  He paused.  “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“You helped me.  And I’m… I’m grateful.”  Derek spat the word out like it was poison.  “But I don’t need your help anymore.”

“Derek, you need as much help as you can get.  We all do.  We don’t know exactly what we’re up against, we’re still learning how to work together, and you… you’ve been through so much, and come out the other side of it, and we—”

All this use of we.  Stiles was pack, probably had been for longer than either of them knew it, but it could easily get him killed.  Derek had let himself get too close, and protection of his packmate was more important than his own feelings.  “And I’m okay,” Derek said, letting himself sound as exhausted as he felt.  “I’m just having a rough week.  This is the first real problem I’ve faced since…  And I’m handling it the best I know how.”

Stiles didn’t look like he was buying it.  “I know you’re still having the nightmares, at least sometimes.  I know they didn’t just go away.  What I don’t understand why you aren’t calling me about them anymore.”

Oh god, the nightmares.  Just the mention of them brought the image of Stiles screaming in agony and Derek nearly retched.  Instead, he twisted his face into a sneer.  “I don’t need you as a crutch anymore.”

The wave of hurt that came off of Stiles was acrid and overpowering.  “That’s what you think that was?  Me being your crutch?”

“Need to learn to walk without it sometime,” Derek said, and then, quickly: “Stiles, go home.  There’s nothing more to do tonight.”

Stiles’ face went blank then, and it was more disturbing than Derek could’ve imagined.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen that before.  “Right, okay.  But when we get through this mess—”

“Fine,” Derek snapped, fairly sure he wasn’t actually agreeing to anything.

Stiles stared him down, and for a terrifying moment, Derek thought he was actually going to have to push Stiles out the front door, and Derek worried that if he touched him, he’d be lost.  He thought of all the times he’d touched Stiles so carelessly in anger, and it stiffened his resolve to keep from hurting Stiles at all costs.  “You know where the door is,” Derek said.

Without another word, Stiles turned and left.

Continue to part five.