bloodmoon

People might have wondered why Derek Hale —werewolf Alpha and notorious vampire hunter from a long line of vampire hunters— was entering Bloodmoon just shy of midnight, especially if they knew it was a lair teeming with some of the deadliest, most bloodthirsty vampires this side of the Atlantic, but Derek was nothing if not a man of his word and he would repay his debt even if it was the last thing he did.

He walked directly to the door, fists clenched, claws digging painfully into his skin, and stopped in front of the bouncers guarding the entrance.

“No dogs allowed here, Fido,” said the tallest of the two.

Derek felt his muscles tense up, adrenaline coursing through his veins, ready for a fight. Still, he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of the stupid, unsuspecting humans lining up to enter the club. “Are you going to explain to your master why the head of the Hale clan didn’t show up or do you like your head attached to your body?”

The guard’s eyes widened. Derek was sure that he saw the man swallow before giving a curt nod and letting him through. Fucking blood junkie.

The smell of dozens of bodies sweating, alcohol and weed hit his nose at the same time that the bass dropped in the song playing in the background. Neon lights signaled the way to the private lounge underground and Derek made his way through the crowd avoiding at least two different people who almost spilled their drinks on him.There was a tall man at the back, guarding the velvet ropes that separated the private lounge from the regular crowd. He was speaking to a beautiful redhead woman who looked positively lethal but wasn’t a vampire. Derek should have been able to smell what she was, but it was difficult to figure out what her jasmine perfume meant in the middle of the crowd.

“It means you’re late,” she said.

“What?” How did she—?

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Hale. Stiles said to make you feel welcome, but I don’t like your kind.” Derek stood straight, making himself look taller. He knew it was a weak intimidation technique, but it’d have to do. “So here’s how things are gonna go: you’re gonna go down, smile politely, and do as Stiles says or I will make sure my beautiful girl puts an arrow through your eye.”

“And you are?” he asked, trying to fix his stare on her to avoid turning around. He had the uneasy feeling of being watched. 

“The club owner. I would appreciate keeping the upstairs clientele unaware of the private lounge activities, but most importantly, I’d love to end the night without having to call the cleanup crew.”

Derek huffed, knowing it was entirely possible the cleanup crew was already working if the erratic heartbeat he heard from the bouncer was any indication. Vampires were always thirsty, and even if they weren’t, they were used to bleeding people out for less than that.

He went in.

The moment he crossed the curtains, the atmosphere changed completely. It was darker, only a strip of red neon lights lined the coving where the wall met the ceiling. Every step down the stairs felt like walking deeper into a bear cave. His heart was hammering against his chest, a reminder that he was probably the only thing alive past those velvet ropes. Slowly, the murmur of people down there grew stronger, voices overlapping with the music: upstairs a techno rave roared alive, while down here the darker notes of some 80’s industrial band sang that a timepiece never changes this. Derek rolled his eyes. He’d heard through the grapevine that Stilinski was obsessed with 80’s music and 80’s movies and who knew what else. He thought it was funny that someone who’d been alive so long would choose the 80’s to fixate on.

When his scuffed boots hit the final step, the murmur underground went silent. All he could hear was the music and some muffled heartbeats that belonged to the feeders. Derek swallowed his disgust. Everyone stopped what they were doing, some of them eerily mid-action, frozen in time in more ways than one.

He walked among the fifty or so vamps, trying to focus on his breathing to stop himself from changing. The crowd parted to let him through, eyeing him as if he was a rare, juicy steak —or a walking blood bag, if you were one of them— and as such, Derek saw Stilinski before the vampire saw him.

Surely, Stilinski must have sensed Derek by now. Smelled him. Been warned of him. Anything. Someone didn’t become vampire royalty without acquiring enemies, but Stilinski was in his turf and everyone here would go out of their way to protect him. They wouldn’t let him with his back to the enemy —because Derek was the enemy— for any reason, yet there he was straddling a man’s lap, teeth sunk in his neck, a wet moan on his lips.

If someone asked him an hour ago what he thought of Stilinski, he would’ve said he was an annoying piece of shit who happened to be in the right place at the right time when Derek had been about to die. Sure, he was handsome but weren’t all vampires? It was part of their thing: looking attractive to their victims to lure them in to suck their blood until they got bored and tossed them away. If you were lucky, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, a feeding gone wrong —or right— and you’d meet your creator. If you weren’t so lucky, they’d drain you just enough so that you became addicted to it, the rush of endorphins the bite brought, and came back begging to be drained more and more until there was nothing left of you.

Now, though, seeing Stilinski on that man’s lap, drinking his blood in a grotesque show of lust that didn’t leave anything to the imagination, Derek briefly wondered if it would be so terrible, to be torn apart by that pretty mouth, sharp fangs burrowing into his skin taking away all his sorrows in a wave of pleasure. The man, whose head lolled to the side, eyes rolled back and drawn-out moan made him look obscene, seemed to think Stilinski’s mouth was worth the withdrawals. Or death. Whichever he found worse.

Derek cleared his throat, but Stilinski didn’t turn, just kept sucking thoroughly at the guy’s neck, unbothered by Derek’s impatience. He guessed Stilinski had the upper hand here after all, but it irritated him nonetheless.

When he finally stopped, the man whose lap he was sitting on slouched, his heartbeat was lost in the bassline —if it was even there. Stilinski threw his head back, exposing his long pale neck in a lewd show of dramatics. He stood up, turning around to face Derek, stretching a hand to the side until someone passed him a cloth. Instead of cleaning the trickle of blood that ran down his chin, he wiped his hands quickly and tossed the cloth in the direction of the crumpled man behind him.

“Now, now, aren’t I lucky to feast my eyes on you, Hale?” asked Stilinski, smirking.

Suddenly, Derek wished he could readjust his pants, he wished he hadn’t worn tight jeans, he wished he had the willpower to fight back the night that Stilinski decided to call in his favor. Instead, all he could do was stare at his pale complexion under the faint glowing lights down in the private lounge. People were staring —he could feel it— and whispering about him while feeders walked around the room wearing little by way of clothes —he could hear their erratic heartbeats behind him, announcing their presence.

“Come on, Stilinski. Where are we going?” he asked.

“You know, my friends call me Stiles,” the guy said, a smile on his face. Derek was stronger than this, he knew it.

“We’re not friends.”

“Aw, are you still upset that I put down your uncle when he was trying to maim you?” Distractedly, he wiped his chin with a finger, licking it clean of blood a moment later.

“I killed him,” he defended.

“After I tore out half of his throat. You wanted revenge for what he did to your darling Laura, I get it. And you got it: not only you killed the man, you became an Alpha for it. You should be extremely grateful I like you, Hale.”

“Keep my sister’s name out of your mouth,” he growled, clenching his fists.

“Now, why would I do that, Derek?” He hated how his name sounded on Stilinski’s mouth, his jeans were too tight for the velvet touch of his voice. “I’ve had excellent diplomatic relations with generations of Hales and your sister was not an exception. I think that what happened to her was… uncivilized. Such is the nature of family disputes sometimes.”

When Derek thought of her sister’s death uncivilized was not one of the words that popped into his mind. If there weren’t enough vampires to drain a whole town behind his back, maybe Derek would find delight in telling Stilinski exactly what he thought of his stuck up attitude.

“What did you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Not here, Derek. We don’t discuss business where we feed,” Stilinski said, a smile playing on his lips. “Why don’t you join me for a drink?”

Derek’s stomach tightened in anticipation, knowing he was looking for a fight with his next words. “I’m leaving.”

He turned around, but the redhead woman from earlier was standing behind him, a brunette, whose curls reached just above her shoulders, was with her holding a small crossbow in one hand inspecting the bolt nonchalantly. 

“You will do no such thing,” said Stilinski to his back.

“Didn’t I warn you, Hale?”

Derek’s claws involuntarily came out, his fangs lengthened and thickened, his jaw tensed as he got ready for a fight. If this was the end, he would go down fighting.

“Stiles, are you sure you want to take this cur with you?” the redhead said.

“Come on, Lydia. There’s no need to be rude. He’s not his uncle.” Stilinski said, as if that was enough of an explanation, but all it did was give Derek more questions. “Now, Derek, will you calm down and come with me?”

“I’m not staying here to be insulted.” Derek was proud of himself for sounding like he actually meant it. Especially when the part that wanted to run away was easily overshadowed by the part that wanted to stay. He had to remind himself he wasn’t actually attracted to the blood-sucker, he thought Stilinski was attractive because everyone with two eyes would think that. It was a vampire thing.

“No, you’re staying here because you owe me and you’re going to repay that debt.” Stilinski put a hand on his shoulder and a low, guttural growl formed in Derek’s throat. “I told you once, Derek, you don’t have to worry about your neck while you’re here. Everyone knows that if they touch you, I’ll have their heads before they can say sunrise.”

Derek shook Stilinski’s hand off his shoulder, turning around to face him. After a moment of holding his gaze, he said: “lead the way.”

Stilinski smiled.

He stepped from the platform where his throne was, leaving the man’s body behind and walking to a black door by the side. Derek briefly glanced at the redhead —Lydia, if he remembered correctly— and the girl he assumed was her girlfriend and saw them wearing similar, amused grins, then he followed Stilinski through a series of hallways until they crossed a set of black doors that led to a big room with a freshly made king sized bed in the middle. Derek stopped by the threshold, his heart beating faster in his chest.

“Relax, Derek,” said the vampire, probably aware that it was impossible to relax on command. “Your virtue is safe here. This is just the only soundproofed room apart from Lydia’s office upstairs, but she hates keeping blood anywhere near the human clientele.”

That’s when Derek noticed the small fridge next to the bed, as Stilinski leaned down to get himself a chilled glass, he got a sneak peak at the contents inside: vodka and a couple of bottles that appeared to be blood. He swallowed, averting his eyes from Stilinski, then inconspicuously rearranged his jeans. Derek needed to get a hold of himself ASAP. He closed the door behind him, still wary of being alone with the vamp, but knowing that if he wanted this to be over quickly, he needed to actually deal with it.

“You know”—Stilinski continued as he poured himself a glass of vodka, his eyes never leaving his drink—“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

“What do you want from me?”

He turned to face Derek, his face serious. “I told you, Derek. You’re going to keep me safe.”

“What? You want me to be a bouncer here? Don’t you have enough of them?”

“Ha! As if I’d let that pretty face waste away in the elements. Not a chance.” He swirled the contents in the glass before taking a sip with his eyes closed, savoring the alcohol. “You are going to be my bodyguard during a little trip.”

Derek stood straight, his body taut as a wire. “I’m not leaving my pack.”

“It’s only temporary. Nothing to worry about.”

“Still, I’m not leaving them.”

“You have no choice. Lydia will be handling my immortal affairs here during my absence and she will work with your younger sister to keep the territory safe.”

“What are you talking about?” It sure sounded to Derek like everything was arranged already.

“You have until 4 to pack your things and make sure Cora is up to date and ready to step in as the stand-in alpha while we’re gone.” Stiles continued, as if Derek hadn't interrupted. “We should be in Aurora by tomorrow night. No one should find us there for a couple of months at least.”

That made Derek pause, putting a hand up the air as if to stop the words flowing from Stiles’ tempting lips. “Aurora? A couple of months? What the hell are you on about?”

“Try to keep up, Derek. Clearly, we’re going on a trip up North.”

Derek stood his ground. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

Stilinski, for his part, sighed dramatically, then knocked back the rest of his drink, tossing the glass on the bed. “All you need to know is I gotta be out of here before sunrise or someone will have my fucking head. I like my head attached to my body, thank you very much.”

“‘Someone?’ Another vampire? Human hunters? I can’t do shit for you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Who cares?” said Stilinski. “The result is the same. You’re driving us up into the Oregon wilderness.”

Reluctantly, Derek said, “at least tell me if it’ll be just you or if the brides of Dracula are coming along.”

Stilinski frowned. “The brides—? Ha. Funny. Lydia will not like that nickname, so never say it in front of her.”

Derek waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, Derek prompted, “well?”

“No, Derek. They’re not coming. It’ll be just you and me against the world until I’m safe again.”

“And when will that be?” Derek insisted.

With a sigh, Stilinski dropped on the bed, his shirt exposing his throat in a lewd manner. At least, it felt lewd and provocative to Derek.

“I don’t know, Derek. All I know is someone who hates my guts found out where I am and they’re on their way to finish what they should’ve done a few centuries ago.” Stilinski said, his gaze looking for Derek. “I saved your life, Derek Hale. Now it’s time you do the same for me.”

Derek’s mind was reeling, but he wouldn’t show weakness in front of Stilinski. Least of all if the vampire was about to be his only company for who knows how long. Whoever this person was, Derek hoped this Lydia woman dealt with them soon so Derek could come home and forget all about it.

“At 4, you said?” confirmed Derek.

Stilinski smiled, his fangs peeking out. “Glad to know we’re finally on the same page.”

"You cannot be serious?” Derek said, rolling his eyes at the black coffin in the back of the black SUV.

He was still holding his duffel bag, waiting for someone to tell him it was a joke made in poor taste.

Stilinski came out of the club buttoning up a black t-shirt that smelled of laundry detergent and expensive perfume. Derek tried his best not to stare, but the shirt fit him well and his shoulders looked sculpted on marble. His pants told a similar story: jet back leather pants that seemed to be painted on his body, making his strong, lean legs a spectacle worthy of admiration. 

“You clean up well, Hale,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Derek didn’t take a shower and changed clothes because he was meeting Stilinski. He didn’t know where or when he’d have access to a shower again and he wasn’t about to let himself become a poor imitation of a college hitchhiker. They hadn’t had enough time to talk about details since Stilinski sent him off after their brief conversation in the room behind the lounge and Derek was left with more questions than answers. He couldn’t avoid feeling he was walking into a trap, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. If he refused to help, Stilinski would kill him —kill his entire pack— and Derek would never let that happen. By all accounts, he was a shitty Alpha, but he was still a Hale and the Hale pack always protected each other’s backs. Derek was willing to sacrifice his freedom to keep them safe.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Stilinski asked.

He ignored it in favor of addressing the real issue at the moment.

“I’m not driving a coffin around,” Derek said.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m fucking not, Stilinski. What if I get stopped by the cops, huh? How do I explain the burning corpse you’ll turn into when they open the coffin?”

Stilinski rolled his eyes. “Lydia’s on her way. She has your papers in order.”

“What papers?”

“Derek, why don’t you just relax? We’ve handled everything.”

Derek felt the need to point out that if they had actually handled everything, they wouldn’t be making this trip, but he bit his tongue to stop the snarky comment. Instead, he said “my car has tinted windows, we can use that.”

Stilinski laughed. A full body laugh that made him double over, holding his stomach. Lydia came out of the club, with Crossbow Girl behind her. “Ally, Lyds, you’re not gonna believe this.”

“What’s wrong, Stiles?” asked the redhead.

“Derek here thinks it’d be better if we took his Camaro instead of the armored Range Rover,” he faked cleaning the corner of his eyes for tears, then he shook his head.

“Well, you didn’t choose him for his superhuman intelligence or his clever wit,” added Lydia, raising a sharp eyebrow at him.

“To be honest, I’m still not clear why you chose him,” said Crossbow Girl.

Stilinski sighed. “Allison, we’ve talked about this.”

Crossbow Girl —Allison, apparently— frowned. “I’m supposed to protect you. This coven. My family trained me for this.”

“And you’ll be fulfilling their wishes just fine. You’ll be taking care of Lydia and keeping our territory safe.”

Derek rolled his eyes at the mention of “their” territory. It was Stilinski territory as much as it was Hale territory. It had been that way for decades now. Derek would die defending what his parents and his sister defended all their lives.

“Besides,” Stilinski continued, “you have the whole Hale pack at your disposal.”

Derek growled at him. “Stilinski.”

“You know what I mean, Derek. They’ll have to work together for a while. They can go back to hating each other when we’re back to settle the dispute.”

They hadn’t even spent an hour alone and Derek already wanted to kill the damn vampire. He was insufferable and it was driving Derek insane.

Lydia handed him a thick manila envelope. “American driver’s license, American passport and credit cards to go with them.” Lydia started. “There’s the papers for transporting this cargo and every single certificate customs could ask from you if you need to cross the border.”

“I have a passport,” Derek said.

Lydia gave him a look that conveyed exactly what she thought of his comment. Then continued, “you also have everything you need to match your new Canadian passport and two thousand in cash. There's a phone in there too. Try not to lose it.”

Derek couldn’t help himself and rolled his eyes. Derek could procure his own fake documents, he’d done it before.

“From now on, you’re Roman Prescott anywhere you go. Derek Hale disappeared several months ago and people suspect he’s dead. Do you understand?”

Derek bit back a rude comment, choosing to mock something else instead. “Roman Prescott? Why couldn’t I choose my fake name?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, impatient. “Hale, how many times have you had to disappear without a trace in the last century? The last fifty years? The last decade?” She waited for a moment, but Derek didn’t give her the satisfaction. Lydia added, “I thought so.”

She slapped the envelope against his chest with an all too fake smile. Derek barely caught it before it fell from his arms. He couldn’t wait until there were miles separating him from her.

“Don’t take it personally,” said Stilinski. “Road trips to run away from danger used to be our specialty.”

“Then why doesn’t she join you now?” asked Derek, trying to untangle this mess.

“Please, Derek,” he scoffed. “You’re here to be my bodyguard not my counselor, so let’s get going.”

Derek sighed and put his duffel bag next to the coffin, listening in on Stiles’ goodbyes to his friends? Girlfriends? He didn’t really understand what their relationship was. Not that it mattered to him, obviously.

“Allison, you know what to do,” Stilinski said.

“I promise you, if Aya even comes near here, I’ll kill her,” she replied.

“I meant to say, keep Lydia out of trouble, but I think I forgot who’s most likely to end up in a fight.”

Lydia scoffed. “I can stay out of trouble. It’s trouble that doesn’t want to stay away from me.”

Derek turned around just in time to see Stilinski hug Lydia. The redhead was holding onto him with supernatural strength.

“Lydia,” mumbled Stilinski, his arms around her. Derek averted his eyes. “I’ll be fine. And this time Allison is on our side. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

Lydia let him go, wiping her face with the back of her hand, yet a trickle of blood remained on her cheek. “Listen, whatever happens: do not fuck Hale. Christ alive, Stiles, I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

“You remember I’m here, right?” he called in their direction.

Stilinski laughed as he pulled away from Allison’s embrace. Briefly, Derek wondered what it would be like to be that close to him, then mentally shook himself out of it. He’d rather die than let his neck anywhere near Stilinski’s smart mouth.

“Let’s go, Derek. And girls? Tell Kira again I’m sorry for leaving the fledgling to her.”

“Technically, you’re leaving him to me, Stiles,” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Where’s my apology?”

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you with all this,” Stilinski said. His sincerity surprised Derek, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Now, go. Put some miles between you and Beacon Hills.”

Stilinski put his hands up in mock surrender and walked to the passenger seat, leaving Derek to close the back of the car. He didn’t see Stilinski’s bags, but that wasn’t his problem.

When he got into the car, Derek turned his frown on Stilinski. “Well?”

Stilinski smiled as he dangled the keys in front of him. “Ever been to The Dalles?”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

The vampire shrugged. “I guess I was just trying to make it easy for you.”

Derek sighed and took the keys from him. As he drove out of the parking lot, he threw a final look at the women standing outside Bloodmoon, both wearing similar worried expressions.

“Are you gonna tell me who you’re running from?”

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” asked Stilinski in turn.

After a moment, Derek asked, “who’s Aya?”

Silence.

The air between them shifted and the temperature in the car seemed to plummet. Derek had heard stories about vampires who had other talents, but those stories never said anything about Stilinski. In fact, Laura had always been the one to deal with him and the vamps, so Derek never bothered to learn about the local clan beyond what was strictly necessary to hold up the Hale end of the deal: not killing Stilinski’s people. Now, he wondered if he should have paid more attention to the stories he dismissed as myths.

“None of your business,” Stilinski replied, rearranging his long limbs to lean against the window. “Do you think you can get us to Eugene without asking any more questions or do I have to ask Lydia to lock your sister up?”

Derek clenched his jaw, his claws digging into the steering wheel. “You said—”

“Well, I fucking lied, Hale.” Stilinski interrupted, straightening in his seat. “I swear to whatever God you believe in, if you mess with my shit, you’re gonna regret it the rest of your sorry life. So you’re gonna drive and you’re not gonna ask stupid questions. And if I don’t make it to Aurora by tonight, then Lydia will start mailing you the heads of your pack one by one. Do we understand each other?”

He bit his tongue to swallow the words he wanted to say, claws digging deeper into the expensive leather of the steering wheel. It fucking figures. Well, that’s on Derek for coming when Stilinski called like a well trained dog. If the vampire thought he would really get Derek’s obedience unquestioned, he had another thing coming.

“You do realize that keeping me in the dark won’t let me protect you, right?”

That annoying smile was back on his face. “Derek, baby, just drive.”

Derek’s foot pressed down the pedal, anger coursing through his veins. If it weren’t because the blood sucker would survive anyway, he would drive them straight into a tree. Because he wanted his family to live, Derek drove.

An hour later, hints of gray barely touched the sky when Stilinski spoke again. “Stop the car.”

Derek pulled onto the shoulder only a hundred feet away, extinguishing the lights to avoid being seen by other cars. “What?”

“I’m going to sleep. If you keep this time up we’ll be there early,” he said.

“Don’t you want to get away quickly?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly give you directions from the coffin, can I?”

Derek almost laughed at that. “So you want me to do what? Go slower?”

“Ha. You really think you’re funny, don’t you?” After thinking for a moment, Stilinski added. “Just text me when you get to The Dalles.”

He took the smartphone on the console and quickly tapped the screen, as if checking for something. Derek only raised an eyebrow at him.

“I might text you just for fun, though. Coffins are boring,” Stilinski said, placing the phone back on the console. Then he got out of the car and went to the back, making a considerable amount of noise.

The phone on the console beeped. Derek checked it with a frown: it announced a text from Stiles. 

He ignored it, turning the key in the ignition and kept driving, the road stretching miles ahead. Derek floored it as the sun came up, convinced that once he could safely dump Stilinski, he would do it.

It was several hours later, when Derek had drunk more than one barely drinkable gas station coffee, after driving several miles North, that he realized he could just… stop the car and abandon it by the side of the road, go back to his pack and get them out of Beacon Hills before the vamps woke up for the night.

He stopped the car somewhere past the state line, heart pumping in his chest. The phone on the console pinged with a new message, but Derek ignored it, getting out of the car to pace up and down the road.

The heat on his skin soothed him after hours driving in the air conditioned car, as if this was the first time in years his skin got a taste of noon. Derek leaned on the car, throwing his head back to enjoy the feeling of the sun on his face. Briefly, he wondered how long it had been since Stilinski stood out in the daylight, if he missed the way the air tasted different during a warm summer day. 

Cora would do it. She would walk away and forget the previous night happened at all. Or maybe she’d start running only to realize she wouldn’t make it back to her pack on time and all of them would be dead before she could say blood sucker.

Laura, on the other hand, would keep her promise and get Stilinski to safety, fulfill the terms of her contract to get even and go back to her family. She would never let a debt go unpaid, least of all when the other person had saved her life, her pack.

Stilinski might have known it, or maybe he just assumed correctly, but he didn’t just save Derek’s life that night. If Peter had won, Cora and Malia would be unwillingly bound to him or dead after fighting back. Derek knew that if had been only his life on the line, he would have let go, let Peter win and steal the Hale pack definitely, but Derek couldn’t allow his uncle to force his family to submit under him.

If Laura were here, she would know what to do, who to call, how to get them out of this mess. She would get the pack out safe and sound, far away from Stilinski’s threats.

Derek sighed.

Maybe Laura would go with Stilinski and get this over with as quickly as possible. The truth was, Derek would never know what Laura would do because she was dead. Dead people didn’t make their wishes known easily.

When Derek went back into the car, he noticed the phone was vibrating with an upcoming call.

“What?” he barked as he picked up.

“Derek, you do realize that if I can call you I can call Lydia, right?”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Then why the fuck are we not moving?”

“I needed to piss,” Derek replied.

Stilinski didn’t buy it for a second. “You must think I’m a human with a coffin fetish or something if you really think I’m that stupid.”

Derek rolled his eyes even though the other man couldn’t see him. “Look, I’ve been driving for five hours or so, I’m restless, I’m hungry, I really want to abandon your corpse by the side of the road right now, so will you just– cut me some slack? I haven’t had to leave everything behind to drive a dead body around before. Forgive me for not being on the move constantly, your majesty.”

Stilinski huffed on the other side of the line. “Let me know whenever you want to stop. Any other unauthorized stops—”

“I know, I know. You chop someone’s head off. The novelty’s gonna wear off real soon.”

The line went dead before Derek finished talking.

He turned the key in the ignition and drove some more, turning on the radio as loud as he could stand it. The phone vibrated with another upcoming call.

Derek floored it.

It was close to 3 pm when he saw the first signs pointing to The Dalles. According to the phone, they were only a couple of miles out and Derek was inclined to believe it. He slowed down as he crossed the bridge and kept driving until he saw a Taco Bell, where he parked as far from the main entrance as he could.

We’re at The Dalles, he texted. Where to now?

Portland, Stilinski replied almost immediately.

For fuck’s sake you could’ve just said so, he typed furiously. Why are we here in the middle of nowhere?

Derek saw the text bubble on the screen as Stilinski typed his answer.

The Dalles Inn. Last spot in their parking lot. There’s a white van for a funerary service. You’re changing vehicles and THEN you’re driving us to Portland

And saying so from the beginning would’ve been bad because…? Sent Derek.

Where would be the fun in that? Was the vampire’s response.

Derek dropped the phone on the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking lot, ignoring his stomach’s warning that he needed to eat something. Instead, he drove to the hotel Stilinski mentioned, which wasn’t exactly difficult to find in the small town. 

When he got there, he parked next to the van claiming to be for Rick’s Mortuary Transport Service, wondering how he’d get the coffin there.

He tilted his head back against the headrest and breathed deeply, exhaling slowly to ground himself. He needed to text Cora, check if the pack was okay, if they were still alive. He needed to ask for forgiveness for getting them into this mess, for fucking it up once more. Derek was so focused on his breathing, so lost in his thoughts, that he didn’t hear the people coming towards the car until they were only a couple of feet away. He checked the glove compartment for a gun, but all he could find was a Swiss knife. Derek pocketed anyway.

One of the officers knocked on his window.

“Are you Prescott?” the man asked, lowering his sunglasses.

Derek began shaking his head when he remembered Lydia’s stupid alias. “Who’s asking?”

He cursed inwardly when he realized how that sounded.

“Miss Martin informed us that a Roman Prescott would come to pick up the van. Do you have any ID on you?”

Derek got his new documents out and showed them to the officer at his window. A quick glance at his chest told him his name was Robertson. When the man didn’t speak for the longest time, Derek got his best fake smile on and said, “is there something wrong, officer Robertson?”

The man shook his head, then handed him the papers back. His tone changed as he said, “how are you gonna do the change?”

Derek glanced back at him, but besides his voice, nothing had changed. “Excuse me?”

“I can have one of my guys help you move the cargo,” the officer continued. “But it has to be now. This van has to be gone before six.”

Belatedly, he realized the policeman must know what Derek is here for. He would kill Stilinski when he got the chance. If he wanted Derek to play his bodyguard, Derek deserved to know what was going on. “Sure, I could use a hand.”

After a few minutes, he was loading the coffin with the help of the other officer and Robertson himself. The van was loaded up fast enough and Derek was ready to leave when Robertson said, “you know, we’d heard Stilinski had ties with every kind of thing that goes bump in the dark, but werewolves is kind of pushing it, don’t you think?”

Derek stood straight, his jaw tight. “I don’t know what you mean, Robertson.”

He took the keys from the man’s fat fingers and got into the van, tossing his duffel bag in the passenger seat, and checked his new phone. It pinged with a new message that read you could’ve been more careful. I hit my head at least twice during the move

Derek smiled, then typed Are we changing cars in Portland?

Edgefield. Troutdale. I’ll text you the coordinates

And then?

Straight to Aurora, Stilinski replied.

Derek didn’t even bother with an answer. He waved goodbye to the would-be policemen that helped him load up and drove away, aware that he was being followed all the way out of The Dalles by the armored SUV he’d been driving not too long ago.

After a grueling change of cars —now he was driving a dark blue SUV that screamed Soccer Mom— and a quick stop to eat something, the sunlight faded as Derek left the streets of Portland behind and got closer to their final destination.

Derek heard the loud pounding in the back that told him Stilinski was awake and ready to start annoying him again. He stopped the car and waited until the vampire made himself comfortable in the passenger seat before saying, “are you happy now?”

“Extremely,” Stilinski replied with a wicked smile.

He started the car again and continued driving down Airport Road, listening as Stilinski fiddled with his phone and the radio to put on a Bauhaus song loud enough that the windows trembled with the bassline. They didn’t speak until they were turning onto Main Street.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Derek asked.

“A farm down the Pacific Highway. Kinda out of town,” Stilinski replied with a shrug.

Derek refrained from asking why they couldn’t take a more direct route when he realized that the streets of the town were empty of people. It wasn’t late enough for everything to be closed down, nor were they far enough from the center for stores to be empty. His stomach tightened with a bad feeling.

“Stil—”

“Shhh… I noticed it too,” Stilinski said. He lowered his voice when he continued. “Just keep driving. I need to think.”

“About what?” Derek tried to keep his voice level, but he wanted to yell at him. Still, the only sound around them was the music Stiles was playing.

“Who the fuck is probably waiting for us,” he whispered angrily.

But they didn’t have to wait long, since half a dozen vampires came out from behind the trees onto the street, standing in front of the SUV and cutting its path.

Derek stopped the car about 200 feet from them. In his rearview mirror, he saw four more vamps stand behind the car, all of them wearing blood-stained clothes. Derek’s attention went back to the vampires in front of them when one of the blood suckers came forward, coming closer to the car.

“Come on, Stiles!” the man yelled. “Aren’t you gonna come out to play?”

After a moment of tense silence, Stilinski mumbled under his breath, "fucking Theo."

Derek’s lungs felt on fire, each exhale burning his throat, as he chased his uncle down the woods, cornering him by the burnt down husk of the Hale house. He heard Cora somewhere to his left, Malia further behind. Peter changed back into his partial shift, looking around with a wild look in his eyes. Right then, Peter Hale was nothing if not consumed by madness, a shadow of his former self.

A bullet whispered near Derek's ear and he felt blood run down the side of his face, but no pain since his veins were pumped full of adrenaline. His claws lengthened, his canines thickened, fur covered the sides of his face and his thighs tensed in preparation for a fight. When the smell of gunpowder and silver filled the air, Derek knew this was it: the hunters would not make distinctions between them, all the wolves would die.

Behind him, he heard Cora yell, “Malia, watch out!”

Before he could turn around to check on his cousin, Derek’s attention shifted to his uncle, who was pulling an arrow from his shoulder. He didn’t find the archer, but he saw Stilinski and one of his vampires making their way towards Peter, strolling as if it was a beautiful night out by the river and they were talking about the weather. It was only different from one of those midnight strolling paintings depicting European nightlife because Stilinski was wearing torn jeans, chains dangling from his hips, and a black shirt open at the collar, while his vampire carried a katana at her back, her short skirt torn at the side the only indication she had been in a fight.

“Scott, stand back,” Stilinski said.

“But—” said someone close to Malia.

“Scott, for fuck’s sake, do as you’re told and stay the fuck away.”

Since no one rushed into the clearing, Derek guessed that this Scott guy stayed away. Stilinski stood in front of his uncle, whose eyes darted in Derek’ direction more than once. He wouldn’t let Peter die in the hands of vampires so their pack would be left crippled and weak. Alpha-less. Derek could see Peter thinking the same thing.

“Peter, I fucking warned you to stay away from Beacon Hills.”

Derek frowned. His uncle had had dealings with Stilinski before? His mother was the Alpha, then Laura. Peter had no reason to know the vampire.

“Stiles! Long time no see,” he put on his easy smile, shifting his face back to human. Naked, he looked ridiculous.

“Talia threw you out.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Peter said.

“You tried to—” Stilinski stopped his angry sentence midway, fighting to get himself under control. Derek wasn’t close enough to them to see Stilinski’s fangs, but he knew they were out. “Lydia is one of mine and as such, untouchable. Talia was clear and I was clearer: If you ever set foot here again, you’d leave this place as ashes in the wind.”

Peter’s expression turned serious. “And you thought I would let a brat tell me what to do?”

Stilinski shook his head, then turned around. “He’s all yours, Kira.”

The vampire —Kira— smiled, unsheathing her blade. Derek didn’t realize he was running in his uncle’s direction until he was down at the clearing, standing only feet away from the katana-wielding vamp. 

“How noble of you to come in my defense,” said Peter at his back.

Derek turned around, shifting as he did so. He knew the moment Peter realized that no one was coming to his rescue by the smile he gave Derek. 

“Why did you kill Laura?” he found himself asking. Derek almost wished his uncle would deny everything, saying it was a misunderstanding, that he actually killed the wolf that killed his sister, not her.

Instead, his uncle said, “I did what had to be done.”

A doleful cry tore through the Preserve. Cora ran into the clearing, partially shifted, yelling at Peter as she went. She knocked him out into the floor, rolling down a few yards only to stop by the steps that led to the husk of the Hale house. His uncle won the upper hand, lifting a clawed hand at Cora. Derek didn’t have enough time to react as another arrow lodged into his uncle’s shoulder.

The man howled in pain, throwing his head back. Cora used his distraction to push him away from her, standing up quickly, legs shoulder wide ready for another round.

“Peter, you fucking psycho!” she shouted. “She was my sister.”

Shaking his head, Peter replied. “I feel your pain, Cora. She was my niece, after all.”

Malia came closer, blue eyes shining, a growl stuck in her throat.

“Malia, stay away!” Derek yelled.

“Malia?” Peter turned around, his expression shifting to mild surprise.

Before she could reply, Stilinski raised his voice from the back. “As much as I love family reunions, Peter here is just leaving.”

Derek growled at him.

“Easy, Hale number two,” Stilinski said, putting a hand up. “This is between grown ups.”

“Fuck you, Stilinski.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward,” he retorted with a smile on his face. Derek recoiled. “See, you uncle here was thrown out by Talia herself. Back in the early two thousands—”

“2005, to be precise,” said another person coming out from behind the trees. She didn’t look human but Derek couldn’t be sure if she was a vampire. It felt as if he had a vague memory of her but couldn’t be sure. “Can’t forget about it for some reason.”

Stilinski frowned, but he continued as if the woman hadn’t come close to them. “Back then he thought it would be wise to attack one of my own.”

“I wasn’t aware you kept so many pretty girls around, Stilinski. Might’ve judged you incorrectly before.”

Kira, the katana wielding vampire, moved faster than any of the wolves and drove her sword through his uncle’s midsection. Peter laughed as he coughed blood. Without batting an eye, she pulled the katana out and put it back on its sheath, then kicked Peter directly in the stomach, throwing him against a tree.

Derek resisted the urge to help his uncle, but he was still frozen on the spot, his mind reeling with the thought of his beloved sister writhing under his uncle’s hands, her last breath before being torn in half. He felt sick, unable to think of anything else but the pain she must have been through as their own uncle, the one she remembered with so much joy and love, was the one to destroy the stability she fought so hard to maintain after their mother died.

Distractedly, he heard Peter talk as he walked closer to the vamps, but all he could pay attention to was his own grief becoming blinding rage. His next howl was enough to interrupt whatever bullshit was coming out of his uncle’s mouth.

Before Derek knew it, he was onto Peter, his white hot fury giving him enough strength to knock him on his ass. Cora was by his side immediately, claws and teeth out, all five feet four inches of rage tearing at the skin on his wounded shoulder. Derek braced before raising his own clawed hand, ready to deliver the finishing blow, when Peter started shifting into his Alpha form under them, shaking them off with a maniac laugh.

“Oh, Nephew, I thought you’d learned after Ennis,” his uncle said, his voice distorting in the Alpha shift. 

Derek stilled, aware that he was giving himself up easily, but unable to do anything about it. What did Peter know about Ennis? 

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked.

“For fuck’s sake,” interrupted Stilinski, running to stand behind Derek. “We don’t have time for this. The sun’s gonna come up and I’d like to be underground when that happens.”

Peter charged at Derek, his mouth open wide. He never got a chance to touch Derek or answer his question: one moment Peter was standing strong in front of them, ferocious maw ready to tear him apart. Next thing Derek knew, he was falling on his back, his throat ripped open as he shifted back to human. Stilinski stood next to Peter’s body, his right hand dripping blood.

For a moment, everything was suspended in time, no one moved, no one breathed. The moment stretched long enough that Derek almost thought he was dreaming. If he didn’t do anything, his pack would be left crippled and weak. If he did something, he would be killing the one uncle he had left, one step closer towards erasing the Hale family name from existence.

And yet, this was the man that killed his sister. If anyone was a threat to the Hale family, it was Peter Hale himself. 

“Derek!” cried Cora, her eyes open wide from where she stood a few feet away.

Derek watched as his uncle gargled, choking on his own blood, but still healing. Slowly, but healing. He kneeled next to Peter and put his hand on his heart. It beat erratically under his fingers, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he struggled to heal from the vampire’s wound.

“Did my mother throw you out of the pack, yes or no?” he asked, focusing on Peter’s heartbeat.

“Derek, would– I lie to you?” the man said.

The worst part was that Derek knew the answer to that. His hand pressed down, a rib cracked under the pressure.

“Yes or no,” he repeated.

“Yes,” growled Peter.

His heartbeat didn’t waver, but Derek expected as much.

“Did you attack Stilinski’s people?”

Peter tried to laugh, but his smile turned to a grimace. His heartbeat jumped and Derek knew he wouldn’t like his uncle’s next words. “Are you– are you defending him now?”

Instead of answering, Derek’s claws burrowed in Peter’s chest. “What did you mean about Ennis?”

With a bloodied grin, Peter said, “oh, nephew, what would be the point in—”

But Derek knew the answer from that grin alone. He felt fifteen again, Paige’s chest caving under his hand as he ended her pain once and for all. Peter didn’t deserve that mercy, yet Derek was done with this. He didn’t want to know anything else about what his uncle had or hadn’t done because he knew enough now. He wouldn’t let himself be manipulated again. Most importantly, he would remake the Hale pack, gain back his family’s position in the supernatural world and fucking avenge his sister.

Would Laura have wanted this? Derek only knew one thing: his sister would never let a feral wolf become an Alpha, no matter who that feral wolf was.

Derek held his breath as his hand closed around his uncle’s heart, keeping eye contact with the man as it pulsed one last time before exploding between his fingers. Peter’s body seized then it stilled as Derek pulled his hand back —his senses sharpening, shifting, as the Alpha spark changed hands. His grief tore its way out of his throat as he howled. A moment later, Cora and Malia joined, their cries as painful as Derek’s.

“He ruined my Valentino black shirt,” said Stilinski beside him. Derek’s eyes darted to him and saw him rolling up his sleeves.

“Do you mind?” Derek asked, unsure of what he was really asking.

“Oh, go ahead, you can have your goodbye, but we’re not leaving until he’s ashes in the wind,” the vampire replied.

Cora growled somewhere near them, but Derek raised his left hand in a quick command to stay back. Stilinski looked at him as he slowly stood up. Derek’s right hand dripped with his uncle’s blood.

“What makes you think I’m letting you burn his body?” he asked, incredulous. The fucking nerve Stilinski had. Peter was a bastard, but he was still a Hale. He had been in the Hale fire for fuck’s sake. Derek thought he had died there. Derek was still coming to terms with the reality in which his uncle was alive and was the Alpha killing people in Beacon Hills and Stilinski wanted to burn him.

“Contrary to popular belief, I like it when rogue Alphas stay dead.”

“Still, he’s–”

“A Hale and you guys have issues with fire, I know. I can have one of my guys take care of it if it’s such a bother.”

“Look, you cunt—” Cora started, walking his way. Before she could come close enough to cause any harm, Kira was onto her, holding her arm to stop her advances.

“Derek, we’re gonna need to have a conversation about how you keep your cubs under control, but I get that this is a difficult moment and—”

“You’re not burning Peter,” interrupted Derek, tired of the vamp’s bullshit.

“Burn him, quarter him, I don’t care,” said Stilinski, serious for once. “I want him gone. Gone gone. No way to bring him back because one of you was feeling sentimental.”

Derek looked at Cora and knew without a trace of a doubt that there was no way either one of them allowed Peter to be back. Still, he said, “look, Stilinski—”

“I’ll have one of the dhampirs stay to supervise,” Stilinski continued, as if he commanded the place.

“The Hale pack doesn’t follow your orders.”

“Thank fuck I don’t have to worry about keep you lot under control too,” he recoiled as if the idea of getting involved with the pack stung him. Stilinski shook his head, as if clearing it from a vile thought. “Derek, I’ll be in touch to talk about you paying me back.”

He turned around and walked in the direction of the redhead.

Paying him back?

“What do you mean?” Derek called after him.

Without stopping, Stilinski turned around with a grin. Derek wanted to punch it off his face. The vampire didn’t raise his voice as he replied. “You didn’t think I stopped your uncle from eating your face out of the goodness of my heart, did you?”

Derek exchanged glances with Cora, biting his tongue to stop himself from replying to the vampire, unsure if that was the wise course of action. Instead, Derek kept watching him as he turned his back on him and walked away, the chains on his hips rattling.

“Kira, let’s go back to the club. There’s still time for a snack.”

Katana Girl let go of Cora, running to Stilinski’s side. She leaned to whisper something in his ear and Stilinski laughed. It was the last thing he heard before they disappeared in the forest.

“Fucking Theo,” Stilinski mumbled under his breath.

Derek sighed. “I take it you know who this is.”

“This is why you can’t trust werewolves around Portland,” he was clearly talking to himself only, Derek just happened to be within hearing range. “I fucking told Lydia that Robertson was a bad idea. That motherfucker would sell his mate for enough money.”

Derek doubted it, even when proof that they had been discovered laid in front of them.

“Stiles! Come on, you coward!” Theo yelled, coming closer.

“Did you pack any weapons?” asked Stilinski.

With a sigh, Derek said, “nothing with a large enough caliber to blow a vamp’s head off if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Stilinski shrugged, then proceeded to roll up his sleeves. “Well, I never liked a Burberry shirt anyway.”

Derek rolled his eyes at him, reaching for the door to get out, but Stilinski stopped him.

“Leave Theo to me. Feel free to run over any of his fledglings though.” Then he got out of the car, standing carelessly in front of Theo. Stilinski didn’t make it easy to watch his back. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Derek shifted gears and put the car in reverse, listening for any changes in the air that meant Theo would make a run for Stilinski. A low growl came from the back, as the feral vampires took Stilinski in. Derek glanced at him, but he looked calm, unbothered by the smell of fresh blood that lingered in the air.

Someone behind Theo giggled. Derek’s attention went to a girl who looked barely fourteen, her jeans were dirty and her t-shirt was soaked with blood, her arms were bloodied as well, and blood dribbled down her chin. She noticed Derek’s eyes on her and smiled. It chilled him to the bone, how empty the girl’s smile was. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to what would come next.

Theo walked closer, standing six feet away from Stiles.

“I heard someone’s looking for you,” he said. He didn’t look half as wild as the rest of the vampires surrounding them, but Derek could smell fresh blood on him as well. These vampires had just fed, they’d be at their strongest. It made him reconsider his options. His foot shifted slightly on the pedal.

“Then you heard she’s been trying to kill me longer than your entire bloodline has been alive,” Stilinski replied.

“Don’t get cocky. If anyone’s gonna stop you, that’ll be me.”

With a smile, Stilinski said “I’d like to see you try.”

Derek wanted to shake the man. They didn’t have time for this, they should be flooring it out of here. He hadn’t survived that many fights against vampires making stupid choices. 

Stilinski, of course, didn’t give a shit.

Theo charged at him, the vampires behind the car following his lead. In a split of a second, Derek was backing up the car, his foot hard on the gas, until he impacted one of the vamps. In his rearview mirror, he saw another vampire jump out of the way. Derek ran over a body, then maneuvered the car to the side to intercept a woman who was dangerously close to Stilinski. The woman flew in the air a few yards but stood again and charged at the car.

Derek hit the brakes, partially shifting as he did so, then reached down to rip the side of his duffel bag patting until his fingers closed around his gun. He inhaled as he sat back up, sliding the safety off and, without stopping to aim, he fired at the woman.

Her body fell on the hood with a thud, she screamed as she realized she couldn’t see out of one eye, patting at the hood frantically, her face a bloody mess. Derek almost felt for her, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that, for footsteps approached the car running and suddenly Derek was surrounded by thirsty vampires trying to get a hold of him.

He couldn’t see nor hear Stilinski amongst the growling, screaming and laughing. His skin felt taut as his body got ready for a quick shift, but Derek held himself back, grinding his teeth to focus.

Derek Hale would not die here. Not if he had any say in it.

He put his foot back on the gas and accelerated, hoping he wasn’t about to hit Stilinski. A couple of the vampires fell back, but recovered easily enough, following the car. One of them managed to break one of the car windows, but couldn’t reach Derek because he suddenly turned left, shaking a few vampires off.

Derek fired twice more, hyper aware of the twelve rounds he had left. Both of his shots hit something but he couldn’t see what or who. Without warning, a fist broke through the glass, a man with gangly limbs grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him towards the window. He braked, shaking off a couple of the bloodsuckers, but the man was holding onto him using his supernatural strength.

Nails scratched his chest as the young girl from earlier threw herself against the hood of the car, her body impacting the glass with enough strength to crack it. He fired many shots in quick succession, not bothering to count the rounds he had left. When the magazine emptied, he watched the girl's body convulse on the hood, then stilled. There was too much blood on the glass to tell if she was actually dead.

All of a sudden, he was aware that he had no way of telling if Stilinski was alive. It wouldn’t matter if the other vampires managed to break into the car. If Stilinski was dead, his whole pack would be next. He needed to get out of the car.

He took a deep breath as he grabbed the arm at his chest, ripping it clean from the man’s shoulder. The man staggered back with a scream, Derek threw the door open and jumped out the car, his clothes tearing as he shifted into a wolf.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stilinski jump at Theo, fangs out, biting at the other man’s throat viciously until he got his hand in the right position to rip Theo’s head off. Stilinski let the man’s body fall and spat Theo’s blood as he stood up.

“Should’ve never saved your fucking life, ungrateful piece of shit,” the vampire said, a scratch on his cheek healing already.

Derek’s moment of distraction meant one of the feral vampires knocked him on his ass as he crashed into him, cracking a rib or two in the process. They rolled down the side of the street until they hit a tree and the vampire gained the upper hand, opening his mouth to bite him. The guy’s fangs pierced through the skin of his neck and a howl tore through his throat.

He writhed under the vampire’s weight, until it was suddenly gone.

Stilinski stood a few feet from him, holding the vampire’s head by his hair. Derek barely had a second to compose himself and rose to his feet, jumping at the first feral vampire he set his eyes on.

Soon enough that vampire’s head was rolling away from the body.

Derek took a quick look around them where only two more vampires stood, looking at the scene in front of them with panic.

“Please,” said the younger-looking girl.

One second they were standing. The next, their bodies crashed together as they fell to the ground. Stilinski stood next to them with a grimace.

“You know, Derek,” he said, turning in his direction. “I didn’t think I’d spend this much time saving your ass during this trip.”

Derek ignored him, trotting to the car to fetch clothes from his duffel bag, shifting as he went. Stilinski whistled in his direction.

“Don’t bother on my account,” he called as Derek grabbed a pair of jeans. He shook off the scraps of clothing still hanging off him, giving a wistful look to his beloved leather jacket. He’d had it for so long, he almost thought of it as armor. He wondered when they’d be in a city where he could take a quick detour to get another one.

He put on the jeans and circled around the car looking for his boots. He’d go barefoot if necessary, but those were some comfortable boots.

While Derek collected his shoes, Stilinski walked over, his shirt reeked of blood, he didn’t look hurt in the slightest. Still, Derek asked: “are you hurt?”

“Are you?” shot back the vampire.

Derek ran a quick assessment but couldn’t find anything.

“Your neck,” pointed Stilinski.

His hand went to his throat and it came back stained with blood. He remembered the fangs on his neck but the bite was nowhere to be found.

“Healed already,” said Derek.

Stilinski nodded, as if that made sense. He went to sit at the driver’s side, throwing out the arm Derek previously ripped out.

“Come on,” he said. “We need to clean up and get the fuck out of this town.”

After putting on his boots, Derek made it back to the passenger’s side, kicking his duffel out of the way.

He slammed the door closed and fixed his gaze on the horizon.

“Who the hell were they?”

“Theo’s, I suppose.”

Silence stretched between them, a moment longer than it was comfortable.

“Who’s after you, Stilinski?”

The vampire turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the scene. In the rearview mirror, Derek caught a sight of the carnage they left behind, wondering if the whole trip would be like that.

Derek ruffled through his bag once more, as if expecting to find a different set of clothes in there, but the same t-shirts stared back at him no matter what he did. He was standing on his boxers next to a king size bed that he assumed was Stilinski’s, but the vampire had just pointed to the room and left him alone. At the moment, he was nowhere to be seen.

He knew he should be worried about the silence but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Derek was more worried about his pack back in California and how they were handling his taking off in the middle of the night. He needed to find his new phone and call Cora when he got a chance. She was probably still pissed at him for dumping everything on her the way he did.

With a sigh, he put on a gray t-shirt and his jeans, then closed the duffel bag as well as he could. A deep gash on the side and a gruesome blood stain told the story of a fight he wished he didn’t have to go through again, yet Derek suspected things could only get worse from here. Once he was dressed, he went back to the living room just as Stilinski came into the house.

“There weren’t many people left,” he said without preamble.

“You went out to feed?” Derek asked, unable to mask his disgust.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Actually, don’t answer that,” he added immediately. “I found a few people being held in a barn not far from here. If there’s anyone left in the city itself, I couldn’t hear them. Much less smell them under all that blood.”

After a moment of contemplation, Derek said “I should kill you.”

“Why me?” asked Stilinski.

“That Theo guy was one of yours, wasn’t he? He just decimated an entire town and exposed the supernatural world to humans.”

“First of all, Theo was never mine so jot that down.” He took off his shoes and threw them in a trash bag, then he started unbuttoning his shirt. “Second of all, I’m not responsible for all the vampires in the world.”

“Aren’t you some sort of vampire royalty?” Derek watched as Stilinski put his shirt in the bag, then undid his pants. He quickly averted his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“You can look. I don’t mind,” Stilinski said. Derek could hear the smile he had on his face. He’d never wanted to punch something as badly as he did then. Pain and rage to distract him from, from— everything really.

“And to answer your question–” the sound of the trash bag falling made him look, but he immediately wished he hadn’t.

Stilinski stood there completely naked, trash bag forgotten, arms open, as if putting himself on display. His body was pale and captivating, his broad shoulders giving way to strong, lean arms and a toned chest. A trail of dark hair went down from his navel all the way to his groin, where his cock hung limp. He stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, completely at ease.

Derek’s eyes went back to his face, but it was too late: Stilinski saw him looking anyway. With a smirk, he said, “to answer your question, I was royalty. Back when that meant something. Now I couldn’t give less of a shit about it, all I care about is keeping my coven safe.”

“And Theo?” he asked, doing his best to keep his eyes on Stilinski’s face.

“Not my coven.”

“‘I never should’ve saved you’, you said.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have. He wanted to walk into the sun. I should’ve let him burn.”

With that, he walked to the room Derek had been in a few minutes before. Less than a minute later, Derek heard him in the shower, singing a Depeche Mode song that reminded him of Erica. The thought of his pack was like a bucket of ice cold water on his head, a reminder that Stilinski was, technically, the enemy. Derek wasn’t here because he wanted to, he was here to keep Stilinski from being killed long enough so whoever was after him got dealt with. After that, he would be back in Beacon Hills, trying to forget this trip even happened.

Stilinski came out of the room a few minutes later, dressed in a pair of tight jeans, a band t-shirt and a plaid shirt on top. He looked young and carefree, like any attractive guy walking down the street. Derek’s stomach did a funny flip that he tried his damn hardest to ignore. In his mind, he repeated his own mantra: vampires are attractive because that’s how they hunt. Derek wasn’t actually attracted to Stilinski, he was just a man who had eyes.

“We need another car,” said the vampire.

“What about your stupid coffin?”

“Clearly we’re gonna have to move at night only. It’s gonna be faster anyway. No traffic at night,” Stilinski said.

“You want me to keep driving now?” he asked.

“Derek, do you really think I am that cruel?” Derek did, but that was probably a bad idea to confirm, so he stayed silent. “Wow. So that’s where we’re at then. I’m driving, you take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we get somewhere.”

Derek didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep and let his guard down while the vampire was driving, but he had no choice. Exhaustion was pulling him down like an anchor, even if he still felt wired from the fight.

“Where are we going?”

Stilinski gave him a lopsided smile. “Grab your stuff. Salt Lake City awaits.”

“What’s there?” asked Derek.

“Fuck if I know. Do I look like someone who loves the desert?”

“Then why—”

“Because, Derek, it’s almost midnight and we’re going East. We’re not gonna make it any further tonight.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he shouldered his duffel bag. “We’re probably not gonna make it to Utah either.”

“Are you doubting my ability to drive? I’ve been doing it longer than you’ve been alive.”

He noticed Stilinski was carrying a backpack as well as the trash bag that held his previous clothes. “So was this the plan all along?” Derek asked.

“I know you think I was fucking with you, but I really thought we’d stay here for a while.”

Stilinski went out of the house with Derek a couple of steps behind. Then he locked the door and hastily wiped the doorknob with his sleeve.

“You think that’s enough to wipe any traces of you?” Derek shook his head incredulously. “Any wolf worth their salt will smell you.”

“It’s enough to disturb the fingerprints and that’s good enough for us. Now let’s go. There’s gotta be something better than a pickup that we can take.”

“You mean steal.”

“Fuck your semantics,” Stilinski said.

They walked around the neighborhood until they found a black sedan that was covered in leaves, as if it had been parked for a few days under the yellowing trees. Stilinski tried the door, but it didn’t open. He sighed and reached into his back pocket, getting a lockpicking tool that he used to jimmy the car door open.

“So you just carry that with you?”

“You know, we just killed half a dozen people and left their bodies on the main square and you’re getting judgey about a lock pick?”

“We killed half a dozen feral vampires whose bodies will turn to ash come sunrise.”

Stilinski got into the car shaking his head. “Sooner rather than later, you’ll have to admit those vampires were people too.”

Instead of answering, Derek got into the car, telling himself that if anything, they’d done the world a favor. Those vampires pretty much decimated an entire town. When word of what happened in Aurora reached another city, news outlets would have a field day.

As soon as Derek closed the door, Stilinski hit the pedal and drove them out of the city in complete silence.

Derek woke up with a start, confused about his whereabouts, his neck cramping from the awkward position he was sleeping in. He glanced around as he pieced together the events from the last twenty four hours, darkness in every direction, except for the headlights illuminating the way ahead. Soft music played on the radio and Stilinski was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm set by the guitar.

He sat up straight and rolled his shoulders back at the same time he stretched his neck. He could feel every fiber of his body as it repaired itself, his muscles softening after being in such a tense, awkward position for so long.

The time on the radio read 3:33, a bleak reminder that he would probably run on a sleep deficit for the rest of the trip. “Why didn’t you wake me up in Portland? I specifically remember asking you to wake me up in Portland.”

“And I’m pretty sure I told you we weren’t stopping for anything. Whatever it is you want, it can wait until we get to Utah.”

Derek wanted to call his family somewhere the vampire wouldn’t hear, but at this point it seemed like privacy was a thing of the past.

“I called Lydia, by the way,” Stilinski said. “She knows about Aurora and she said she’d find someone in Portland to handle it. We used to have good relations with Amy’s coven. She’s gonna hate me after this.”

He couldn’t care less about the relations between different vampire covens at the moment. His neck hurt and his legs felt cramped in the small space of the car. “Have you seen my phone? I need to call Cora.”

“Sorry, I threw it out back in Portland.” Fucking figures. They weren’t allowed to stop if Derek wanted to stop, but he probably took a break at some point. With a nod at the dashboard, Stilinski added, “use mine, I don’t mind.”

With a sigh, Derek took the phone and dialed from memory. He and Cora always memorized each other’s numbers before going anywhere separately. It was one of Laura’s rules, one that Derek wasn’t inclined to stop following any time soon.

“I didn’t think today’s generation knew any numbers by heart,” commented Stilinski.

Derek ignored it, listening to the line ring and ring until Cora picked up with a gruff “whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

“Cora, don’t hang up.”

After a moment of rustling, he heard soft footsteps and a door close. She was probably walking somewhere where she could get the illusion of privacy from the pack.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m handling it. Erica wants to kill you though.”

Derek winced knowing he deserved it, but it stung all the same. “Change of plans, we’re going East.”

“What happened?” Cora asked. Derek could almost hear her frown.

“It’s not important. Listen to me: do not trust any werewolf outside of the pack.” It felt wrong to be so paranoid about everyone around them, even friendly wolves, but knowing about the werewolves in The Dalles was enough to put him on high alert. He quickly glanced at Stilinski before looking ahead again. “And if anyone shows up there, talk to Stilinski’s people.”

“Derek, I don’t trust them.”

“Neither do I, but you gotta use whatever connections you have now.” As an afterthought, he added, “and don’t antagonize them.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Call me when you stop for the night. Or day. And get a fucking phone somewhere, I’m not answering more calls from private numbers.”

Derek agreed, mumbled a quick goodbye and stayed on the line until Cora hung up.

“She’s right, you need a new phone and probably a new bag.”

He rolled his eyes at the man, throwing the phone on the dashboard. “Where are we anyway?”

“Still in Oregon, unfortunately,” Stilinski clutched at the steering wheel with both hands and put more pressure on the pedal, as if driving like a maniac would actually get them to Utah tonight.

“We’re not gonna make it to Utah.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Derek picked up the phone again and opened up google maps with a frown. “Let’s stop wherever we are by 7.”

“Find me a city past the state border,” said Stilinski. Demanded, more like. Derek was already dreading a full night as the vampire’s copilot.

With a sigh, he said “what’s the matter with staying in Oregon for the day?”

“I don’t know, Derek. What’s the problem with putting more miles between us and Aurora? Find me a city, then get us a hotel.”

“I’m not your fucking assistant.”

“You are whatever I need to be safe by sunrise and right now? That’s someone who googles in silence, baby.”

Without thinking about it, Derek said “stop the car.”

“I’m not stopping the car.”

“Stop the fucking car right now,” he growled, his canines slurring the words.

He barely had time to put his hand on the dashboard before Stilinski slammed the brakes. Luckily, there wasn’t another car for miles. Derek heard the sound of animals scuttering away from the car.

For a moment, everything was silent, although it didn’t last long.

“What?” grumbled Stilinski.

Derek took a deep breath to level his voice before answering. “I’m not a goddamn puppy you can boss around, so stop doing it or I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stilinski gave him one of his annoying smirks. “Joke’s on you, I’m into that shit.”

There were bad decisions and then there was whatever compelled him to do what he did next. He shifted to his partial form and snarled at Stilinski, fangs and all, but the vampire didn’t even flinch. To say that he felt stupid was an understatement.

“Are you done?” he asked.

Derek shook his head as his hand went to the door handle. He could walk back to California, he didn’t have to stand this bullshit.

“Get out of the car and I’ll have Kira slash your wolves before you can make it back to whatever city we just passed.”

His claws lengthened as his arms tensed for a fight. “You’re not gonna do it.”

“I’m not bluffing, Derek. I saved your life. Twice.” When Derek didn’t relax, he added, “you owe me. And not just because I saved you from Theo’s vampires or because I stopped Peter from eating your face. You owe me because when I found out one of the dhampirs set the fire that killed most of your family, I was the one who killed her. Not Peter. 

“So here’s what we’re gonna do, you’re gonna breathe in, relax, shift back to your handsome self and we’re gonna keep going until we find a city with a proper fucking hospital. Do you understand?”

Derek shifted back. Mostly out of shock than anything else. Kate was a dhampir?

“Kate was one of yours?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Dhampirs are their own thing, but the Argents are supposed to answer to me. Kate went rogue and Laura understood that.”

His entire world tilted on its axis. All this time, his anger against the human hunters was in vain. He should have been worried about the vampires in his own backyard.

“Did you—”

“I didn’t know about Kate, if that’s what you’re wondering. Your uncle was the one who tipped me off with his killing spree. Laura wasn’t the first on his list.”

“The other hunters–?”

“They’re all dead. Peter was thorough.”

Derek rubbed his chest as a pulsing pain expanded from his heart. The enormity of his grief swallowed him, a powerful wave dragging him down into the ocean until he could no longer breathe. Everything hurt. He wished he could let go, surrender himself to the darkness, but he came up for air when a hand touched his arm.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I’d let you kill her if I could.”

It didn’t make him feel any better. Nothing would bring his family back, but knowing she was dead did give him some peace of mind. He could never tell Cora though. She was impulsive enough to try to go after Stilinski by herself.

He glanced at the phone he was still holding and saw his face in the cracked screen’s reflection. “I broke your phone,” he said.

“Does it still work?” Stilinski asked, but he didn’t sound hopeful. Derek tried to turn it on but it was no use. “Eh, we’ll get another one. Shall we?” he asked, pointing at the road ahead.

After a curt nod, Stilinski drove off.

It was a few minutes before 5 am when Derek could not hold it in any longer.

“You said Laura wasn’t the first in Peter’s list.”

Stilinski turned down the music as he turned onto I-84 to drive them out of Baker City, where they briefly stopped for gas and Derek bought some energy drinks to fuel him until they stopped for the day for a real breakfast.

“To be honest, I don’t think she was in his list at all,” Stilinski said.

“I thought Peter died in the fire,” started Derek. He didn’t know what compelled him to say that, but now that it was out in the open, a load lifted off his shoulders. He didn’t have to carry this grief everywhere. “They never found him but with fire…”

He felt Stilinski’s eyes on him as he trailed off. 

“There’s never much to find. I know.”

Derek sat with his sorrow for a moment, hoping that if he let himself feel it, it would pass him by faster. Apparently, grief didn’t work like that.

“What did Laura know?” Derek asked.

“She found a body, realized it was a hunter and came to ask me if I knew about it. I didn’t back then, but when Allison found another one —someone she had trained with—, Lydia started putting the pieces together. They’d been in Beacon Hills about a decade before, they were known associates of Kate, Allison’s father knew a couple of them had been in prison for arson.”

“Did you tell Laura?”

“Yeah. She tried to slash my throat even, since the Argents were supposed to be under control. Laura was– She was a force of nature, Derek. You were lucky to call her your Alpha.”

Derek didn’t feel lucky right then. All he felt was the crushing weight of his own guilt. “When did you find out about Peter?”

Stilinski huffed. “I didn’t until it was too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was after Laura’s death. He tried to go after Allison and almost got his balls blown off for his trouble.”

“Allison? Crossbow Girl is an Argent?” He could feel his own rage bubbling under the surface. “Why do you keep her around?”

“She’s Lydia’s girl, dude. I am not getting in the way there.”

“But the Argents—”

“Owe me their life,” interrupted Stilinski. “At least Victoria and Chris do. Allison is free to do whatever she wants and she’s the one who chose to be in the coven.”

Doubtful, he turned to Stilinski as he asked, “she chose to become a vampire?”

“Vampires usually do.” He shrugged, as if other people’s reasoning didn’t concern him. “But not yet. She doesn’t wanna be stuck as a 19-year-old forever.”

Curiosity got the best of him then. “What about you?”

Stilinski made a face that was somewhere between disgust and anger. “I thought we were talking about Laura.”

Derek reached for an energy drink. His head hurt from lack of sleep, but the chances of him falling asleep now were slim. “What? Is your vampire origin story a secret?”

“I’d rather talk about a pleasant topic.”

“Talking about Laura is not pleasant to me,” retorted Derek.

“I know it’s fresh, but if all you associate with Laura is pain, you’re gonna lose many good memories to the sinking hole of depression.”

“You’re not my therapist.”

“Well, you should fire the one you have now. They’re not really helping you with that avoidance shit.”

Derek wanted to add he didn’t have a therapist, but he was sure that would set him up for a witty retort on Stilinski’s side. Instead, he set the can down on the cup holder, unfolded the map they bought back at Baker City and followed the I-84 with this index finger until Ontario. A vague memory of fighting Laura over a map when they were kids resurfaced and he almost smiled.

“We could stop in Ontario for the day,” he suggested, realizing way too late that he avoided giving Stilinski a proper answer about Laura.

“We might as well drive all the way down to, I don’t know, what’s in Idaho?” Stilinski asked. “We’re driving through Idaho aren’t we? I don’t know enough geography for this.”

“Yeah,” Derek answered absentmindedly. “Haven’t you been in America a long time?”

“It doesn’t mean I went through the American education system.”

Touché.

“Boise. That’s big enough to get lost in the crowd for a few days. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Stilinski shook his head. “Just today. I don’t know if there are werewolves or hunters here and we have no way of knowing.”

“And tonight?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said.

Stilinski turned the volume up, clearly done with talking.

They didn’t speak until the vast emptiness that surrounded them turned into a small city that eventually gave way to Boise. A sign advertised a Hyatt Place up ahead and the vampire turned off the music as he parked outside.

“We can’t stay here,” said Derek.

“Why?”

“I’m still carrying a blood stained duffel bag. Don’t you think people will ask questions?”

“Derek, it’s 7 am. I need to go inside. You have money, go buy whatever you need while I sleep,” said Stilinski. 

When all Derek did was glare at him, Stilinski rolled his eyes and said. “Just put what you need in my backpack. You can think about human practicalities later.”

With a sigh, Derek reached for Stilinski’s backpack and opened it up to find it only contained a hoodie, some papers and cash. Seeing that he wasn’t as prepared as it seemed put Derek at ease somehow. He shoved his clothes inside, along with his own fake documents.

“Keep the Canadian passport on hand,” said Stilinski.

“Do I wanna know why?”

“It matches mine. Less questions asked.”

Derek wasn’t thrilled about it, but did as he was told and got out of the car.

Stilinski checked them in, flirting with the receptionist to the point where Derek started to feel like a third wheel. She gave Stiles a keycard and a piece of paper with her number quickly scrawled on it.

They went to their room on the third floor and, unsurprisingly, there was only one bed. Stilinski went to close the blackout curtains, plunging the room into darkness. Derek was too tired to turn on the lights, so he just walked to the gray sofa in front of the bed and lied down.

“Sleep on the bed, you idiot. I’ll sleep when you inevitably cut your sleep short because you don’t trust me,” said the vampire, uninterested.

“I’m good.”

The vampire sighed and said “fine. Have it your way.”

Derek heard Stilinski kick his shoes off, then he threw himself on the bed.

“Hey, Derek?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled, already drowsing.

“Don’t forget to buy two phones when you go out to eat something.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t forget to eat something,” he added.

Derek fell asleep before he could say, don’t mother-hen me, Stilinski.

Derek briefly fumbled with the keycard before going into his room. His arms carried a couple of shopping bags and a shiny, new duffle bag for his stuff. He really wished he could know in advance when this would be dealt with so he could pack more efficiently. This trip was a logistical nightmare.

Once he went inside the room, he noticed Stilinski’s silhouette standing near the window, watching the street below as the blue hour gave way to night. Derek almost hoped he wouldn’t be here when he came back —which is why he spent the whole day out and about, spending Stilinski’s cash. The vampire’s shoulders were hunched, his pose almost melancholic as his eyes followed the people on the street. It was half past eight and most people were finishing their business for the day, hurrying back to their homes or shopping for a last minute ingredient for dinner. Derek wondered if Stilinski thought of the humans he killed for food as anything more than walking meals, if he ever thought about their lives, their hopes, their dreams.

“Did you have fun?” he asked without turning around. The remnants of twilight gave his skin a blue-ish pallor that made him look like an old oil painting. Derek’s hands itched to capture the moment somehow.

“I got you a phone,” Derek said, deciding to ignore his question.

“Did you eat something?”

“Why do you care?” Derek asked in return.

“I wanna know if we’ll have to make any stops tonight.”

Derek turned the bags over on the bed and started sorting the different things he got. Phones, spare chargers, clothes, and enough energy drinks to keep him awake until the following day. He put the toiletries he got for himself to the side, then looked up at Stilinski who was giving him a funny look.

“What?” he barked.

“Nothing,” said Stilinski, though his grin said otherwise. “How do you know I’ll like the clothes you got me?”

“I don’t give a shit, Stilinski. But if we’re on the run, you can’t wear that fucking band t-shirt. It’s too easily recognizable.”

“I doubt it,” said the vampire.

“People know Xymox. You’re not unique, Stilinski.”

“Yeah, fucking 60 year olds who’ll forget who they saw pass by in a parking lot once.” Stilinski paused, then narrowed his eyes. “And you apparently. How?”

Shaking his head, Derek said, “wear the damn hoodie at least. I didn’t buy it because I thought you’d get cold.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “Give me my phone, I need to call Lydia.”

Derek waved his hand in the direction of the phones in a universal help yourself gesture, then set on folding clothes and packing his duffle bag. Because the room was only so big —and Derek had werewolf hearing after all— he heard the moment Lydia answered the phone with a quick, “this better be good.”

“Lyds,” said Stilinski.

“For fuck’s sake, Stiles. I told you not to lose that phone,” she sounded furious, but also relieved. Once again, Derek wondered if there was something between them. He tried to distract himself by folding his new clothes as neatly as possible. He didn’t care if Stilinski was dating someone or not.

“Sorry, there was an incident,” Stilinski said. “I promise not to lose this one, so we’re good.”

Lydia hummed on the other side of the line. “I found you a place to stay. A two-bedroom in West Valley. Should be good for a month or so.”

“What about the condo?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Too far away. Way too dangerous.”

“That’s why I have Derek with me, right?” Stilinski said. Derek rolled his eyes. “Look, I can make it work, Lydia. Just tell me it’s gonna be ready when I need it.”

“It is ready. I just don’t think you should go there. Ally agrees, by the way. She says there are werewolves in that area.”

“I have a werewolf of my own,” he said.

“Fine,” she agreed, as if Stilinski winning an argument hurt her deeply. “Just, don’t do anything stupid to get there tonight.”

“When have I ever done anything stupid?”

“Oh, I have a list.” After a moment of silence, she added, “I’m leaving a mail truck in a parking lot for you. Hale can drive you during the daytime. Someone in LA said they’d seen Aya. We might still find her before you have to make another drive.”

“Call me when you do.”

“If Ally doesn’t kill her first, sure.”

Stilinski hung up with a sigh and a quick goodbye, then threw the phone on the bed. “Are you done packing?”

Derek closed his duffle bag. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Stilinski nodded and started shoving his things in his backpack, no rhyme nor reason to it. “The receptionist said there’s a rent-a-car not far from here. Did you see it?”

“Yeah. It closes at 9 though.”

“Then what are we waiting for, stud? Let’s get going.”

They were back on I-84 when Stilinski interrupted the silence in the car. Derek should have known that they wouldn’t make it past half an hour.

“So, who’s Erica?” he asked. Feigning disinterest.

“None of your business,” Derek replied, his hands tensing on the steering wheel.

“Come on, Derek. There’s four hours left to Salt Lake. There’s no way in hell I’m staying silent the whole ride.”

“Put on some music then.”

Stilinski fiddled with the car radio for half a minute, then turned it off completely. “You know, for this cooperation thing between our people to work, we should know who they are, don't you think?”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me about your coven?”

“Sure. I asked first though,” Stilinski said, as if that meant anything.

“Erica’s one of my newest betas,” he started, his chest tightened at the mention of his pack. “She’s strong, loyal, stubborn. She can keep Isaac and Boyd under control. She makes for a good second in command.”

“I thought Cora was your second in command.”

“She is. They both are. It’s complicated.”

“Huh. So is that why she’s mad Cora is in charge while you’re gone?”

“Most likely. She’s probably pissed that I didn’t bring her along.” Derek found himself smiling at that. Trust Erica to be the first to volunteer for a dangerous mission if it meant a chance to prove herself.

“Separation anxiety?”

“She’s not a dog, Stilinski.”

The vampire huffed. “And the other guys?”

“Boyd’s a bit shy, but he’s adapting. Isaac’s, well, Isaac.”

“What about him?”

“Except for the one time he went out of control, he’s adapted to the pack just fine.”

Stilinski rearranged his seat, put his feet on the dashboard and leaned back. “So that’s it? Plus your sister and your cousin?”

“Yeah, that’s my pack.” He felt a pang of guilt at having abandoned them. He’d already proven that he could barely keep them safe and now he took off in the middle of the night, with no explanation, for who knew how long. “Well, I hope that’s still my pack when we get back.”

“You think they’ll leave?”

“If my Alpha abandoned me to go on a trip with the enemy, then I’d leave too.”

“Pfft, enemy’s a little strong, don’t you think? We’re allies.”

“Reluctantly,” Derek said under his teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stilinski shake his head.  “What about your people? We’re gonna be here all night while you list every vampire in California.”

“You’re under the illusion that I have stronger ties to vampires than I do.”

“Then tell me about it,” Derek pushed. 

He didn’t know what it was about Stilinski that made him want to know more. He reasoned it was self-preservation, but the truth was, he was curious about him. The Stilinski that was in the car with him was not at all like what he remembered from Laura’s stories. It was as if Derek was getting a glimpse of something hidden underneath all those layers of plaid and sarcasm.

“I didn’t always have a coven. For a long time I wandered the world alone, afraid that any vampire I met was Aya’s. I couldn’t risk it.” He leaned his head against the window, his stare lost in the darkness that surrounded them. Derek glanced at him when he didn’t continue immediately, but looked back at the road when Stilinski turned to him. “Then I came up to the States after living down in South America for a while and on my first night back, I ran into her.”

“Who?”

“Lydia. She was wearing a mauve gown and her hat was pinned to her head with these beautiful pins that she used to stab a guy later that night. She looked so tired of her mother. To be honest, she was probably bored of it all, she definitely would have rather been anywhere else.”

“And then what?” Derek asked, hooked on the story already.

“The guy that was talking to her mother tried to take advantage of her during a dance. Back then, girls couldn’t exactly say no when their mothers promised a dance to someone. Not when her father was the mayor anyway. So, they danced, he tried to grab her, she stabbed the guy with one of her pins.”

Stilinski smiled at the memory, as if he could see it clear as day. Maybe he could. “Her mother took her away and I couldn’t talk to her that night, but I was fascinated by her. I made a point to get introduced to her father and called on his house the next day. It took me months, but Lydia started to warm up to me. Obviously, all of my visits were under the guise of seeing her father or we never would have had a chance to talk, but she seemed to realize early on that I was strange.

“I only visited after sunset and I never stayed at a ball if dawn was approaching. I’m pretty sure that’s why she called me to her house when they promised her to someone. She was 23 and her parents favored the Whittemore family, so when their son returned from his studies in New York, they arranged for them to marry.”

“Did she marry him?” Derek asked when Stilinski didn’t immediately continue with the story.

“Lydia wanted to become a doctor, not someone’s housewife. So she basically asked me to turn her or she’d let everyone know I was a vampire.” The man shook his head, the same fond smile from before was back. “By then, I already knew I would’ve done whatever she wanted. I loved her in a way I didn’t think I could love anyone, but I would’ve never given her the gift if she hadn’t asked.”

“She blackmailed you into it,” corrected Derek.

“With what? All the evidence that I was a vampire? They sooner would’ve burned her at the stake for her freaky ability to sense death before they believed her I was a creature of the night.” Stilinski shrugged. “It didn’t matter really. If she didn’t want to marry, I would’ve taken her to the moon if I had to.”

“So she’s what? Your cosmic vampire companion?” Derek realized the edge in his voice made him sound jealous, but he tried not to linger on the knot in his stomach.

“It’s complicated. We tried to make it work. Several times over the decades, but we never seem to click properly. Mind you, we’ve had fun.” Derek risked a glance at the vampire, who was raising his eyebrows at him. Derek rolled his eyes at him and focused on the road, ignoring the strange surge of jealousy he felt. “But if you’re thinking the StilesLydia of it all is romantic, you’d be mistaken.”

To hide his relief, Derek asked “what about Katana Girl.”

“What about her?”

“How did she come to be in your coven?”

“Ah, Kira.” He sat straight, lowering his feet from the dashboard. “Lydia and I had just arrived in California —we chose a terrible time to move to be honest. Or a good time if you ask Kira. They tried to take her family to a concentration camp. Well, they took her mom, I’m sure of it, but Noshiko was a kitsune and escaped soon enough. I think she intended to pass down her tails to Kira when they imprisoned Kira and her father. At that time, I’d promised not to interfere in human affairs anymore, but then I saw them from my house. The soldiers were pointing guns at them. It looked exactly like the damn Germans pointing at the Jews in Poland. It fucking woke something in me.

“To be honest, I don’t exactly remember the fight, but I remember Lydia yelling at me that it was enough, that if I didn’t intend to do something about the witnesses, I had to stop. It was all so confusing. There was so much blood.”

“So you killed everyone?”

“Not the detainees. Since they’d get blamed for my outburst, Lydia made me give them resources to help them leave. I tried to give money to the Yukimuras, but Kira’s father asked me to hide her daughter. She was special too, he insisted, but he didn’t say how. Kira had no idea either.”

“So you turned her because her father asked you to leave with her?” asked Derek.

“Nah, we traveled for a few years together until she asked Lydia if being a vampire was too terrible. I remember Lydia saying ‘the most terrible part is how quickly fashion is changing. No woman can’t keep up like this’.” Stilinski turned to look at Derek, his face looked fond as he said, “I turned her a few days after that. She’s been with me ever since.”

The vampire didn’t speak for a few miles, and when he did, his tone had changed from fond to slightly annoyed. “And Scott? That’s your uncle’s fault and I’m still not even sure about what I’ll do with him.”

“Scott?”

“The teenager that your uncle tried to turn, then left for dead in the Preserve.”

Derek frowned. “When did this happen?”

“When your uncle went on a rampage? He also tried to kill you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He almost said that it didn’t sound like Peter, that he would never abandon someone for dead, but Derek knew better now. He was still reeling from the revelation that Peter had had something to do with Paige’s death and it had been months since his uncle died.

They sat in silence for a while, until Stilinski seemed to grow bored of it and turned on the radio again. Derek lowered the volume. His fingers briefly touched Stilinski’s as he reached for the radio. It was an effort to suppress the shiver that went down his spine.

“What about the rest of the vampires who frequent Bloodmoon?” The last time Derek was at the club, there were easily fifty vampires there.

“Fuck if I care. Acquaintances, friends of friends, people passing by? All I care about are my girls and Scott. But Beacon Hills is my seat. If they fuck around, they’ll find out.”

“That’s it?” Derek asked. “Your powerful coven is you and three more vamps? One of which was turned so recently that he’s probably no help in a fight?”

“And Allison,” he added.

“I’m not very confident in their ability to finish this fight so I can get back home,” was Derek’s annoyed retort. If he would’ve known, maybe, maybe— he wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be driving Stilinski’s ass around the country, that was certain.

“You underestimate us. Good. We’ll use that to our advantage.”

Derek wasn’t so sure there was any advantage in that.

“Who’s this Aya woman then? She’s not in your coven, but she was clearly someone important before.”

Stilinski let out a long, tired sigh and moved his head in a seesaw motion as if he were weighing his options. In the end, he settled for, “she’s my Maker.”

That put Derek on high alert. "How old is she?"

“Three thousand years. Give or take a couple of centuries.”

He sat with that information for a moment. He had never fought a vampire that old. “Why is she after you?”

"Does it matter? What matters is we don't know where she is. Hence our little road trip."

"But you know she's in America?" Derek pressed.

"Last we heard she was crossing the border in Tijuana," Stilinski said, nonchalantly. He sounded way too calm for someone being chased by a three thousand year old vampire.

"How do you know it's true?"

"You don't just acquire enemies when you've been in a country for over half a century. I have friends in places."

Derek rolled his eyes to show how stupid that sounded. If Stilinski had so many friends, why not stand against this older vampire.

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t,” he said. “Not because some vampires are friendly does it mean they’ll antagonize one of the Ancient Ones.”

The Ancient Ones. A shiver went down Derek’s spine. Whatever Stilinski had done, it couldn’t be good if someone dubbed Ancient One was behind him.

"What if she finds us?" Derek asked.

"She won't."

"But if she does?"

"Then we each run in a different direction and hope she's following the other,” he said. Again, too calm for Derek’s liking.

"So you're not gonna kill her?"

"I'm not strong enough," said Stilinski. "She gave me eternal life. It's not easy to break that bond. If it were, I would’ve done it by now."

Curious, Derek asked, “would it hurt you? If you killed her?”

With his infuriating smirk back, Stilinski said, “you know? I have no idea. I’ve never met someone who was strong enough to kill their Maker and go on afterwards. The grief is too much. It drives people insane.”

Derek thought you had to be insane to live as a vampire anyway, but he kept his mouth shut and pressed his foot on the gas, reaching towards the car radio to turn the volume up.

For his part, Stilinski stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the dark expanse of nothing around them, contemplative. Not for the first time, Derek caught himself thinking of those attractive features under the moonlight. This time, he didn’t repeat his own mantra against vampires.

They arrived at Salt Lake City some time after 1 am. Derek wasn’t really tired after his second energy drink, but he didn’t know how long Stilinski would let them stay in the city, so he was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed at least one night.

“Drop me off at the next intersection,” Stilinski said when they stopped at a red light.

“According to the GPS, this is not West Valley.”

“I know.”

When Stilinski didn’t say anything else, Derek pressed, “then why are we stopping?”

The vampire stayed silent for the whole duration of the red light. Derek put the car in motion and waited. Then waited some more.

In the end, Stilinski said “I need to feed. Downtown is easier. Safer.”

Derek’s hands clutched at the steering wheel. He fought the revulsion that threatened to rise at the back of his throat and focused on driving. For a moment, Derek forgot he was driving around with a vampire. Critical mistake.

He stopped the car and waited until Stilinski got out. The vampire turned briefly, his face was illuminated by a red neon sign that gave him a deadly edge.

“Lydia texted. She said they’d leave the keys under the red flowers. Hopefully, you won’t miss them.”

“Sure.”

Just before he drove away, Stilinski winked and said, “don’t wait up.”

Derek ignored him, choosing to save some of his sanity for the next portion of the trip. Whatever it may be.

At least, he didn’t get lost on his way to West Valley, in fact, the house was quite easy to find. Luckily, so were the keys, because the neighborhood was as quiet as a cemetery. He was sure someone would call the police if they saw him break into the place.

The first thing he became aware of was that whoever had been there last left fresh flowers and scented candles on the coffee table. It smelled like jasmine and citrus. For some reason, it reminded him of Laura’s favorite perfume.

He turned on the lights and saw a note next to the flowers. It was a generic welcome and instructions on how to adjust the AC. Derek put the note back on the table and made his way to the kitchen, where he set on making himself a quick meal of ramen noodles from the provisions he packed in his duffle bag.

Derek used his brief moment of privacy to call Cora. It was early enough that she answered with minimal complaining.

“Where are you now?” she asked.

“Salt Lake City. I don’t know for how long though.”

“Fuck. If I had known you’d be there during rave season, I would’ve gone with you.”

“I get to miss the event you wanted to go to. Great,” he said, dripping sarcasm.

Derek could almost hear her eyes roll when she said, “whatever.”

“Is Erica around?” he asked. Derek was ready to start groveling and asking for forgiveness. Whatever he needed to get his pack’s trust back.

“Erica is still mad at you!” he heard from the background. She was listening then.

Derek sighed. “Can you tell her I’ll make it up to her?”

“You better!” Erica’s voice was close enough that Derek knew she was still listening in on the call.

“How are things with Lydia?” asked Derek.

“She’s okay,” conceded Cora. “At least, she’s not getting on my nerves about Stilinski, so I’m guessing he called or something.”

“Hey, remember not to antagonize them.”

“God, I want you back just so I don’t have to walk into the club ever again.”

“I miss you too,” Derek said. “All of you.”

There was a sleepy mumble of agreement from his pack from the back. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he relied on the pack bond to feel safe, how much he needed his people at his back to feel a resemblance of sanity.

He noticed he hadn’t said anything for the longest time when Cora asked, “Derek? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

“Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

Derek didn’t want to hang up, aware that it was his only connection to his family at the moment. Still, he said his goodbyes and hung up, leaving his phone on the kitchen island.

He had just cleaned up the kitchen and picked up his bag, turning off the light to go upstairs, when he heard a noise by the door.

All the bells in his brain went off. His first thought was how the fuck would he manage to fight a three thousand year old on his own. Slowly, he put his duffle bag down and walked across the room just as whoever was on the other side broke the handle to get in.

His instincts took over and he moved in a flash, pushing the intruder against the wall without even thinking about it, his right arm against the man’s throat, half shifted. He heard a paper bag hit the floor and the sound of a can bursting.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” said Stilinski, careful not to move.

It took Derek a moment to realize he was holding Stilinski and not another bloodsucker hell bent on revenge. He loosened his hold on the vampire, but clearly took longer to let go than he should have when Stilinski raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why did you break in? You could’ve called.” Derek lowered his arms, but, for some reason, his brain would not let him move back. Involuntarily, his eyes went to Stilinski’s pink lips, then back to his bright, brown eyes. He could smell bourbon on him and men's cologne, both felt unfamiliar to the man.

“It never occurred to me to save your phone number,” Stilinski said. This close, Derek should’ve been able to hear a heartbeat, yet, if there was one, Derek couldn’t make it out over the sound of his own heart in his ears.

He took a step back and caught Stilinski looking at his mouth. Derek shook his head and repeated his own mantra vampires are attractive because that’s how they hunt. Derek was not attracted to Stilinski. He wasn’t.

“I’m going to bed,” said Derek, turning around.

“Oh, man. Your food is ruined,” Stilinski said behind his back, lightly kicking the paper bag.

“I already ate,” said Derek without turning back. He got his bag and climbed the stairs two at a time, locking himself in the first room to his right, as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. Logically, he knew that Stilinski could just break into the room if he wanted to, but the resemblance of privacy allowed him to let his guard down and lean against the door until his head hit the wood with a hollow sound.

He counted to thirty, then sixty, trying to hear if Stilinski would come after him.

Derek was not disappointed when he didn’t. He wasn’t.

Exhaustion from long hours cooped up in a car with Stilinski and the extremely comfortable bed in his room meant he slept a good twelve hours before waking up for the day. Sunlight was hitting his back and he felt feverish, sweaty and gross, but at least he felt well rested. He got up and headed to the bathroom, taking his time to go through the motions of his morning routine in the middle of the afternoon.

Once Derek was back in his room, showered and dressed, he checked his phone for news. He had a text from Cora telling him a few vampires had gotten in a fight early in the morning but Lydia handled it and they didn’t even need to get up. Derek made a mental note to ask Stilinski about it, but if Cora said it was handled, he trusted her.

He went down to the kitchen and put some water on the stove to make himself another packet of instant noodles, however he stopped when he saw a post-it on the packet. It read eat some real food, dumbass. With an eye roll, he balled up the paper and prepared his spicy noodles. Would he prefer a hamburger? Maybe. Would he give Stilinski the satisfaction of following his orders? Never.

After eating, he checked on the broken door handle from the previous night, fixing it to the best of his ability. It was still broken, the owner would definitely need to replace it, but at least the door was properly closed now.

Because he felt guilty for the broken door, he started cleaning the living room, then the dining room, then the kitchen until they were spotless. If they left the house tonight, at least the place would be clean. Somehow detached, he recalled the previous night and how he had pushed Stilinski against the wall. He remembered the impact of a can bursting in the living room, but as he cleaned, he noticed that there were no traces of a spilled drink: no stains, no warped flooring, no smell but the bleach burning his nose. Stilinski must have cleaned it up before disappearing for the day.

Time passed faster when he worked and before he knew it, the sun was going down in the horizon, illuminating the scattered clouds in different hues of orange. It was breathtaking and Derek wished he had a camera to get that moment immortalized forever.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but he was startled when he heard Stilinski’s voice behind him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Shouldn’t you be hiding from the light?” Derek asked, trying his best to make his heartbeat return to its normal rhythm.

“Ever heard of civil twilight? The sun is below the horizon.”

“There’s still light outside.”

“I never said I was going outside,” replied the vampire, his annoying smile back in full force. “Did you eat something?”

“Yeah.” Derek didn’t mention he ignored Stilinski’s note. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Lydia wanted to wait for daylight. She insists we should move when we have an advantage, but I’d rather not be stuck in a mail truck for twelve hours.”

Derek sighed. More driving then. “Where are we going now?”

“First, we’re going shopping. I’m not wearing Walmart clothes until we go back to California.”

“It’s almost seven.”

“The mall is open until nine. Get your stuff.”

Derek didn’t even try to hide his annoyance, opening doors with more force than was strictly necessary, dragging his feet the whole time. He hadn’t unpacked much but, as he gathered his toiletries and shoved his clothes in his duffle bag, Derek realized he wanted to stay put badly enough that enduring Stilinski’s company didn’t even rank in his list of problems. He wanted a bed and a working shower. He wanted to stop traveling. He wanted to see his pack safe and sound.

Once he was done, Derek saw Stilinski on the couch, his backpack next to him already. “Driver or passenger tonight?”

“I have the keys.”

“Take it away then,” Stilinski said, a bright smile on his face.

He tried his best to ignore the feeling that smile awoke in him. Derek’s heart failed to keep up with the program.

Derek followed behind Stilinski as he bought something in every single store they passed. For all he complained about the Walmart clothes, Stilinski was buying pretty much the same kind of clothes but for a much higher price.

A woman over the PA announced the mall would close in fifteen minutes and Derek reached Stilinski with the intent of stopping him and getting him out of the mall. However, the man stopped in front of a jewelry store with a beautiful set of pocket watches on display. Derek wanted to make fun of him, tell him he was being a snob, but Derek could see the appeal in the fine craftsmanship of the timepieces. 

“That’s an 1880s Waltham,” Stilinski whispered, awe evident in his voice. “That looks– No, it can’t be.”

“We have to go,” Derek said, but Stilinski didn’t move an inch.

His brow furrowed, deep in concentration. “I need that watch.”

Without waiting for Derek, he went into the store and asked to see the watch. Derek sighed and followed inside.

“I’m sorry, but that is an expensive vintage piece, we don’t just show it,” the store clerk said. His customer service smile didn’t reach his eyes and he was clearly considering calling security on them.

“Then I’ll buy it,” Stilinski said.

“I don’t think you understand. That’s a 120-year-old watch.”

“A hundred and forty if I’m not mistaken.”

The clerk frowned. “What do you mean?”

Stilinski huffed. “That’s a 1880s Waltham. I know that engraved case. I’m pretty sure I can tell you exactly what’s engraved inside. Now will you bring it here?”

The man narrowed his eyes at Stilinski. “And how would you know that?”

“It was my grandpa’s,” he lied swiftly. “It was in the family for a long time and my scumbag brother pawned it for some quick cash.”

“It’s almost eight grand,” the clerk said, customer service smile tight.

“Look, Christian. It’s Christian, right?” Stilinski pointed at the tasteful nametag pinned to the lapel of his suit. “I know I don’t look the part, but I’ll pay for it. Full price. I’ll even include a hefty tip to go with it. But will you please let me see the watch?”

Something in Stilinski’s desperate tone must have softened the clerk —that or the promise of a tip— that he walked to the display and used his keys to get the pocket watch from its case, picking it up with a handkerchief. When he came back to the counter, he placed it in front of Stilinski, holding his hand in front of him. “No touching.”

“Then can you open it up for me and check the inscription inside?”

With a frown, the man did as he was told. His frown deepened when he said. “I don’t understand it.”

“Na zawsze. And the letters M and S?” The clerk’s eyes went from the watch and back to Stilinski a couple of times. “That’s what it says, right?”

The man nodded.

“Eight grand you said?” asked Stilinski, reaching for his wallet. “Can you give it to me with that little handkerchief you’ve got in there? I’ll pay you for it.”

The I-80 stretched in front of them as they drove East. Boulder, according to Stilinski, would be their final destination.

“What if we run into more vampires looking for you?” asked Derek when his copilot announced their route. 

“We won’t. Only my coven knows about this place. It’s supposed to be a last resource, a safehouse when everything else has failed and we need to regroup.”

Derek frowned. “Did everything fail while I was sleeping?”

Stilinski took the watch out of his pocket, opening it and closing it a couple of times before answering. “They’re no closer to finding Aya before she finds me, so we’re going to have to disappear for a bit.”

“What does that mean?” Derek asked, already done with all the intrigue surrounding him.

“We’re going no contact– For a couple of days only,” he rushed to clarify, raising his hand. “You’ll be able to reassure your sister once we’re definitely sure that no one’s followed us from Salt Lake City.”

“When?”

With a swift movement, Stilinski grabbed Derek’s phone from the dashboard and turned it off. A moment later, he did the same with his and put both of them in the glove compartment of the car.

“Right now.”

“Do you get a kick out of this?” Derek shook his head before fixing his eyes on the road. Stilinski was looking at the watch in his hands with a wistful look. It felt strangely intrusive to look at him while he was deep in thought.

“Believe me, I wish we didn’t have to leave at all. I wish Aya was dead so I could stop looking over my shoulder every fifty years or so.” Abruptly, he closed the watch and shoved it back in his pocket. “Now, will you just go over the damn speed limit? When did you last see a car on this road? Half an hour ago?”

Derek accelerated, watching the needle on the dashboard steadily climb over 70 miles per hour.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” celebrated Stilinski at the top of his voice. Then he reached for the car radio and fiddled with the dial until an 80s song filled every nook and cranny in the car. When he reclined back in his seat, Derek turned down the volume enough that it didn’t hurt his ears.

“What is it with you and the 80s?” Derek asked, without turning in his direction.

“What about it?”

“People say it’s your thing. I used to think it was because you were turned in the 80s, but that can’t be true since you’ve been with Lydia for what? A hundred years?”

“More like a hundred and thirty,” he interrupted.

“Whatever,” said Derek with a shrug. “Why the 80s?”

Stilinski sighed. “Why do people like things, Derek? They remind them of something, someone, some other time.”

A couple of miles passed before Derek spoke again.

“Reminds you of your ex, then?”

He wished he could take it back, change the topic, anything to avoid hearing Stilinski’s wistful voice. Derek didn’t think he’d ever heard the man speak in that tone.

“Have you ever been in love, Derek?” Stilinski waited for his answer long enough before adding, “yeah, I didn’t want to talk about it either, but we’re here now aren’t we? We have at least four more hours on the road. So, do you want to listen to my sad 80s love story or do you want to listen to the best music the last century gave us?”

Derek turned up the radio and pressed his foot on the pedal, thankful that the mountainous road meant he had to focus on the highway and not in the frantic beating of his heart.

They arrived at Boulder around 5:30 in the morning, just as the first signs of gray started to seep into the night sky. Stilinski’s house was the second to last on a quiet side street lined with similar buildings, all painted in dark gray. Derek parked by the side of the building, taking note of the light that lit up by the end of the street.

Stilinski got out of the car and immediately went to check one of the boards at the entrance. When he loosened it up, he pulled it up and retrieved a set of keys with a smile. “And Kira said someone would find them. Well, the spiders did, but that’s beside the point.”

He shook his hand free of cobwebs and put the board back down, stomping on it when he stood up. Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw movement from a window to his left. “Will you hurry up? You’re waking up the neighbors.”

Stilinski went up the steps and opened the door, taking his sweet time. When they were finally inside, the man dropped his backpack by the entrance and quickly went through the motions of lowering the blackout blinds of the entire first floor, plunging it into utter darkness. The place smelled clean enough, even if some dust was disturbed by Stilinski’s movements, no traces of supernatural creatures lingering in the air.

Derek’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, slowly making out silhouettes around the room. He thanked his werewolf vision for giving him a glimpse of Stilinski tripping on empty air as he reached to turn on the light. Derek found himself smiling at the ridiculous concept of a clumsy vampire. If anyone could prove that being a supernatural creature didn’t make a person automatically skilled, it would be Stilinski.

He fiddled with the light, leaving it on a low setting that didn’t hurt Derek’s eyes, and turned around expectantly. Derek took in the open space of the living room and the kitchen and thought the place looked, not lived-in exactly, but homely. The dark burgundy walls and dark wood cabinets gave the house personality, maybe a bit of mystery as well.

Stilinski fidgeted for a moment, then scratched the back of his neck as he said, “you can have any room on the second floor. The loft as well. Though there’s no bed up there right now, there’s not much of anything there… you can still make it your room if you want to.”

“What about you?”

“There’s a room in the basement,” he said with a shrug. “There’s also a bathroom with a shower, so you can have the upstairs bathroom to yourself.”

“Right.”

They stood there for a moment that stretched far longer than it should have. Derek heard birds waking up outside, their chirping as loud as a leaf blower in the awkward silence of the room.

“I can give you the grand tour now if you want? I’m not sure if the blinds upstairs are down though,” Stilinski said, apologetic.

Derek cleared his throat before speaking. “It’s fine, I don’t think I’ll get lost anyway.”

“Good. See you tonight then. I need a good day’s sleep underground. We’ll talk about logistics later.”

With that, he turned around, picked up his backpack and went down the stairs that took him to the basement. Derek strained his ears to try to get a clue of Stilinski’s movements downstairs, but all he heard was a long sigh and a body dropping heavily on a bed.

Derek went upstairs, painfully aware of the distance between him and Stilinski.

He slept like the dead for a good twelve hours. Derek’s bed was comfortable and soft and, because the windows faced North, the sun hit the room at the precise angle where it didn’t overheat it. Derek could have stayed there the whole night, the whole week even, but his stomach decided that it was time for food.

After taking a long hot shower that restored his energy and getting dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans combo, he went down to the first floor. It was exactly as he left it in the morning, which meant Stilinski was still sleeping somewhere under the house.

Derek cooked his last packet of instant ramen and ate it under the soft light in the kitchen, wondering if any of the books in the shelves were interesting enough to entertain him until Stilinski was up and they could talk. Derek wasn't about to spend his days in house arrest, he needed to know what was supposed to happen now.

Once he finished his food, he got comfortable on the couch with a copy of a book in Spanish that was proving to be more difficult than he expected, but was intriguing enough that he couldn’t let go of it. The protagonist, a seamstress living in a poor neighborhood, was currently talking to the handsome younger man she was in love with, agreeing to let him and his friends study for his college exams in her attic.

He was so immersed in the story that he didn’t hear Stilinski until he spoke up. “That’s a pretty good choice of book. Didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”

Derek’s heart hammered in his chest as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he answered, putting the book to the side. He took a deep breath to calm his heart down, but all he accomplished was to get a mouthful of Stilinski’s scent, fresh out of the shower, but still noticeable under the smell of his shower gel. “So, will you tell me what the plan is now?”

Stilinski took a seat on the other side of the sofa, keeping his distance. “This is it. We stay hidden until the guys catch Aya or we go batshit insane and kill each other. Whatever happens first.”

“How do you suppose we’ll find out if they caught her if we’re not supposed to contact them?”

“It’s only for another day, Derek. We’ll find out about whatever happened tomorrow.” His nonchalant tone made Derek’s anger flare up. “And before you start, I’m aware that everything can go to shit in a day. I’m hoping it won’t. It’d do you some good to stop worrying so much.”

He put the book to the side and stood up, picking a different book from the shelf. 

“If Lemebel in Spanish is too difficult, try it in English first.” He threw a book in Derek’s direction, which he caught without fumbling. Much. “There’s a deli about ten minutes from here on Pearl Street. Go buy some real food.”

“I thought I was supposed to be your bodyguard,” argued Derek, unsure why.

“And you are. I’ll be entertaining our lovely neighbor who’s about to ring our doorbell while you get food and get the lay of the land. We don’t know if we’ll be here for two days or two weeks, there’s no harm in checking out if any of our neighbors are creatures of the night, right?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Derek asked.

“I thought any werewolf worth their salt would be able to tell if there were others around.”

Before he could retort, the doorbell rang and Stilinski went to get it.

“Yes?” Derek heard him say.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but since you came in so late last night, I figured you would sleep all day long. I’m Madison, I live in the house across the street. Well, not exactly across the street. I mean, it sort of is? Anyway, I thought someone should come over and say hello.”

The woman finally took a deep breath. Derek thought Stilinski would send her away quickly. He didn’t expect to hear, “come on in, Madison. I’m Stiles. What do you have there?”

“Oh, it’s just some housewarming gifts. I hope you’ll forgive our sparse welcome. We didn’t have any warning that the house would be occupied. Marie sent some of her homemade candles, Seth chose the wine and I brought some of my best homemade edibles. And some pre-rolled indica because I wasn’t sure if you’d be into brownies.”

“Madison, you just became my new best friend,” he said, turning into the living room.

“Oh, and this is?” Madison asked.

Derek glanced in the woman’s direction. She was a chubby, medium height blonde, wearing an obnoxiously bright yellow dress and a white cardigan. Her legs were covered in tattoos as far as Derek could see, bright greens intertwined with red, blue and more yellow, thick black lines spreading from her ankles upward. Her eyes went from Derek to Stilinski and back to Derek, assessing him.

“Oh, that’s my husband Derek. He’s just grumpy because it’s his turn to go buy food.”

“Why don’t you order something? Bova’s delivers,” Madison said, more excited than anyone had any right to be about someone else’s dinner.

Stilinski looked like he would agree, so Derek intervened. “Nah, it’s okay. I could use some air. Where’s that place you mentioned?”

“28th Street, near Colorado Avenue. You can’t miss it. The gyros are a-ma-zing.”

Derek put on his best fake smile as he stood up, hoping Stilinski would get the hint and send her away before he was back.

He was almost at the door when Stilinski said, “not even a ‘see you later, babe’? A kiss goodbye?”

Derek rolled his eyes before turning back. He saw Stilinski’s pout become a knowing smirk as he closed his eyes and pointed to his upturned cheek.

Well, two could play that game.

Ignoring the tiny voice in his head that told him it was a bad idea, he grabbed Stiles’ waist and pulled him closer, making him open his eyes in surprise. Before he could react to Derek’s moves, he closed the distance between them, until his lips were barely an inch away from Stiles’. The man didn’t take long to react and kissed him, grabbing his t-shirt in a fist and pulling him even closer, as if they always did this.

Derek’s resolve crumbled, time stopped and all he could hear was the thump thump thump of his heart in his ears.

They kissed long enough that Madison cleared her throat in the background, reminding him where he was and who he was kissing.

He raised an eyebrow at Stiles that he hoped conveyed some kind of message. “See you later, babe.”

As Derek walked around the neighborhood, trying to scent any non-humans, he found himself touching his lips every once in a while. Not that he spent a lot of time on it, but he thought Stiles would be cold like a corpse when he kissed him, not that he would still feel the ghost of his warm lips almost an hour later.

He was pleasantly surprised to have been wrong.

They didn’t talk about their kiss when Derek returned.

Not that Derek was looking forward to it, but he didn’t think they could simply ignore it and act like nothing happened.

Except, that was exactly what Stiles was doing.

The man was lying on the sofa smoking one of the joints Madison brought him, something with a strong enough smell that his scent was completely covered by it. He was reading the book Derek had picked earlier that night, occasionally stopping to take another drag of his joint.

Derek put his shopping bags on the kitchen counter and put the groceries away in the fridge and the pantry. He felt Stiles’ eyes on him, but every time Derek glanced in his direction, the man’s attention was back in his book.

When he was finished with the groceries, Derek went to the living room, sitting down on the arm of the sofa Stiles was on.

“Did you eat well?” he asked.

“The gyros were good, actually,” Derek admitted, somewhat begrudgingly.

“I’ll tell Maddie you liked them.”

“Maddie?”

“Yeah. I agreed to host their next book club meeting.” Derek frowned, unsure of what was going on through Stiles’ mind to think that was a good idea. “Relax, it’s in a month. There’s no way we’re still here by then.”

Derek sighed. “I’m pretty sure that you just jinxed us.”

Stiles put the book away. Distractedly, he noticed that it was the same page Derek was reading before. With a quick slap to his leg and an annoyingly handsome smile, Stiles asked “Derek Hale, do you believe in jinxes?”

Instead of answering, Derek nudged Stiles’ foot and asked, “can you even get high?”

“Can you?” Stiles fired back, offering him the lit joint.

Derek accepted it and took a deep hit. Smoke filled his lungs, warm and spicy, until his eyes felt watery. He exhaled for a long time, watching as the smoke curled around him to avoid Stiles’ eyes. 

They locked eyes anyway, the moment stretching into infinity.

“What?” he asked, as he passed the joint back to Stiles.

“Derek Hale —Alpha of the Beacon Hills pack, notorious vampire killer— is getting high with the enemy hundreds of miles away from home. Naughty,” teased Stiles, a smile playing at his lips as he took another hit, maintaining eye contact with Derek as he exhaled.

“Is there a point to that?”

“I’m just making an observation.” Stiles passed the joint back to him. “I thought you hated my guts on principle.”

Instead of answering, he smoked, as the image of Stiles lounging on the sofa, his hoodie riding up slightly to show a sliver of his stomach, burnt itself on his mind forever.

Still holding smoke in his lungs, Derek asked, “what makes you think I don’t?”

“Keep telling yourself that, babe.”

Derek exhaled a mouthful of smoke, then he said, without any heat, “fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward,” replied Stiles without missing a beat.

Derek shook his head, passing the rest of the joint back to Stiles. He only felt a little lightheaded, but it was enough to make his skin buzz when his fingers touched Stiles’. His heart was hammering in his chest, oblivious to Derek’s insistent thoughts to settle down.

The air in the room was charged, breathing could set it on fire. Derek felt breathless, his will power completely crumbled by their kiss earlier that night. No matter how many times he heard his own voice tell him this was a bad idea, his entire body wanted and it wanted Stiles.

Disgusted by the depth of his own desire, Derek cleared his throat and looked away from Stiles’ mouth, unsure of how long he’d been staring at it. Derek wasn’t actually attracted to Stiles. It was a vampire thing, right?

He heard Stiles sigh by his side, sitting upright to put out the joint on a glass ashtray. Then, the man stood up and stopped next to Derek.

“I’m going to a club. It’s Friday, for fuck’s sake. There’s no easier night to feed,” Stiles said.

Derek wasn’t actually attracted to—

Fuck.

Derek stood up blaming the weed for fucking with his spatial awareness because he didn’t realize how close he was to Stiles until he was standing next to him, barely a few inches away from his face.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Derek found himself saying.

“Unless you get off watching me with someone else, I think you should sit this one out.”

An awkwardness fell over the room as they stared at each other, neither of them able to look away.

At last, Derek took a step back, letting Stiles through. The vampire slammed the door as he left.

Stilinski was back around 3 am, smelling of vodka and floral women’s perfume and went directly to the basement without even acknowledging Derek watching a movie in the living room. Relief coursed through him when he arrived in one piece, just as his anger flared up.

Derek wasn’t sure if he was angry at Stilinski for doing whatever he wanted without worrying for his own safety or if he was angry at himself. Since he couldn’t exactly go on a run to take his mind off of things, he turned off the TV and went up to the loft.

As Stilinski said the night before, there wasn’t much of anything up there, except for a battered ottoman and a few boxes labeled music. Derek stood under the skylight in the middle of the room, listening for Stilinski downstairs, watching the stars long enough that his neck hurt. He stretched his arms over his head, feeling the muscles ripple under his clothes and got to work moving the boxes to the far end of the loft.

After the boxes and the ottoman were out of the way, Derek had made up his mind and decided that if Stilinski wouldn’t need him today, he would do something else. Back in Beacon Hills, his outlets were exercise and art. Since painting wasn’t an option, he got started on burpees.

He was aware that Stilinski could probably hear him, but Derek was too pent up to care.

Not having his phone meant he had to count in his head and the effort of breathing and keeping time was enough to compete with the image of Stiles’ shocked expression as Derek grabbed his waist, his quick reaction to Derek’s manhandling, his warm lips on Derek’s.

When Derek’s mouth tingled with the memory of their kiss, he switched to diamond push ups, his triceps on fire with every negative movement. Sweat ran down his temple, the muscles in his chest screaming, but Derek kept going, pushing himself until he could recreate the color of Stiles’ eyes behind his eyelids.

He stopped mid movement, cursed and rolled to his back. He put his hands behind his head and started on twisting sit ups. Unintentionally, the beating of his heart matched Stiles’ when they kissed.

Still, Derek kept at it, trying to erase those dangerous memories from his mind. By the time he was exhausted enough to be in pain, he went back to the second floor, took a shower and locked himself in his room.

His body was too busy recovering to go back down for something to eat and he watched the sky light up for the day from his bed, praying they would have good news from Beacon Hills the following night.

He didn’t think he’d be able to resist staying with Stiles much longer.

Derek’s alarm went off at 3:30 pm, but after checking he didn’t have any new messages, he went back to sleep for another hour before getting up for the day. Over ten days had passed and, by then, it was an established routine for him: go for a run, take a shower, come down to find Stiles reading or watching something on TV. There would be dinner for Derek, maybe a beer, then he’d sit down next to Stiles and watch whatever the man thought was interesting.

At 2 am, then again around 5, Stiles would call Lydia and have a short conversation pacing around the living room. The news varied from ‘we think we know where she’s hiding’ to ‘she’s not alone’ and, as such, Stiles’ reactions went from ‘thank fuck’ to ‘for fuck’s sake’.

After his calls, Stiles would always be twitchy and agitated, but after a few minutes, he would calm down and sit next to Derek on the sofa to smoke weed and watch something else.

“We’re running out of Maddie’s bud. Maybe I should invite her over so she brings more,” said Stiles. He had just hung up from his first call to Lydia. He didn’t say things looked bleak, but he didn’t have to. It was written in the tense line of his shoulders, the nervous leg jiggling. Derek looked away when Stiles’ tongue peeked out to lick the wrapper in his fingers. “Her book club must be insane. I bet all they do is get high and drink wine.”

“Are you thinking of joining?”

“Well, it’s looking more and more likely that we’ll be here for their next meeting.”

Derek glanced at him, but quickly averted his eyes when he saw his focus as he rolled the blunt perfectly. He was fascinated with the deft movement of Stiles’ fingers, but if he dared to look, he’d have another issue in his hands. Or in his pants, more like.

“So no good news, then?”

“Aya is definitely not alone. Kira and Allison saw her with another vampire somewhere near Pasadena. We don’t know who this guy is, how strong he is or if there are others.”

Derek’s stomach tensed. “What does that mean? Do we go back to help them?”

With a heavy sigh, Stiles said, “not yet. Allison is a good hunter, she can take on a vampire. She could even take on Aya all by herself.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She will. They will.” Stiles lit up his joint, taking a big hit before passing it to Derek. Their fingers brushed briefly and Derek had to stop himself from holding the man’s hand in comfort. He was aware that if it was for anyone’s comfort, it was his own.

They smoked in silence, the only sound in the room was the fight on the TV screen, as Cameron Vale killed the assassins sent after him. Derek had a vague memory of seeing this movie as a teenager with his dad, not long before the fire, and Cora’s horrified scream at the end. The reminder of his pack —his family— being miles away packed a punch that no amount of weed could erase from his body.

He should be out there, protecting them from the threat of a three thousand year old vampire with a grudge, not here, doing absolutely nothing about it.

“What happened?” asked Stiles.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re weirdly silent.”

Derek huffed. “And that’s different from all the talking I do, right?”

“You know what I mean.”

A moment passed as he gathered his thoughts into something coherent, he took the offered blunt with shaky fingers. If Stiles noticed, he didn’t mention it.

“My pack has no idea that a three thousand year old vampire is on her way to Beacon Hills. Best case scenario, they’ve figured out you’re hiding from someone and I’m here as backup. Worst case scenario, they think this was just a con to dump them, weaken them, and leave them for dead in a town infested with supernatural creatures.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Stiles after a moment.

“An Alpha is not supposed to abandon his pack. Everyone knows that.”

“Because you abandoned them out of your own free will and not because I’m asking you to pay me back?”

“It doesn’t matter. I should’ve refused. Kicked up a fuss. Fought for them.”

“You didn’t exactly come easily,” said Stiles. “I had to really pack some threats in there.”

Derek took another hit of the blunt, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.”

“Because it’s so easy for me to let my coven handle things on my behalf? To leave them to fight my battles?” To Derek’s ears, he sounded upset, but Derek kept his eyes on the screen, unwilling to look at him.

“It’s different. A pack is stronger than any blood bond—”

“Bullshit,” he interrupted, loud enough to startle Derek. He turned in Stiles’ direction and watched his impassive face crack, fury painting his features. “Please enlighten me as to how your newly formed Alpha bond is stronger than a hundred and thirty years of company, stronger than eighty years traveling together. Hell, even Scott has been a vampire longer than you’ve been an Alpha.

“Tell me, does it suck to be away from the people you’ve been able to feel in every fiber of your being for six months? Imagine how that feels for a vampire who has not been alone for over a century. Imagine vampire loneliness for a second, Derek. Imagine what you feel now multiplied by a hundred. Imagine living with that hole inside of you for centuries until you don’t have to be alone anymore, until you find your people, and now imagine running away because you can’t have history repeating itself.”

“What history?” asked Derek.

Stiles froze, blunt halfway to his lips, as if he had surprised himself by revealing more than he should.

“Come on, Stilinski. What are you hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding anything. You’ve never asked about this before.” His voice was smooth and warm as he took another hit. When he exhaled, the smoke curled around him, partially hiding him from view.

“I don’t even know if I’m asking the right questions.”

After Stiles passed him the blunt, he stood up and paced around the living room, his strides wearing a path down the floor.

“I need a cigarette. Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke,” Derek said, as he exhaled a mouthful.

“Come with me to the corner store. I could use a walk. So could you, I’m sure.”

Derek put out the blunt on the ashtray, then stretched his neck before finally standing up. He gave Stiles the universal after you hand gesture and followed him outside.

“I was in love once,” Stiles began, his voice was barely louder than his steps, but to Derek’s ears it was enough. “Well, a bunch of times by now, if we’re being honest. Aya was first, but she killed that affection pretty early on in our relationship. Most recently, it was Vera.”

“Was she human?” Derek asked.

“No, she was like me. And she was old as well. I met her sometime in the 1800s in Brazil, but I was blinded by my feelings for someone else and she had a thing with her maker. But we ran into each other again in New York, 1983, in a drag show of all places. Kira and Lydia were in an on part of their relationship and it wasn’t uncommon for me to leave on my own. New York was big and clubs abundant, all I had to do was keep a low profile.

“But Vera? She didn’t know the meaning of that. She was extroverted and loud and she always made friends wherever she went. She was MC-ing that night and when we made eye contact it was all over for me. I didn’t remember she was so beautiful. I felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. I still do.”

“We hit it off immediately. It wasn’t as if we’d known each other in another life: we had known each other in another life, a very different life. Vera’s maker had been killed not long before she came to New York and she was alone in the world. For Vera, Lydia, Kira and I represented a new beginning. For her, my coven was home.”

Stiles smiled to himself and Derek could almost see this breathtakingly beautiful woman bathed by the glow of the moonlight smiling at him. Derek couldn’t even feel jealous, not when this woman got such a smile out of Stiles. 

“What happened?” he asked.

Stiles’ smile shifted into a grimace. “What always happens, Derek. Aya found out. I don’t know if she always had someone spying on my coven or if we hung out with an artist too many and word got out. What matters is that in August 1986, I woke up to a blood curdling scream coming from another room.

“Aya had Lydia impaled to the wall, blood running down her stomach and pooling around her feet. Kira was in a similar position against the opposite wall, trying to pull herself out of the rebar. Aya didn’t want to just kill them, she wanted me to watch as she tore my coven to pieces right before my eyes.

“By the time Vera and I made it to the room, Aya was waiting, looking at me with a smile on her face. That damn smile that haunts my nightmares. We fought. I hesitated for a second too long and Aya got free. She was smart enough to go after Vera then.”

Stiles went silent as they reached the store, stopping next to Derek. He looked tired, paler than usual, and the light didn’t reach his eyes.

“So she killed her?” Derek asked, realizing too late that his phrasing sounded insensitive.

“And ran away, yeah. But now she knew I wasn’t alone, so I had to leave my coven. For three years, I walked this world alone again, slowly going insane, until Kira and Lydia found me and helped me get back to myself.”

Derek’s mind was spinning. If Aya knew about Lydia and Kira, why would Stiles leave them alone? Unless—

“What’s the plan then? If Aya knows your coven, why are you not there to help them? Are you gonna let them die?”

“Never,” said Stiles immediately, with a finality that didn’t leave any room for questions. “The plan is to convince her I walked into the sun.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“By talking to her.”

“You think that’s gonna work?”

Stiles smiled and resumed his walk towards the store. “Hopefully, Allison will kill her before we get to that.”

He wondered what convinced Stiles that a dhampir hunter could kill a three thousand year old vampire, but, for once, he didn’t want to know.

Derek looked out the window for a long time, long enough that the sun had gone down and the light was fading faster than he could keep up. For the first time since he arrived at Boulder two weeks ago, he didn’t go on a run as soon as he woke. Instead, he waited for the moonrise on his bed, expecting some kind of epiphany that showed him the way forward.

In her texts Cora said the vampires looked to be making progress.

[Cora 19:01]
just saw lydia. her guys will double on watch tonight

she seemed happy? ask stilinski about it

we’re staying in the loft anyway

[Derek 19:22]
Whatever happens, you tell me

[Cora 19:25]
what are YOU doin tonite??

Derek’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Cora had enough on her plate as it was. The last thing Derek needed to do was add more onto that. In the end, he typed Might sleep it off. Went on a run and hit send before his sister figured him out somehow.

His mind had a song stuck on repeat and it sounded a lot like Stiles’ voice saying his name. His fingers touched his lips, a reflex from all the times he’d done it during the last few days. As the corners of his mouth curled in a smile, his phone beeped with a new message.

[Stiles 19:44]
the full moon is tonight

do you need me to chain you to the garage?

is it offensive to ask that?

[Derek 19:53]
I’m not 14, I can take the full moon

I might even go for a run

[Stiles 19:54]
are you sure you want to do that?

Derek stared at his screen for a long time, thumb hovering on the keyboard. He didn’t want to go for a run, not alone at least. He’d rather be in the Preserve, listening to Isaac and Boyd compete for the title of the fastest wolf only to be surpassed by one of the girls. He wanted to be the one taking care of his pack, not the one supervising his sister as she took care of his pack.

[Stiles 19:56]
are you there? should I be worried?

[Derek 19:57]
I’m fine

Could use a beer though

Derek heard faint steps, then the fridge door opened and closed.

“We’re all out. I’m going to Bova’s. What do you want for dinner?” Stiles called from the first floor.

Stiles didn’t need to go to Bova’s. There was a convenience store less than ten minutes away. If he was going there, it was specifically to get dinner for Derek. He should’ve been annoyed, but all Derek felt was his own heart beating faster, excited.

Distractedly, Derek noticed that not once during his stay in this house had Stiles come upstairs for any reason, he always stayed wherever Derek had drawn the line between them. Suddenly, Derek wanted him to cross those lines, to be wherever Derek was, to get in his space, to show him he could do whatever he wanted with Derek but he chose not to.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself, acutely aware that Stiles could hear everything. 

“Double chili burger? And fries?” Derek said, listening in for any changes in the air.

“You’ve got it,” replied Stiles. “Text me if you need anything else.”

“Fine,” was his dry response.

“Oh my god,” Derek heard Stiles say, his voice shifting slightly upwards, showing his annoyance.

Derek knew he sounded more upset than he actually was, but he needed Stiles gone. He couldn’t handle the warmth that filled his body the moment Stiles asked what he wanted for dinner.

He heard the door close and Stiles’ footsteps as he went out, mumbling something to himself too low for Derek to make out. Derek sighed and threw his head back, grateful for the silence that surrounded him. The room was dark now, no hint of gray in sight. As fall settled around them, and the nights were getting longer, Stiles woke up from his slumber early enough that Derek sometimes worried he wasn’t asleep at all.

He wasn’t sure if it was the time away from his pack making him miss his werewolf connections, or if it was the full moon messing with his hormones, but he ached. Derek craved the touch of another human being the way a hungry wolf craved fresh meat.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even consider it. But these were not normal circumstances. The time he had spent with Stiles had done nothing to eliminate the attraction he felt. If anything, their interactions had only warmed him up to the man. Worst of all, having felt Stiles’ mouth on his made him wonder how it would be to taste the rest of him. It made Derek’s skin vibrate in anticipation. Every night, he woke up and, inevitably, unbidden, the thought of Stiles’ lips would cross his mind.

Derek’s hand wandered down, until he gripped his half-hard cock in his hand, breathing deeply. In his mind’s eye, Stiles’ hands —with those long, sinful fingers— closed around the base, his face hovering over his jeans. Derek could almost feel Stiles’ grin on him as he eyed him up and down, he could almost hear Stiles’ teasing words before he undid his zipper and pulled his dick free of his underwear. 

Once his zipper was undone, the warm air in the room was a poor imitation of Stiles’ breath on his sensitive skin, but it was effective enough. His fingers ghosted over his cock until they wrapped around it in a loose fist. With his eyes closed, it was easy —oh, so easy— to see Stiles on his knees, stroking him to fullness. It didn’t take long for Derek to get there, not when he hadn’t had a moment to jerk off in weeks. In fact, the idea of Stiles on his knees— well, it wasn’t the first time it crossed Derek’s mind. By then, it was easy to conjure at will.

His thumb stroking the slit, spreading precome down his shaft, was quickly replaced by Stiles’ tongue and Derek had to grip himself at the base and focus very hard on not coming embarrassingly fast. His body had other ideas though.

Derek stopped to spit on his hand on autopilot, all his body wanted was more more more. He threw his left arm over his eyes, squeezing them shut as his hips fucked into his fist. He could see Stiles’ mouth stretching around his cock as clear as day, an image that had haunted more than one of his dreams as of late. It was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It was obscene. Derek fucked into that beautiful mouth, hips stuttering as he got closer.

With a final push, he came down Stiles’ throat, his name on Derek’s lips. His vision went white for a moment, but the image of Stiles on his knees remained, burnt behind his eyelids. The man flashed him a wicked smile as he pulled away, pushing the mess running down his chin back into his mouth. 

Derek threw his head back with a grunt, cleaning his hand on the sheets under him. He stayed there, staring at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, until the clothes stuck to his back became bothersome enough that he took a shower. 

If there was some kind of post-orgasm clarity to be found, it evaded Derek.

By the time Stiles came back, Derek had even changed his bedsheets and thrown them in the wash, self-conscious that Stiles would know exactly what was happening inside his head. The man came home with two burgers and a six pack of the expensive craft beer Derek mentioned liking once but that had become a staple in their fridge.

“Laundry day?” asked Stiles after putting the food down on the kitchen bar.

Derek shrugged in response and it was good enough for Stiles.

He was on his second burger when Stiles said, “I asked Maddie for more of her Indica earlier today. I picked it up on the way back. Y’know, she says it’s good enough to knock down a horse.”

“I don’t need to get high to stop the shift,” said Derek, defensively.

“To be honest, I was more interested in the part where you fall asleep instead of eating my face.”

“I’m not gonna eat you, Stilinski.” Stiles raised his eyebrow suggestively and Derek heard his own words once more. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Well, if you’re not gonna get high—”

“I never said that,” he interrupted. “Maybe let me eat first?”

Stiles nodded. “Come find me when you’re done.”

Derek watched him go past the windows and into the balcony. A couple of days ago, Derek had replaced the old seats with a low profile modular sofa that was much more comfortable. He liked the evenings he’d spent there reading so far. It was the part of this house that felt most like home. Did Stiles know?

He washed down the rest of his burger with his beer and followed after Stiles. He found the man with a blunt already lit, sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa. The sofa itself was littered with paraphernalia: blunt wrappers, a grinder, a bag of purple buds. To the side, Stiles’ phone played soft 80s rock in Spanish. Derek shook his head as he sank on the floor to sit next to Stiles.

He took the blunt offered by Stiles and took a hit, leaning back on the sofa. He hadn’t put on a jacket and the cold October air caressed his skin as soft as a feather. The moon shone bright on the East, its light casting Stiles in chiaroscuro, the smoke surrounding him giving him an air of mystery that Derek was starting to appreciate more and more as the days went by.

Derek threw his head back as he exhaled, a howl stuck in his throat. He missed the woods, he missed his pack. He didn’t want to feel alone during the full moon.

Stiles took out the pocket watch he’d been carrying ever since Salt Lake City, opening and closing it. Derek, filled with melancholy, wished he had an object like that. He had figured out someone had given Stiles the watch and that fiddling with it calmed his anxiety somehow. Derek had nothing like it. Ever since the fire, his meager keepsakes were shoved in a box in the glove compartment of the Camaro. He couldn’t carry a picture with him when he might need to shift in a hurry, ripping his clothes and anything in it, to pieces.

Yet, Derek wanted something that brought him back from wherever his mind went when everything went dark.

“You’re oddly silent in there. Everything okay?” asked Stiles.

Derek shook his head, feeling his heartbeat in his ears. He didn’t expect the full moon to hit him so hard, but this was the first time he was completely alone during the shift. If he shifted, who knew what he would do? There would be no one to stop him if he attacked someone else. He knew stories of lonely wolves who went insane without a pack to back them up. Derek wasn’t even sure if his pack would be there when he returned to Beacon Hills.

His claws lengthened, unwanted, and he dropped the joint in his haste to make a fist to focus on something else. Derek could feel the hair growing on the side of his face, the way his teeth thickened in his mouth.

Before he could warn Stiles to leave, to go anywhere else, Derek felt him grab his hand, prying it open with ease.

“Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he admonished.

“Stiles—”

“Shhh, It’s okay, Derek. You’re gonna be okay.” Stiles intertwined their fingers together. He didn’t flinch when Derek scratched him and drew blood. If anything, he held Derek’s hand tighter.

His family had a mantra for moments like this. Alpha, Beta, Omega. It was supposed to remind young wolves that Betas can rise to Alphas, just as Alphas can become Omegas. He took a deep breath and repeated the words in his head. Alpha. Beta. Omega. Alpha. Beta. Omega.

“It’s not working,” grunted Derek.

“What? What are you doing?” Without letting go of Derek’s hand, he asked “what’s your anchor, Derek?”

Derek almost laughed. His anchor was anger and, right now, the last thing he needed was to become angry. He couldn’t afford to hurt Stiles. Not only his family in California would suffer for it, but Derek wouldn’t forgive himself if it happened. He shook his head as he repeated to himself: Alpha. Beta. Omega.

He didn’t notice he had been saying it out loud until he heard Stiles repeat the words next to him.

“A mantra? Is that what you need?”

Derek nodded.

After a moment, he felt Stiles’ free hand on his face, forcing Derek to look at him directly.

“Derek, what three things cannot be hidden?” His brain took a moment to catch up to Stiles’ question. A riddle? Now? “Come on, Derek. Think about it.”

With no hesitation, he replied “the sun, the moon, the truth.”

“That’s right, repeat it with me: the sun, the moon, the truth.”

Derek did so, breathing in with each turn of the mantra: The sun. The moon. The truth. Stiles’ voice was soft but firm as he guided him through it, encouraging words thrown in the mix every time Derek completed a turn.

The sun. The moon. The truth.

Before long, his claws receded, his canines went back to their original size, his eyes changed back to their hazel hue and all that was left of his short-lived crisis was his hand holding Stiles’ and his heart beating frantically in his chest.

They held each other’s gaze, suspended in time, and Derek watched as Stiles' tongue peeked out to moisten his lips. He doesn’t know who leaned in first, just that one moment they were looking at each other, the next Derek’s lips were on Stiles. It was so different from their first kiss. Where that had been a rash decision taken in the heat of the moment, this kiss was not a choice at all. This kiss was gravity pulling them together until they mixed to their very atoms. This kiss was as inevitable as death.

The ghost of Stiles’ tongue on his mouth was enough for Derek to open up to him, swallowing a gasp that threatened to overtake him. Stiles kissed him back just as hard, his hand slithering to the back of Derek’s neck to maneuver him into a better angle.

They kissed and kissed and kissed until they were both panting. There was a fire in their kiss that could not be contained, consuming every fiber of his being, every one of his coherent thoughts.

Derek’s teeth grazed Stiles’ lower lip and Stiles’ moan rang in his head louder than church bells. Suddenly, he needed to hear it again, to discover all the different sounds Stiles would make when he unraveled under Derek’s mouth.

Stiles seemed to get the same idea as he pushed Derek back against the sofa and he climbed on his lap, resuming the kisses as he did so. Stiles’ fangs scraped his lip, driving all of his blood south of his body. A moan made its way past his lips and Stiles stilled on top of him, cursing.

“What?” asked Derek, opening his eyes in a haze.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Sweet Jesus,” Stiles continued.

Derek’s hand went to Stiles’ waist, then he asked “what’s wrong?”

Stiles shook his head, scrambling to stand up. When he spoke, his fangs made him slur his words slightly. “You have to go upstairs.”

Derek blinked at him. “What?”

“I can’t remember the last time I fed and you smell so good, Derek. I’m this close to draining you,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure if he was completely losing it, or if it was the full moon speaking, but he almost offered Stiles his neck, convinced that he was strong enough to take it.

“Derek, please.”

Derek begrudgingly stood up and went to the second floor, locking himself in his room. A locked door wouldn’t stop Stiles, but it might stop Derek from trying to find him anyways.

He was so, so fucked.

Derek woke up with a start, the bedsheets pooling around his waist, sticking to his body. November may be starting but werewolves still ran hotter than humans and the sunlight filtering through the window hit his room for long enough that he felt slightly feverish. His phone vibrated with a text from Cora.

[Cora 16:35]
Call me when you wake up

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tapped the Call icon on his screen.

“How come you’re awake?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Hello to you too,” he said. “I just woke up.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Cora. Should’ve been awake already anyway,” he reassured her.

“Oh. Okay,” after a pregnant pause, she sighed. “We have… a situation.”

“What is it?” Cora seemed to be weighing her options on the other side of the line. Derek’s heart beat faster in his chest, expecting the worst. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it,” she said.

Derek would worry anyway. Instead of dwelling on that, he said, “then what happened?”

“Nothing has happened yet, but Lydia asked me for a favor.” Derek held his breath as he waited for Cora to get it out. “She wants to borrow one of us to help with surveillance. She specifically asked for a fighter, strong enough to kill a vampire if it was necessary. She says this could be it, Derek. That you could come back home.”

Derek’s heart pounded in his chest. Could it really be that easy? Let someone from his pack tag along with Stiles’ vampires and it would be over without getting his hands dirty. He could go back to Beacon Hills, go back to his life, only seeing Stiles when supernatural business needed to be discussed.

Except, Derek knew it wasn’t that easy. Whoever went with the vampires would be risking their own life for Derek. No one else should be responsible for his debt except Derek himself.

“I’ll talk to Stiles,” he said in the end.

“Stiles? Since when are you and Stilinski on a nickname basis?”

Derek’s stomach clenched. His sister loved him, he was sure of it, but he wasn’t confident that she’d approve of her Alpha being so tight with the vampires she was taught to hate her entire life. He didn’t even know what would happen if she found out about the kiss. Kisses. Derek couldn’t begin to explain why there had been kisses plural. 

“It’s been over a month, Cora,” he said. It was easier than explaining anything else. 

“That’s why you should let me or Erica handle it, so you can come home.”

Derek thought that he’d rather die than let his pack do this for him. It was his mission, his debt to pay, and he would see it through.

“I’m not gonna make anyone do anything”

“This could be your chance to get home,” she insisted.

“This could get you killed.”

“Don’t you wanna be back in Beacon Hills? With your pack?”

“Only if there’s a pack to get back to,” he said, anguish sipping into his tone. “Don’t press the issue, Cora. Please.”

A long and uncomfortable silence followed. 

“I‘m sorry,” she was subdued, but Derek could feel her frustration over the line. 

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Since Derek couldn’t be there to reassure her that everything would be alright, there was nothing else he could do, except be the one to get answers from Stiles. With a sigh, Derek got up. He took a quick shower, got dressed, and went down the stairs to find him.

The living room was as dark as it always was, blackout curtains drawn as per usual. Derek stood next to the stairs that went to the basement, but didn’t go down. It was some sort of unspoken rule: the living room area was shared, but the basement was Stiles’ just as the upper floors were Derek’s. Truth be told, Derek was dying to go down the stairs and see where Stiles slept, but ever since that kiss on the full moon, the chasm that separated their worlds seemed to be as wide as the Pacific Ocean. 

“Stiles?” he called, knowing the vampire would hear him.

The last few weeks had been an exercise in self-control. Now that Derek had felt the weight of Stiles’ body on him, he needed more. He was long past the stage where a mantra could get the image of Stiles’ eyes —the feel of Stiles under his hands, the taste of his lips— out of his mind. Telling himself differently would be a lie: he wanted Stiles so much that it had to be bad for his health. More often than not, Stiles would find him staring and now Derek was not looking away. Not immediately at least.

But Derek did nothing. He couldn’t. Not even when Stiles would tilt his head in invitation, the corner of his mouth curving upwards.

After a moment, Derek heard Stiles move in the basement, a whispered curse that drew a smile out of him, and, finally, steps coming to the first floor.

“Hey,” said Stiles, needlessly breathless as he set foot on the first first floor. “What is it?”

The hitch in Stiles’ breath did all sorts of things to Derek. He wondered when he lost his mind and started thinking of Stiles as anything more than an annoyance.

“Why does Lydia need someone in my pack?” Derek asked.

“Oh,” he said, his expression shifting to one of surprise. “I don’t know, Derek. Maybe it’s time. I haven’t heard from Beacon Hills tonight. It’s barely five.”

Derek pressed on. “Lydia asked Cora this morning.”

Stiles frowned. “Let me call Lydia and I’ll get back to you.”

No matter how attractive Derek found Stiles, he still thought he could be terribly infuriating.

“Make the call here, “Derek demanded.

“No.”

He grabbed Stiles’ arm. “Stiles—”

Stiles froze, then slowly turned to him. “Don’t ‘Stiles’ me, Derek. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It’s my fucking pack we’re talking about.”

The man heaved a sigh, then got his phone out of his back pocket. The call took four rings to connect.

“Lydia, you’re on speaker,” Stiles said, his tone strained.

“Stiles, what the hell? It’s too early for this,” she said.

“Why does Cora want to go on surveillance with you?” Derek asked.

“Hale,” Lydia said, her voice cold as ice. “I don’t remember giving you permission to talk to me like that.”

“Just answer the question, Lyds,” Stiles said, tired.

The line went silent for a while, but they heard footsteps and a door closing. Lydia sounded equally tired when she asked, “you two fucked, didn’t you?”

Derek’s stomach tightened as he looked at Stiles.

“I wish, Lyds, but no,” the vampire replied, frustration seeping into his voice.

Lydia’s next words sobered him up. “Aya’s in San Francisco, Stiles. We think she’s gonna make a move soon, we heard she’s recruiting vampires to take over Beacon Hills.”

“We’re going back,” Derek said immediately.

“No. We can handle it. Many vampires don’t trust her and have offered to help keep her away. The girls and I will go against her. We need a werewolf to keep an eye on Scott, on the territory, while we’re gone.”

“It doesn’t matter that you can handle it,” Derek pressed. “A bunch of vampires coming to town—”

“Stiles, tell your dog his opinion doesn’t matter here.”

“Look,” Derek started, but he couldn’t say more because Stiles suddenly spoke up.

“Calm the fuck down. Both of you. No one’s going anywhere tonight.” When both of them started to speak, Stiles continued, “there’s no reason to change the original plan. I’ve been gone for over a month, other vampires are probably asking questions. Lydia, have someone spread the rumor that I’m dead.”

“Stiles—”

“Trust me,” Stiles interrupted. “If she’s still going to Beacon Hills, we’ll start driving tomorrow night.”

“We should go on the offensive,” Lydia said, but she didn’t protest any further.

“See you in a couple of days, Lyds. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“How could I? You took all the stupid with you.”

They hung up and Derek stared at Stiles, shooting cold daggers in fury.

“If anything happens to my pack…” Derek didn’t say what would happen to Stiles, but the words you’ll regret it lingered in the air anyway.

“Duly noted. Are you going on a run or something? Could you bring me some cigarettes from the store? I would kill for a smoke. I might go over to Maddie’s to get some bud while you’re at it.”

Derek nodded absentmindedly and Stiles went back down the stairs. He was annoyed, but, apparently, whatever happened tonight, Derek would be going home in a few days.

He didn’t know why his stomach sank as he thought of things going back to normal.

Derek stopped at a coffee shop on his way back home. His run helped bring his stress back down to manageable levels and, with the intent of delaying his inevitable encounter with Stiles, he felt compelled to buy a holiday themed latte. I was almost 6 pm and the sky was dark already, a reminder that the days had gotten shorter during his time in Boulder. Derek wondered if Stiles preferred winter over summer for the longer nights and the freedom they meant.

I can’t remember the last time I fed and you smell so good, Derek, Stiles said when he sent Derek away after what was probably the best kiss he ever had. The full moon might be to blame for his poor impulse control, but chasing after Stiles’ lips had been his choice. He still remembered the heat that came over him at the idea of Stiles feeding from his neck.

Would it be so bad? To have Stiles feed from him? Would it hurt? Derek had been bitten once, at the beginning of their trip when they faced Theo’s vampires in Aurora, but the vampire’s teeth had barely sunk into his neck when Stiles ripped the vampire’s head out of his body. Derek heard that the bite only hurt at first, that eventually the person being bitten entered a trance-like state where they didn’t even know they were being drained. For Derek, the thought of Stiles’ lips on his neck was enough to make him think twice about it.

He shook his head trying to clear it from those thoughts since nothing would come out of them. For all of Stiles’ advances, Derek was aware that nothing could really happen between them. They were too different. Natural enemies most of the time, reluctant allies under very specific circumstances. Derek was raised to eliminate vampires with extreme prejudice and Stiles’ lot was only safe because of a long-standing truce between the Hale pack and the Stilinski clan that could come crashing down at any minute. Derek knew an impossible thing when he saw it and that’s all Derek and Stiles were: impossible.

Derek was still a couple of blocks from their house when he heard the fight. Without stopping to take a breath, he dropped his coffee as he ran in the direction of Stiles’ condo, the sounds of struggle leading him like a beacon.

When he turned on Walnut Street, Derek’s eyes immediately looked for Stiles in the group standing in a loose circle outside their house. Stiles was surrounded by a group of humans, armed to the teeth, their faces twisted with hatred and fear. 

Hunters.

Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw bright tattoos flash as a blonde woman threw a handful of mountain ash in his direction and it fell in an elegant circle around him. He stood frozen, eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. Derek’s instincts screamed at him to intervene, to protect Stiles from harm, but the mountain ash circle didn’t allow him to move.

He looked around until his eyes fell on the chubby blonde woman inspecting him up and down. Maddie’s expression was hard as steel. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” she said.

Derek didn’t need much time to regain his voice.

“I’m going to tear your throat out. With my teeth.”

With a sick smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she said, “I thought you’d be happy to be rid of him. Or has he already made you his bitch?”

He heard Stiles gasp and Derek’s eyes went back to the fight. There were eight hunters, all of them clearly well trained, all of them heavily armed, and all Stiles had were his fangs and his superhuman strength and agility. It wasn’t enough to fight against eight—nine, if he counted Maddie— hunters keen on killing him while all Derek could do was watch.

As the hunters closed in, Stiles stood his ground. He dodged and weaved, avoiding their long knives and stakes with ease. But they were fast and brutal, and soon he found himself on the defensive. Derek's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Stiles fight for his life, and Derek felt his despair grow with each passing moment.

The hunters were relentless and Derek saw the flash of a knife disappear in Stiles’ clothes more than once, the scent of blood thick in the air as he struggled. Stiles stumbled when someone failed to stake him and fell to one knee, but refused to give up. With a fierce cry that tore through the night, Stiles launched himself at a hunter, twisting a man’s neck as he went. The body fell limp to the floor, not far from the stairs that led to their living room.

As the fight raged on, Derek's powers began to stir. He would not let Stiles die at the hands of some hunters when he was so close to his freedom from his sire. He pushed his hands against the magic wall erected with Maddie’s intervention, clawing at the invisible barrier until he could feel its fabric on his hands. The circle was strong but Derek was stronger, and the need to see Stiles safe was enough to keep him going, tearing the magical barrier apart with all his might as he shifted into his partial form.

With a growl, he broke free from the circle and launched himself at the nearest hunter. Maddie stood dumbfounded, a question on her lips, but she didn’t have time to utter it when Derek kept good on his promise to tear her throat out. Blood sprayed on his face and chest as her body twitched. Once Derek was sure she wouldn’t get up, he pushed her body away and turned to the next hunter.

Their comrade-in-arms’ sudden demise distracted them long enough that Stiles regained the upper hand as he decapitated one of the women who stabbed him. Derek didn’t hesitate to go after another hunter, ripping his arm out of its socket when the man tried to aim a gun at him. Derek packed as much strength as he could into his next punch, knocking out the man immediately, and breaking half of his face in the process. He didn’t stop to check if the man was alive.

Together, Derek and Stiles fought off the hunters, taking them down in a show of coordination that suggested years of experience shedding blood together, not six weeks of forced cohabitation and a prayer. It amazed Derek how in tune he was to Stiles’ movements, how a look his way could tell him everything he needed to know about the hunter in front of him. Still, the last of the hunters found a weak spot and, in her desperation, she drove her long knife into Stiles’ gut and twisted. It must have been one hit too many because Stiles lost his balance and fell to his knees. The woman almost smiled as she took the knife out, and raised it, ready to decapitate him.

Derek was faster though and he jumped her, pushing her out of the way. She dropped her knife as she fell and she desperately clawed at Derek’s face, but he didn’t budge. A moment later, her body twitched under his jaw as he ripped her throat out.

As the dust settled, Derek stood and turned to Stiles, his eyes locked on his bloodied face. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with tension. Then, without a word, Derek reached out, pulled Stiles to his feet and into a fierce, desperate kiss.

Stiles held on to Derek’s waist, pulling him even closer, as if he could mix them down to their very atoms, while Derek held Stiles’ face like a sacred thing. Derek didn’t care about the taste of blood on Stiles’ lips, nor did he care about the bodies strewn about the street. All that mattered was this: Stiles’ mouth opening under his, fangs grazing his lips as their kiss deepened, Stiles’ tongue licking the blood from the corner of his mouth. Time was inconsequential as every second stretched into a small eternity. The adrenaline coursing through his veins set an urgent rhythm to his heart, but Derek couldn’t blame it on the fight when he’d been fantasizing about Stiles for the last month.

Here it was, his impossible thing, the one thing that had the potential to destroy Derek forever. He wasn’t sure if he would have the strength to keep walking away from it. If Stiles so much as hinted at something else, Derek was absolutely fucked.

He had a hard time letting him go to take a breath and when they separated, they were both panting. Stiles licked his lips once, his eyes going from Derek’s eyes to his lips. Derek slowly slid his hands from Stiles’ face, but the vampire grabbed them when Derek tried to pull away.

“You saved my life,” Stiles said.

“That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?” Derek raised an eyebrow in question.

Stiles seemed to be at a loss of words for a moment, then he shook his head and looked at the carnage around him. Finally, he sighed and let go of Derek’s hands. “You should go.”

“What?”

“I’m letting you go, Derek. Consider your debt paid. If I survive this, I won’t call on you for any reason other than supernatural business that needs to be taken care of.” Stiles looked right into Derek’s eyes as he said, “Now go.”

Derek stared at him in disbelief, his stomach tied in knots. Somehow, it never occurred to him that Stiles would let him go before the business with Aya was taken care of. It never occurred to Derek that he would want to stay.

He put his hand on Stiles’ cheek, coaxing him to look at him, and he said, “we’re still not even.”

Stiles took a moment to catch up with Derek’s words, then his shoulders shook with incredulous laughter. As far as Derek knew, the counter was 3-1 in Stiles’ favor.

“Maybe we should take this inside,” he said, tilting his head toward the house. 

A police siren cut through the silence. It was far away, but they both heard it and glanced at their bloody surroundings.

“Maybe we should get the hell out of here first,” Derek suggested. “I don’t wanna get arrested tonight.”

Stiles nodded and they went inside the house. Stiles took a detour to the basement and a moment later, Derek heard the shower going.

Derek took the stairs two steps at a time, leaving bloody footprints all the way to the room. He stripped and jumped in the shower, not bothering to wait until the water warmed up, rinsing the blood of his body as quickly as possible. He barely dried off and put on a clean pair of jeans and a black shirt.

Thanks to Stiles’ paranoia —and a healthy dose of his own precaution— both of them had agreed to keep a bag ready to go at a moment’s notice. Derek took less than a minute to pack his charger, then went down the stairs to meet Stiles.

The man had changed into a set of clothes that reminded him of the night he became an Alpha: dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt that was too stylish to go on the run with. Derek wanted to comment on it, but his attention went to the gallon of gas sitting on the table. 

“What—?”

“Derek, you’re supposedly missing,” Stiles interrupted following his line of thought. “If the cops find your fingerprints here, you’re going to open a case that’s gonna follow you until the day you die.”

Derek knew Stiles was right, and he knew whatever protest he came up with wouldn’t be strong enough, so all he said was “I don’t like fire.”

Stiles looked at him with a sad smile on his face. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Don’t worry, just get the car out and wait for me with the door open and the engine running.”

He frowned, but took the keys on the coffee table, Stiles’ bag next to it, and went to the garage. Derek tensed when he heard Stiles going up the stairs to the second floor, then the strong smell of gasoline filled his nose. His heart beat double time and getting out of there became a priority. When he was outside, engine running, he watched as the second floor caught fire.

A moment later, Stiles was at the door, giving the house a wistful look that couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. His eyes flashed with something else, and the living room was set ablaze.

Once Stiles got in the car, Derek’s survival instincts kicked in and he pressed his foot on the gas, burning rubber as they left the scene. He ran the light at the corner of 28th Street, then floored it when he turned on Arapahoe Avenue as they passed a fire engine.

“We need to be going South,” said Stiles.

Derek glanced at him but focused back on the road immediately. “What’s the plan?”

“Colorado Springs? Too many eyes on Denver,” he said.

“We need to change cars,” said Derek. “We kept this one too long.”

Stiles hummed in approval, but didn’t say anything else.

“Then what?” Derek pressed.

“Then nothing. You heard what I told Lydia.”

“We can’t take this shitshow to Beacon Hills.” 

There was an edge to Derek’s voice, but he didn’t know if it was because he was mad at Stiles for being so calm or for putting a timer on their trip. In two days they'd be back in California and whatever this impossible thing between them was would be nothing more than a would-have-been.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles shrug. “I’ve had worse to deal with.”

“Stiles,” he warned.

“I’m serious. I wouldn’t be living in Beacon Hills if I couldn’t deal with covering up a murder or two,” Stiles insisted, confidently.

“That was not ‘a murder or two’, that was a massacre.”

“That will become a cold case in a year. Maybe less.” Stiles’ nonchalant tone didn’t reassure Derek in the slightest. “Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

Derek drove in silence after that, at a more leisurely pace to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Stiles had them drop the car near CU Boulder South, where they got lost amongst the Friday night crowd.

“Are you hungry?” asked Stiles.

“I’d rather be out of the city before eating something.”

“Well, I’m hungry,” Stiles remarked. “I need to feed tonight.”

“We shouldn’t be apart when—”

“I know.” After a moment of consideration, he continued, “I guess we’re stopping in Denver after all.”

Stiles’ lockpick made an appearance outside of a restaurant that was close enough to campus to be an unnecessary risk, but Stiles seemed confident in his ability to steal a car under the moonlight.

They were on the road when Derek spoke again. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

“I’m aware,” said Stiles, glancing at him from the driver’s seat.

“It’s a Blood Moon,” he added. He needed Stiles to understand that sooner rather than later Derek would be a liability.

“So which of the legends are true?” Stiles asked, tapping the steering wheel. “I’ve heard all kinds of things but never met a werewolf that would tell me about it.”

“No powers during totality. That’s forty-two minutes tonight,” Derek said. “Around midnight.”

“Well, we have a few hours. I’ll feed, you’ll grab something to eat, and we’ll be on the road again before that.”

Derek nodded, wondering if the gun Stiles gave him had enough clips in his duffel bag. He certainly hoped so. He didn’t want to be unarmed while he was powerless, no matter how little totality lasted.

He reached for the radio to put on some music when Stiles’ phone rang. Stiles nodded at him to pick it up and Derek frowned when he saw Allison’s name on the screen. 

“It’s Crossbow Girl.”

“Put her on speaker,” Stiles instructed.

Derek rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

“Talk to me, Ally,” Stiles started.

A woman’s voice came through the speaker, it was rich and smooth like honey. It was definitely not Allison’s.

“That was mischievous indeed, Mieczyslaw” she said.

Derek had the good sense of putting his hand on the dashboard when he first saw Stiles twitch. His body slammed forward with the force of the car braking. Luckily, that stretch of Route 36 was empty enough that Derek couldn’t see anything but darkness in both directions. Stiles’ expression went blank and he stopped breathing altogether.

Aya had finally caught up with them.

“That was mischievous indeed, Mieczyslaw,” the woman said.

Derek’s eyes went from the phone to Stiles’ face and he immediately knew who was on the other side of the line.

“Aya,” Stiles breathed out.

“Ah, so you haven’t forgotten. I thought it was time to catch up.”

“Where’s Allison?” Stiles asked, anger sipping into his voice.

“The dhampir or the werewolf? You didn’t tell me you were keeping such interesting company, Mischief.”

Derek’s blood ran cold.

“What werewolf?” Derek’s voice was strained.

Somewhere on the other side of the call, a woman struggled to speak. The vampire hushed her as if putting her to sleep. “It’s okay, sweetheart. This won’t hurt you if you don’t move.”

“Aya, it’s me who you want. Let them go,” Stiles said.

Derek could almost see her smile as she spoke. “Mhm, where would be the fun in that?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Derek found himself saying. The reality that he might be too late to save one of his pack was enough fuel for his anger. He knew he meant every word. Derek would kill Aya even if it was the last thing he did.

“Where are you?” Stiles pressed.

Aya hummed before answering, taking her time. “Home. Come play with me one last time, Mischief.”

The line went dead and Stiles cursed.

“She’s gonna kill them,” said Derek, an inevitable wave of dread washed over him as darkness filled every corner of his heart.

“You think I don’t know that?” he replied, grabbing a fistful of his hair in frustration. “Fuck.”

Stiles breathed in with his eyes closed, then he exhaled slowly, gaining a sense of control back. He shook his head and pressed his mouth in a thin line. “No,” he said. “No, I’m not giving up. I’m going to make her sorry for changing me.”

He put the car in motion again and floored it, accelerating down Route 36 as if the cops were on their tail.

“Get rid of the guns,” Stiles said. When Derek didn’t move, he insisted, “Derek, get rid of the guns. We’re going to the airport.”

“I won’t go in unarmed,” Derek said.

“There’s no time to check a fucking bag. Those guns are not even registered. Trust me, Derek, we have to get rid of them.”

Derek undid his seatbelt and turned to the backseat, where he dug into his bag, then Stiles’ getting the guns and clips. He gave them a wistful look, then went through the motions to disassemble them, throwing bits and pieces out the window.

He still held a clip in his hand when Stiles spoke again. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

“Don’t.”

“I am,” he insisted. “I should’ve killed her long ago. Maybe if I’d been stronger then, you could have been spared of the pain of losing one of your own.”

Derek almost laughed. “You forget that most of my family is dead. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. I wouldn’t be indebted to you if it weren’t for Peter.”

“You’re not indebted to me anymore. And Kate going rogue is on me as well,” Stiles said.

“Did you make her do it?” Derek spat, his anger boiling over. “Did you order her to set fire to my childhood home with my family still inside? Did you put her up to getting the layout of the house from me? Did you ask her to use me to get her way?”

Stiles paled as he glanced over at him.

“Did she—?” Stiles asked.

“I was in love,” Derek said by way of explanation. He steered the conversation somewhere else before Stiles caught up and his pity reached him. He could live without it. “Aya said she was home, what does that mean?”

Stiles didn’t answer immediately, instead he focused on the road as it curved ahead of him. He did not slow down in the slightest.

“I’ve never been happier to have killed Kate,” he said finally. After a moment, he continued, every bit as cold as Derek expected him to be once. “My guess is Aya is somewhere near Beacon Hills, waiting for us with a small army, and possibly my clan in pieces in a bonfire.”

“I thought you weren’t giving up,” Derek said, his stomach tied up in knots. If Stiles said they had a chance, he would believe him, no matter how small that chance might be. However, if Stiles gave up, then Derek would not be able to handle what was to come.

“I’m not. It’s just a possibility among many. We might still make it on time.” Stiles slowed down as he took in the traffic up ahead, the downtown Denver lights passing them by. “You need to know why Aya is after me. You deserve it. In case—”

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you fucking dare. We’ll make it there on time. You just said so.”

“Might,” Stiles said, a sad smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You still need to know.”

Uncomfortable silence fell in the car while Stiles chewed on his story. Derek let him go through it on his own. If he was honest with himself, he was dying to know more about Stiles’ past, but he wouldn’t press. Not anymore.

“I met Aya in 1473, in Kraków, when I was 23 years old,” he started. “Could you believe I was kind of a prince? I was born into the szlachta, you’d understand them as today’s nobility perhaps, but we were equal to the King, not below him. It’s not important now, but it was back then. I think that might have factored in on why she chose me.

“The Kingdom of Poland was… in turmoil, you could say. Some people were still wary of Casimir’s rule as he was not Polish, not really, and some nobles were painfully aware of it. They wanted the throne out of Jagiellonian’s hands at all costs. One of those noblemen was my father. He made sure I was raised to be a King, that I was ready when the time came. I spent my youth under strict tutors by day, navigating the complexities of political scheming by night. It was not a terrible life, but my father’s pressure to marry a Polish noblewoman was something 23-year-old Mieczyslaw didn’t take well.”

“Is that your name? Misch..?” Derek asked, the moment he saw an opening.

“Stiles will do just fine,” he said. “Don’t get caught up in minute details.”

Derek almost protested that he didn’t need Stiles’ story to begin with, but he bit his tongue, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Aya arrived in town with a man that claimed to be her brother even if they didn’t look similar at all. They stayed at a manor that was owned by another member of the szlachta and, as such, I saw them in my periphery many times before they were introduced to me by a mutual acquaintance. I disliked Mahdi —Aya’s alleged brother— immediately. He was self-absorbed and proud, and seemed to think we were beneath him. He regarded everyone with a cold shoulder that screamed of superiority. I fucking hated him. But next to him, you could always find Aya charming her way into another nobleman’s party, into a better position in Polish society, always one step ahead of everyone else.

“I can still see that Aya in my mind’s eye: the curl of her brown hair coming undone after a dance, her rich olive skin under the candlelight, the glint in her eyes that seemed to hide all the world’s secrets. She looked to be in her twenties, but sometimes she’d talk of distant places and foreign cultures I’d never heard of with the levity of someone who’d seen the whole world. I was infatuated with her from the moment I first set my eyes on her.

“To say I became single mindedly focused on having her attention would be an understatement. The more she evaded me, the more attracted I became to her. Until one night she showed up to a dance without Mahdi shadowing her. I managed to make it past her chaperone and got to dance with her.

“She asked me about my plans —my brilliant future, as she called it— and whatever she saw in those 23-year-old’s answers was enough to hook her in. It was April and nighttime in Kraków was cold and rainy, so I offered to escort her back to the manor and she gave me this smile… if I close my eyes, I can still see it clear as day.”

Derek watched as Stiles kept to the left, then turned onto Northwest Parkway without caring for inconvenient things such as the yellow light in front of him. All Derek could do was hope no cops stopped them.

“And then what?” Derek asked. “Was that it? She changed you that night?”

“She invited me in when we arrived at the manor, and I was foolish enough to go in. Mahdi was there, waiting for her. He asked what took her so long and then he spotted me. I don’t know what they told each other then, they spoke in a language I did not know, but I could tell he wasn’t pleased. Then she said in perfect Polish: It does not matter. If the Jagiellon fall, I want an in.

“Certainly I wasn’t the only one who could give her that, I thought. There were other, more experienced princes she could’ve chosen. But she’d already chosen me.”

Stiles glanced at Derek when he said his next words. “Of course, later I found out she chose me for more than my convenient position. There was something in my family’s bloodline that gave me more gifts than the usual vampire. Aya wanted a weapon and she bestowed the Dark Gift on me knowing I’d become one.

“That night, she asked me if I’d follow her; I said I’d follow her anywhere. That answer didn’t change when she drained me to the edge of death or when she fed me her blood. It didn’t change when the agonizing pain set in. It didn’t change when she brought a servant for me to drink from as a newly changed vampire.

“It didn’t even change when she took me to my parents’ home and killed them in front of me, while Mahdi held me down. It couldn’t change when I knew she was stronger and faster than me.

“But my father… My father didn’t raise an idiot.

“When my parents stopped struggling and their hearts stopped beating, and the full weight of what I’d become settled, I swore I’d make Aya pay for what she did to my family. It wouldn’t matter if it took me a year or a hundred, I knew I would wait for the perfect moment to show her that Mieczyslaw Sztylinski was not a toy to be played with.”

Silence fell in the car as they merged into the next toll road. Derek was so enthralled by Stiles’ story that he barely noticed his surroundings anymore.

“But she’s chasing you,” Derek said. “Why?”

“Because in 1492 —after training under her watchful eye for almost two decades, after she made me a fearsome weapon that she thought she had total control over— I decapitated Mahdi in front of her and burned him to ashes. They had been together for almost two thousand years, Derek. If losing Lydia now would tear me to pieces, I can’t imagine what it would be like after two thousand years together.

“Her screams still ring in my ears after all these years. I still dream of the moment she fell to her knees in pain and I hesitated. I hesitated. One second is all it took for her to run away to lick her wounds and plot her vendetta.

“I didn’t go after her. I figured if I jumped on a boat to the New World, put some distance between us, there was no way she’d remember me in a hundred years or so.”

“But she did,” Derek guessed.

“She did,” he agreed. “It was 1818 and I was foolish enough to go back to Europe. I thought two centuries would be enough, but now I see that in the grand scheme of things, what are two centuries to a vampire that has lived almost three millenia?

“And I should’ve known better than to fall in love. I really should know fucking better by now,” Stiles glanced his way and shook his head, as if to clear it from a terrible idea. “Anyway, she tried to turn him but it didn’t take. Jan was a mercy killing, but the message was loud and clear: wherever I went, she’d find me, she’d find my loved ones, and would make me sorry for betraying her.

“I kinda swore off love then because it was the easy thing to do. I ran away whenever I got attached praying she hadn’t found out. I walked this world alone until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Lydia,” Derek guessed, his stomach twisting in something akin to jealousy.

“Yeah, Lydia,” he said wistfully. “Eventually, Kira as well. I can’t imagine my life without them. It just wouldn’t be a life at all.”

“Did you and Kira ever…?” Derek left the question hanging, knowing Stiles would understand.

“What? Had sex?” Stiles laughed, regaining some of his lighthearted humor. “Derek, we’re vampires, we’ve drunk each other’s blood. I’ve known her for 80 years. What did you expect?”

A sign announced the exit to the airport ahead which made Derek look at his surroundings. The airport stood tall a few miles ahead, its bright lights a beacon in the dark. Derek knew better than to be hopeful, yet he wished they still had time.

The plane took off a few minutes after 9 pm and they left Denver behind while sitting on overpriced seats in first class. When the seatbelt signal turned off, they were immediately offered a drink by a tired flight attendant. Derek turned her away, but Stiles reached over him as he asked for whatever vodka they had. He saw the flight attendant’s eyes rake over them, deciding how much she would regret giving them alcohol.

“Please?” Stiles insisted. “We’re on our honeymoon but we missed our connecting flight earlier, you know? I really am too sober for someone who’s been through so much today.”

Derek raised an eyebrow in his direction, but didn't correct him. Their fake papers said they were married anyway.

The flight attendant sighed, then reached under the cart for a medium sized bottle of sparkling wine. “No vodka today,” she said, apologetic, while she served them. “But you can keep this.”

Stiles threw his head back dramatically. “I wish you had something stronger for me.”

“Maybe later,” but it was clear that was as far as she’d go.

When she left, Stiles knocked back half of his cup in two big gulps. “Are you drinking or not?” he asked.

Derek sniffed the wine before taking a sip. Its bittersweet aftertaste reminded Derek of his teenage years and the many times he tried to drown his sorrows in a bottle. It never worked, but Derek couldn’t stop wishing that maybe this time it would work, that the alcohol would dull his senses and put the pain in his chest on hold.

“Do you think it’s Cora? The werewolf Aya mentioned?” Stiles asked, lowering his voice. He didn’t need to raise it above a whisper, for Derek could hear him well.

Derek thought it through. Cora was technically the stand-in Alpha, she had to relay Derek’s orders to the pack, but that didn’t mean she was above taking off on her own to do as she wished. Cora had a strong temper but she would think this through.

Erica on the other hand? Derek knew how much she wanted to prove she could hold her place in the pack and she didn’t see fit obeying Cora. To be honest, Derek didn’t think Erica obeyed him half of the time. She was known for going against direct orders if she thought she was doing the right thing to protect the pack.

“It’s Erica,” Derek replied. “Unless she has Malia and Cora as well. We don’t really know what we’re walking into.”

“A goddamn trap if I’ve ever seen one.”

They drank their wine in silence until Stiles spoke again, barely a whisper above the background noise. “I wish we had more time, you and I.”

You and I, Derek thought. What a concept. One that Derek still felt compelled to disregard. It was looking more and more likely there would not be time for that DerekandStiles.

Derek’s stomach twisted in apprehension, he was sweating cold and the air felt significantly thinner around him. The world closed in on him, his vision blurring with the weight of unshed tears. Panic set around his throat as he gasped for a breath.

“Derek?”

His hands went to the armrest, his claws scratching the surface looking for something to sink into. His thoughts went fuzzy around the edges and he wondered if someone would fight him if he shifted on the plane.

“Derek, look at me,” Stiles’ voice cut through the fog in his mind as the man put a hand over Derek’s in a comforting gesture. “Derek, come on. Follow my voice.”

Derek did, mentally reaching out to Stiles, trying to grab the hand he was offering. He saw Stiles in his mind’s eye, exactly as he was in real life: his solid frame, his pale complexion, his ridiculously slender fingers, his surprisingly warm lips, his endearing voice. Said voice rang in his head a moment later, as clear as if he was speaking.

“I’m not giving up, Derek. I’m gonna fight for them, and I’m gonna fight for one night wrapped around you after we’ve had the most mind blowing sex known to man.”

The laugh that escaped Derek’s mouth felt hysterical to his ears, but Stiles wasn’t fazed. He held Derek’s hand until his claws receded and didn’t let go afterwards.

It took him another minute to find his voice and when he did, all he said was “What makes you think I’m gonna have sex with you?”

“Please, Derek,” he said. To Derek’s ears, he was amused.

He turned his wrist so his hand was turned the right way to lace his fingers through Stiles’. His impossible thing. Maybe there was still a chance at something between them. Derek was cautiously hopeful, but his heart didn’t get the memo and tried to beat out of his chest anyway.

Stiles’ smile turned smug as his eyes went to Derek’s chest, then back to his face. Derek couldn’t, in good conscience, fight him about it

San Francisco International was a busy airport and as such, it took them a good twenty minutes to get out and find a rent-a-car. Then they had to deal with the traffic in South SanFran that had Derek’s leg jiggling impatiently.

“Let’s just run,” Derek said when the traffic didn’t seem to move for a few minutes.

“I can’t. I need to save energy,” replied Stiles. “I haven’t fed and Aya is strong. She’s probably not alone either and you’re half an hour away from being as human as they come.”

Derek wanted to protest, but knew it was useless. Stiles was right. He would be a liability in a fight and it was looking more and more likely that they wouldn’t kill Aya before Derek temporarily lost his powers.

Instead of replying, he reached for the radio and turned it on, fiddling with the dial until he found a station playing 80s music. Stiles turned the volume up and sang along Bauhaus’ Bela Lugosi’s Dead, a smile playing at his lips.

"Cute," Derek said. "Maybe even prescient."

Stiles laughed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Derek watched him for the entirety of the song, basking in his company.

As they inched closer and closer to Beacon Hills, Derek felt the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end as the effects of the full moon crept under his skin. They were still half an hour out according to his phone’s GPS. They didn’t have half an hour. Derek looked at the moon and the reddish hue that was touching its edge.

“We’re not gonna make it,” Derek said.

“Derek, I don’t wanna hear your pessimistic shit right now.”

“It’s starting. The eclipse,” he clarified.

“I don’t give a damn. You’re not giving up either, you hear me? I don’t care what you have to do, you’re gonna use all of that training of yours and kill whoever stands between you and your pack.”

Derek nodded absentmindedly. If Stiles thought there was hope, Derek would believe him. 

“Now, hold on, I’m fucking tired of this traffic.”

Stiles made an illegal turn and took the first exit he saw, driving beyond the speed limit until he reached an old back road that looked deserted. It was dark and impossibly empty. Stiles floored it, fast enough that Derek put on his seatbelt. If they crashed, he would rather not go through the window at a hundred and fifty miles per hour.

In a few minutes, Derek could see the lookout in the distance where a figure stood out against the trees. A person watching them carefully. He knew Stiles saw it since he slowed down, speed bleeding out of them as they turned with the curving road.

“Is that—?”

“Aya,” Stiles breathed out.

Derek’s senses got on high alert as soon as he could feel the pack bond again, each of its threads down to a pack member. Erica’s still held. She was alive.

He put his hand on the door, ready to pursue the ancient vampire if necessary, when he looked up and saw the red shadow covering almost half of the moon.

“Derek, uh, I need a favor,” he didn’t wait for Derek to ask what it was before continuing. “I need you to get Ally to safety. I’ll fight Aya and you focus on getting the girls out of here safe.”

“What about Lydia and Kira?”

“They’ll be able to focus if Allison is not in danger. We know Aya is not alone, so you’ll have to fight your way out of there. All of you.”

It took Derek a moment to catch up with Stiles. “What about you?” he asked.

“I’m going to end this. Whatever it takes.”

Derek frowned. “No one needs you to play martyr.”

Stiles turned onto the dirt road that took them to the lookout, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

“You said you’d fight for this,” Derek’s hand gestured between them, unable to say what he meant, but he knew that Stiles would understand.

The car came to a stop when the road ended abruptly a few feet away from a ditch. Stiles turned to look at him when he answered, “I will.”

Derek tried to find a lie in his voice, but all he could hear was the beating of his own heart in anticipation. He nodded. Stiles leaned in and kissed him. It was urgent, desperate, a wildfire igniting everything on its wake. Derek kissed him back with the same eagerness, yet the kiss was over too quickly as Stiles pulled away caressing his cheek.

“See you later,” Stiles whispered, and before Derek could say anything, he got out of the car and ran. Derek saw him disappear between the trees as he went and his chest tightened.

A moment later, Derek got out of the car. He tried to shift but nothing happened. The eclipse was in full force bathing everything in a reddish brown hue that stilled the world around him. The Preserve was unnaturally silent from where he was standing.

Derek breathed in, searching for his Alpha spark. Just because he couldn’t shift, it didn’t mean the part of him that could sense his wolves was dead inside. It was deep down, but it was there. With his next breath, he grasped enough of it to feel his proximity to Erica. He felt around to see if the rest of his pack was there but it appeared she was the only one.

He would have a serious talk with her about throwing herself into danger with no backup if they survived this. Derek followed the thread that joined him to his pack, slowly but surely, until he was at the edge of the clearing where Aya staged the fight.

To his right, Erica, limp on the floor like a ragdoll, but breathing. She was being watched by a young vampire. A child not older than twelve. She had her fangs out, hands clawing at the air, but she was not looking at Derek. 

To his left, Stiles and Aya faced each other at a prudent distance. Behind Aya’s back, two more vampires guarded Allison. Derek couldn’t see her clearly since her body was half covered by one of the vampires, but he could smell the blood, he could hear her heart fighting to stay afloat, and with it, the sound of someone sucking blood, gorging themselves on it.

Derek took a good look at Aya, the 3000-year-old vampire. Her presence seemed to draw the very air out of the atmosphere, yet what stood out the most was that she seemed off-balance. Stiles had said that losing Lydia now would drive him to insanity, but he didn’t truly believe it until he saw Aya.

Aya was stunning, that much was obvious. Her face was as regal as a princess, her demeanor as lethal as a viper. If Derek didn’t know what she was, who she was, he’d be tempted to entertain the thought of flirting with her. On the other hand, Aya seemed every bit as unhinged as she was beautiful: her hair was a messy tangle on her head, her clothes were torn and stained with blood, her red-rimmed eyes were focused on Stiles, and her mouth was twisted in a dangerous smirk. She was a weapon and the safety was off.

Derek weighed his options and realized there was no way he could get past the two vampires guarding Allison, the child vampire would get to him first and he had nothing to defend himself but his bare hands. Derek glanced around, desperately searching for anything that could deal some damage.

Bingo.

Derek withdrew from the clearing slowly, one step at a time, without taking his eyes from the child vampire, until his boot stepped on something hard. A big tree branch crunched under his foot and caught the child vampire’s attention, who finally turned to him.

They stared at each other for a few seconds while she sized him up. She quickly decided Derek would make for a delicious snack and ran towards him. Derek hadn’t put enough distance between them, but this was a good thing right now. With a fluid movement, he crouched and picked up the tree branch, slamming it on the child’s stomach as she ran towards him.

Derek might not have an Alpha’s strength right now, but he didn’t work out just for fun. His body was as strong as any fit human, and he put enough force on his swing that the child flew a few yards in the air away from him. The tree branch split down the middle and Derek wasted no time giving it a clean break. When the child vampire ran at him again, Derek half turned, then put all of his momentum in driving his makeshift stake into the child. 

He missed her heart, but she fell to her knees and tried to take the branch out of her stomach. Derek grabbed the other half of the branch and walked to her. He didn’t flinch when he drove the branch through her small neck, effectively crippling her for the time being. He could hear her drowning in her own blood, gargling and grabbing at the air with a desperation so human that Derek had to look away. If only he’d had a lighter, he’d set her on fire and end her suffering. 

Aya —because it could only be her— laughed in the clearing. When Derek saw her face again, she had her brown eyes set on him. “So, this is your new hobby, Mischief? Does he fuck as good as he looks?”

Derek ignored her and crouched next to Erica’s limp body, shaking her slightly.

“Erica, come on,” he whispered.

“I was surprised to find out you were hanging out with mortals again. I thought you were smarter than that,” she said.

“Why do you even care? You killed Vera anyway,” Stiles responded. Derek could hear he was stalling, buying time for Derek to get Erica out and leave. But Derek made a promise, he would get Allison out of here as well. He just needed something to use as a weapon and an opening.

“And I’ll kill the rest of your clan as well, Mischief. I promised you: wherever you go, whoever you love.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna be possible,” Stiles said.

“And, pray tell, why not?”

Derek looked in their direction at the right moment to see Stiles throw the first punch. Or ignite the first fire, to be more precise. His eyes flashed orange and the vampires guarding Allison both caught on fire. Derek could no longer hear Allison’s heartbeat under the yelling coming from the vampires.

One of them stumbled towards Aya and she kicked him out of the way with enough force to send them flying in Derek’s direction. The vampire grabbed at its face contorted in pain, clothes falling to pieces and skin melting as the fire consumed everything. The smell of copper and burnt meat filled his nose and he was distracted enough that he didn’t notice Aya running towards Stiles until it was too late.

They fell in a heap of limbs, a pile of hissing and cursing. The moment Aya touched Stiles, the fire he was manipulating extinguished from their bodies, but remained in parts of their clothes and hair. Derek couldn’t look at the vampire long enough to make sense of his face, so he put all his strength on his legs and ran to him, pushing him down. Once he had him on the floor, Derek felt the man try to squirm away, so, without thinking twice about it, he put his thumbs on his eyes and pressed until both eyes exploded under the pressure.

The vampire shrieked, calling for Aya to help him as he rolled around the floor. Derek left him there and set his eyes on getting Allison out of there.

“Derek?” Erica’s voice was small, uncertain, fragile. Derek would not forgive himself if something happened to her.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he cleaned his hands on his jeans and reached for Erica’s hair, smoothing down the tangles in it.

“There are others,” she said.

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Derek swallowed his frustration as he grabbed Erica’s hand in a comforting gesture. “She said– She said she wanted Stilinski’s vampires.”

A scream made him look behind him. Aya’s. It seemed Stiles caught on Derek’s technique and tried to blind her, as one of her eye sockets was bleeding profusely, bite marks littered her shoulder, and part of her hair seemed singed. Stiles wasn’t looking that much better, there was blood running down his right arm and Derek couldn’t tell if it was his or not, a nasty gash ran down his cheek and one down his chest. He looked like he took more than one punch trying to subdue Aya.

“That wasn’t nice, Mischief,” she said, slurring her words due to her fangs, circling Stiles. She didn’t look tired in the slightest.

“Have you always talked this much? I genuinely can’t remember,” he said, breathing heavily.

The second of the vampires that Stiles lit on fire was looking at the confrontation in front of him as if he were deciding whether or not he Aya had any chance. Or if he had any chance at survival. Whatever he decided, it made him run in Stiles' direction, but that was the worst idea he could’ve had.

Stiles was ready for someone to charge at him and when the vampire did, he half turned and grabbed him by the throat, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s skin until he tore off half of his neck. The vampire fell to his knees and Stiles wasted no time in punching his head out of his body.

There was a moment of relative silence in the clearing, where all Derek could hear was Erica’s heartbeat, Allison’s ragged breathing and the pained moans coming from the blind vampire that attacked him earlier.

Stiles seemed tired of the noise and with a glance, he lit both vampires on fire. They burned slowly, but Derek didn’t know why he expected any differently. Fire was fire and it burned the same no matter where it came from.

“You’ve learned new tricks,” Aya said.

Derek tried to move slowly so as to not catch the older vampire’s attention, helping Erica to her feet.

“Where’s the pack, Derek?” she asked in a whisper.

“Hopefully, safe from them,” Derek said. Erica nodded, shaking still. He didn’t know what they did to her, but he could tell she was in pain and couldn’t do anything about it. “Wait for me here.”

“What—?”

“I need to get Allison,” he said.

“We need to leave.”

“Erica,” Derek warned.

Behind him, he heard Aya say “werewolves are fun, aren’t they, Mischief?”

He heard movement, then Stiles’ voice, a desperate cry that rang like church bells in the clearing. “Derek!”

One second, Derek was holding Erica’s arm to keep her steady. The next, Aya had his head in a headlock, restricting his breathing. Derek clawed at her arm, but she was strong enough that she wasn’t moved by Derek’s mundane attempts to get free.

She leaned down to whisper in his ear, “did Mischief tell you what he did? Did he tell you what you were walking into, little wolf?”

“Fuck… you,” he gasped.

Aya laughed in his ear.

“You won’t be the first mortal to die because of him. You probably won’t be the last. Did he promise you forever already?”

Stiles' voice was closer when he said, a warning in his tone. “Aya. Let him go.”

“Aw, did you catch feelings for this one too?”

Derek struggled to spit his next words out. “I’m gonna… kill you.”

“Oh, he’s a feisty one, this one! Reminds me of… what was his name? The Polish painter who didn’t turn?”

Erica was looking at them horrified, frozen as she realized Aya was slowly choking him to death. The edges of his vision blurred, but Derek wouldn’t go without a final fight.

With a wheeze, Derek whispered. “Erica. Get Allison… Run.”

For a moment, she stood there, her eyes wide open in understanding. Then she nodded and stumbled her way towards Allison. Derek needed to know they at least had a chance, so he took as deep a breath as he could and, with all the strength he could muster, all the pent up frustration and anger he bottled inside, he bit Aya. 

It was a good bite, he managed to break skin and blood filled his mouth as he tore the skin of her arm and spit it out. Her hold loosened slightly, but it was enough for Derek to squirm free. It didn’t take long until Aya grabbed the back of his shirt, but Derek was fighting on pure adrenaline now and managed to escape her clutches long enough to run to the child vampire.

She cursed, but she sounded amused. “Oh, Mischief, you really do keep interesting company.”

Aya was behind him and grabbed his left arm with enough strength that he heard it pop from its socket. Stiles saw an opening and jumped on Aya’s back. She let go of Derek and clawed at Stiles, but Stiles had the upper hand and gouged Aya’s second eye from her socket, causing her to fall on her knees screaming.

Derek reached for the branch buried in the child vampire and pulled it out with a wet crunch. Without taking a moment to aim, he sank the branch into Aya’s chest, screaming as he went.

Aya’s body spasmed in Stiles’ arms, tremors overtaking her body. She tried to speak, but all Derek could make out was desperate gargling.

Stiles looked at her writhing body for a moment, his eyes devoid of emotion. “See you in hell, Aya.”

She raised her arm, reaching out for him, but Stiles grabbed her hair and pulled until her head was detached from his body.

Derek couldn’t take the silence that fell between them for more than a minute.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I should be asking you that,” Stiles answered. “How’s the shoulder?”

“It’ll heal.” He stood up in front of Stiles, a curious tilt to his head. “Did it hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Killing Aya, did it hurt?”

Stiles huffed a laugh. “Go check on Erica, Allison needs me.”

They made it to Erica’s side, where Derek slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “What did they do to you?”

“Drank half of my blood, apparently,” she leaned on Derek when she spoke up again. “How did you know we were going after the vampire?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Stiles kneel next to Allison. He looked for a pulse, then bit his wrist to feed her his blood.

Derek felt his stomach turn, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop watching. He needed to see the process happen. Maybe that would truly drive home the point that Stiles was a dangerous vampire and he was better off staying away from him.

After everything they’d been through together, Derek seriously doubted he could let go of Stiles because he was a vampire. He didn’t think he would be able to walk away at all.

Derek patted his back pocket and found his phone, then dialed Cora. Someone needed to be on cleanup duty and Derek wouldn’t keep Stiles off his duties to his clan. They started walking towards the car Derek and Stiles arrived in.

He put the phone to his ear when his sister picked up. Instead of greeting him, she said, “please don’t be mad.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Please, Derek, this is serious,” her voice was an octave higher, her desperation clear through the speakers. “Erica’s gone. She took off with the archer to look for Stilinski’s–”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Derek, she’s out there, powerless, no backup, and…”

“I’ve got her,” Derek interrupts.

“What?”

Mumbling took over the other side of the line and Derek could make out Isaac and Malia’s agitated voices. Derek could make out their car a few yards ahead. Erica perked up when she saw it.

“I’ve got her. She’s safe. It’s done, Cora. The vampire is dead.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“The lookout. Could you and Isaac come get us? Everyone else stays in the den,” Derek ordered.

“But–”

“And call Lydia. Tell her she needs to be here as soon as possible.”

“What is it to them?”

“Lydia will want to know about Allison. Tell her she’s hurt, but Stiles has her now.”

“Are you okay?” Cora asked, noticing the lack of news in that department.

“I will be.”

Cora sighed. “Isacc and I will be there soon. Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They said a quick goodbye and hung up, then Derek put his phone away and helped Erica into the car.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Keeping you comfortable.”

With a barely there whisper, she pleaded, “don’t go, please.”

Derek almost promised to stay, when Allison came running to them from the clearing, her mouth bloodied.

“Help! Derek! Help me!”

A jolt of panic made Derek take off at a run. When he got to clearing, he almost expected to see Aya holding Stiles’ head. Instead, the 3000 year old vampire’s body was still where they left her, the other vampires were consumed by the fire and Stiles lay still, collapsed on his face in the middle of the clearing.

Stiles lay still, collapsed on his face in the middle of the clearing.

Derek ran to Stiles’ side, turning his body to the side, looking for a sign that he was not dead. (Still undead? Living dead? Now was not the time to think about that.) Stiles couldn’t be gone. He promised Derek he would make it. He promised.

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek said, shaking the man by the shoulder. “Don’t do this to me. You are supposed to live forever.”

Stiles didn’t wake up, in fact, he seemed to be paling under his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to stop,” Allison cried. Derek glanced at her and noticed bloody tears running down her cheeks. Stiles would be happy to see he managed to turn her anyway. “You need to do something.”

Derek had an inkling of an idea, but he needed to make sure she wouldn’t go crazy at the sight of blood. “Go to Erica. Watch the car until our pack gets there. They should be here soon.”

“I’m not leaving Stiles,” she said.

“Allison, I need you to go.”

“But—”

“Go!” he yelled. He felt the hairs of his arms stand on end as his power coursed through him, latent under his veins. Totality must be ending soon. He didn’t have time to examine it now when all he cared about was Stiles’ safety. “Stay with Erica. We’ll find you. Don't come back, you hear me?”

The fledgling vampire nodded, taking off at a run. Once she disappeared from his view, Derek put his mouth on his left wrist, bracing himself for the pain that would come. He counted to three, then bit his wrist with his human teeth. It took some effort, but he managed to break the skin. He tasted his own blood on his tongue and took his hand away, bleeding on Stiles’ mouth, a couple of inches away from his mouth.

When nothing happened for over a minute, Derek pressed his wrist to Stiles’ mouth, digging his fingers on the tender skin to bleed more. Almost immediately, Stiles’ tongue licked the blood of his wrist, it tickled as his tongue moved over the wound looking for more. Derek felt Stiles’ fangs graze his skin as they lengthened, sending a shiver down his back that went all the way to his groin. His heart thump-thump-thumped in anticipation, his ears rang. Stiles opened his mouth wider, then his fangs painfully punctured Derek’s skin and more warm blood flowed into the vampire’s mouth. Derek swallowed as he watched Stiles recover enough strength to grab his wrist as he sucked Derek’s blood. The pain faded to an echo of itself as the bite released endorphins into his bloodstream, flooding his veins with feel good chemicals that showed him images of himself from Stiles’ point of view, bathed in a reddish light that gave him a ghostly aura, bleeding into his own mouth, drinking his own blood, trapped in a loop of being both the drinker and the drink.

After an indeterminate amount of time that felt like an eternity, Derek shook his head and snatched his arm back from Stiles’ grasp with a painful yank. His mind felt fuzzy around the edges and he couldn’t focus on a single point around him as everything spinned. He stumbled a step back and, a moment later, he was pinned to a tree behind him, Stiles’ eyes a bottomless pit of black that consumed his whole eyes, his fangs out, his arm across Derek’s throat, his thigh shoved between Derek’s legs.

He felt his cheeks heat up as his breath quickened. Derek tried to recall any old mantra that could save him right now that he was about to be drained by a feral vampire. As his cock twitched in his pants against Stiles’ leg, Derek realized that he couldn't care less. His pulse quickened when Stiles threw his head back before biting down his neck, consumed by his thirst.

There was something religious about the moment fangs pictured his skin, something divine in the obscene sound of Stiles drinking his blood. Derek closed his eyes and followed the images that flickered behind his eyelids. Images of himself in Stiles’ condo, sharing the second beer of the night as they watched a movie together or sitting next to Stiles reading a book —Stiles has a book on his hands but he’s looking at Derek, until Derek says cut it out and Stiles focuses on his book again. Images of Derek and Stiles going for a night run together when Derek is feeling tense and cooped up in the house. Images of Derek getting home from his grocery run to find Stiles and Maddie smoking from a giant bong, Stiles’ laughter at his scowling, Stiles’ cheering when he takes his jacket off and joins them for a round.

Stiles bit down deeper, harder, and Derek knew then that he was done for. That nothing would stop Stiles from draining him. Derek certainly wouldn’t. Not when Stiles’ fangs felt so good around his neck.

Derek’s knees wobbled and threatened to give out, his heart beat erratically, but Derek’s own desire did not waver. Stiles would not stop. His vision went black around the edges and he thought I was right. Under your lips is not a terrible way to go.

Stiles hesitated, pausing his mouth. Derek’s mind begged don’t stop, don't stop when Stiles snapped out of it.

“What did you just say?” he asked, blood dripping down his mouth. Derek’s blood.

Derek took a moment to gather himself, unaware that he had been saying something to begin with. “I didn’t say anything”

Stiles swallowed (again, he swallowed Derek’s blood. Fuck, why was Derek so turned on at the notion of licking his blood from Stiles’ lips?). Stiles cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood on his cheek. “But you thought about it?” he pressed.

“What?”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s shoulder, pushed him back against the tree and searched his face, but whatever he was looking for, he did not find it. “Derek— Fuck. I can’t— Why didn’t you fight me?”

“Why would I?” Derek asked.

“I could’ve killed you!”

“I would’ve let you,” Derek said without missing a beat.

“Are you really insane?” Stiles’ voice cracked.

Derek almost laughed, but moving in any way would have disturbed his already precarious grasp on balance. Distractedly, he felt the pull on the skin of his neck that told him Stiles’ bite was healing which could only mean totality had passed at some point. It was over. The rush of power in his veins was dizzying. He took a deep breath and the smell of blood filled his nose. As an afterthought, hints of burning bodies lingered in the air as the vampires burned all around them. Everywhere: Stiles. A combination of rain, forest, and the night itself. Derek could live a hundred lifetimes and never get tired of that. 

“Maybe I’m just crazy about you,” he said, groaning as he got his legs working under himself. Stiles moved back an inch, readjusting his position to accommodate Derek’s. It was automatic, so much so that it felt rehearsed.

They stared at each other, the air thick between them, Stiles’ hand tightening on Derek’s shoulder before he let go.

“That was terrible, you know?” Stiles said as he cradled Derek’s face with his blood-soaked hands, his long fingers sliding down his jaw, thumb caressing his lips. Derek’s hands found Stiles’ waist and pulled him closer. Stiles kept moving closer still, until his lips were an inch from Derek’s, sending a shiver down his body.

“I can hear when you’re lying. You like it,” Derek said against Stiles’ mouth. His fingers slid under Stiles’ tight black t-shirt until he touched Stiles’ skin, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the surface. Stiles’ breath hitched.

It was impossible to say who moved first: one moment they were not kissing, and the next, Derek tasted his own blood on Stiles’ lips, still warm, as their mouths opened under each other. His hands tightened on Stiles’ waist trying to hold on to some resemblance of sanity, but he felt it slip away as Stiles deepened the kiss, arching his body to meet Derek’s, grinding his hips down Derek’s thigh. They kissed and the world stopped to catch its breath as the air around them filled with the scent of desire. Derek felt drunk on it. He could have kissed Stiles forever. He would have if he hadn’t heard someone walking in their direction.

Derek pulled back, missing Stiles’ lips already. Stiles took a step back, turning to the threat while Derek stood tall, his Alpha spark vibrating under his skin. He knew, as he always did, that his eyes were a furious red hue.

“It’s Lydia,” Stiles said and frowned at the path ahead where the redhead appeared a moment later. She stopped for a beat, then took off at a run, gracefully avoiding the piles of fiery corpses, until she was at Stiles’ side, hugging him with supernatural strength. Derek might have heard a rib crack. “It’s okay, I’m okay, Lyds. I’m fine.”

He hugged her back, his arms coming around her without hesitation, only complete, unshakeable trust. Derek had to look away. It felt oddly intrusive to stare at this reunion. 

His eyes went to the path when, suddenly, the corpses stopped burning. At the edge of the clearing stood Kira, her hand outstretched in the direction of the fire, her eyes glowing orange. Derek knew he was staring when Kira turned her fiery gaze on him and winked. Then, in a flash, she was at Stiles’ side, shoving herself between Lydia and Stiles. Stiles turned to Kira and kissed her cheek, then laughed and kissed Lydia’s cheek, holding both of them close. Derek turned in time to see Allison get to the edge of the clearing with a guy Derek hadn’t met before —Scott, he guessed, Stiles’ slightly older fledgling. Behind them, at a slower pace, Cora walked up the path.

He left the vampires to their reunion and went to his sister, meeting her halfway. They weren’t big huggers usually, but Derek knew that this experience had put the fear of God in her sister. Derek could recall too vividly the despair he felt when he thought he would find Erica dead, he imagined Cora felt the same.

“I thought you were fucking dead,” Cora sobbed, slapping his chest as Derek’s arms came up to hug her, his own body shaking with tiny tremors as Aya’s voice rang in his head. That would haunt his nightmares for the foreseeable future.

Derek hugged his sister, just holding her as she cried, a burst of tears that stopped fairly soon as she pulled herself together, trying to appear strong. Derek was familiar with the maneuver.

“Isaac’s with Erica. We brought my car, so we can leave,” she said, rushing through her message.

Derek turned to look at Stiles, who was now being hugged by his entire clan in a tight cluster. He saw Allison cleaning her tears with her sleeve, Kira’s playful shove at Lydia, Stiles’ content smile. Something ached inside of him.

“Derek?” Cora pressed.

Stiles, he thought, painting his words with yearning.

The man turned to look at him, as if he’d heard him, a small frown crossing his handsome face.

Derek? Stiles said.

But he didn’t, because his lips didn’t move. Derek knew that, he was looking.

Are you in my head? Am I in your head? Derek asked, his thoughts scrambling not to think, or to think about anything but Stiles seeing the depth of Derek’s affections.

Later, Stiles said. 

Derek wasn’t sure he liked that answer.

“You need to feed,” Lydia said. Derek’s hair stood on end at the idea of Stiles drinking from him again.

“Take whatever car you came in and go back to Bloodmoon,” Stiles said. “I’ll meet you there.”

“But—” someone protested.

“But nothing. I want to see my club. That’s my baby,” interrupted, raising his voice slightly.

Cora pulled Derek's sleeve to get his attention. “Come on, Derek.”

“I’m going with Stiles,” he said, looking for Stiles’ eyes. When Stiles glanced his way, he smiled.

His sister followed Derek’s gaze. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Derek didn’t take his eyes off Stiles as he said, “we’re still not even.”

Cora turned around and, as she walked away, she said, “I’m making you explain.”

Stiles was taking his clan’s teasing silently, his beautiful smile illuminating the night better than the moon itself.

Stiles’ vampires stayed behind to clean up while Derek and Stiles took the ridiculous sports car they rented at the airport what seemed like days ago. After a few minutes of driving in silence, Stiles turned the radio on, finding his favorite station as if it was second nature. Dave Gahan’s vocals filled the car and Stiles sang along Blasphemous Rumors with a slightly off-key rendition. Derek’s heart beat a happy song inside his chest.

They reached an intersection where they should have turned right, but Stiles drove on, taking the red light as a suggestion he decided to ignore.

“Where are we going?” Derek asked.

“Home,” was all he said.

“What do you mean, Stiles?”

Stiles’ phone rang and he nodded at Derek to pick it up for him. Derek rolled his eyes, but put the call on speaker.

“Stiles,” Lydia began with a tired sigh.

“Lydia, I’m really not in the mood.”

“You need to rest,” she insisted. “Feed. Sleep early. Try again tomorrow.”

“How do you even–?” Derek started, but he could almost hear her eyes roll when she spoke again.

“We’re being loudly sexiled from our home.”

Derek didn’t understand until he remembered Stiles’ voice in his head earlier that night, when he panicked in the plane. (Was that tonight? Derek honestly felt like days passed since they left Boulder.) Hesitantly, he asked, “are you… broadcasting?”

Stiles ignored them when he said, “what I need is to be riding Derek hours ago.”

Lydia huffed, “slut.”

“Kettle. Pot. You know how it goes,” Stiles replied.

After some shuffling, Allison’s voice came over the speaker. “Hey, Derek. Uh, thanks for, you know.”

Derek wasn’t entirely sure if he deserved to be thanked for anything. He didn’t let Stiles bite him out of a sense of duty, he did it because it was the only way for him to survive. Perhaps he did it because Derek wanted Stiles to bite him ever since that night he walked into Bloodmoon to hear what Stiles wanted as payment for saving his life. Perhaps Derek had something wrong with him.

Still, Derek understood Allison, so he said, “I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know. Thanks anyway.” He didn’t expect her to say anything else, so he was surprised when she added, “by the way, you just solved two outstanding bets and won me two grand. I’ll send something nice your way.”

Stiles groaned. “Two grand? You had two grand riding on what? Derek and I would fuck by the time we got back? Because—”

“On the contrary,” she interrupted, a smirk audible in her voice. “Your eagerness to send us away and your earlier remark about riding Derek tell me you haven’t. Ergo, Stiles made it through the trip without fucking a werewolf.”

“Ally, you bet against me? I’m wounded.”

“I saw a business opportunity and I took it,” she said. “See you tomorrow, Stiles”

A chorus of see you followed and the line went dead. Derek tossed the phone back on the dashboard and glanced at Stiles’ devilish smile. 

During their time in Colorado, Derek was lucky enough to learn many of Stiles’ different smiles. Many of them were sarcasm variations that he could fine tune perfectly to the situation at hand. Some of those smiles were fond, and Stiles seemed to shake those quickly, trying to hide them with something sharper. Some of Stiles’ smiles were hungry, intense and determined, they usually came with a side of sharp fangs to emphasize the point.

As soon as his clan hung up, Stiles’ smile went from fond to hungry. Stiles was a man on a mission, driving above the speed limit with the ease of someone who has absolute command of the car. They passed a sheriff’s vehicle, but Stiles barely slowed down enough to lower the window and wave at the cop. Finally, they turned left and Stiles slowed down until he stopped at the end of the street in front of a path that led to a massive house.

“You live in the house at the end of the street,” Derek pointed out. It wasn’t even on the street proper, there was a stone path from the street itself, where the land eventually became the preserve. Exactly the opposite side of the preserve where Derek lived. The house was shielded by some trees, but he saw the second floor had a big balcony that was overflowing with flowers. A soft breeze blew into the car from Stiles’ window and his nose filled with the smell of various flowers and vampires and underneath it all Stiles Stiles Stiles.

“I thought it would be funny,” Stiles said, taking the key off the ignition. He turned to Derek with a neutral expression and added with a nervous edge to his voice “are you still, you know, game?”

Derek’s heart hammered in his chest. He almost hoped that was enough confirmation for Stiles, but when Derek looked at the man, his eyes were fixed on Derek’s throat. More precisely, on Derek’s pulse point.

“Let’s go inside,” Derek suggested, but it sounded more like a demand. Stiles swallowed and nodded, getting out of the car. Derek followed him a couple steps behind, flexing his hands to stop himself from grabbing Stiles. He was going insane with want, he wanted Stiles yesterday, weeks, months ago.

Stiles opened the door and turned to him just as Derek stepped into Stiles’ personal space, his hands reaching for his face, crashing their mouths together in a searing kiss. Stiles quickly got with the program, pulling Derek inside by his shirt, kicking the door closed only to push Derek against it.

They kissed violently. Derek’s lower lip caught on the edge of Stiles’ fang and bled, drawing a moan out of Stiles. Derek’s arousal only grew as he tasted traces of blood in their kiss. His hands went to Stiles’ waist, pulling him impossibly close, flush against his body where he could feel the outline of Stiles’ dick against his thigh. Derek’s claws lengthened, digging into the tender meat of Stiles’ sides.

Stiles moaned into Derek’s mouth, his fingers tearing into Derek’s blood-soaked shirt, ripping the buttons as he grew impatient. Then he pushed the shirt down Derek’s shoulders, trapping his hands to the side. Derek growled, his own fangs grazing Stiles’ lips that sent a shiver down the vampire’s spine.

“Fuck, Derek. I don’t even know where to begin,” he said, pulling back slightly, a crazed look in his completely blacked out eyes, his words slightly slurred through his fangs.

Derek tore the shirt and let the tattered sleeves fall to the side. When Stiles moved again, his right hand came to the left side of his neck, the pads of his fingers tracing the place where he drank from earlier that night. Derek stood still, watching as Stiles’ tongue licked his lips hungrily until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

He used his leverage on Stiles' waist to push the man back, and, thankfully, Stiles moved a few steps until his calves collided with the couch and he fell, sitting flat on his ass, his legs slightly open. Derek stood inside the V of his legs and went to his knees, hands fumbling to undo Stiles’ jeans. He pulled Stiles’ cock out of his underwear, watching as it hardened with Derek’s touch. Stiles raised his ass, then helped Derek to pull his pants off one leg at a time in a frenzy.

The vampire’s hands came to cradle Derek’s face, his thumb pressing against Derek’s thick fangs. “Your eyes are red,” Stiles whispered reverently.

Derek looked up, wrapping a hand around Stiles and giving his dick an experimental tug. “Yours are pitch black.”

Without waiting for an answer, Derek dipped his head until his lips touched the head of Stiles’ cock, licking up the slit. Stiles hissed and twitched in Derek’s hand as Derek kissed his length before swallowing him whole.

Stiles cursed and one of his hands came to rest of top of Derek’s head, but he didn’t fuck into Derek’s mouth just yet. “Derek, your fucking mouth…” he said.

Encouraged by Stiles’ reaction, he bobbed his head up and down, taking more of Stiles into his mouth until he hit the back of his throat and gagged. Stiles’ hand tightened in his hair, so Derek kept moving, gagging on Stiles’ dick repeatedly. Derek’s clawed hand firmly grabbed Stiles’ thighs and he moaned when Stiles thrusted his hips into his mouth.

“Derek, I’m gonna— fuck. Can I fuck your mouth?”

One of Derek’s hands came to grab his own dick through his jeans, moaning, certain that he would come. He nodded, fitting himself lower between Stiles’ legs, so he could let his jaw hang open. Stiles didn’t waste a moment and thrusted, sliding his thumb into Derek’s mouth with his cock, stretching the skin at the corner of his mouth. Stiles pressed his thumb into Derek’s fang until the skin broke, his thrusts becoming erratic as he came down Derek’s throat.

Derek tasted Stiles on his tongue, swallowed, and licked Stiles’ dick clean when he pulled out. Stiles sighed, pleased, seemingly recovering quickly enough when he said, “I need to ride you.”

“We don’t have to—” Derek began.

“Oh, but we do,” interrupted Stiles, his eyes looking down on Derek, his fingers cleaning up come and spit from Derek’s chin. There was a devilish glint in his eye. “Now, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

Derek stood up and unbuttoned his jeans, stepping out of them. Stiles raised to his feet in front of Derek and kissed him, his hands coming to rest on his shoulders to turn them around. Derek was pushed to the couch and immediately, Stiles straddled him, rubbing his ass against Derek’s furious erection.

They kissed long and hard, one of Stiles' hands around Derek's throat, fingers digging into the tender meat of his neck. Derek's cock twitched between his legs, neglected, heavy with arousal.

Stiles only stopped kissing him when he took one of Derek's hands in his and brought it to his lips, kissing the pads of Derek's fingers until his claws receded. He swallowed two digits into his mouth, sucking in his cheeks as he bobbed his head up and down, saliva running down his hand. Derek's stomach tightened, Stiles' tongue was lethal for his sanity. After wetting Derek's fingers to his satisfaction, Stiles guided Derek's hand between his legs, past his balls until they pressed against Stiles' entrance. Derek's instincts took over and he pressed a digit inside, feeling Stiles tighten around him. He didn't give him time to accommodate to the intrusion before he shoved a second one, fucking into Stiles with more strength that was probably called for.

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles ground his hips down, Derek’s cock was trapped between the heat of his thighs and it felt so good. He was almost painfully aroused, but he wasn’t crazy enough to fuck into Stiles without warning him first.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Derek said. “When I–”

“Who give a fuck?” Stiles breathed out, lifting his hips, spreading his asscheeks just so. He smelled of sex, of animalistic want, of a desire so strong that Derek felt compelled to comply.

Derek withdrew his fingers, spat on his hand and spread it with his pre-come down his cock. Looking up, he saw Stiles' thirsty, black eyes as he lined up, pushing the head into Stiles' tight entrance. The vampire gasped but he didn’t flinch as Derek slowly sank into him until Stiles was fully seated. He breathed out, loosening his posture as he found the correct angle to fuck himself on Derek. He sat up slightly, then sat back down on Derek's cock and moaned.

It was filthy and it drove Derek insane. He saw red when Stiles repeated the movement, using Derek's shoulders as leverage to slowly, maddeningly, fuck himself over and over again.

"Fuck, Stiles— Fuck. Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Derek mumbled, nostrils flaring, claws digging into the skin of Stiles' hips.

As a response, Stiles came down and kissed him again and again and again until they were both panting for breath as Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek's. Stiles' hip movements became more desperate and Derek felt the tight coil of heat at the bottom of his stomach that meant he was getting close. He moved his hands up and down Stiles' sides, his claws leaving behind red lines that healed a moment later.

Stiles’s hands came to rest on Derek’s jaw while they kissed, gentle and warm. Suddenly, he heard Stiles’ voice in his head clear as a bell God, Derek, you feel so good.

Derek’s hips stuttered and he panted against Stiles’ lips as he spoke. “Why can I hear you in my head?”

Because I want you to, Stiles replied, his mouth kissing the side of his neck while he fucked himself harder on Derek’s cock. His own hands pressed so hard against Stiles’ skin that blood ran down his fingers, but neither of them stopped.

Does it go both ways? Derek didn’t know if he was thinking loud enough for Stiles to hear him, but he really hoped so. He didn’t feel capable of using words out loud.

It does now.

Derek had to put effort into thinking his next question for Stiles. Why?

We’ve shared blood.

Is it permanent?

Stiles’ next words were vaguely mournful. Not between us, no.

Derek had more questions, but Stiles decided to use his fangs to graze the skin of his neck and all rational thought went out the window. All Derek wanted was to feel Stiles’ fangs in his neck again as he gave over himself completely, unconditionally, to Stiles.

Yes, yes, yes, do it, Stiles, he thought. By now, he knew he could take Stiles’ wild side. He hoped Stiles could take all of Derek’s as well.

Without warning, Stiles bit down on the place where his pulse was strongest, avidly drinking from the open wound. Incoherent images and sensations filled Derek’s mind: lips, fangs, red eyes, beard burn, a thick cock in his ass, and blood flowing into his mouth. Stiles’ pleasure overflowed into Derek and he could barely hold it together any longer. Derek’s hips fucked into Stiles harder, fierce and uncontrollable, as his orgasm built at the bottom of his stomach. He gasped a warning to Stiles, but the vampire was lost in his own mind.

Derek came with a drawn out moan, his cock pumping Stiles full of come as his knot expanded at the base. Stiles threw his head back in pleasure, Derek’s blood running down his chin even as he swallowed. He ground his ass on Derek’s lap, as if he were trying to impale himself on his swollen cock. Derek watched as the man on his lap shook through an orgasm, his untouched dick shooting thick ropes of come on Derek’s stomach, then he collapsed on top of Derek with a sigh.

They stayed like that for a while, Stiles on his lap with his forehead against Derek’s, breathing the same air, content to just exist for a while. It was long enough that Derek’s cock softened and Stiles’ come was drying uncomfortably on Derek’s skin. Stiles moved first, lifting his hips to climb off Derek’s lap. His legs shook as Derek slipped out of him and Derek felt a smug smile pull at the corner of his mouth.

“So,” he started. “Was it the most mind blowing sex known to man?”

Stiles laughed, joyful and free, at having his own words from earlier thrown back at him “I’m gonna need to do more research, I’m afraid,” he said.

Derek watched him as he limped slightly towards the stairs, stopping when he reached the first step.

“You coming or not?” he called.

Derek followed, knowing he would follow Stiles to the ends of the Earth, through life and death and oblivion itself. 

Outside, in a different world, birds woke up one by one, announcing the break of dawn.