Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What was the four season when compared to The Lycan. Well it all depends on who you ask, if you were to ask the body occupying the president suite, they'd tell you that it was nothing special, just your typical five star hotel that they've seen the ins and outs of.  If you asked the bell hops, door openers, and the receptionists, that always beam faux like smiles, they'd tell you there was no better stay in all of New York.

Let's sink a little further and wonder what you'd hear if you'd asked the maids and the butlers (all under paid when you think about it) they'd lie to you with a smile bright on their face and tell you you'd have no better stay anywhere else.

The Lycan was like any other five star hotels, big, fancy and maybe a little too expensive but worth the stay with the welcoming face of the staff and their charming ways. At least Stiles would think so. She just so happened to be a maid, so she, every once in awhile got to explore the hotel and just play around in the rooms, it was her job to clean them anyway.

Now, Stiles is your typical employee, hard working, smart, and polite (when need be). Her only real issue is-

"Are you even listening?" Stiles is Mute.

Stiles uncaps the black dry erase marker and holds the white board steady in her arms as she writes down a response, the hotel policy they gave her forces her to carry it around since not everyone can speak her language (which is total bullshit, because they force non-native Americans to learn English, why can’t non-native Mutes and Deaf’s, learn sign language?), and jots down, 'Yes, Mr. Whittemore." And rolls her eyes behind her eye lids; because Jackson Whittemore doesn’t understand that not everyone likes him.

Stiles straightened out her apron under her white board and looks at the guest in the eye "Be sure my clothes will be taken care of.” Jackson glares backs, Stiles writes in sloppy cursive an affirmative yes, and gives him the brightest faux smile.

Jackson stared at her board and Stiles was tempted to write, did they ever teach you how to read? "You can leave." He waves her off like bad air, Stiles bows (because she has fuckin' manners) and took her leave, because another millisecond in Jackson Whittemore's presences was going to render him punched in that pretty delicate face of his. And Stiles almost turned around and did it when she heard Jackson whisper “Why would they hire someone who can’t even talk? What good is she to anyone?”

The man was a total asshole, he just was. Stiles just straightens her stance and heads out of the room. Stiles has trouble understanding how, Jackson’s parents, Mister and Misses Whittemore the kindest set of lawyers Stiles has ever had the pleasure of meeting (mostly because they leave very large tips for her and always recommend her services, (which means she won't have to worry about next week’s rent.) could have birthed or even adopted Jackson, the kid needed a serious spanking. Or a good punch to his throat. Stiles will volunteer to that any day.

"Dude, you have to careful around them." Her best friend, Scott, pulled her by her elbow towards him.

Stiles gives him an innocent look and bats her eyes lashes I have no idea what you're talking about. She signs at him. Scott, being her best friend, all he did was scoff and push his elbow into Stiles' side. So what's the news? Stiles signs quickly at her friend; Scott looks like he's contemplating which or what thought.

"Uh, I think the son of our head honchos is going to be checking in this afternoon." Scott shrugs as he signs (And even though Stiles can hear practically well, Scott still signs with her because he hates that Stiles does it alone, he's a good friend like that. Scott has a habit of verbally speaking when he signs, and that confuses the shit out of Stiles. Because since she can sort of hear, Scott’s words from his lips are sometimes different from the words he’s signing. But he tries and that's good enough for her.), Stiles raises a brow at him, there are way more exciting things then the hotel's - whatever- son coming down to this side of New York and stay at a hotel his parents own. It was common place right?

Maybe he was here to just check on how things were being run because Henry and Talia Hale couldn't, or Laura Hale, their eldest, couldn’t make it.

I want wow news, Scott. C'mon feed me the good stuff. Stiles flails slightly as she signs with a smile, making their way down the hall towards the elevator. Scott out right laughs and Stiles likes the sound of it, because there are some things she can’t hear and other things she can, and Scott’s happy puppy laugh is one she hopes she’ll always hear.

Scott gives her a teasing grin "Oh Baby. You haven't asked for the good stuff since last winter."

Stiles punched Scott in the arm and stuck her tongue at him, Shut up. Johnny Depp was finally staying in this piss poor excuse of a wonderful hotel and I needed to be the first to know. Stiles is signing her heart away, because working here, no one, not even those who know ASL will speak to her with their hands, and when she has time, she’ll always sign with Scott, because he understands and that’s how she speaks her tongue are her hands, her voice. Stiles loves when Scott talks to her with his hands, it’s an art to her, it’s a beautiful work that changes and shifts with their hands.

Scott rolled his eyes and shrugged, "That's all the news I got. That and Lydia Martin is checking in today and she's asked you to be her consort or whatever it is that girls need." Scott shivers a little at the thought, Stiles sighs dramatically and slams a thin pale finger on the down arrow. Lydia Martian is one of the few who talk to Stiles in Sign Language, and Lydia always tips Stiles way more then she should, and it’s not that Stiles is against it, she just feels a little weird about it.

Scott, my best buddy and partner in crime, I happen to know that Allison is traveling with her I won’t go alone, Scotty. And a consort is a wife or a spouse per say, and though I think Lydia is beautiful, I would not be caught dead- It’s in the middle of all her mad flurry of signing that the elevator doors open and reveal a very tall, handsome, very broody, murderous looking man, he looks over at Scott and Stiles lowers her head and steps to side.

She knew immediately that this was one of the Hale's, (and it totally wasn't because his dark navy blue suit jacket had a white handkerchief with the Hale family crest on it) because all the Hales are remarkably beautiful people. Even the youngest daughter, Cora Hale, only being about seventeen now, is on the cover of Cover girls magazine. While, Laura the oldest daughter, is just a beautiful, she prefers to stay out of the public eye as much as she can.

Most of the Hale family stays away from the public's eye. Expect for Mister and Misses Hale, and maybe Peter Hale. There are rumors, and Stiles refuses to believe them because really, just because they don’t understand the family’s need for privacy, doesn’t mean they’re some supernatural creature. Because Werewolves aren’t real by any means.

(And if Stiles secretly hopes that those rumors are true, well one but she knows that.)

Derek, the second oldest, has them all beat by staying completely under the radar, and only appearing in public when he's visiting the Hotels all across New York and California and even then, it isn’t as often as Laura or even Cora visit. Derek Hale rarely if never speaks publicly and he’s always locked away in the pent house floor reserved for the Hale family.

Stiles has been on that floor once, once. And it’s a nice floor, the walls where bright beige and the doors looks like sleek oak wood, not polished or shined, just plain oak wood French doors. There were about thirteen doors on that floor, and to Stiles’ knowledge there are more than thirteen members of the Hale family that stay up there. Stiles was up there running an errand for Laura, and was surprised when she knocked on the door and Laura beamed at her, long dark hair framing her perfect features and she starts signing with her hands. She actually signs that she’s thankful Stiles did this for her.

Stiles walked away feeling just the slightest bit of hope. But then she had to see Jackson, fucker couldn’t get his own damn water bottle. What a brat.

Hale gives Scott a nod and steps aside in the elevator making room for them. Scott drags Stiles with him while she hides behind him. Once in the elevator, Stiles is standing stiff in between the wall and Scott's left shoulder, Hale on the other side of Scott.

Stiles chances a glance from the corner of her eye and sees Hale stare down at the white board hanging at her chest. Stiles lifts her hands and starts to sign.

This is so not cool, he looks like he's about to kill us, don’t breathe Scott, don’t. Breathe. She almost misses what Scott signs back when she see's Derek's eyes follow her hands and she almost worried that maybe he was able to understand what she was saying like Laura. But his eyes just drop back down at his feet and he contorts his expression to a glare instead of surprise. Stiles doesn’t have time to think about it long enough when the elevator dings and its doors open.

This was Scott’s floor, and that meant that Stiles was going to be in the elevator by herself. With Derek Hale.

Fuck, She signs before Scott leaves, he smiles at her and signs back that she’ll live until the next floor where she has to get out.

And it’s true, maybe she’ll live.

The doors close and its moving again, Stiles never liked elevators, they’re too closed off and small, the way the feel when it’s moving, how she feels when it actually moves, yeah no. Stiles can live without elevators. She was okay when Scott was with her, because she had someone to sign too, keeping her distracted. Here, well it wasn’t like Derek Hale actually going to talk to her, she’s a maid and a mute one at that. Or he could think that she’s deaf, being as so many people do.

Sometimes Stiles let’s them think she’s deaf so they won’t hold back their honesty, and even if the ugliness of their words hurt her, she’ll always do her best to pamper them senseless so they feel horrible afterwards. The small ding and light lit up for Stiles’ floor and she took dizzy step towards the doors.

She doesn’t feel steady and she seriously need out of this elevator like yesterday. When the doors open Stiles hops over the opening, because even stepping over damn railing and shit freaks her out. She doesn’t turn back until she sees the doors closing and Derek’s watching blankly from the crack before the doors shut.

Stiles sighs and makes her way to Lydia’s room.

Chapter Text

Stiles doesn’t see Derek again until a week later, after running around as Lydia’s personal maid and Scott was shamelessly flirting with Lydia’s best friend Allison. Stiles was glad that she got a full week of singing with Lydia, because Lydia was precise and sharp with her signing and Stiles appreciated it.

I’m so tired, dammit. Scott carry me back to my apartment and let me die there in peace, She lazily signs as she sits on one of the pent house couches, she’s already changed into her casual clothes, (Because Danny caught her after she’d changed and told her that there was a room on the Pent house floor that needed a quick clean before she left. Told her to be quick about it since she wasn’t in her uniform; Lucky Scott was still in his, so he went up with her.) In her second skin iron-man t-shirt and some ripped jeans. She’s more than ready to head home to her comfortable apartment and binge out on ice cream and cookies.

She hears Scott laugh, “Why didn’t you run out of the staff room when you had the chance?” he asks, Stiles glares at him and he just smiles dopily at her.

You may have not noticed, but one does not simply say no to Danny. You just don’t, it’s like a rule tattooed into his adorable grandmother-pinch-able dimples. Stiles stands and walks to stand next to Scott, looking at the room, she let Scott handle all the cleaning, because he was running on enough energy from his flirting that he did it without being prompted.

“Uh, I got grandmother, but uh pinch what?” Scott signed as he spoke; Stiles rolled her eyes and took Scott’s hands, spelling out the worded pinch then able. Scott’s eyebrows frowned tightly and Stiles just smiled at him. Scott wasn’t new at signing, he grew up with it because he wanted to be there for Stiles, especially after Stiles’ mother passed away, Scott’s been hard at learning, he’s not as good as Lydia but he’s good enough for Stiles.

“Excuse me.” Stiles’ eyes widen and she lets go of Scott’s hands like they scorched hers, Scott whips around and bows.

“We were just leaving, sir.” Scott says calmly, “Sorry for the intrusion.” Stiles knows these words, they’ve rehearsed them time and time again, and when she meets Derek’s eyes for the first time she almost feels guilty and a little inadequate. Derek wasn’t in a suit this time; he’s sporting a tight fitting charcoal v-neck and some jeans. And Stiles didn’t know she had a thing for v-necks, because damn did he make them look good.

Derek stares back at her, his gaze unaltered until Scott stood back up from his bow and blocked his view of her. Stiles wants to just sneak out past them, because Derek looks almost as murderous as he did when he first showed up a week ago. He may seem a little more relaxed with his clothes and all, but his shoulders are still tense and so is his stare.

“Stiles.” Scott calls, and she nods behind him. Scott starts to head out and Stiles is on his heels until she feels a hand reach out for her elbow.

Stiles stops dead in her track and reaches a hand of her own to Scott’s vest, stopping him before he leaves her here alone. Stiles looks down at Derek’s hand tight on her elbow then looks up at Derek. His face, despite being perfect, looks almost regretful and disappointed. At least his eyes do. And Stiles has a moment of clarity, because there’s a reason Derek’s stayed out of the public eye, there’s a reason that Derek’s always locked up by himself.

And the answer is deep in those beautiful hazel eyes of his.

“Mister Hale?” Scott asks.

“I’ve seen you before.” Derek says quietly and maybe Stiles was hearing things because that almost sounded like a growl, and maybe it was meant for Stiles or maybe Scott wasn’t actually there to answer for her and she’s just dreaming this all up. Stiles’ lips work wordlessly as she tries to explain the whatever it is that she’s supposed to, and Derek’s watching her lips move, but he’s not even blinking and oh my god was he sniffing her? What the hell?

“She’s my sister.” Scott blurts. “She doesn’t speak, hasn’t since her, uh, our mother died. I didn’t want to leave her where no one could talk to her.” Scott explains and Stiles wants to hit him for lying, for twisting this and making a problem out of it, because Derek will see her again, maybe (Hopefully.) And he’ll think about it, and eventually he’ll figure it out that Scott lied to save her ass for being in a room working without her uniform. But she’s staring back at Derek, and he looks like he’s thinking hard and he’s trying to place her face somewhere, somewhere Stiles has probably never been.

Derek reluctantly lets go of Stiles’ arm but doesn’t break his stare. Stiles takes her arms and sort of crosses them over her stomach, in a protected stance, she hunches over slightly and steps a little closer to Scott, breaking her stare down with Derek by looking down at her feet. Scott stands protectively in front of her and Stiles just keeps to herself, glancing over every now and then.

“Don’t let it happen again.” Derek turns his back on them and heads off into the kitchenette. Scott backs them the hell out of there.

Stiles looks at Scott after they leave the room, and walking a good distance away, her eyes wanting to bug out of her head and he’s looking her over, he takes the elbow Derek gripped and Stiles winces, making a small whimper of a noise.

It isn’t until now that Stiles realizes that Derek was hunched down towards her, and his body practically engulfed her in its shadow.

“It’s going to bruise,” Scott says, Stiles looks down at the injured elbow and promptly freaks out, flailing limbs and silent stomps of what the hell! Scott doesn’t have to hear her or see her speak to know what she’s saying.

Scott let’s go of her elbow and leads her to the elevator. “Let’s just get you home. We’ll bind it so no one has to know.”

Stiles glares at him, talking like someone who wants to hide the fact that their parents are beating the hell out of them, she signs wincing just a little as her elbow moves with the rest of her arm.

Scott stares at her once they’re in the elevator, “Derek doesn’t need another reason to be anymore grumpy then he already is.”

And Stiles doesn’t argue with that, because Derek’s regret filled eyes was so scorched into her mind that she just feels really bad that she was in there in the first place, even if she supposed to clean that room. She still felt really bad.

Chapter Text

Saturday was Stiles day off, but here she is sitting in the lobby waiting for Scott to get off his shift, Stiles is fiddling with the hem of her shirt when there’s a thump up in front of her.

She looks up and Derek Hale is sitting in front of her, staring.

Stiles takes a deep breath and sits up uncomfortably. Derek is watching her intently, like he’s determined to find something wrong with her. Stiles looks down at herself and she can’t say she’s much to look at. Her thin figure is shapely, her legs are currently on display because its hot outside and these are her favourite cut-offs.

Her shirt obviously shows her awesomeness factor, because it’s a tribute to the old Transformer’s cartoon. Its her favourite worn out Tee. And if anyone has something to say about it they can tell it to her fist.

Momentarily, she forgets that she’s being started at and an unwanted flush works from her ears to her cheeks. After a few more silent staring moments, Stiles furiously signs WHAT?

Derek simply stares, his eyes narrowing just slightly, Stiles signs again expecting him to pick up and answer her.

“I don’t sign.” Is what he answers. Stiles stares this time, she’s baffled and just irritated that he’s staring at her without a word as to why. So she signs back.

Asswipe, I can see that, I’d prefer that you tell me why the hell your staring at me, I’m not a freak show here. Stiles signs, there’s a few minutes of silence and then the unexpected happens.

“I know you are not.” Stiles’ mouth drops open. He . . . understands her. He just doesn’t sign. Stiles sits back and stares bewilderingly back at him.

Then why are you staring at me. She signs, Derek’s brows furrow and he seems contemplative for a moment. Like he isn’t sure as to why he’s staring, like Stiles is so far beneath his quota that he’s offended himself.

“You’re eyes. Your fingers. The kicking of your feet. You’re always moving.” He answers, Stiles’ eyes almost bug out, what the actual fuck is happening here? “Come with me.” He says.

Stiles before she could sign, shakes her head furiously. Derek seems offended and Stiles begins to sign.

Oh no you don’t. No. I’m here waiting for Scott. I’m not here to be disposed to you, Mr. High and Might. I am my own person and I know when to say no. So. No.

Derek stands and glares at her, “Now.” It’s one word, and that one word sends a child down Stiles’ spine. Looking back at Derek’s eyes she swears she saw them flash a bright color, but he turns and walks away, and like stupid was her name, Stiles gets up and follows.

Derek doesn’t even check to see if she’s following him, he must be so smug. Bastard, she could still be sitting there waiting for Scott for all he knows. Stiles takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes for a few seconds.

That’s how long it takes for her to slam face first into Derek and have her entire face hurt like she walked into the brick wall. When she recovers she looks at him with her best what the hell face, and he looks down at her from his shoulder.

His eyes glint a bright blue color and Stiles has to blink up at him again, Derek reaches his hand out and she flinches away from him. When he’s hand does touch her cheek, his fingers touch this soft spot at the back of her ear and Stiles feels a little weightless and giddy.

Derek doesn’t seem as threatening now that his hand is gently touching her face. Even if there’s a small twinge at the back of her mind that’s screaming Run. She feels as if she can’t, almost like she wants to be here. Stiles’ eyes close and the pain that once bumped her face is numbed and gone. Stiles idly thinks Derek would be great to have around on days when her feet and legs are just killer.

Derek’s hand leaves her cheek and Stiles momentarily feels a horrible ping in her chest. “You’ve worked with Martin before.” He states, Stiles dimly nods, is she even listening? Yeah, because Derek’s voice is suddenly soft and kind. “You’ll be working for me now. I’ll provide you with a room on the top floor so you are never far from reach, you will also be within arms length of me when out in public, if not closer.” Derek begins and Stiles’ buzz ends. She beings to sign at him.

NO. Nope. No. Mr. Hale I have my own apartment where I could stay comfortably, I don’t need you- Wait. Stiles pauses, then starts again. When the hell was this decided, no. Hell. No. No. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, I’ll be leaving.

“It’s been decided.” Derek says sternly. “You will also join me for formal functions. Ms. Stilinski, you are under my employment now. Do not disobey me.”

I should’ve stayed in my chair. She signs harshly. Derek ignores her and opts for the elevator. What the hell has Stiles gotten herself into.

Chapter Text

There’s this really obnoxious noise by Stiles’ ear, and she’s sleeping so, obnoxious noise . . . you have to go. Stiles rolls on her side and pulls her pillow over her ear. The noise is muffled by not shut out. What the hell! Stiles flails her arms out as she sits up and looks for her phone.

She rubs her eyes as she pulls her phone out from her pillow mess. She stares at the screen and frowns.

From- Mr. Eyebrows and I don’t know how to smile.

                Wake up.

Stiles sticks her tongue out and tosses her phone aside. She doesn’t have to wake up if she doesn’t want too. She lays back down and pulls her blankets over her head and soon sleep finds her. Of course it’s like that when there’s a loud bang on her door. Stiles mentally screams, she forces herself up and works her way to her loft door.

She ruffles her long hair, she actually likes how its got these little curls at the bottom of all her layers. Her hair never agrees with her anyway. She does like her hair though, her mother never let her cut it and well now Stiles can’t really stand to have anyone near her hair, unless its Miss McCall, she’s a nurse, but she trims Stiles’ hair for her. She’s a very nice lady.

Stiles shakes her head and goes to open her door. And who else but Grumpy brows is standing there looking handsomely pissed as ever. Wait, did she just think that? Oh yeah, she’s not awake. Caffeine, a lot of caffeine.

“You didn’t answer my message.” He says all grumpy like and annoyed. Stiles huffs and lifts her hand to sign at him, she’s lazy and her body is heavy with sleep. But she does it anyway, because otherwise, Derek won’t leave her alone.

I was asleep. Mr. Grumpy-tight-ass. She seems to not care; maybe she’ll pay for this later. Yeah, later sound great, as long as she can sleep in until then. Derek does this frown like thing with his brows and Stiles almost laughs at him, because laughing isn’t something she can’t do, she just doesn’t talk. Derek seems to loosen on his purpose and his shoulders drop just a little. Stiles momentarily realizes that she’s way to comfortable with Derek around. Like there’s something that’s forcing comfort between them.

Derek pushes himself in and Stiles grumbles to herself, sure let yourself in, she thinks. Derek looks around her empty living room/bedroom. He seems a little displeased, but what the hell is it his business. Stiles shrugs to herself and walks towards her kitchen where she can turn on her coffee machine and have the sweet bitter taste of coffee running down her throat.

Derek is huffing and grumbling behind her, but she ignores him, also ignores the fact that she is not even angry that Derek fuckin’ Hale is standing in her loft. Yeah, she’ll ignore it. She’s dazedly in her kitchen turning on her coffee machine when Derek speaks up.

“I need you to attend an event with me this afternoon.” When Stiles turns around he’s there standing in the entrance way.  She takes a scared step back and stares at him.

What? She signs.

“You are going to attend this function with me.” Derek repeats, sort of. Stiles shakes her head at him, because no, she will not attend this function with him. Derek narrows his eyes at her, like she dares defy him.

Yes, I’m disobeying. Because I’m not some lackey. I’m sure you have plenty of other women that what to be your arm candy or whatever, but I’m- No. No. She signs at him, she really much to tired to be dealing with this, she really is. Derek should really leave. REALLY.

“You are my employee,” Derek growls, and wow, is that even human? It shouldn’t be, it didn’t sound like it was. So Stiles is going to settle for no, that wasn’t human. Derek continues on, pulling Stiles out of her head. “You are going where I need you.”

And on several levels Stiles is not okay with that. So she tells him so.

Okay, Mr. Hale, just because I am your employee does not. I repeat, does not entitle that you have fully and total use of me. I’m not your slave; I am a human being with feelings and a voice. Er, sort of. My point still stands. She signs at him, yeah no. Not to him. But at him.

Derek’s pale hazel eyes get dark in color as he narrows his eyes further and soon Stiles’ body is press to his chest, with the small of her back pressing tightly against her counter top. The pain is almost numbing, tingling from her waist to her toes. Derek’s breath is warm as he breathes calmly from his nose, it brushes Stiles’ hair from her face.

The closeness suddenly has her feeling like prey and trying to stare him in the eyes is a horrible idea. Stiles swallows hard and keeps her eye contact, no matter how bad her fight or flight response is screaming at her to run.

There’s this rumble and Stiles for a moment thinks its Derek, but of course that isn’t humanly possible. Derek’s eyes are pale again and his shoulders aren’t as tight as when he walked in, he actually seems comfortable. Stiles suddenly feels the urge to laugh. But the way that Derek looks, (He looks like he wants to rip someone’s throat out, seriously) Stiles would decide against it.

But, Stiles is not a normal human being. Her lips crack in a smile and her diaphragm begins to shake and Derek is staring down at her like she’s crazy.

“What’s so amusing?” He demands, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed in a tight line. Stiles wiggles her hands up between Derek’s board chest and up to her chin. Which, she will take the time to admire said board chest later.

You’re like a child who gets told no, so you throw a damn fit. Her signing is a little chopped but really she has Derek’s chest pressed against her. Fuck you.

Derek doesn’t seem to like it what she has to say—uh, sign.

“You are infuriating.” He says as he pulls away from her. Stiles temporarily misses the warmth, but she pushes the feeling aside. Odd that she didn’t taz him, because he is after all a stranger and he just forced himself against her. But the really odd thing about . . . was that it felt normal, it felt . . . good.

You employed me. She signs back to him with a huff.

Chapter Text

How and why Stiles is sitting here in a chair with some woman painting her face with makeup is beyond her. This woman seems to be kind; she’s elderly, like she was born in the forties, elderly. But she’s kind, always asking if what she’s doing is okay with Stiles, if she pulled too hard? Or if Stiles prefers plucking or waxing. Funny Story, Stiles hardly does her brows, they are naturally shapely and full. Her mother said it was genetic.

Once the woman was done with Stiles’ face she moved to Stiles’ hair, she came at her with scissors and Stiles flipped shit.

“Whoa, Whoa, sweetheart,” the woman says setting the scissors down, ”Okay, so no scissors.” She smiles at her, Stiles nods her head and the woman takes a breath helps Stiles back into the seat.

So all in all, Stiles comes out with her face done and her hair done. Her hair is curled out, so she’s got like soft trundles of curls falling around her face, the magic of that woman was great. Stiles’ hair actually listen to the elderly woman. Stiles feels . . .pretty.

When Stiles comes back to her loft Derek’s standing there at her front door holding a black suit coat in his hand. But Stiles is more distracted with the fact that Derek’s got himself all dressed up and fancy. A black suit with a blood red tie, his hair styled accordingly, and his stubbly trimmed. Stiles has to swallow back. Derek smirks at her smugly as she makes her way to him.

Stiles rolls her eyes and pushes him aside to get to her door. There’s something different about them meeting this time. Stiles can feel her heart thumping in her throat and there’s a small feeling of anxious energy surrounding both her and Derek. She can feel him, like really feel him. She is now acutely aware that he’s standing behind her.

Its like that, that she suddenly feels self-conscious. She gets her door open and pushes inside not bothering to see if Derek’s made it inside. She wants to be as far away from him as possible, and for a stupid thought because of that.

I couldn’t possibly be pretty enough, Stiles thought, He’s obviously laughing at me. I saw that smirk, I know what he’s thinking. Stiles’ thoughts grow dark as she feels more and more anxious about the evening.

“Stiles, Breathe,” Derek’s voice is thick and velvet smooth when Stiles hears it, her heart is steadying and her mind is settling, “Breathe.” He tells her. She does, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment. She feels warm and comfortable again, she opens her eyes and Derek’s there holding her steady. Derek’s staring at her, his eyes a light, hazel green. Something Stiles hasn’t seen before, his eyes are actually welcoming.

Derek gives her a hint of a smile before he let’s go of her and head somewhere behind her. Did I just have a panic attack and Derek Hale help me out of it? Stiles’ mind asks, Stiles sighs and heads to her living room couch, Derek is back and hold that black suit holder in his hand.

“Try this on.” He demands, Stiles rolls her eyes but stands and takes the coat hanger from him.

Turn around. She signs at him. Derek huffs but does as told. Stiles unzips the large black bag and takes a look at the dress inside. Oh my god, Stiles thinks. The dress is a solid black with a shiny red lining around the sweetheart neckline. Stiles thinks about it for a moment before she sighs and slips off her shirt and bra, she slides the dress on over her head. Slipping off her shorts and fitting the dress against her hips.

The dress is snug and almost skin tight, it comes to about knee high with a slit in the back, Stiles honestly feels a little poor to be in this dress. Stiles taps her foot on the floor to let Derek know she’s done.

Derek turns around and his eyes open up wide, Derek seems to swallow back hard and clear his throat. “It fits.” Derek says, Stiles nods slowly, because it does fit, snugly, but it fits. Derek nods back at her “Okay, that dress will do.”

Damn right it will do. Stiles signs, I don’t think I’ll be able to get out of this thing. Stiles signs then feels the curves of the dress against her body. She meets Derek’s eyes and he just stares back at her.

There’s a sudden heat in the air around them and Stiles fidgets just a little under his gaze. Okay, she thinks.

Chapter Text

The damn car ride. Stiles is sitting in a custom made leather chair and feeling incredibly small. The car itself made Stiles feel like Derek might be compensating for something. A sleek black Camaro, the damn thing was cleaner then her job on hotel rooms. That aside, Stiles is fidgeting in the passenger seat, drumming her fingers on her knees, swaying her head to the soft sound of Imogen Heap. Which giant surprise to her when Derek started the car and that’s what played. Derek just looked stone and stoic as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Stiles sighs and closes her eyes, maybe she’ll sleep until they get there. She hears Derek clear his throat, then something that should sound like words, “Are—Are you cold?” Derek asks, sounding a little lost; Stiles opens her eyes and looks over at him a little surprised.

Are you asking me? She signs a little shell shocked. Derek frowns at her like she’s stupid. Uh, yeah no I’m fine, thanks. Stiles signs quickly. Stiles looks back towards her window, a light flush makes her cheeks flashing against the tint of the window. Her reflection looking back her when street lamps light the car in passing. Why the hell is she blushing anyway? All Derek did was ask if she was cold.

The car ride passes in silence, from Derek of course. Stiles is mute, so she has a reason. There’s a certain pressure in the car, like she didn’t expect to be this close to him. Or he’s too close, which is ridiculous considering that he’s already pushed himself against her.

“We’ll be there in five minutes,” Derek says, it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth and when Stiles turns slightly to catch him in the corner of her eye, she can see why. Derek has a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and his jaw is wound tight. Stiles takes a breath before she turns completely facing him.

You okay? She asks, because she’s seriously concerned that he might kill them both. Derek glances at her then back on to the road, making a soft turned somewhere into a large gate. His knuckles finally get some blood in them and his jaw squares into a soft hold. The gate opens and Derek pulls in, Stiles ignores him now because one, he isn’t answering her. Second, the house in front of them is huge.

There lights highlighting the front yard, where Stiles sees a few children running from all corners of the yard. Stiles huffs with a smile as the kids wave at the car. Derek startles her when he speaks to her, “Wave,” his voice is softer then she’s used to, she’s heard him speak in soft tones before, but this. This sounds like Derek’s seen some shit and he’s happy to share with anyone willing to listen.

Stiles glances at him before turning back and waving back that the children.

Stiles has problems with breathing when she sees the house Derek’s leading her too. Her arm is on his and his free hand is holding lightly to her fingers. Almost like he’s holding on to keep him grounded. Stiles and Derek get to the large maroon doors with black accents when they open wide for them to see the grand stair case and white marble . . .everywhere.

Stiles is so out of place here, Derek must feel her hesitate because he secures his hold on her arm and her fingers. He pulls her a little closer as she looks at the large openings and the people that shower the floors all over the damn place.

“Derek, sweetheart,” Stiles attention is drawn away from all the people and the white marble, to an older woman. She looks a lot like Derek, her hair is dark and tied up in a styles hair bun. Her eyes are hazel, but not a brown-green like Derek’s.

She making her way to them and Stiles momentarily panics when Derek releases her to open his arms for the woman. “Mother,” Derek says, there’s a small hint of sadness in his voice. But it’s hidden away and Stiles doesn’t quite understand. Why would he be sad to greet his mother?

While Stiles thinks about this, she totally forgets that she’s here with Derek. “And who is this gorgeous woman, Derek?” Derek’s mother smiles brightly at her. Shit, Stiles thinks. Derek faces her with this hint of a smile, “This is Stile-” Stiles stomps her high heel on the floor and frowns at Derek. Just because she can’t use her voice doesn’t mean she can’t speak.

My name is Stiles, Mrs. Hale. Stiles signs.

Mrs. Hale’s smile softens, something that you’d see when she looks at her own children, and Stiles suddenly feels uncomfortable. My mom used to look at me like that, she thinks to herself.

Mrs. Hale signs back, which isn’t surprising. “Call me Talia, Dear. Its a pleasure to meet you.” Stiles smiles warily back at her, and nods her head.

The pleasure is mine. Stiles signs carefully. Stiles looks up to meet Derek’s eyes and he seems pleased. Not smug or teasing, just pleased. Happy, Stiles’ mind supplies for her.

“Your step-father should be around here somewhere,” Talia nods to the second room to the right. Derek frowns slightly before fixing his features into a expressionless page. Stiles doesn’t like it, because all the times she’s stared at Derek’s face, be it from a far or up close like it has been the last three days. She doesn’t like that Derek’s default face is a blank canvas.

“Where’s Laura?” Derek asks, avoiding his step-father in general. Talia sighs like she knows and points her finger up the stairs.

“She’s talking with Cora about that boy Isaac,” Talia says, she looks back at Stiles and smiles that soft smile that sinks Stiles’ heart just a little more. “It was nice meeting you, Stiles.”

Stiles nods and before she can sign back Derek is wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to the steps. Rude, Stiles signs to him. Derek ignores her, but she knows he was watching. He’s always been watching her hands, be it when she’s speaking to him or when she’s drumming them. He’s always watching her hands.

They are on the second floor and its dark and quiet, Derek leads her down the left hall way, quietly walking. Something in Stiles stomach tells her to run, but then Derek’s hand squeezes her side. the pressure is warm and securing.

Soon Derek’s at a door he wants and pushes it open. Two woman, Laura, Derek’s older sister is the one Stiles recognizes first. The other, Stiles assumes, is Cora the younger of the three. When Stiles gets a clear view of her face, Stiles see’s she’s been crying. She’s wiping the make-up off her face and Laura is sitting there pinching the bridge of her nose.

Stiles bites her lips and wiggles out of Derek and goes to Cora, Derek doesn’t stop her, just follows her into the room. Stiles taps Cora’s shoulder and signs.

Hey, what’s with the water works? Does someone need to die tonight? Stiles knows she’s being nosy, but hey when a girl is cry Stiles wants to know if there’s a face she need to beat in. Because that’s not okay. Somewhere behind Stiles she hears a snort, and she knows it isn’t Derek.

“I- it’s nothing,” She frowns at Stiles, looking unsure of why Stiles is even talking to her.

Its something if its making a mess of this pretty face. Stiles signs with a raise of her brow. Cora looks from her to somewhere over Stiles’ shoulder.

“. . ., its just a stupid guy. You know, I just I don’t know and he’s here but he’s just ignoring me and I really want to-,” she pauses and looks back over Stiles shoulder for a moment then looks back at Stiles, “I just want to punch him.”

Then do it. Stiles signs. Stiles hears Laura stammer behind her, taking a breath then remaining quiet. There’s nothing wrong with hitting someone who hurt you. Just don’t kill them. That’s my only rule. Just aim it right and punch them in the throat.

There’s a chuckle behind her and Stiles is a little surprised on how beautiful it sounds, considering it’s Derek’s voice she hears. Cora cracks a smile then laughs.

There it is, Stiles signs with a smile, You’re way to beautiful to have someone ruin you this way.

“Where did you find her?” Stiles hears Laura ask. Stiles smirks but looks Cora in the eyes. Cora nods with a smile finishing her wiping and taking a deep breath.

After a beat of a moment Cora says, “I know you, don’t I?” Stiles freezes a little, “I do, you’re the cleaning lady from The Lycan.” Though Cora sounds accepting and open. Something in Stiles breaks, something in her twists uncomfortable and she’s now acutely aware that this isn’t her world. This is Derek’s world and she doesn’t belong here.

Stiles nods, just a fraction of a nod. Derek must feel something because he pulling her hand and looking at his sisters.

“Laura, Cora, this is Stiles.” He tells them, the smile in return and at the same time say it’s nice to meet her (Again.) The rest of the night is a blur for Stiles, because she spends the rest of the night feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

Even when Derek’s there next to her, she feels completely alone in a bowl full of piranhas. By the end of the night there’s a nipping at her heart that tells her Derek really only took her to show off what he had. To make her feel weak and useless.

The drive home, Stiles was fuming. She didn’t even know why she was angry. She shouldn’t be angry; she agreed to everything Derek had her do. Maybe somewhere in her mind she thought that maybe . . . maybe Derek liked her.

That might be why she’s angry, because she had her hopes up, she believed that maybe Derek Hale would like her. He doesn’t like anybody, so what makes her so special. Derek pulls up to Stiles’ building; he stops the car and unlocks his doors, Stiles gets out of the car without waiting for Derek to open the door. She starts off to the door for the lobby of her building and she hears Derek call after her, but she’s pissed and embarrassed.

Once in the lobby, Freddy, the receptionist, greets her but she keeps moving. She trips on her heels, falling on her hands and knees and she’s taking deep breathes so she doesn’t cry hear. Derek is right behind her, but Freddy is helping her up.

“Ms. Stiles, are you alright? You shouldn’t be running-, Stiles!” Freddy yells once Stiles takes off her shoes and runs to the elevator. She furiously clicks the button when Derek’s in her view.

“Stiles!” Derek yells, something about his voice sounds lost and a little scared, but Stiles doesn’t care, he was just using her anyway. The elevator opens and Stiles is in, she shuts the doors and pushes her back up against the back wall. There’s a loud bang followed by Derek shouting her name.

Stiles let’s herself cry just a little.

On Stiles’ floor she stumbles her way to her door. Her body is suddenly heavy and tired.

“Stiles,” that’s Derek. Stiles’ shakes her head and gets to her door, trying to unlock it but Derek grabs her hand and she panics. Her hand smacks hard against Derek’s cheek. Her brows are tight knitted and together, her eyes, she knows are watering.

Derek doesn’t look surprised, if anything he looks a little scared. And for the first time in eight years Stiles uses her voice.

“Are you happy?” Her voice doesn’t sound any different then when she stopped using it years ago after her mother died. Derek’s eyes are wide and staring back at her. Stiles pushes Derek off her and she gets in to her loft. She shuts her door and looks it. She throws her shoes somewhere, and she curls herself by her door and cries even more.

She was so stupid.

Chapter Text

Stiles dreams of dark suits and red ties, bright hazel green eyes and a wolf. In her dream Stiles is standing in an empty house, a large open and white marble house. Her heart is in her throat as her bare feet make little taping noises as she steadily walks towards the right room.

There's a tall man in a black suit standing in the center of the room. His hands are in his pockets and something about his brood shoulders has Stiles breathing steady and deep.

Clear Hazel-green eyes flash past her, then she's staring down a large wolf. His ears lowered, his eyes a clear blazing sapphire.

Stiles wakes up with a start, cold sweat beading her forehead and chest. She's sitting up, panicked and a little scared. She looks around her empty and quiet loft. She takes a gulping breath, exhaling harshly, her mouth is dry and she's shaking.

Stiles stares out her large window wall, the skies are dark against all the lights. Snow is falling, a tiny part of Stiles' heart breaks as she realizes she must start work again tomorrow.

Stiles lays back in her bed and eyes the digital number shining red on her ceiling. Its three AM and the first name in Stiles' mind is one she'd prefer she never knew. Stiles rolls over and shuts her eyes.

Turns out Stiles couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned the rest of the night. Her cursed mind kept sending her back to those clear hazel-green eyes.

Stiles sighs all day, Scott of course notices, but doesn't say a word to her. Actually, she's surprised he hasn't asked her where she's been the last three days. Stiles shrugs it off, she doesn't want to talk about it anyway.

Stiles is rather quiet today, just working in and out through rooms. Not stopping to talk to her favourites or even the animals in the kennel. But no one says a word.

Stiles, at the end of her shift, gets called into Danny's office. She tiredly goes and isn't happy to see the look on Danny's face.

He looks equal parts pissed and worried.

"Where the hell were you the last three days?" He asks in a tone that should be pissed but comes out sounding like a worried mother. Danny is like a mother, and it makes Stiles smiles. Kind of like she is now.

I went to visit dad. It was short notice I know, I'm sorry. She lied. Danny eyed her cautiously then nods.

"You look beat, get home and get some rest," he shushes her out of his office. Stiles salutes him and grabs her coat and duffle bag then heads out.

Stiles stops at the park on her way home. The chill of the air and the light crunch of fresh snow underneath her feet, she sits on a small bench.

There are a few kids playing out in the snow and a few parents watching in amusement. Stiles spots an elderly couple walking hand in hand and her heart sinks at the reminding feeling of Derek's warm hands holding her fingers.

Stiles shakes the memory and breathes in the cold air. Her eyes land on something red and shiny and her heart stops in her chest.

Derek, her mind whispers. Stiles wants to look away but she can't. Derek is talking, he looks upset and he's frowning. Stiles for a moment wonders who he's talking too, but her answer is soon revealed.

A blonde woman with impressive breasts and beautiful red shinny lips is smiling and touching Derek casually.

Look away! Her sub-conscious yells at her, but a part of her suddenly feels betrayed and hurt. She feels the pressure of tears on her nose and cheeks.

When Stiles looks away it’s too late, she can feel his haunting eyes on her. So for a moment Stiles let's her tears fall down her face, she lets the tears and her hurt show on her face before she turns back and meets his eyes.

Stiles then takes a deep breath and smiles at him. After a beat of her heart, Stiles gets up, wipes her eyes and heads home like this never happened.

Stiles is laying on her bed six or so hours later, in her mother's knit along with fifteen pillows and six different blankets and throws. Stiles cries to herself here, she lets out her foolish pride, her guard is torn to shreds and her dignity is shot to shit.

Stiles talks to her mother and she doesn't get an answer. Which hurts more way more than it used to.

Get it together, Stilinski! Her mind yells at her. You're stronger than this. It’s all in Stiles head, she knows that all of this is just some sick game her feelings and her mind is playing with her. Stiles gets up off her bed and wipes her eyes. That’s enough, Stiles thinks. She starts cleaning her loft, taking shit out of boxes, moving her couch, her tables. She’s Sofie from Howl’s Moving Castle and she’s just as pissed.

It’s almost nine, when she’s done cleaning her loft. She crashes on her floor, huffing with a small smile. Her mother would have laughed at her, seeing her cleaning her loft and trying to distract herself from her own thoughts. The thought brings a few bittersweet tears to Stiles eyes.

“I . . . miss you,” Stiles says, spoken out Stiles feels her throat tighten around her words and she remembers now exactly why she stopped talking. She sounded just like her mother. Stiles didn’t have enough time to ponder her thoughts because there’s a knock on her door.

Stiles looks at her clock, ten, who’s visiting her?

Stiles gets up and looks at herself, pushing the thought aside because why the hell does she care what she looks like here in her own damn house. Black yoga pants and a rosy pink tank are acceptable wear for her.

She opens her door and looks around, but no one is there, she huffs and before she closes the door, she looks down. And there by her bare feet are a few well bloomed deep red roses ties together with a black ribbon.

Warm memories of her dreams flash past her and her breath catches just a little. She bends down and carefully picks them up, she examines them carefully when a paper falls from them. Stiles’ brows raise and she bends down to pick it up.

What the hell? Stiles looks at the small note. The hand writing was neat and almost looked way too clean to be male. Stiles reads it;

                Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; its constant hungry of whatever it is it wants

                                The way it starts and it stops.

Cold chills run all over Stiles’ body. She knows these words, she’s read them before. But she’s too consumed by the thought of someone leaving her some roses and a note. Stiles checks one more time but the halls are empty. Stiles takes a deep breath then head back inside, she locks her door and goes to put the roses in a vase.

Stiles sets them there on her coffee table with the note bedside it. She then takes a shower and gets ready for bed.

Chapter Text

Its a few weeks later and Stiles has continued to receive flowers and note cards with small hand written poems. Some originals, while other’s quotes from dark romances. Stiles is sitting on her bed with her lap top propped open, she’s googling the latest poem. Its nerve wrecking, she chewing on her thump and she goes in and out of websites google as to offer.

                I have watched you from afar

for many, many years.

Now is the time to make my move

And to show who I am.

I want to take you in my arms

And never let you go

Stiles repeats the words in her mind, repeats them until it’s a soft mantra of music in her head. Her front door opens and Scott’s walking in and shutting the door behind himself.

“Stiles, I- we need to talk about-” Scott starts but Stiles stops him by throwing her hands in front of her and singing away towards Scott.

There’s a site here where there’s more then thousands of the same poem and I can’t find the original, but there’s this one girl who write almost the same way and maybe I’m crazy, but this could be hers. She looks at her screen then back at Scott. He seems lost and a little annoyed. He walks up her three steps and shuts her laptop.

Stiles makes an offended noise and glares at Scott, he glares right back and points a finger at her. “We are going to talk about this, Stiles.” Scott says a matter of fact. Stiles softens her glare and looks down at her Indian crossed legs and fiddles with her fingers. Scott wants to talk about Derek and the flowers that are taking up her loft floor.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, Stiles and since these flowers have been showing up, you’ve been obsessing.” He’s brows frown a little and his eyes drop in that sad puppy look.

I, I just want to know whose sending them, Scott. I . . ., Stiles stops signing, because she knows why she’s obsessing over the flowers. She knows who she wants it to be delivering these flowers and these romantic cards.

Scott sits in front of her and takes her hands in his, He looks at her, “Derek’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you time of day. You’re way to beautiful to be chasing him.” Scott smiles, soft and bright at her. Her eyes sting a little with tears, she smiles back at him and traps him in a hug. Because he’s her best friend and she’d fight till the ends of the earth just to keep him at her side.

“I love you too, Stiles,” Scott chuckles next to her ear as he wraps his arms more securely around her.

Before Scott left that night, they are both sitting there on her couch signing at each other when a knock stops them. Stiles’ heart races in her chest as she looks at her clock. Ten.

She and Scott go to open the door and there’s a single blooming rose with a shinny blue ribbon on it and a small note underneath it.

Scott tells her to stay in the loft while he goes and checks, but Stiles knows whoever left the rose is long gone. She picks up both the rose and note and frowns at the new ribbon color, and the single rose. The card in her hand has her gasping.

                I’ll love you

Till the last rose

                Withers and dies.

Stiles pulls the rose up to her nose, wax? She thinks, this rose is made of wax. Her eyes open wide and Scott is coming back huff and trying to catch his breath.

“Stiles? Stiles what’s wro-”

“He . . . he loves me.” Scott’s eyes are open wide as he watches Stiles.

“He? He who? Stiles why are you talking? Stiles?” Scott asks in panic as he follows Stiles into the living room, panicking as she’s looking at all the roses all over her loft floor, she’d dated all the small notes since they came in, figured the dates would be important or remind her of something.

“Stiles, I need you to talk to me! Sign or whatever!” Scott yells from behind here. Stiles ignores him as she pushes through the bouquet of roses. November 2^th, no that one can’t be, November 5^th, no not that one either. Maybe its-

“Stiles!” Scott grabs her shoulder and she looks at him, stares at him blankly, Scott sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stop Stiles, Please. Derek isn’t sending you roses, Stiles,” Scott sighs and let’s go of Stiles’ shoulder she knows her sad appearance is reflexed on his face.

“I- I need to know why he’s-” Stiles’ voice is tight and it feels like she’s talking around a sore throat. She hasn’t talked in so long that she isn’t breaking her spoken words in burst like she should. Stiles coughs, “November, it . . . it means—,” Stiles is in a coughing fit and there’s not enough air going to her brain.

“Hey, whoa, Stiles!” Scott catches her as she stumbles on him. “Shit, Stiles keep your eyes op-” the words are muffled and she’s suddenly quiet tired. Her eyes shut and her world becomes dark.

Chapter Text

Its bright when Stiles opens her eyes groggily. Squinting and reaching up to rub her eyes but she feels a painful tugging so she leaves her hand where she’s lifting it from. Stiles’ eyes open and she blinks a few times to adjust her vision and—

“Stiles.” Derek.

Stiles figures out that she’s in a hospital, the room is blue and white, taking in sun light. Its a beautiful room with flowers, balloons and stuffed toys. Stiles knows well that Scott has told Danny, and Danny has told the rest of the staff. Which is sweet, but Stiles right now feels like she’s staring down the barrel of a gun.

Derek’s standing at her bedside, a grey suit with a white button down and a simple black tie. Derek almost looks like his mourning something. His eyes are soft, along with the rest of his expression, he has an expression. Stiles breaks and shakes her head, because no, he is not allowed to look like he’s happy to see that she’s okay. Or just happy.

“Get out.” Stiles’ voice is raspy and sounds like she’s been fighting a cold for a few days. It worries her for a second before she see’s Derek shake his head at her.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, his eyes narrow a little showing how serious he is, “I let you out of my sight, out of my reach and this is what happens. Your freedom from me is no longer an option.”

Stiles’ breath is caught in her throat; she hears a small growl behind Derek’s voice. A small twinge of fear shivers down her spine, but there’s something warm and solace about what he’s saying to her. Derek unbuttons his suit jacket and slides it off, placing it on a chair that he seems really familiar with. Stiles wonders how long Derek’s been here, how long has she been here?

“A few days.” Derek answers her thoughts, her eyes widen a little as he looks back at her, “I didn’t read your mind. It’s a common question when you don’t remember coming here on your own.” He says calmly. Derek rolls up his sleeves and Stiles heart stammers in her chest. She didn’t know she had a thing for arms, but have you seen Derek’s arms? His shirt is crying right now.

“Mr. Hale, Scott McCall is here,” Stiles sees a man where an equally tight black shirt at the door of her room. Stiles is a little confused to see him at first, he’s a big guy, dark skin and soft eyes. Derek nods at him and Stiles looks at both of them.

“Boyd is a friend, he’s your security guard while you stay here.” Derek says, Stiles’ eyes open wide and she’s about to object when Derek’s eyes flash and it must be the pain killers that make it seem like they flashed blue. “I let you out of my sight, I gave you your space, and you nearly had yourself killed. You no longer have a choice, Ms. Stilinski.”

A part of Stiles is relieved and happy, but the other still feels like Derek is forcing himself to be around her. Stiles frowns but her frown is soon gone when Scott’s face is there, smiling at her like she’s the only person that’s important in the room.

“Ass face, you’re up already. I thought you’d be asleep for another day or two,” Scott nervously swipes his nose, he looks tired his hair is a mess and he seems like he hasn’t relaxed in days.

I would be but I knew your ugly face would come see me, Stiles signs, I’m sorry Scott, I should’ve—

Scott shook his head at her, “You’re here to get better, and that’s what’s important,” for a moment Stiles is generally happy that Scott’s here, seeing him is like coming home and she’s comfortable. She forgets for a moment that Derek’s there, so naturally of course that’s when Boyd pokes his head in.

“She’s here,” he says, Stiles looks from Boyd to Derek then back. But when she looks back the blonde woman Stiles saw Derek with is now standing in the door way. Stiles’ blood runs cold, the blonde woman has her hair up in a pony tail, she’s in a tight grey pencil skirt with a matching suit jacket and a white blouse underneath.

She smiles at Stiles like she’s offering her deepest apologies Stiles wants to sneer at her, what’s to tell her to leave, but Derek gives his hand to her and shakes it, “Erica.” He says, “I take it you couldn’t take care of the financials if you’re here.”

She raises a brow at him and laughs, “Please, who would I be if I couldn’t take care of a few numbers. Ms. Stilinski’s room is set, there are doctors and nurses on call if she needs anything.” Erica smiles back at her.

“Rude, Derek.” Erica laughs and looks at Stiles, “I’m Erica, Derek’s best friend and his secretary,” Erica smiles, Stiles still feels a horrible twist in her chest. Derek stands closer to her like he’s shielding her.

“That’s enough for today,” Derek says, Scott looks like he wants to angrily protest, but he doesn’t, he just leans over and kisses Stiles’ forehead, smirking when Derek clears his throat. Stiles waves at Scott as he leaves and completely ignores Erica as she walks out after him.

Derek, once those two were gone leans over Stiles and presses his lips on her forehead. Stiles flails a little and touches her forehead after Derek’s moved away from her. She glares at him but he seems unaffected by her glaring. He takes a seat and pulls out a book that Stiles didn’t notice.

“Sleep.” He says, almost demanding as he opens his book and begins to read. Stiles rolls her eyes and shuffles on her bed, turning her back to him and laying on her side. She hears a low and deep chuckle. But she ignores it.

Chapter Text

Stiles’ dad calls the morning she’s being discharged, Derek had Boyd answer before she got the phone, clearing it before Boyd kindly handed her the phone.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles answers a little warily, there’s a beat of a pause and Derek looks at her before he nods and heads out of the room.

“Goscislawa Mariana Stilinski,” Stiles winces at the sound of her full name the horrible curse of it, “What have I told you about your voice? About using it in burst? About what your mother—” he stops talking, there’s a sigh before he continues, “You’re doctor has told you that prolonging the use of your voice and suddenly using it in burst like Scott has told me you—Stiles, you could have seriously hurt yourself, your lucky this panic attack wasn’t serious like your last one.”

Stiles chews at her lip numbly, she remembers the last time she used her voice, shortly after her mother died, Stiles spent a lot of time in the forest, a lot of time humming to herself and just trying to piece back together her eight year old mind. She remembers one night on a misty and cold November night when she was out there and she just started screaming and crying as the thunder rattled up above her.

She  remembers feeling dizzy and sick after he fit of anger and she remembers seeing a pair of beautiful blazing blue eyes before her world went black. Next thing she knows she’s waking up to the smell of Mama McCall’s soup and the bright lights of a hospital room.

“I, I know dad, I’m sorry.” She says as honestly as she can, because she is sorry, sorry that she’s scared the life out of him and not actually keeping him in the loop of her life. “But I’m fine, Scott and Derek are—,”

“Hale?” het dad snaps back quickly. Stiles frowns and nods to herself, soon realizing that he can’t see her she answers him vocally.

“Yes? Dad, what— how do you? Why do you? Dad what’s—,” Stiles coughs roughly, her throat burning and itching at her sudden fit. Derek comes back in and takes the phone from her. Stiles smacks his free hand and something of a growl comes back at her. She takes her hand back and hides it underneath her blankets.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, but Stiles needs her rest. I’ll be sure to—,” Derek stops abruptly frowning at the wall opposite to him. Stiles wiggles in her blankets waits patiently to hear what’s happening. Derek nods, “Understood, sir.” Derek hangs up the phone and pockets it, he takes a deep breath and turns his hard gaze at her.

“Get dressed, we’re leaving.” Derek runs a hand through his thick, dark hair. And Stiles momentarily thinks about how soft it might be, Derek then unbuttons his jacket and pockets his hands in his nicely pressed dark pants. “Now.” He says in an inhuman growl, Stiles fidgets out of her blankets and Derek walks out shutting the door behind him.

Stiles is sitting on the edge of Derek’s freshly made bed, it looks like he hasn’t slept on it since he got here. Does he sleep? Stiles asks herself, that question is answered when she sees the way the couch there by the wall against opposite of the bed looks worn and there’s a neatly folded blanket at the end. There’s also a faded out colored quilt.

Stiles’ leg starts to bounce as she waits quietly in Derek’s room, well his hotel bedroom. Something about it has Stiles’ nervous on end. She see’s Derek pace the living room coming into the view a few time, passing back and forth. He’s on the phone, and he see’s tense, but not angry.

Its a few minutes later and Stiles can’t stand it anymore. She stands up and goes to the sliding glass door and steps out into the balcony. Her bare feet touch the cold and damp ground, the snow had fallen and half if not all of New York was covered in white blankets of fluff. Stiles sits on a lone metal chair and breathes in the cool mid day air. Her lungs sting a little, and her hands started to lose their warmth. But she needed air, she felt trapped and the walls were closing in on her.

She’s maybe out there a few minutes when she hears Derek calling for her in a panic. He opens the sliding glass door rather harshly and meets Stiles’ calm gaze with his panic filled eyes. The panic fades a little from his eyes as he looks her over. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t leave my sight without letting me know where you’re going.” He says painfully so, Stiles’ chest tightens in guilt and a small bright flame of anger.

Then leave me alone. If its so much of a damn pain to have me around, let me leave. Let me go back to my loft, let me out of your sight. Stiles signs, she’s doesn’t humour him with a glance so she looks out towards the city.

“I never said that. Ms. Stilinski I—” Derek stops when Stiles turns a misty eyed glare at him. She’s not her mother, Derek’s jaw clenches seeming like he gets he’s stepped on her toes. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I never said I—,” Stiles turns back to face the overlook. Ignoring Derek, “Stiles look at me when I’m talking to you.”

She doesn’t, she continues to ignore him. Derek pulls her chair forcing her attention back to him. His hands griping either side of the metal arms, Stiles has already curled herself on the chair, keeping her warmth. Derek’s eyes search hers, Stiles stares back, a little frightened.

Her eyes fail her when they take in Derek’s appearance. His hair looks like it’s been under Derek’s hands, his white v-neck Henley is tight on his arms and chest, his sweats grey and hanging loosely at his hips. Stiles takes a hard swallow and looks back up at Derek’s tired looking face.

She almost wants to reach up and cup her palms at his cheeks, feel the rough stubble underneath her cold hands. So what does Stiles do, she does just that. She reaches her hands up and cups her palms at his cheeks and just looks at the shock that crosses his face before he falls back into a blank glare.

“Why are you so sad?” Stiles says quietly, tentively.

Chapter Text

Derek is staring back at her blankly, Stiles fingers twitch at Derek’s cheek. He gives her one hard stare before he pulls his face away from her hands, “Its getting cold out here, come inside and go to sleep.” Derek tells her once and heads inside. Stiles brings her hands back down to her. She never thought touching another human being would burn that much.

Derek’s face was warm, hot almost under the cold weather, under her cold hands. Stiles’ hands feel numb and not in the frost bite kind of way.

Stiles comes inside, Derek is nowhere to be seen, the blanket and quilt on the couch aren’t there so Stiles peaks her head out to the open living room, there is laying there on the large L-shaped coffee brown couch. The quilt is under his head like a pillow while the other sheet is there at his feet. The tv is off, no book, no cell phone, he’s just laying there on his back.

“I thought I told you to get some sleep.” Derek surprises her when he speaks. Stiles fidgets in the door way before she takes a step towards him, curiosity eats her a little. Why is she here and not at her loft? How bad was her black out this time? Why did she black out? Did Scott take her to the hospital? Well that one she can answer, because she remembers being in her loft, she remembers looking through the flowers after receiving that wax one. She remembers Scott’s panic, her own panic.

Something was different, something about Derek now and the Derek that sent those flowers. Stiles wants to know.

“Why—,” Stiles coughs a little, Derek sits up and gives her a hard stare, like it’ll get her to go back into the bedroom and go to sleep. Stiles shakes off her cough, “The flowers, why?” she asks. Derek stares at her a moment before he lays back down.

“I didn’t send flowers. I was at your bedside, you didn’t need flowers.” He answers, its almost cold and like he could careless about giving Stiles some flowers. Stiles purses her lips and stops her foot. Derek sighs and sits up, he leans his elbows on his knees and interlocks his fingers.

“My loft—,” she coughs again, maybe talking isn’t a good idea. Why did you send flowers to my loft, flowers and notes? Why did you come to the hospital? How did you even know I was there? Dude, I know you’re high and mighty but really that’s creepy and I want to know why you were there. Stiles signs, Derek sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t send you flowers, Stiles. But I’m looking for who did. You’re staying here until we find him.” Derek interlocks his fingers again and his shoulders tense just a little, “I don’t appreciate others toying with what’s mine.” Derek mumbles, Stiles winces because when the hell was she his belonging?

Stiles stomps her foot again, Derek meets her eyes, I am not a thing you can own! Stiles signs anger clear in her face, Derek stands up so fast he’s already got Stiles’ wrists in his large hands and griping just shy of bruising. His brows are frowned and his eyes are heavy with a tint of anger.

“You are, Stiles Stilinski, and I’ve waited long enough for—,” Derek stops, purses his lips he seems to lean closer to her. Of course that’s when Stiles' mind works around all her thoughts in a fucking second.

“Someone is stalking me!” She lets out a raspy and rough yell. Derek pulls away from her like she’s burned him and winces while covering his ears.

“You’ll hurt yourself again. Stop it.” Derek orders, Stiles’ panic is still alive and kicking so she wiggles and paces the floor. Derek takes his seat back on the couch checking his ears and blinking a few times, “No one is stalking you.”

“This whole time I thought it was you, but your not at all the type to be romantic that way! You’re more like the I’ll-fuck-you-so-hard-you-won’t-walk-right-for-a-week and I should have known better, oh my god. Oh my god he knows where I live, he says he loves me he says that he’ll always- oh my god! I have to get—,”

“Stop! Stiles, stop. Breathe.” Derek’s up in her space again, pressing his palm against her mouth, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Stiles feels the warmth of Derek’s hand seep all around her face, she feels most of her tension fade away. She feels her body relax into the soft warmth. Soon her legs feel like jelly and her head feels free of all its god awful thoughts.

“Good, you’re breathing again.” Derek rumbles, its kind and Stiles doesn’t know how she feels about it. All she knows right now is that her body is suddenly tired, she sways just a little and falls into Derek’s chest. “Alright, c’mon. I’ve got you.” Derek’s voice is warm and it sounds really, really gently. She feels Derek shuffle her around before lifting her up. “Why don’t you ever listen to what your told.”

It’s a whisper and Stiles feels a little nostalgic after hearing it, but she can’t place the feeling. She’ll sleep on it for now.

Chapter Text

Stiles wakes up to the smell of coffee, She grumbles as she turns on her side; the sheets are soft and comfortable, but it soon clicks that this isn’t her bed. Stiles shoots up and her eyes snapping open, where am I? She asks herself, but then it clicks.

She was in the hospital, and then Derek brought her back to The Lycan, his suit on the top floor. Fuck. Stiles hides her face in her hands and brings her knees up to her chest. All she wants is go home and sleep in her own bed, maybe go to the pet store and buy a dog, because she needs a dog aside from Scott. Hah, Scott, a dog. She laughs to herself.

Stiles runs her hands over to her hair and sighs. Its like reality hits her again when she hears Derek push the door open and freeze when she meets his eyes. An unwanted blush covers her cheeks and she immediately looks away, Derek clears his throat and comes into the room setting a coffee cup down on the night stand. Derek stands for a moment on the bedside before he tentively sits on the bed beside her.

 “Are—, Are you okay?” Derek asks, his voice taking a sweet and tender turn. It makes Stiles’ skin shiver in delight. For a small moment she feels like Derek’s generally worried about her well being. Stiles lifts her hands and begins to sign.

 I’m, um, I’m fine, thank you. She eyes the coffee for a moment, Derek seems to follow her line of sight and he reaches for the mug and hands it to her, Stiles eyes carefully then takes it. She nods her thanks and Derek nods back.

 It’s not quiet for long because Derek speaks up again, “Erica has bought you a few things to wear,” Stiles frowns at him, she has clothes in her loft, why couldn’t she go herself to get some if she has to stay here. Derek see her frown and narrows his eyes at her, like he knows that she’s protesting in her head, yelling at him that this is not okay. “Your loft was covered in wolfsbane, which prematurely started your panic attack.” Derek explains, “Mr. McCall has told me you have a history of black outs when in contact with wolfsbane.”

Stiles numbly nods as she listens to Derek, she hasn’t been— That’s why she moved to New York, there was hardly any flowers, let alone trees, there was no way she could have gotten anywhere near that horrible purple flower— near any wolfsbane—

 “The wax flower. . . ,” Stiles whispers, Derek’s head turns towards her his eyes narrowing suspiciously, Stiles meets his eyes and she can see her own wide eyed stare reflecting back from his clear hazel stare.

“What wax flower?” Derek asks with a small rumble, it sounds harsh and almost threatening. Stiles thinks, she meets hundreds of people, maybe in the high millions of people. There was never anyone who paid more attention to her then the usually creeps that are always too old to worry about.

Stiles throat tights around her words so she hands Derek her coffee, which has gone terribly cold, and begins to sign. There’s a wax flower, it was the only one I held up to my face, I knew it smelt of something else, something sweet and perfume like. Something I remember my mothe-

Stiles’ body runs cold, The scent was what triggered her memories and forced her into a panic, because that scent was unmistakable. It was her mother’s favourite perfume. Stiles feels the blood leaving her face and she feels her heart sinking and racing all at once. Her vision is blurred and her hands are shaking.

“Stiles, breathe” Stiles hears, Derek’s voice is deep, thick and hypnotic. Stiles closes her eyes and tries to stifle her fear.

How could they know that was my mother’s perfume? That’s not possible? The only people who know are Dad and myself. Stiles signs when her heart beats back in her chest and she meets Derek’s full gaze. He looks unsure and maybe a little concerned looking back at her. This look is new, it’s taunting her just a little, because Stiles has never seen unsurety in Derek’s eyes, maybe sadness and maybe panic. But he was never unsure.

 “I don’t know.” He answers after a moment. And it almost seems like he cares about how scared Stiles feels. It then pops into Stiles head that their alone, and when their alone Derek always looks human. When all this started, Stiles was more than once alone with Derek. He’s smirking, he’s asking if she’s alright, he’s being generally human. But as soon as people are next to them or around them, Derek dismisses her like she’s some throw away whore.

It then comes to Stiles’ attention that Derek doesn’t want to be associated with her, that he just needs her because she is a means to an end. Stiles remembers the look on Mrs. Hales face how happy she seemed at the fact that Derek had brought someone with him. Maybe that was his plan, employ her, make her appear to be his date or even girlfriend to his family. Possibly because this has been an issue for him for some time now and Stiles was just the perfect picking.

She was always there in his line of sight, she might have even looked like she needed the money, but Derek never actually talked about her payment, just told her she’d be his employee, and because she worked at the hotel that his entire family owns, of course he’d know her financial standing.

“Stiles,” Derek’s soft and tame voice breaks her from her thoughts, rage is there under her skin, burning under Derek’s hands Stiles slides away from him, jumping out of the bed, she needs to get out of here. She needs to get home, she—

 She can’t go home.

Derek just watches her, stand up with her but doesn’t make a move towards her. Stiles wants to go home, she feels uncomfortable, she feels sick, she feels like she might just need to go to the hospital again.

 “I,” Stiles takes a breath, her throat stinging, “I. Want. To. Go. Home.” She says in-between breaths. She looks towards Derek and he looks almost miserable.

“I can’t let you go—,”

Stiles stops him, stomping her foot down and shaking her head. Beacon Hills, California. I want to go home. She signs, let me. Let me go home. I want—

Stiles feels the tears before she knows her vision is blurred, Derek was just a blur of greys and whites and her hands are shaking. Stiles wants to go home, she wants to be with her dad, she wants his hugs, his warm sweat shirts and pants, she wants the smell of old paper and the sounds of the sheriff’s station. She wants to see Deputy Parish, she wants to see Liliana, she wants to see her Mom. She wants to see all the palm trees, all the pine trees, she wants to see Isaac, Scott’s adoptive brother, Stiles wants to see Mama McCall. The feeling is saddening sickening.

Stiles is a sobbing mess on the ground as the feeling of being homesick eats at her. She feels Derek’s heat soon enough, he’s arms encasing her and his body shielding her.

“Okay. Let’s get you home.” Is all Derek says and its all Stiles has to hear to send her pushing into Derek’s embrace, hiding her face in his chest. Where she doesn’t feel like she’s being watched and the walls aren’t closing in on her. And her heart knows this place, knows the warmth and the comfort of Derek’s arms, it’s a mystery as to why she knows it but she won’t question it any further. Because familiar is what she needs, familiar means home and safety.

Chapter Text

It takes the airport terminal and all the people to have Stiles realize that maybe Derek isn’t doing her a favor. Maybe he’s causing more harm than good. Stiles sat there with one large duffle bag by her left leg. Its winter, so her hometown is probably chilly or even cold. She has on her favourite zip up jack and some black leggings. She’s zoning in and out of the quiet terminal, listening to a mother and child across from her, then an elderly couple.

Stiles doesn’t know what’s happening anymore, she doesn’t remember her life becoming this mess. She was just a regular cleaning maid in New York’s finest hotel. Now she’s runaway from her life here and going back home because her new Boss, Derek Hale, involved her in his life.

Stiles is being stalked and it becomes very clear that she is when there’s a pot of a flowers at Derek’s hotel door the night before Derek promised to take her to the airport. The  pot was filled with small purple flowers and Stiles remembers Derek pushing her inside and shutting the door behind him.

Stiles was scared, her leg began to bounce as she thought about it more and more.

“Stiles,” A warm familiar voice calls her tentively. Stiles blinks a few times and looks up to see Scott’s soft open eyes, Stiles gives him a small smirk before he sits down next to her. “How— are you okay?” he asks. Stiles nods a little looking back down at her duffle. She feels slightly better knowing that Scott agreed to come back with her.

He’d heard about the problem and refused to let Derek isolate her in his hotel room. Derek glared Scott down for awhile before he relented and let Scott take her back to her loft and packed her duffle with all her favourite clothes and jackets.

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek since this morning when he drove both Scott and Stiles to the airport. Derek looked almost sorry that Stiles was leaving. He was gripping the wheel and gritting his teeth; when they got there and Scott went to get their bags, Derek pulled her close and whispered in her ear. He kissed her forehead then let go of her like her skin burned him.

Stiles can’t really close her eyes, so she can’t sleep. But there’s a small comfortable tightness in her chest at the thought of going home. Scott takes her silence and warps his arm around her and forces her to lean on him. Scott smells of chocolate and cup-of-ramen, it makes Stiles smile just the slightest.

Beacon Hills is cold, chillingly cold. But as soon as Stiles is in the airport she spots her dad and Miss McCall. Their smiling at them and Scott nudges her side and smiles at her. Stiles almost forgot how easy it was to smile here, how easy it was to feel like you belonged somewhere. Stiles hugs her dad, she hugs him and cries because she’s missed this, she’s missed the smell of day old coffee, papers, and this unusual smell of the sheriff’s station.

“Missed ya, Kid.” He says to her as he pulls away from her.  Stiles smiles honestly Miss McCall hugs her next and the hug is everything Stiles has been missing. The drive back hurts a little more than Stiles was expecting, after promising to meet at the McCall house for dinner, Stiles was in the familiar space of the police cruiser. She was breathing in the smell of coffee and glazed dounuts, a part of her wanted to laugh and grill her father about it. But the other half was way to tired to even try.

Stiles rests her head back and her eyes are about to shut when her dad clears his throat, “How long are you planning to stay?” He asks, Stiles huffs and lifts her hands lazily up to answer him.

I don’t know, maybe a month, maybe for the rest of my life. She signs a little too truthfully. Her dad doesn’t seem to see the reality in her hands, and if he does, he doesn’t comment on it. Simply huffs at her.

“Alright, I know this great place by the Preserve that you might like,” he says, Stiles can hear the joke under his tone and her lips twitch in a smile.

Back home, Stiles sees her old man hasn’t changed anything since she left for college almost seven years ago(and promptly hardly to never visited. But he said he understood.). He simply smiles at her and takes her bags up to her old room.

She follows him up and takes in a breath when her room walls are bare and empty of the life she used to have on them. A part of her wished it would look the same it did when she left. Her dad hovers just awhile longer before he clears his throat again and pats his pants, “I’ll let you get resettled, and then we’ll head over to Melissa’s for dinner, Okay?”

Stiles sees the years in her father’s eyes, sees the age and the laugh lines around his lips. Stiles smiles with a small nod and he nods back; he heads out, closing the door behind him and Stiles feels right then that she might be losing some connection to the only family she has left.

Once the door is shut she looks around her empty room, memories of long sleepless night, of cold pizza and video games, sleep overs and epic pillow fights. But one memory always stands out above all of them.

A pair of clear blazing blue eyes just outside her window in the middle of misty cold nights, and Stiles telling her mother one night; Mommy, mommy, they’re there again. Stiles can hear her younger self; she can also hear her mother, see her smiling back at her and answering.

He’s your guardian, no need to fear my Baby.

The words are lead in her heart and ice in her veins.

Scott is happy, he’s practically rolling all over Miss McCall’s living room floor when they arrive, Melissa(She hated that Stiles called her Miss McCall all the time.) was almost as smiley as Scott was. She let him be as she answered the door, Stiles busted into a fit of giggles when she caught Scott mid-roll.

Both parents rolled their eyes when Stiles went and joined Scott on the ground and began to roll with him. Something about being in the living room where Stiles remembers spending the night after her mother died, something about it has her in a bittersweet happiness.

Scott soon wraps Stiles in a cocoon hold with his legs warped tightly around her waist and his arms around her neck and head. Holding her tight and comfortably to his chest, Stiles laughed at she poked his sides lazily. If she really wanted to get out of his hold she could have, but it’s warm and familiar here.

Dinner was good, delicious, actually. It was way more filling then the food her and Scott have been stuffing their faces with back in New York. The thought has Stiles pausing, has her thinking back to her loft, her job, her life back in New York. She shakes the thought quickly, happy to be back home and away from the loud streets and mean people.

It’s almost late at night when her phone starts ringing. Stiles is already in bed and sleeping comfortable when she hears to obnoxious sound. Stiles fumbles for her phone on the night stand, she slips her finger across her screen. Its when she hold the phone to her ear when she realizes that everyone on her contacts knows she texts. But its too late.

 “Why did you leave? We were playing such a fun game. You were enjoying yourself so much.” The icy polite voice says, Stiles’ blood runs cold and she shoots up from her laying position. “Mm, doesn’t Matter.” The voice hums, some creepy chills work their way down her spine Stiles begins to panic, she looks around her dark room. “Oh, don’t fret. I’m nowhere near you. But I can find you, if that’s what you want.” Then the phone goes dead, a sick dial tone ringing in her ear.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t know if she could tell her father, if this is just some stupid joke by her next door neighbour. Stiles carefully and quietly makes her way out of her room and across the hall to her dad’s bedroom.

“D—ad.” Stiles’ voice is thick and chopped as she pushes through the door. Her dad groans to himself before fumbling in the dark and switching the night stand light on. Stiles doesn’t want to cry, but seeing the empty side of the bed untouched and the same way it was long before she left, it sends her heart on a 5K run.

“Whoa Kiddo, what’s wrong?” He says as he gets up and goes to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her head to his shoulder. Stiles sobs for a moment before she remembers that she is here for a reason. That she’s back home because some twisted man thought it would be great to stalk her. Stiles is so done with everyone, right now.

Chapter Text

Stiles sits quietly there at the kitchen table, a small throw blanket thrown over her shoulders and her father pinching the bridge of his nose across from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me before hand, Stiles?” he sighs and looks up at her, there’s a fear and familiarity in his eyes, and somewhere in the depths of those chocolate aged eyes, is the sadness Stiles remembers.

I didn’t think it was a problem, and it wasn’t not until—, Stiles stops signing, because even the small thought of Derek shakes her bones underneath all her skin.

“Until when, I’m having a hard time following here? Do you know who it is?” he asks her, Stiles stares out the kitchen window and her memories flood her like a breaking dam.

“Play with me!” she yelled, her tiny hands clenched at her sides, she’s puffy eyed and red cheeked as she stands there in the middle of the Beacon Hills preserve. She’s in her favorite jean jumper and Iron Man t-shirt, she was staring hard holes into the back of the tall boys head.

“Wolves don’t play with human pups.” He says, his voice a small line of childish and immature. Stiles crosses her arms and humphs hoping the dark haired, pretty eyed boy would turn around and face her. When he doesn’t Stiles marches her way all around him.

“And what makes you so great, mister,” Stiles says as frustrated as a 7 year old could. Its when she’s in front of him that she see’s his pretty blue eyes, the way they shine and the way he’s eyes are cold stares out past her.

He blinks a few times before he looks back down at her, his eyes a different color, this one not as shiny. Their brown and green almost like Stiles’ mommy’s eyes. Stiles licks her lips and takes a deep breath, “So? What makes you so high and mighty?” she asks.

“Go home, Stilinski.” He almost looks like he’s trying not to smile, but Stiles has no time to know well because he runs off somewhere where she can’t catch him.

Stiles will one day catch that boy, she knows it. Her mommy always tells her that if she wants it, then Stiles is way to hard headed to let it go, whatever that means.

“Ha—le,” Stiles voice hurts, her throat burns and she shouldn’t be using it at all. But when she looks back to meet her father’s eyes, their wide and surprised.

“Hale? You haven’t been around that kid since before your mother—,” He stops, the wound feels fresh and it hurts a little more every time they bring her up. Stiles looks down at her hands, her dad sighs that Stilinski sigh and Stiles smiles to herself.

She remember her mother saying something about it, about how all Stilinski men did it. Stiles laughed because she pointed out that her mother did it too. And she replied, “It’s a traited a picked up, bear. Your father does it too often.”

“Derek, Derek Hale,” he says quietly, “You would pester your mother,” a tired and sad smile finds his lips when Stiles looks to meet his wary gaze, “You’d pester her until Mrs. Hale would let the two of you play. It was comical because you’d be the one playing while Derek sat there watching you.” He explains with a laugh, he meets Stiles’ eyes and sighs again.

“I didn’t know then, I thought Derek was a strange boy for just watching you. But I- your mother explained, that Derek was scared you’d hurt yourself. So he took it upon himself to watch your every move to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.” The smile on his lips is sad and a little weak around the edges. Stiles wrinkled her nose forgetting that there’s a creep after her, and just drowning in memories she’d long forgotten.

“Don’t—,” Derek’s voice is cut short when Stiles swings up higher. Stiles is giggling and giggling away because she loves the feeling of being on a swing. The freedom, the weightlessness.

“Don’t be such a sourwolf!” Stiles giggles.

“I am not, stop calling me that.” Derek growls just a little, Stiles huffs at him because he’s so being a sourwolf. “Would you stop swing up so high,” Derek doesn’t ask, he’s telling her not to anymore. Stiles looks over the top of his head as her swing goes up.

“I like being taller than you,” Stiles smiles down at him, she catches Derek roll his eyes before his attention is suddenly elsewhere. Stiles watches curiously, she’s caught Derek do this several times when they play. He’s always looking off to the woods where, when Stiles looks she can’t see anything. But every time Derek does this he tells her the same thing.

“Stiles, off the swing, let’s go inside.”

It’s never a request, and Stiles knows that sound of urgency. Her mom does it every time her dad is sent to the hospital. Stiles slows her swing and when she’s at an okay height she jumps and watches Derek cringes just a little. It makes her giddy because he’s always so strange and never lets her do anything fun. So when she can, she’ll make sure his skin crawls.

“Your mother told me she’d been friends with Talia Hale since god knows when. That she was always more than happy to let you and Derek play.” He adds, “You mother always had this smile on her lips when the two of you would play, like she knew something the rest of us didn’t.”

Like what, dad? Stiles asks, I remember mom talking to— Talia Hale, as in— Oh my god.

Chapter Text

Stiles is sitting there at the bay window in the living room, she’s watching as the rain falls heavy outside. She’s tired and she’s had trouble sleeping since that night four days ago, when her and her dad were talking about Derek hale. She’d been having strange dreams of a large black dog with burning crimson eyes, purple stem flowers and fog.

It makes Stiles wonder just a little more about what she was thinking about when she first moved to New York almost seven years ago.

She feels almost like she had no say in it, that something was controlling her, pulling her to New York. Derek was strange, now that she thinks about it. A lot of Derek’s behavior has her feeling more like an abused girlfriend and every time she meets his stare, it’s almost like he was waiting for her to break and just . . . give in.

Stiles sighs and leans her head against the cool window and hears her dad come in from upstairs. Stiles looks up and sees him in his uniform and Stiles smiles at him. “Hey, old man,” she says, John huffs at her and heads into the kitchen.

Its when she looks over back at the window that she sees a large black town car pulling up to her house. Her dad pokes his head out from the kitchen and sighs.

“He called two nights ago,” he said, Stiles looks over at her father, surprised. The man had a smile on his face, his coffee mug was hiding it but Stiles knows that face. That look in his eyes, Stiles looks back out the window and sees Derek come out of the car. His fixing his suit and tie as his driver is holding Derek’s umbrella, but as soon as Derek has fixed himself up he pushed the driver away.

Stiles sees him head his way to the driveway and Stiles doesn’t feel like talking to him. “Stiles, where - ?” Stiles gets up and looks herself over, she’s in her short grey pj shorts and a giant jet black knit sweater that her mother knitted for Stiles when she was about eight.

Stiles’ mom wasn’t the best at arts and crafts but Stiles remembers the morning of her eighth birthday her mother was sitting in the living room knitting.

Stiles heads upstairs, and she’s isn’t halfway up when the knock on the door came. Her father sighed, but she heard his heavy boots walk to the door. Stiles knows she doesn’t want to see Derek, she knows that she wants nothing to do with him. But here she is, frozen halfway up the staircase.

Then John opens the door.

“Mr. Hale,” John says, Stiles turns around to see but the door is in the way, so she stands there and waits.

“Sheriff,” Derek answers, it makes Stiles knees shake a little she almost forgot how deep and husky it was. John lets him in and Derek stops within the door way and looks up to see Stiles. Stiles feels her skin heat up. She knows her face is flushing, and she realizes she can’t do this, she can’t see Derek right now.

“Ms. Stilinski,” and that’s it, that was all it took to have Stiles glare at him and turn her back on him and head back up stairs. “Sti-,”

“Let her go, son.” Stiles hears John say, it warms her heart to know her father still believes Stiles needs all the space in the world when she’s angry.

It’s almost two hours later when she finally comes downstairs from a long nap. Thinking Derek and her father have left long ago, she makes her way down to the kitchen without inspecting and goes for her mother’s favorite kettle.

She fills it with water and sets it on the stove waits. She stares out the window, her parents didn’t like the suburbs, that’s most of the Beacon Hills county is out in the preserves. That’s where most of the middle class families and the high class families lived. Stiles, along with Scott and his adoptive little brother were lucky enough to live.

Stiles loved the open and the wide spaces of the back county of Beacon Hills. Stiles looks out the kitchen window and the snow has finally started to fall, its light but it’s enough to make the windows fog.

“Good afternoon,” Stiles turns around quickly her eyes wide and she reaches for the .45 under the kitchen island, but before pulling it out, her eyes focused and she saw Derek there at the kitchen table.

Stiles doesn’t move her hand from the gun, but keeps it steady. “Your father told me to wait here, that’d you’d come down when you were ready,” Derek isn’t being loud or rough like he usually is or has been with her. Stiles feels safe her then she ever has being this close to Derek. It’s a powerful feeling and she’s willing to fight now.

“You don’t need the gun. It wouldn’t work anyway.” Derek says, he stands from his seat and Stiles’ hand twitches on the gun. But she lets it go and slowly backs up to turn of the kettle. She’s not getting tea this afternoon, she now has better plan to deal with –

What do you mean it wouldn’t work? Stiles signs, Derek watches carefully, watches Stiles just stand there. What did it mean, Derek. Stiles glares harder, making her hand movements sharper and rougher.

“You’re being hunted,” Derek says, Stiles eyes widen and she’s not sure what he’s playing at, but in the few moments that Stiles has been around him, Derek never joked. And this, if this was a joke that Derek decided to pull, it was way out of line.

This isn’t funny, Stiles signs weakly, Derek’s face tells her all she needs to know. His brows are frowned and his lips are pursed, No I’m- Stiles hands fail her and she suddenly feels like she needs to sit down. The room is spinning and she’s losing the grip she had on anything in her life.

“Stiles,” Its Derek, Stiles knows its Derek but she hates him right now, she doesn’t want anything to do with Derek right now, Its all his fault. All his fault.

Stiles wakes up, the room is dark and her head hurts, she moves to get up but there’s a hand across her chest to hold her down, “Don’t,” she hears. Stiles blinks a few times before her eyes focus and Derek’s there, with a book in hand and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie was missing and a few buttons from his shirt where undone, Stiles doesn’t take a second to admire that.

Nope. No. No.

“It almost hurts how hard you’re trying,” Derek says. Stiles flinches and yeah she’s had enough of Derek for a day. She gets up pushing off Derek’s arm and her own will to leave Derek.

Stiles worked her feet fast to get out of the living room and up to her bed room on the second floor. But Derek’s behind her, getting up and grabbing her arm. Stiles’ heart is about ready to jump out of her chest, but Derek’s grip is burning and she’s giving up.

“Stiles,” Derek pauses, just enough to have Stiles feel like she wasn’t worth the space Derek was taking up in her parents beautiful ranch home.

“No,” Stiles says, her throat is sore, but its time that she stop hiding, its time she stopped grieving the death and the loss she’s carried with herself since she was nine. “No Derek, I – You need to stop,” Stiles feels her throat swell.

She feels the grip on her arm loosen, but its still there. Stiles knows every time she uses her voice she’s reminded a little more of her mother, and that the pain just becomes a little more unbearable. She looks over at Derek, doesn’t move and inch, just turns her head to meet Derek. She hadn’t noticed the fire place, not until she focused on Derek.

The light was calming and warm, and Stiles felt a little at ease as she went from looking at Derek to the fire place.

“Stiles, listen to me.” He says, but Stiles doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to listen. She wants to think about her mother, and the way she used to light the fire place on stormy nights and play board games. “I’m not - ,”

Stiles meets his eyes, and Derek doesn’t look angry, or even frustrated, he looks afraid. “You’re not what?” Stiles asks, her voice harsh and scratchy, almost like she’s going to cry.

Derek sighs, a long breath of sorts, he lets go of her arm and goes to sit on the couch. Stiles, aside from her better judgment, goes to sit with him. “I’m not what you think I am.”

“An Asshole?” Stiles whispers, not because she was trying to hide it, but because it hurt to talk this much. Derek glares at her.

“I’m not human, Ms. Stilinski,” he says, Stiles stares at him for a moment before she huffs and lays back on the couch, she pulls her legs up and curls herself there on the corner of the couch. Stiles goes back to watching the fire and along her innocent watching she hears a loud rumbling. For a moment she feels like a thunder storm was coming.

She looks up to meet Derek’s eyes, but she isn’t met with Derek’s eyes. She’s met with something bright red and hard staring back at her. Then there’s a gasp.

Chapter Text

“Werewolves,” Stiles coughs, she takes a sip out of her tea mug and watches as Derek leans there against the round wooden kitchen table. Stiles sighs against the cup and takes another sip before she meets Derek’s eyes, “You’re telling me werewolves are real?” She asks.

“Yes.” Derek nods, but Stiles wishes it was a simple nod, this nod was that business man nod. You know the one, that one where their at the office way after hours and their shirt sleeves are rolled up and their tie is gone and a few of the buttons are undone. Yeah, that’s what Derek’s like, that’s what Derek is doing in her kitchen. Looking frustrated and like he’d really like to be home.

“You’re also telling me that your mother’s brother, your uncle wants to hunt me,” She says in a harsh whisper, she’s been using her voice a little more often since she came back to California. Derek nods again, “And he’s hunting me because if he has me, he can push Mrs. Hale out of power?”

“Unfortunately,” Derek answers, he looks remorseful and maybe even a little sad, if Stiles let herself believe it. None of this is making any sense to her.

“Okay.” Stiles takes another generous sip, Derek raises a brow at her, his arms crossed over his chest and his shirt almost screaming to stay on his toned biceps. He switches the leg his leaning on, and Stiles sets her cup down and looks over at the stove, turning her back on Derek. She takes a breath, and maybe she wants to believe what Derek is telling her. Maybe she wants to see the end of this yellow brick road.

“My uncle needs you to succeed my mother.” Derek says for the third time that night.

Stiles nods, not looking back at him, “Why me?” she asks, this time she does turn around. If Derek’s telling the truth, she wants to know what role she plays in this Family mess, as Derek has stated to her earlier. Derek sighs, he looks down for a moment before he stands from his lean and walks up to the kitchen island that Stiles was behind.

“Wolves need a mate,” He says, it’s a quiet husk of a noise and Stiles feels herself leaning in, “My uncle was married once before, but she died in a fire, along with six other members of my family.”

Stiles watches as he explains, but when the fire is brought up, she feels the shock in her blood. It hurts and her heart is pounding painfully quiet in her chest. “Yes, I remember.” She whispers, looking away from Derek’s eyes, the intensity was too much for her. “But I fail to see what that has to do with me?”

“Your mother,” Stiles looks up to meet Derek’s eyes, and she feels the burning in her throat, she feels the sting in her eyes and she feels the anger in her stomach.

“Don’t you dare,” She hisses, she might have been hard shelled and ignored the grieving she was supposed to go through in the past few years since her mother’s passing, but Derek didn’t know her. Derek had no right to come into this house, had no right to tell her these lies, had no right to bring her mother up and expect her to be okay with it. Stiles may be a lot of things, but heartless was not one of those.

“She was aware of my family, a best friend to my mother, and her emissary,” Derek said, Stiles slammed her fisting hands down on the table. She was beyond annoyed with Derek and his antics.

“You can make a fool of me, you can torment me, you can push me against a wall and growl at me,” She shakes to say, “But you talk to me about my mother like she was hiding something from - ,” Stiles stops, her body running cold and her hands losing their grip on her tight fist. Her mother knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

John said something like that, said ‘Your mother always had this smile on her lips when the two of you would play, like she knew something the rest of us didn’t’ Stiles reeled back away from the island and stared at Derek. Her eyes wide and stinging under pressure, like she’d been under water. “No, you’re wrong.” She says.

Derek stands up and sighs, “How else would you explain where you live.” That was it, that was it. Stiles tossed the contents of her tea cup at Derek, and Derek stares back at her with some surprise.

“Get out.” Stiles says, “You’ve over stayed your welcome, and you may push me around, but don’t you ever assume that the only reason my family and I lived comfortably was because your family let us,” Stiles body shakes and the anger just grows, “You have a lot of nerve, Mr. Hale. So you can leave and stop making fun of me. I’ve decided, our contract is through and I’ll put in my two weeks.”

When she looks up to meet Derek’s eyes, there’s nothing but stone staring back at her. He’s looking at her like he looks at the rest of his family, it sort of hurt Stiles that Derek lose that tiny bit of expression he used to have around her. The thunder started up again, and Stiles felt it in her stomach. This was it, this was her saying goodbye to her life in New York, saying goodbye to what little life she had over there.

Derek straightens out after a moment and nods, “I’ll send for your th-” Stiles shakes her head, and walks off into the living room.

“I’ll get them myself,” She says, “Just, please, stop,” She heads to the front door she knows Derek is following her, because she knows that when Derek isn’t welcome he leaves or even when he feels uncomfortable. But when she turns around to see if he’s there, she sees him standing there at the arch between the kitchen and the living room. Its Derek’s face that has Stiles feeling like she’s done something wrong.

Derek is looking at her, really looking at her and Stiles feels her stomach drop. Derek, in the dim light of the fire, looks lost and almost scared. Stiles faces him completely.

“I didn’t lie.” Derek says, and it sounds like a child, a child who tried to explain that they didn’t do it. Derek takes a step towards her, a careful step. Stiles does the same without noticing. “I haven’t been the best, but I’m - ,” Derek is quiet and deep and it makes Stiles skin erect. “I’ve failed.”

Stiles feels a guilt in her stomach, a deep sick feeling, Stiles doesn’t know what to say, what to do so she moves carefully back to the couch. It’s like her movements aren’t her conscious self’s thoughts, but as she’s moving there, Derek is watching her and keeping his distance.

“I was supposed to take care of you.” Derek walks another step towards her, “I was supposed to protect you.”

“Stop with all the self-pity,” Stiles hisses, Derek looks her in the eye and Stiles feels something snap, she isn’t sure if its her or if it was the atmosphere around Derek and herself. But it snapped and Derek was there, looming over her. His arms on either side of her, his breath invading hers and Stiles feels small.

Stiles takes a hard swallow, “You aren’t in charge of me,” it comes out breathy and not as strong as she was aiming for. But then Derek is there, and something between them hardens and everything slowly starts to make sense for her. Derek’s eyes flash a fiery crimson red and there’s something scary in the air around her. What Derek was telling her before, its real.

Chapter Text

Stiles is leaning hard against the couch, pushing away from Derek. Even if every fiber of her being is telling her to lean in to give in. There’s a strong feeling, a feeling of power surging through them, in between them. Freedom, Stiles’ mind adds for her, it’s like lifting a worry she didn’t know was there and Stiles doesn’t like how comfortable it makes her feel.

She’s watching as Derek’s posture is changing, his eyes are … changing. Stiles stares, she’s doesn’t care at this point. She stares as Derek’s eyes go from the bright red that they were when she first saw them, to a dim red orange, the color is vibrant, yes, but it isn’t a solid red color.

Stiles leans a little forward, when an immense feeling of acceptance and home overwhelm her. Derek’s eyes change to a lighter color, almost like a shade of purple. Stiles is fascinated and frightened all at once. Her curiosity overrides her fear, and for a small moment it feels like she’s supposed to feel this way. It feels like she is supposed to find him frightening, but she isn’t scared.

Almost like she is accepting that he’s this way, that whatever fire was burning in anger in her stomach shifted into a warm dim flame. It’s like a click of a door or one of her bra straps that Derek’s eyes go from a dark shade and lighten themselves to a blue color, a bright blazing blue and Stiles is fascinated.

“Their blue . . ,” Stiles whispers, mostly to herself, she’s leaning close enough to have to tilt her head to see each eye in a different light, and she’s noticed that Derek hasn’t moved. His presence is strong, protective, almost like Stiles doesn’t want to be anywhere but here. Derek’s eyes are searching her face, he takes a breath and Stiles sees his pupils dilate, his mouth parts slightly and his face opens.

Stiles has only ever seen Derek crack a small smile, and this this was like seeing the sun for the first time after to moon’s been out for years. Derek’s face is unprotected, unguarded, and Stiles is taking it all in, drinking that sight in front of her.

“It’s you . . ,” Derek’s are moving around words, and this sounds so peaceful and Stiles feels like she’s been lost for years and here for the first time she’s coming home. “It’s always been … you.” Derek is whispering in a husky rough tone and it makes Stiles’ skin crawl with excitement and fear. She feels weak, frail, but she feels powerful and strong.

Derek leans in and Stiles pulls back, falling back against the couch. She knows her senses aren’t her own, knows that what she feels isn’t her . . . maybe it is. Maybe she does feel the way her body and emotions are reacting to Derek. Maybe she wants to believe that Derek isn’t the horrible human being he’s been to her. Well, at least now she knows that he isn’t really . . . human.

Derek leans in further, Stiles reels back, and a taste of fight or flight kick in. Not out of fear, but out of a sudden surge of wanting to run. It makes her skin tickle, her stomach float in excitement and her skin erect in anticipation. She feels like she wants to smile and Derek’s already smiling, almost like he can feel what she feels, like he’s breathing from the same pair of lungs. Their hearts are going from beating separately to slowly coming together.

Stiles pushes herself up, up and over the couch arm crawling her way out from Derek’s grasp. Derek isn’t holding her, or trying to keep her in place. He simply allows her the space and lets her out of his barrier.

Stiles is standing now and her arms are there at her chest, bunching her breast up higher then they should be and Stiles, almost like she has a great fucking vision sees Derek’s eyes go from that beautiful blue to black from their dilation.

It’s a quiet moment a quiet still moment. But then thunder crashes and Stiles is running. She feels Derek’s feet in her heart as it pound strong in her chest. But she runs, runs into the kitchen and through the laundry room, there’s a library/den room just out of the laundry room, it used to be Stiles favorite room before her mother died, she feels a small stick of sadness.

But her mind races into now, and she bolts out of that room back into the living room and she turns around. Derek is there, his eyes bright and dilated, his chest is heaving but he isn’t out of breath, he’s excited. Stiles watches him carefully before she bolts for the stairs and she knows Derek is right behind her and her heart is pound as she makes for room. She gets there with enough to close the door.

But not enough time to secure it.

The door opens, Derek seems pleased, and Stiles hasn’t seen this look on Derek before but her heart likes it. It feels like spring and open fields of flowers. Derek takes a step into the room, and Stiles’ heart pounds in her ears. Derek let’s a smirk break his lips, and Stiles feel her blood boil. She wants to see Derek like he is now. Where the thought of being professional is so of the reservation that there was nothing else to do but eat off a paper plate.

Derek is in the bedroom and Stiles is standing right in from of him on the other side of the room. Derek seems to take a deep breath and it seems like Derek is more animal then man.

“Come here,” it isn’t a demand, it doesn’t feel like one, Stiles wants to crash against him, warp herself around this man. Her feelings don’t feel like there just hers. They feel strong and overpowering. She takes a step forward and Derek watches her bare feet pad their way closer.

It wasn’t until Stiles blinked that she realized she was there within Derek’s personal space. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she felt it in her head, in her throat. Derek’s hands reached up and Stiles’ skin chilled. His hands cupped her cheeks and held there tenderly. Stiles wanted to melt, wanted to fall apart with in the sudden feral feeling around them.

Derek tilts her chin up, up to face him and he leans down close enough that their lips are almost touch, “He couldn’t have you.” Derek whispers, it’s comforting, like Stiles doesn’t need to fear going back to New York, like Stiles doesn’t need to be scared to answer the phone. Like Stiles doesn’t need to ever be scared.

Then, Derek’s lips are there. Warm, rough and claiming.

Chapter Text

Stiles remembers the solid feel of Derek’s lips. She remembers the rough feel of Derek’s hands. The heat of his breath when he pushed further. Stiles remembers parting her lips, remembers willingly letting Derek take her mouth in a hot breath. Stiles remembers feeling her lungs tighten, remembers Derek slowly pulling away from her and lifting her up in his arms.

Stiles is awake. Its morning, and the clouds are still out there and it seems there’s frost on the windows. Stiles sits up and her head begins to spin, Derek is gone and Stiles can feel a small peace rest inside her.

What happened last night? She thinks to herself. She pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to focus on something that isn’t the sudden burning in her head. Stiles pulls her legs up to her chest and sighs, something in her body feels right and in place. Stiles knows that this has been a feeling for a while now, where she always felt out of step.

And not because she’s naturally clumsy. No, this was different.

Stiles sighs once more and her bedroom door opens, she meets her Dad’s tired eyes and she smiles. That’s until she sees the tan bind on her father’s hand. She frowns at him and he sighs and comes into her room. He sits there on the edge of her bed and looks at her. Really looks at he, Stiles doesn’t remember the last time he’s looked at her like this, and she hasn’t really given him the chance after her mother’s passing.

“Kid,” John doesn’t seem like he’s okay and Stiles tries to swallow the panic in her throat, “I think it’s time to tell you everything.” Stiles eyes widen and her heart slows in her chest.

John is sitting beside her on the couch, there are three large leather bound books on the small kitchen table in front of them. Stiles looks from her father to the books and she a tad bit confused. John takes a breath and meets Stiles’ eyes.

“Before your mother . . . , ” There was a sting, Stiles knows there was because she feels every time they talk about her mother, “The last few days at the hospital, she spent explaining certain things to me,” He says, Stiles looks at the books and gestures to them, John nods.

“Explaining what?” Stiles asks, her brows frowning.

“When we found out that your mother was pregnant with you, we were more then happy, Stiles. We were bouncing off walls, well, I was.” John laughs, Stiles sees the fond memory in the way he smiles sheepishly, “Your mother was glowing, everywhere she went, she was radiating.” John was the man Stiles remembered as a child, always smiling and looking a damn fool because of how much of a goof he was.

He meets Stiles’ eyes and then there it is, like a constant reminder of what they lost. John’s eyes sadden, and it makes Stiles realize why she stopped talking a year after her mother died.

“Stiles, frontotemporal dementia wasn’t what killed your mother.”

Stiles’ heart stopped.

“The night before your ninth birthday after we’ve put you to bed, your mother, she … she went out with Talia Hale, and . . .,” Stiles feels her eyes start to water and her body hurts and she feels sick. John isn’t looking at her, it’s almost like he can’t. “Your mother was hurt, she was hurt by something we don’t understand, at least, we didn’t understand then.”

“What are trying to tell me?” Stiles voice is shaking, her throat is tight, her body is shaking and she feels she might break. John isn’t talking anymore, he isn’t even looking at her, he’s staring back at the large books on the table. “Dad,” Stiles sits up straighter, “Dad, what are you telling me?”

John sighs, “That last night at the hospital, Stiles, the night you were there and I told you to wait outside for a while. Your mother was talking to me about the Hale family and what they were.” He says, it almost sound like he regrets it all, regrets that he has to tell her all of this. “Derek was here, he told me he would show, like his mother had to show me.”

“. . . Dad,” Stiles feels the regret, she feels the anger and the betrayal. John finally meets her eyes and his are misty and so very aged.

“I was so angry, Stiles. So angry that they let this happen to her. How they could continue to come to visit us, visit her, they left you without a mother, me without my wife. It . . . it wasn’t fair.” John’s voice was cracking, and Stiles’ soul was shaking, this was just as bad as the night they lost her. And it makes Stiles feel a familiar bright angry flame in her stomach.

“Your mother, was what they call an emissary. And unfortunately, after you’re mother died, the title was moved to the next of Kin.” He says, Stiles stares at him, everything slowly starts to stick together, “I . . . I kept this information from you because I wanted you to grieve your mother, the way she was. I wanted you to remember her the way she was.”

“So you hide this part of mom’s life from me. You let me believe that she was slowly dying, in constant pain?” Stiles feels the tears leave her eyes, and she knows she isn’t angry at John, she isn’t angry at the truth he’s refused to give her. She’s angry at Derek, she’s angry at Talia Hale, she is angry at the Hale family.

“I had no other choice, I was angry, Stiles. Someone took my wife, my child’s mother away from me. From us. I sent you to your grandmother in Poland for a few months, to keep the Hales from asking for you.” John says, “Your grandmother knew, which is why she read you all those lore’s and fairy tales while you were there.”

“Grandma, knew?” Stiles asks, it doesn’t surprise her as much as her mother knowing. Grandma Ewa was one of those grandmothers that have been around for a while and they always tell you these crazy stories. John nods, he pulls one of the books from the pile and hands it to Stiles.

“This was brought to me after I sent you to Poland. Talia said they’d help you after all the visions and emotions started. But I told her you were gone. That you weren’t coming back.”

“You lied to her?” Stiles takes the book and stares at the cover, it’s old and rough. There’s a design of three spirals connecting in the center. It is covered in dust like it’s been at the top shelf of the bookshelf in the den.

“To protect you.” He says, Stiles nods and opens the book and the first page, in beautiful, fine hand writing, reads Emissary’s Journal , Stiles heart races in her chest as she flips through the pages. She stops at a certain page when she sees hand writing she recognizes.

She runs her hands down the page, “This is mom’s hand writing,” Stiles whispers, she looks up to meet Johns eyes and he nods.

“I read these, none of it made any sense to me. I tried to find whatever speck of your mother I could, I tried to see her talking to me, but none of it made sense.” John shook his head, “It’s when I realized that she wasn’t trying to talk to me, she’s talking to you.”

It sent a chill all over Stiles to hear her father tell her that her mother, who’s been dead since she was nine, is trying to talk to her through a book. A book that looks like it’s been around longer then the last 100 years.

Stiles looks back down at the book, and she reads;

“It’s Halloween, Talia and I have sent a formal request to the neighboring packs to keep an eye out for the wondering wolf. He’s been causing so much trouble for us lately, My successor, when you read this, please understand that I wanted only the best for you. I chose what I wanted to do in my life for the benefit of yours.

Its been a week and Talia and I have caught the stray wolf and sent him back to his pack, he’s been missing for a few months and they were happy to have him back.

Talia is going through a change, she’s pregnant again, it’s a girl. Laura and Derek don’t seem to take to kindly to their pregnant mother. My successor, wolves are very nurturing creatures, they want nothing but happiness and good health. I’m sure Derek will mellow out after the Pup is born.

My successor, there are going to be things that you don’t understand, there are going to be time when you want to step out of your skin, when you want to tear out someone throat. What we do isn’t easy, what you will do will be harder than anything I had to do. You won’t just be my successor . . .

You’ll be the next Alpha Female.

My child, you are three, a fruitful age where everything you see is beautiful and bright. You keep trying to eat wolves bane and you don’t seem to understand that its not good for you. I’ve planted some around the house to keep anything away from you. But I see now that it might be too dangerous to have them growing wild in our backyard.

You’re in the hospital . . . Because of my negligence. You swallowed Wolves bane, Talia and I went through constant vitamin treatments with you, to prevent this from happening. It seems that my ignorance of the things that I cannot understand has put you where I tried to keep you away from.

It’s your birthday, and Talia has brought you some herbal medicine for the panics that you now have to deal with.

A nightwalker was in your bedroom last night. Talia has become aggressive in meetings. She fears that her family will give out. Fears that you won’t accept the burden that we’ve placed one you.

My child, be safe. I love you.”

Stiles was crying, her body was curled over the book and her father was pulling her closer to him. Stiles was in so much pain, she felt the heat of anger and saddeness burn in her lungs. Stiles can’t see past her own grief. The grief she’s refused to feel since she was ten. Stiles let’s her feelings take over and let’s herself drown in the sorrow.

Chapter Text

Stiles couldn’t sleep, the sun was out today, and she’s watching blankly at the rays that are coming in through her window. She’s pushed up to her head board, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms lazily wrapped around them. Her eyes hurt, her body ached and cried for rest. But Stiles couldn’t.

“You mother wanted you to have these books,” John said, “Told me to give them too you when the time was right, just before you turned fourteen.”

Stiles feels her thoughts stopping, feels her body shutting down. Stiles’ legs are falling on their own, her arms falling beside her, and soon her back was slipping in to a laying position. Her eyes remain open and she lays herself on her side. Resting her hands there under her pillow, staring at the rising sun beams.

“All these years, Dad?” Stiles looks at her father, mourning and at a loss, “All these years and you couldn’t tell me that mom had another life outside of us?” John looks remorseful and Stiles feels her jaw tighten, feels her stomach churn.

Stiles meets the books, there on her computer desk, staring at her. Taunting her with knowledge of her mother’s past. Stiles didn’t read anymore after her small episode last night. Stiles can feel the books, feel them breathing and it frightens her. She can see imprints now, on the books, like birthmarks covering the pages like tattoos.

Stiles thinks their familiar for a moment, feels like she’s seen them somewhere, on someone. If Stiles looks at them from angle, they almost glow in a light baby blue color. The markings are spirals, circling around and around the book, always connecting three separate spirals together. Stiles watches the books, feels them calling, waiting for interaction.

“You were having horrible nightmares after your mother died. Your grandmother, she, she wasn’t like us.” John was standing by the fire place, they’d been talking for hours now, they’ve, Stiles laughs. She’s been listening, John’s been explaining everything. “She said she could protect you from them, your nightmares, but it’d be wrong and you’d lose apart of yourself.”

Stiles looks at her father, “What did you do?” John looks from the fire to his daughter, the air was heavy and Stiles feels sick.

“What I had to,” John says quietly, “To protect you.”

Stiles is sitting up on the edge of her bed, watching the books, come Stiles, Stiles body moved almost like it was on autopilot. She reached for the first book and pulled it to her and came back to her bed. She sat there with it in front of her. And once more, she opened it. Placing her hand on the pages, feeling the rough and thin sheet under her finger tips.

Emissaries;

Year 1801, Joan Daughter of William

The Hale Pack found me when I was just a girl, saved my life from a pillager. I lost my family, my life, my history. It is time I made my own.

My duty, to this family, to its children, and children’s children, is to protect. Defend, love, and accompany. I am the Emissary, I am their history, their past, present and future. I am the Alpha’s mind, the beta’s body, and the omega’s freedom.

Those who may come after me, you will protect, defend, love and accompany this family. They will need you, they will fight you, and they will love you.

Trust their instincts.

Stiles feels her eyes mist, her heart stung in her chest tight almost like it was gaining some new understanding, becoming a new being. Stiles removes her hand from the page and lets her eyes clear of the tears. Stiles feels like something dark and anxious is settling comfortable in her soul.

The page next to it is an etched sort of drawing of a fire, a fire with dark furred wolves around it. Stiles,against her own judgement, touches the page.

There, she’s there, its like she's there. The fire is bright against the night, the wolves are around her, sitting in a full circle a foot or so away from the flames. The stars are bright and her soul feels as if it’s on fire. A fire Stiles has never felt before a passion of unity and calmness she’s never experienced. Its relieving and Stiles meets the eyes of a young wolf.

His eyes glowing auburn against the dark and lightly diming fire.

Stiles pulls her hand off the page. She takes a deep breath and looks around her room. Her cluttered desk is there by her door, her window and dark cotton curtains are there. All her worldly belongings are there and in place. Stiles let’s her head spin with the idea that she might be connecting with every person whose ever written in this book.

Stiles stares down at the book, she sighs.

John’s holding Stiles, hugging her to his chest. Stiles is trying, trying to accept what seems impossible. But it all . . . it all just seems so far-fetched that Stiles doesn’t want to even – Stiles doesn’t know anymore – John kisses her forehead and it’s a little after dawn so he sends her to bed and tells her that he’ll see her before he leave for work in the afternoon.

Stiles groggily makes her way up the stairs and shuts her bedroom door behind her

Stiles has read through all the book, has connected to everyone that’s ever placed a pen on these faded and aged pages. Its sent her on an emotion rollercoaster, and Stiles is finally tired enough to fall asleep. She falls on her bed with all three books there by her thighs and feet, all opened on different pages. Her eyes, heavy, began to close and before she fades from the waking world.

Stiles feels a thunderous howl break her consciousness. Her body tightens on every inch, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes shot wide and her sight blurred by visions of fire, large wolves and large gatherings.

Then, like a hot day on white sandy beaches, Stiles skin beings to burn and her body is in constant pain. A figure, a dark figure is there holding her face shaking her. There’s a voice a deep rumble of a sound, Stiles can’t make out the words but she’s in too much pain to care.

She sees a pair of blue eyes when her body loosens and her eyes clear from the blurring. Derek’s eyes are panicked and he’s looking at her waiting for her to respond. He’s lips are moving but all Stiles cares about is the way her body is now jello and free from its invisible prison.

“Stiles!” She hears Derek’s muffled shout, and it makes her feel oddly satisfied, Derek sound scared, “Stiles!” He shakes her once more and her hands finally come up to touch his bicep. The panic sets in Stiles’ chest and she’s starting to breathe again.

“I was there . . Derek I was -,”

“I know,” Derek pulls her to his chest and he settles himself on her bed, “I saw you,” Derek whispers, and it’s reassuring, it’s fitting. “You were everywhere then, then you were gone.”

“I saw them, Derek I saw them dying.” Stiles feels her breath speed up in her lungs but the panic doesn’t in sue. Stiles tries to inhale and she grips Derek’s arm, “I felt them dying . . , I knew they were going to die and I couldn’t -” Stiles was crying, she was crying because the Hale pack’s history floods her soul. The fire was a memory that was new and fresh and it scared her, it shook her bones.

“I know, I know,” Derek shush her and then before Stiles knew it, she started to fade from the waking world and falling asleep in the unknown comfort of Derek’s warmth.

Chapter Text

Stiles is boiling water in her mother’s favorite kettle. She’s looking down at her hands, well the tips of her fingers as she pulls and pushes at the large sleeves of the black knit sweater. Stiles feels exhausted, feels weak, mentally. Stiles is leaned up against the kitchen island, and she stares up toward the small window above the sink where the frost was back and the clouds where covering the light of the sun.

Stiles sighs, her head hurt and her eyes were puffy. Her body was sore, almost like she spent hours doing her extensive work outs.

“Stiles,” Stiles jumps and begins to hear the kettle ringing. It hurts her ears and she jumps to pull it off the stove. She stares at her hand there on the handle, she’s out of her body, she’s watching as her physical body was standing rigid and uncertain on her bare feet.

Suddenly there’s a hush sound of a body coming up behind her and Stiles doesn’t know how to feel, how to react. So she lets the body shield her. A larger, rougher hand hovers over hers, Stiles lets her hand slip off the handle of the kettle. She watches as the hand grips the handle and then the other hand comes in to help. Working with her there in between them.

The hands work in putting the hot water in her favorite custom made tea mug. It was a pottery thing Scott made her do a few when they were still in high school. It made her smile at the memory. The cup wasn’t in shape, it was odd and it had a few poorly drawn dinosaurs on it. Stiles remembers how happy Scott looked when he gave it to her, remembered how big and wide his smile was.

Stiles’ eyes catch both hands reach for one of the many boxes of teas and Stiles feels a firm chest brush her back. It makes her body flush with heat. But she’s much too exhausted to turn around and face the faceless body behind her. The hands reach for the box with less dust on it, the only tea that Stiles seems to drink now, the green box with light gold letters on it almost make Stiles tearful.

The Irish breakfast tea is pulled out of its plastic wrapping and placed in the hot water. A spoon is next, Stiles remembers placing it by the sugar, remembers bring out the almond milk and the creamer. The hands work to get everything ready while she stands there watching them work around her. Stiles watches as the hands cage her in, it’s comfortable and peaceful with in this space.

The left hand is pressing on the counter and the other is working at the tea bag. Soon the clear water is spiraling into the dark tea color. Stiles swears she almost saw the same spiral pattern in her tea that she saw a million times on the Emissary books.

But Stiles chalks it up to lack of sleep.

The hands are swift, they toss the tea bag, then add half a spoon of sugar, half a spoon of creamer, and finally a splash of almond milk. Stiles gives a weak huff with a small smirk at the corner of her lips. It gives her peace to see the cup, but a sudden rotten feeling in her stomach. The tea mug is placed there in front of her and the hands are gone and the warmth behind is fading and Stiles doesn’t like.

Stiles turns around as soon as the heat is gone and she meets the eyes of a surprised Derek Hale. Stiles doesn’t know what it is, but her eyes mist and her body starts to ache in ways that don’t make sense. Stiles feels like she’s falling apart, feels like her body can’t hold together whatever is left of her. There’s a pressure deep in her mind, a pressure that spreads throughout her body.

It makes her ache more, it makes her want to touch Derek. Have him touch her, run his hands gently over the expense of her skin. Whatever skin he can find. Because she wants the touch, the comfort that comes with it.

She’s tired of fighting her heart, of fighting the wall in her head. Stiles can’t take it, she can’t stand feeling like can’t fight what she can’t see.

“Help me,” Stiles whispers, Derek watches her, and it’s an instant from where she feels her body actually fall to Derek jump to catch her. Stiles crash her face against Derek’s chest and Derek lets them both fall to the ground. “It hurts, Derek it hurts,” Stiles whimpers. Derek’s hold on her tightens and Stiles feels a little less pain.

In Stiles’ mind, something is happening, something is falling and Stiles can see things that aren’t possible. Stiles sees the long line of Hales, she sees the mourning for members, and she sees her mother’s face again. And it hurt Stiles, hurts her to see her mother smile around a pack of wolves larger than her. It hurt Stiles to see her mother sitting in a den that wasn’t familiar, it hurts to see her mother smiling and reading to Derek and Laura.

It hurts Stiles to know that her mother gave more time to the Hale kids then Stiles ever got in the nine years she had her. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t – Stiles is crying, the tears are large and they sting her eyes as she tries to stop herself.

Stiles wants to give into to the memories, she wants to let them take over like the Emissary books have told her should’ve happened when she turned fourteen. But Stiles had a Wiccan grandmother, Stiles had a father who wanted to protect her from this pain. Stiles had a family. Stiles opens her eyes and Derek’s black shirt is there, the smell of him, a thick earthy scent that set her heart at ease.

The memories faded and Derek loosened his grip and Stiles was tired, she was thirsty, and hungry. Really, really hungry. Derek shifts her in his arms and gets to his feet with her in his arms. Stiles doesn’t even fight it. She simply goes along with it. Derek walks her to the couch and gently lays her down. She’s almost like she’s a piece of paper too him.

Derek grabs and pulls one of the blankets there on the couch and covers Stiles’ legs, she watches his hands moving careful and gentle around her, careful not to brush too hard against her. Derek meets her eyes and Stiles feels her breath catch.

Who is this man? Who is this man, this man that caters to her, treats her like she’s a frail being. Derek give her one last look before she straighten out and starts to head back into the kitchen. Stiles lets a small whimper escape and Derek stops but doesn’t turn around.

“Get some rest. I need to make a call.” Derek says, then there’s a small sigh, “I’ll be here with food when you wake up.” Then Derek is walking out the back door. Stiles can hear a peaceful hum in her head and she can close her eyes. She can sleep just a little more now. So she does.

Stiles wakes up to the smell of something warm and – its pizza, it’s a lot of pizza. Stiles stretches and works to sitting up. Stiles rubs her eyes and looks around the living room.

“That doesn’t help me.” Stiles’ eyes snap up toward the kitchen, Derek’s talking, she thinks to herself. “Laura, no. Laura you don’t understand. All these years and she’s - ,” Stiles doesn’t know is she should tell Derek she’s awake, or if she’ll just wait for him to end the phone call. But then Derek’s talking again. “She’s not doing great, Laura. She’s – No, the visions have started. But she’s – Laura,” Derek is quiet.

Stiles gets up and quietly pads her way towards the kitchen. She doesn’t want to interrupt Derek, but there’s pizza and she’s hungry, and well pizza. Stiles knocks on the wall just before the kitchen and Derek turns around meeting her eyes.

“Laura, I’ll call you later. Send everything to the hotel here in Beacon Hills.” Stiles hears Laura say something but Derek hangs up and pockets his phone. Stiles, for the first time since he showed up the night before, gets a look at Derek.

Derek is in faded wranglers – those jeans have seen better days – he’s in a black t-shirt and some black combat boots that haven’t been tied all the way up. Stiles also gets a better look at Derek’s face. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His hair is a mess, his eyes seem weak and his skin is a little pale. Stiles sympathizes. She almost feels as bad as he looks. Stiles clears her throat then points to the pizza, “Those for us?” She asks, looking away from Derek for a moment.

“I – Yes. They’re for you.” Derek says roughly, Stiles smiles half-heartedly and heads in the direction of the kitchen table. She opens a box and takes a slice. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate the Ritz,” Derek almost sounds like he’s trying to joke. Stiles takes a bite and its exploding. Stiles knows she’s making indecent sounds. But she doesn’t care, there’s pizza in her mouth.

“Theref nofing wrong wif pissa,” Stiles says around her mouthful, she meets Derek’s eyes and she sees the amusement in his eyes. Stiles rolls her own and continues to enjoy her pizza. Derek even grabs a slice and eats with her. No plates, no napkins, just two weirdos eating pizza in a kitchen. Stiles takes time to appreciate it.

“Glad you enjoy the pizza,” Derek huffs as he finishes his piece, Stiles looks up at him with cheeks full of delicious, cheesy goodness and smiles. Derek, at the time, is taking a sip of soda and his spits it out in a laugh, Stiles assumes. It makes her giggle and she continues to chew her pizza. She sees Derek clean himself off with a napkin and totally act like he didn’t just do that.

Yeah, Stiles is pretty happy with herself.

Chapter Text

It was bright outside and Stiles rubs her eyes as she makes her way downstairs. Downstairs her dad is in the kitchen mumbling to someone, she assumes, she groggily shuffles hers hair and walks into the kitchen, not caring of the appearance she’s just made. Looking in the fridge she finds nothing to her taste. She notices the silence behind her. She turns around, and naturally whose sitting there with her father-

“Derek,” she sighs out, leaning her body against the sink and crossing her arms, “What a very unpleasant surprise,” she frowns at him and Derek seems to have found a sense of humor because he smirks in her direction. He almost seems smug. “Play nice, kid,” John smiles much to his own amusement. Stiles rolls her eyes and turns around to look for cereal but she hears John clear his throat. She turns around and meets the eyes of two very, very amused men.

“What?” she groans.

“Derek here was kind enough to bring you some breakfast,” John shifts enough for Stiles to see the white paper bag on the table. “Thought it was awfully nice of him so I let him come in and have some coffee,” John is smug and Stiles doesn’t like it, because now he wants her to play nice. No matter what she let Derek see last night, he was still in the dog house.

He had to be, after all, he was the one that pushed her around. And now, all of sudden he cares. It makes Stiles shiver. She stares at the white bag fro a moment more before her stomach answers her question for her. Stiles makes her way to the bag and peeks inside it. “Waffles and some bacon. Rice with sunny-side up eggs on the top and a vitamin water.” John says, Stiles knows why John said it. This has always been Stiles’ favorite breakfast. Her mother used to give her a pre-breakfast, rice with eggs on top. It became a protein thing after her mother died, so Stiles usually ate it before or after a work out. The waffles and bacon, well John used to make that on the mornings he didn’t have to head into work.

Stiles looks to meet her father’s eyes, but he just shakes his head. Stiles meets Derek’s eyes and he looks awfully pleased with himself. “Who told you?” she asks, Derek couldn’t have known this information, he couldn’t have guessed that this was something Stiles was found off. Derek just looks at her, there’s no smile, no frown, just Derek’s face.

“You told me,” he says, its heavy in the room and Stiles frantically shakes her head. Derek nods, “You were five, Stiles. It’s a memory we both share.” Stiles thinks hard, but she’s blocked out a lot of her memories, especially the ones before her mother’s death.

John makes a shuffling noise and Stiles watches him get up off his chair, “Well, I’m off to work,” he nods at them both. He leans in and gives Stiles forehead a peck, “Play nice, Kitty,” John whispers, Stiles rolls her eyes, but agrees with a nod.

Minutes later, Stiles is now alone with a werewolf.

“Did you sleep well?” Derek asks from his seat across the table, Stiles watches him carefully. She sits down across from him, and begins to pull food from the bag.

“Well enough,” she answered.

“Are you ready?” he asks, Stiles knows what he means, knows that he wants to tell her everything she needs to know and get her up to speed. But Stiles doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want any of this.

“What if I said I wasn’t?” she says as she opens the container with rice and eggs. Picking up the plastic fork she begins to eat. She watches as Derek look of strangles pain is there, where he looks like he wants to hurt someone or maybe he needs to fart. Stiles isn’t sure.

“Its too late now, You’ll have to be ready for the ceremony.” An egg yoke falls from her fork and splatters all over her rice, he clears her throat and nods at Derek.

“Uh-huh, a ceremony,” hoping Derek got the hint, she waited for an explanation. Derek rolls his eyes and leaves the kitchen. Stiles stares at the empty seat in wonder, “That’s all I had to say to get rid of him?” she humors herself. But of course, Derek is then back with one of the huge books.

He sets it down and flips through the pages, “You are going to go through some trials, that lead up to the ceremony where you choose who the next Alpha will be.” Derek sort of explains, when he finds the page he’s looking for he turns the book and slides it over to Stiles.

On the page, Stiles see’s a women dressed in long wispy gown that drags. Her hair is braided down her back and theres’s a thin flower crown on her head. It almost made Stiles want to giggle, but she figured thousand year old book.

The women in the photo is young, almost looks like Stiles, but she seemed far taller. Stiles notices the wolves on either side and the girl is walking down something with her hands out stretched on either side of her body. Almost like she was feeling some imaginary plant life. At the bottom of the picture, it reads; The chosen.

Which is continued on the next page, in thin frail handwriting. “The chosen, they are not only the next Alpha’s but the next mate, the next holder of secrets and truths. We, Emissaries, chose the next heir to the pack.” Stiles read a loud. She hummed and went back to eating. When a daunting thought came to her. She takes a mouth full of rice and egg and looks up at Derek with a bright smile.

“What?” Derek snarks, it isn’t vicious, its just snappy.

Chewing thoughtfully and swallowing, Stiles licks her lips and pops her lips, “You’re being extra nice to me, Derek,” she gives a witty smile, “Buying me my favorite breakfast, one even I didn’t remember I loved so much. Being here every morning. You’re being nice,” Stiles watches as Derek starts to look beside himself. Almost like he doesn’t want to be there.

Derek clears his throat, “I am not. You’re over thinking all of this. I, the pack, need you to be healthy and ready for your trails.” Derek says, it almost sounds forced and Stiles can see some strain in his shoulders. Stiles laughs to herself and eats the rest of her breakfast.

Later in the living room, Derek is pacing the floor while Stiles files her already monster like nails. Their not super long, just long enough to if she wanted too, she could scratch and actually break skin.

“Do you see now why my uncle needs you?” Derek says, he’s frustrated, and he’s pacing. But only because of Stiles' lack of interest.

Stiles shrugs her shoulders, looks up from her nails, “I do, yeah. But the book said that I chose the heir. So there’s no way that your uncle can make me chose him.” It was simple, at least until Derek did that thing with his face that meant it was everything but simple.

“Its happened before.” Derek says, its grave and thick around his air. “Her name was Jennifer, she was manipulated to believe that my uncle could have been the right heir. But my mother saw how twisted and vile they both were.”

“Wait, I thought my mom was the Emissary that choose Talia?” Stiles sits up, Derek sighs and takes a seat on John’s favorite arm chair.

“My mother banished Jennifer, told her to never come back. if she did, my mother would make her pay for what she'd done. while Peter was chained up and locked away from everyone for four years in a deep slumber. This was all while my mother was in high school, her mother’s emissary was getting older, and couldn’t do her job anymore. All that was left was to pass on her abilities, but madam Lou didn’t have children.”

Stiles was sitting there at the edge of her seat, watching and listening as Derek tells the story, “Wow, wait. So that’s why I can do what-” she stops and looks down at on of the books, flipping through pages she comes to one that makes sense. “Here, my mom wrote to me, I know she wrote to me. She told me that someday I’d bare a burden, and that I had to live with the mistakes she’s made. But that she did them to ensure my safety.”

“Your mother as trying to protect you. Which is why Madam Lou gave her the mark of the emissaries.” Derek nodded. Stiles can see it, a white tattoo on her mothers shoulder, she remembers it vividly. “You have it also.” Derek says, pointing his nose at her. Stiles frowns, but then like a rush of heat she feels it in between her shoulder blades.

“Ow,” she hisses as she reaches for the spot.

“Don’t touch it, not yet.” Derek warns, getting up to take her hand away from the pain. Derek looks her over for a moment, “May I?” he gestures to the back of her shirt. Stiles feels self conscious for a tiny minute before she nods. Derek’s hands are careful, and warm every time they accidentally graze her skin. When the shirt id finally up, she feels the need to squirm away, like she is showing Derek something he shouldn’t see. “Um, okay, you’ve had your look can I-”

“I apologize,” Derek says as he lets her shirt go and walks back to his seat. “Your mark is . . . different.” Derek says, and it sounds ill and almost frightening.

“What do you mean different?” she asks. Derek meets her eyes once but then looks else where.

“There are three different marks, Stiles.” Derek explains, his face is hard and filled with concern, “The first is the mark of the chosen, The mark most emissaries have on their shoulders. Then there’s the mark of the warrior, a mark that spirals down the emissaries back almost vine like. Not common amongst the emissaries. Then the last one, the mark of the wanted.”

There’s a chill in the air and Stiles doesn’t like the feeling, “What do the mean?” she asks, Derek pulls at one of the book there on the table, flipping through the pages again. When landing on on page titled; Markings.

“The common mark is the mark I’ve seen more often then not. It’s the mark your mother carried and the mark that many others carry. The mark of the warrior, is a mark that only comes in times of battle. Back in the early 1700’s there was always war amongst our kind and others.” Derek points to the photos on the second page. Stiles sees the looks of the markings, the looks of how they shaped the backs and shoulders like white colored tattoos.

“After the 1800’s out kind learned to live amongst humans, so the mark of the warrior sort of vanished with time.” Derek says, pointing to a photo of what looked like vines on a young women’s back, it was fading, it didn’t reach the bottom. “The mark of the wanted, is a rare mark that should only happen when a pack is in need of a mate for their next Alpha. It’s a mark usually imprinted on a hip bone.”

Derek points to the last photo, there’s two young women know, both with there arms covering their bare breast and turning their faces in the same direction. They almost look like twins, longs dark hair, fair skin with dark freckles that linen their faces. At their hip, Stiles sees the white tattoo, it’s a paw print created with thick spirals. Its detailed and delicate.

Stiles is almost mesmerized, “What mark do I have?” Stiles looks up to meet Derek’s eyes. Derek’s eyes are dark and filled with unwanted concern. Stiles feels a chill within her and she doesn’t like it.

“The Mark of the wanted.”

Chapter Text

But Derek’s face is still the same. Stiles slowly starts to really think about what Derek just said to her. “Stiles, my uncle is after you because-,”

Stiles shoots up from the couch and paces the living room floor. Her thoughts are starting to buzz a little louder. She thinks Derek is talking to her, but she can’t hear him. Because the center of her back burns and her heart is trying to beat out of her chest. She can feel it, the panic.

“This is … This is insane. No, you’re wrong, I- No. This isn’t right, this isn’t at all what I read. This wasn’t-.” Stiles stops. She thinks back to the first few pages of what her mother left behind in the emissaries book.

Little lamb, Little lamb of mine, I hope that when you read this, when you finally have it in your hands. That you understand how much history, love and protection went into getting it here, getting you here.

Little lamb of mine, understand that a pack is no good without their alphas. Alphas are no good without their mates. I’ve made decisions in my life that will affect you. Decisions … that you won’t understand when you read this. But I did it for the sake of this family, for fear of your life. Little lamb, all I wanted was to protect you, keep you as safe as possible.

Please. I hope you understand.

Stiles falls to the floor. Her mother was warning her, letting her know that this was going to happen. Stiles wasn’t paying attention. She figured her mother was just telling her that She’d have to deal with all the flooding memories that she’d have to deal with feeling like her feelings aren’t her own. Like right now. She feels scared, panicked, worried. But … but she knows that all she really feels is regret. All those other feelings, those aren’t hers.

“Stiles, Stiles I need you to listen, I need you to breath,” she hears Derek, his voiced is softer than normal, it sounds like he is generally really worried about her. And Stiles doesn’t understand why, at least she doesn’t until she can feel her throat closing and her vision is going blurry when she tries to meet Derek’s face to laugh at him. But all she sees is a giant moving blob.

Now she’s standing and spinning on her feet pushing herself back against everything, she’s hitting the bookshelf and she can hear Derek calling her name. But there’s panic, there’s distress. She’s trying to grip a shelf but all that does is pull books off and topple them over. Stiles feels her head pounding and she is trying to make sense of it all.

When like a flood, her eyes go white and her body limps and she thinks she falls, but she doesn’t feel the ground when she crashes.

Its cold, and she’s laying on something wet. Stiles tries to get up when her head throbs painfully. ”I hit the floor, shit.” She mumbles to herself, cracking her eyes open she notices the dark green grass under her, the water dripping on her face … “Dew?” Stiles wipes the back of her hand against the left side of her face. Stiles looks around, and this wasn’t her living room. This wasn’t her house.

She’s sitting in a meadow, there are trees surrounding her and she’s alone. It’s not dark, there’s moonlight, its bright and … warming.

Stiles stands up and her head gets a little dizzy. Shaking her head, she looks around then heads forward, uh, whatever way is forward. She soon notices she’s bare foot, and she isn’t in her Pj’s. She’s in a long off-white dress, it’s silk, and it flows off her thing frame. The sleeves are long and pointed at her hands. The neckline falls from her shoulders and show just the nicest peak of her cleavage.

Stiles holds a bit of the dress in her hand, to keep her from tripping over the damn thing. Stiles gets to the forest and – “Is that music?” Stiles whispers to herself, Stiles follows the sound. Its soft, there’s a small beat of a drum, and a flute? Walking in a little further, Stiles sees a bright orange color shine on the trees.

“What the actual fu-,” Stiles stops because through the thin tree line she sees wolves sitting around a large fire, it was another small meadow. She feels like she’s seen this before, felt this warming feeling before.

There’s a larger white and brown wolf sitting on a large rock, it’s perched up high, as to overlook on the other wolves. The wolves were large, smaller than a horse, but bigger than a Great Dane. Stiles knows the size because one stood up and growled at the one beside it.

The wolves aren’t all sitting there are some play fighting with each other. Nipping and growling at each other, Stiles wanted to take a step back when she bumped into something. Expecting it to be a tree when she turns around, a scream breaks through the music. There’s a man there behind her. He’s large, with a salt and peppered beard with hair to match. His eyes shined human blue and he smiles at her.

He was dressed in a white Henley with four buttons at the collar, and dark suspenders. The sleeves are bunched up to the elbows and Stiles feels like she’s seen this man before, maybe the eyes were a different.

“Come, they’re waiting for you,” he says, his voice is husky and deep, Stiles knows that voice, it belongs to a different body, a different face. But she can’t remember who.

Stiles watches the man as he smiles at her, he places his hand, which is large and warm, against the small of her back. Gently pushing her towards the wolves who are now all standing and moving around one another. Stiles watches as each and every one of them meets her eyes and lower their heads.

“What’s, what is this place? What am I doing here? Who-?” Stiles looks up and the man is grinning, he looks pleased and calm to be here. Stiles doesn’t understand, doesn’t know who this man is or why she is here.

“I’ve explained this to you, my Love. You picked tonight, or are you already second guessing?” He says with a soft chuckle, it makes Stiles heart flutter and she doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t want him to feel like she doesn’t want to be there. So Stiles nods a small nod to herself.

Stiles follows him all the way around the fire and too a small arch that’s covered in white roses, it makes her stomach hollow and her heart starts to race. He stops them before passing the arch, the large white and brown wolf hops off its perch and stands in front of them. Stiles feels a bright light in her body and it heats every inch of her.

The man’s hand touches her arm, a small stroke and she turns to face him but she can’t see him anymore. Stiles shoots up with a scream.

Looking around slightly panicked she sees she’s in her bedroom, her mirror, her computer desk filled with papers and her laptop. She looks around when her eyes land on a large, very large black dog on her floor, its head lifts up and its ears are perked up on its head. Stiles feels a small spit of fear, but then it’s settled when she see’s the light golden of its eyes.

“Derek?”

Chapter Text

Carefully, Stiles slide up her bed, watching the large dog. Its fur, thick, black with a few white specks. Stiles wishes that some part of her was scared, frightened, or even uncomfortable. But she simply stares at the large dog.

“Derek?” She calls again. The large dog swiftly raises its head high enough to give Stiles some sort of nod. “Why. Why are you-,” Stiles tries to finish that sentence but she breaks into a coughing fit. She hears large paw trout their way too her. Shaking her head, she tries to get up, covering her mouth with her palms, and then the side of her bed sinks.

Derek is placing his front paws on the bed, sniffing at her, whining almost. Stiles’ eyes get watery and she suddenly feels something acidy come up her throat.

Hacking, she pulls her hands away from her mouth, and is immediately concerned. Derek’s whining worsens, he’s trying to lick her face, but she pushes away from him. Hopping off her bed she runs to her bathroom, closing the door.

Derek scratches a few times, howls low and small and Stiles can see him trying to push his nose through the bottom of the door.

Stiles grabs a small cloth from under her sink and she wets it, cleaning her now crimson, lips. Oh my god. What the hell is going on. She thinks to herself. What the hell happened, she takes a handful of water and washes her mouth out. The iron taste makes her slightly uncomfortable.

“Stiles! I’m home!” John is home, Stiles rushes her door up and runs passed the whining Derek, and rushes down stairs.

John, barely slipping his jacket off and hanging it looks over at Stiles, surprised to see her almost. Stiles can hide from her father, and he knows instantly that she is not okay.

“How-,” Her voice cracks a little and she, She tries her hardest not to let any of it flood her as she tries to talk to the one man whose always comforted her. “How did this happen?” she asks, because she is suddenly a child, a helpless child that can’t defend themselves. Stiles feels alone and scared all of sudden. And if there was one thing that Stiles hated, was being helpless.

“Kitten,” He says, his face is softening around the hard edges. He comes to her, taking her into his arms. It doesn’t take long for Derek, human Derek is standing at the top of the stairs.

“How far along?” John asks, Stiles pulls away from her father, wiping her misty eyes. She watches from Derek to her father in confusion.

“What?” She asks.

“My mother and the rest of the pack will be here at the end of the week. John, I-,” Derek comes down the stairs, not once looking at Stiles, “I’ll devote my life to protecting her. As my mother did before me.”

“What? Dad, what-?”

“Stiles, your mother, she loved you. She loved you so much. And this, this was her way of knowing you’d be safe. I know your mother made the right choice in marking you as the next Heir to the Hale Pack. Alongside the next Alpha.” He explains. Stiles frowns, backing away from her father. A man she thought she knew, a man she thought would protect her.

“You are letting them-,” She sees Derek reach for her, and she jerks away from him. Glaring his way. “If you would have let me be, I would have never gone through this. I almost wish that Wolfsbane would have killed me.”

“Stiles-,”

Stiles throws her hands up and pushes passed bother her father and Derek. Derek as she walked passed him, looked hurt. Like she stepped on his favorite toy. But She couldn’t careless.

In her room, Stiles curls herself in her blankets, trying to ease her anxiety, but as her eyes shut, a face comes to her mind. The older man from her vision. He was, she knew him. Stiles sits up and goes to her computer desk, opening her laptop.

Quickly opening a search engine she types in the Hale Family Tree. All she can find is news reports on the fire that happened almost 11 years ago. When finally, she finds something.

Hale Family Mystery.

Stiles clicks the link and the page opens up to two very old looking photos. One that Stiles recognizes immediately. That’s Mrs. Hale.  She thinks to herself, but the man . . . “That’s him.” She whispers. Looking closer at the picture Stiles reads the caption. “Talia Mikaelson and Husband George Hale, this photo shows the married couple of 3 years mourning of their missing child. Year old Jeda Mikaelson.”

Stiles examines the photo, Talia is crying, with her body pressed against that man. He’s like a stone holding her staring, glaring at the officers standing before them.

“Jeda Mikaelson is approximately 2 ½ feet in height. Dark hair, with hazel green eyes, she went missing from her crib on the first floor of the two story house. “I put her down for a moment to get her bottle from the kitchen,” Mrs. Mikaelson says. Mr. Hale remained a silent man during the initial report. “my husband was out.” Mrs. Mikaelson tells us, seeming emotionless at this point, we’ve decided to give the family their privacy.”

Stiles bites her lip and ponders the article. She doesn’t remember Derek ever having an older sister aside from Laura. Stiles doesn’t remember most of her childhood. Stiles sighs and shuts the laptop, George Hale, she thinks, That was the same man from her vision. Could it be that she just took a part of Talia’s wedding night?

A nervous butterfly catches in her chest and Stiles has to take a step away from her laptop. Was that going to be her? Was she going to wear the same dress, recreate the same ritual? Aside from the age around George’s face, nothing about him was different.

Stiles remembers once in high school, Derek, Laura and Cora stopped showing up too school. Later Stiles heard from her father that the Hale’s Father passed away in a tragic hunting accident. And that’s why Derek hadn’t come to school.

Stiles thinks back to that night at the Hale manor in New York. She remembers Talia telling Derek to say hi to his step-father. The look on Derek’s face was stone and hard. She remembers feeling uncomfortable with the way Derek reacted to his mothers’ otherwise normal request.

Stiles stands from her seat and goes to sit by her bay window. Opening the window slightly, feeling the cool rainy breeze. She takes a deep breath.

I wish you were here, mom. Stiles signs. Her heart aches a little, I could really use your help, something, anything to make this feel better.

Stiles is there signing to her mother like she hadn’t done in years. Just talking to the sky, feeling maybe she’d get a response. There’s a knock at her door, and she can feel Derek just outside the door. It’s a weird, powerful feeling. Stiles wants to pretend like she’s asleep, wants to ignore him . . . but a larger part wants to let him in.

The door quietly slides open. “May I?” Derek asks. Stiles just watches from her seat, the moonlight was hypnotic against Derek’s olive tanned skin. The dark cotton shirt hugging his chest, biceps, Stiles bites down and swallows hard.

Derek walks in, shutting the door behind him, like he knows all of what Stiles is thinking. All of what Stiles secretly wants him to do. And her body is weak, she can’t, doesn’t have the strength to really fight him. The man is a large man dog, she will not test her limits.

A small heat of hate rises in her throat, she remembers why he’s here, why he’s back invading her personal space. He’s been forcing a change on her. Something that wouldn’t have happened if he’d simply left her alone.

That thought makes her stop. The heat of hate simmers in her chest and eases, because the small thought that Derek might leave her . . . it tightens her chest.

Stiles watches as Derek stands positive on his feet in the center of her room.

You have a lot of a damn nerve. She signs. Derek doesn’t look puzzled, he just stares back at her. Stiles huffs and looks away from him. She hears her floor creak and she knows Derek’s walking towards her. The sound isn’t the only give away. It’s the sudden warmth growing, she’s conscious of how close Derek is.

It doesn’t take him long before he’s there in her space.

He leans down slight towards her, Stiles can feel his breath, its like a burner, and she’s finding it hard to breath in the most pleasurable way.

His fingers brush her bare thigh, and her throat shuts. No, she thinks, But …

Derek slides his fingers gracefully up and down her thigh, working it slowly up towards her shorts. Stiles bites her lip, but as she feels herself give in she suddenly stands, facing Derek. No, she signs, You don’t get to come in here and make me feel like I can’t breathe.

Derek’s expression is so at ease, calm and inviting. Derek takes another step towards her, then another and another. Stiles takes them back but she runs out of space to back up, and space between her and Derek.

Derek is so incredibly close to her. He’s staring at her, his nose almost brushing hers as he breathes the same air. It makes her feel heated, like she can’t function until Derek’s on her.

“Is it too late for me to say sorry,” Derek’s voice is raspy and husky as he whispers, Stiles body shakes, little trembles of please touch me gently, aggressively, possessively. Derek’s arms come up and trap her within them. He’s leaning down and she’s looking up. There’s dark and harsh shadows on Derek’s face, but the green in his hazel eyes shine in a mossy green.

Derek isn’t planning on letting her go, he’s in her head, its to late for her to lie and tell him that she doesn’t want what he knows she does. And this, this invasion is about to become a takeover.

“Don’t,” Stiles whispers, husky, unintentional, it makes her flush red, her cold skin runs in heat as Derek smirks down at her. She’s seen this smirk before. That night, she was trying on that dress, he smirks at her that same way.

“Can I take what I want from you? Or will I have to continue to apologize, beg you to forgive me?” Stiles is listening, but all she can hear is the strong beat of his heart, the hushed whisper of his breath as he talks. It consumes her. She pushes up on the balls of her feet, he’s – she can’t anymore.

She presses her lips against his. The heat is overwhelming and nice. Derek’s hands find her neck, working themselves into her hair and gripping tight. The feeling makes her melt, makes every inch of her flush. Her chest tightens as Derek pulls her closer, opening and shutting their lips together.

Derek gently releases her hair from his prison, snaking them down over her curves and it makes her skin tingle. She pulls closer and Derek pushes her up against her bedroom wall. Its primal, and feral, Derek’s hands sneak up her sweater. He’s hands are warm, coarse and big. Stiles hasn’t felt this small since god knows when, and Derek is making her skin feel soft and amazing.

Derek’s hands meet the underwire of her bra, Stiles pulls away from her assault on his lips and catches her breath pulling her chest in towards her, hiding her breast. She isn’t a small cup, she isn’t truly thin either. She fills out her clothes well, her curves are even and rather thick. But she’s fit and she is often working at the gym, she knows she’s well trained. Being a cops daughter, she had to be.

But she’s . . . smaller then Derek and it frightens her.

“Don’t be scared.” Derek breaths. She takes a breath and Derek works his hands under her bra and it’s a release, a gentle and quiet moan escapes her lips as Derek cups and massages her breasts in his hands. Stiles head falls back against the wall and she tries to get a grip on her breathing and her overflowing thirst for his touch.

“Let me overpower you,” Derek whispers in her ear, kissing her cheek, her neck. The sentence chills her in sensitive places. And she would normally kick someone in the balls for that, but, Derek is different. “Give in, Let me in.”

“Let me ravage your body.”

Stiles meets Derek’s eyes, his pupils are shot and he looks animalistic. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

It was hot, feral, and deadly. But Stiles felt the light and the burning fire on her skin.  Derek’s hands were large and a little rough, almost like he was working with them, like they were padded. Derek’s breathing was hot and heavy against her neck as he leaned down to kiss her, trailing his lips down the line of her neck. His hands following the smooth of her torso, touching inches of skin that only she knows.

“Wait, wait,” Stiles huffs out, pushing Derek away slightly.  There was a small whimper that escapped Derek and Stiles couldn’t meet his eyes. Her face flushed bright red and her ears burning at the tip.

“What? What’s wrong?” Derek pants, Stiles skin shivers at the sound. She gently raises her eyes to meet Derek’s. His are blown shot and he looks animalistic. Stiles licks her lips and Derek leans down to catch her lips. Crashing frantically Stiles grips Derek’s shoulders and pushes him once more.

“Stop .. I, I need to breath. I, yeah I need a second to breath. I-” but before she can finish, Derek is ripping himself away from her. The word stop was key. Derek may be an animal, but he knows right from wrong. He knows that when told too, he is to stop. “No, I, Derek. I want this. Trust me , I want this. But I, it feels out of place. Like we- we aren’t doing it right.” Derek stares at her for a moment then nods, He reaches out his hand.

A small moment passes and Stiles takes it, the warmth of his hand floods her. Derek pulls her into him and then lifts her up off her feet, “Woah,wait, what are -,”

“Hush,” Derek semi-growls, Stiles does just that. In the midst of the dark thunder cloud purple of her room, Derek takes her and lays her on her bed. Pulling her sheets and duvet over her feet. He kisses her forehead and then her lips. “Goodnight.”

Derek lets go of her hand and heads out of her room. Stiles stares at the door for a long second, waiting, hoping, Derek would come back. But he doesn’t. So Stiles let’s herself fall into sleep.

Stiles has a strange dream that night. A dream of open forests and meadows, thundering paws and warm fur,surrounding her small body. When Stiles wakes up, the sun is barely peaking through her window, she gets up and starts to undress. Heading into her shower, Stiles feels light and suddenly, it floods her. Dereks hands are touching her, tracing her skin where the water falls. Derek’s lips are burning her neck, her lips.

Stiles feels slightly weak, airheaded and dizzy. So it was a good idea for her to head out of the shower. She goes through her morning routine and heads out her bedroom door, hair a wet mess, in space leggings and a Bruce Banner T-shirt. Padding her way down the stairs she makes a sharp turn into the kitchen and then there’s Derek reading a newspaper.

Stiles stops at a hault and immediately looks down at the ground. Thinking she can go unnoticed she heads to the fridge.

“Good morning, Stiles.”

Stiles freezes. And takes a hard swallow, “Good, uh, Good morning.” Not looking at him, she continues her way to the fridge.

“breakfast will be here shortly.” Derek says, “Have a seat.” Stiles takes a deep breath and she can’t keep still, she wants to say something, anything. But its like the words, for once, aren’t coming out. She turns around and Derek is still staring at the newspaper, wearing a dark cotton v-neck, looking like he owns some really big . .  Wait, he does.

“I, uh, I’m good. You know I was just thinking I’d take a sip of milk and then head out and maybe-“

“You will not leave the house. Not without and me.” Derek says firmly. “You will eat your breakfast and then we will go out together.”

Stiles rolls her eyes, and the sudden nervousness is gone. Derek is Arrogant, mean and a horrid person. And Stiles knows there’s a nice in him, knows there’s a person she sees when no one else is watching. But that person is gone, he’s no longer touching her like he couldn’t breath without her in her space. So Stiles does something completely, and totally, unecpected.

She straightens herslf and heads over to Derek, walking ever so gently. Passing her chair and reaching out and touching Derek’s shoulder, she feels him tense and want to turn to look at her, but he focuses his eyes at the paper. Stiles smirks to herself.

Keeping her hand on his shoulder, she finds his other shoulder and slides her hands down his chest. Until her chest touches his back and her lips are barely touching his ear. “Can I sit here?” she whispers. She feels Derek straighten his back and Stiles feels giddy.

“There’s a perfectly good chair beside me. You can sit there,” Derek says. Stiles huffs and bear claws her fingers and gently runs them up Derek’s chest.

“I like this chair, I want  to sit here.” Stiles states, Stiles takes a deep breath and Stiles can taste her victory.  Derek carefully pushes his chair out and Stiles backs up and when Derek is out far enough Stiles snakes her way in front of Derek. She gives him a smile, and Derek looks … Well like Derek does when he isn’t sure what is happening. Stiles turns herself slowly around and very nicely arches her back as she gets ready to sit on Derek’s lap. She feels a rush of blood catch her the tip of her ears.

Sitting down Stiles rocks her hips just slightly to sit comfortably. Stiles feels Derek tense completely under her. “Stiles, what’s the meaning of this?” Stiles continues on, like she didn’t hear Derek at all. She leans back against Derek’s chestarching herslef very so provactively.

“Nice, really nice,” Stiles hums. She reaches up and her hands find Derek’s head, and she runs her fingers through his hair, which is amazingly soft. There’s a growl that escapes Derek and Stiles knows she has it, has him in knots because he was told not to touch, and he’s wants too. She knows he wants too.

Rocking her hips a little more Stiles feels Derek shift, and There, there it is. Derek’s turned on.

Stiles is about to make a gaint announcement but the door bell rings and Stiles sighs, “Oh, foods here,” she smiles. Stiles gets up, exposing her back and her backside. She hears the creaks of the chair, and Stiles knows she’s won, gotten under Derek’s skin and its made her extremely giddy.

Stiles is up and walking to the door. Derek is there following a little behind her. Opening the door, Stiles feels all the giddiness leave her body. Because holding a white box and a white paper bag in one hand is-

“Peter.”

Chapter Text

“Peter.” Stiles once peach warm skin is now cold and empty. Peter smiles at her, and it’s a sudden and unexpected memory, a frightening image of that smile.

“Ah, Good morning Ms. Stilinski.” Peter takes a small bow. There’s a bright glitter in his eyes that sends a cold and spiraling chill down her spine. “I though I would catch you for a morning stroll.” Peter peaks around her and gives off a wide toothy smile. “I see my nephew is here rather early as well.” Stiles was too scared to notice Derek taking a hold of her and throwing her half away across the room.

It’s a blur, and Stiles can see Derek grabbing Peter by the collar of his shirt. She can here Derek growl and something inside her breaks and panic sets in. Stiles knows that if she stays and lets the panic take place in front of Derek, he’d get hurt.

She musters up enough strength, mind you, she was just thrown across the room. She stands up on very weak and shakey legs and heads upstairs as fast as she can. Shutting the door behind her, Stiles covers her eyes and curls into herself and prays that the panic doesn’t happen.

And for now, it doesn’t. Stiles sees white and soon she’s out cold.

Opening her eyes carefully, Stiles feels warm and safe. It was a different feeling, one she’s never really felt before. She sits up and soon notices her clothes are missing. All of her clothes.

Her hair falls over her shoulder in lose curls and the blankets are … pelts. Its fur, she’s laying in a bed of furs. Stiles shuffles around when she hears a quiet moan beside her.

“My love, you really should be resting,” its him, that familiar man, Stiles looks at his resting face, the soft and quiet features that are visible in the dim lighting.

“You know I couldn’t sleep,” Stiles sighs, “we are the first of our kind and here we are, asleep in our beds.”

The man beside her chuckles, his eyes still shut and heavy with sleep. “We are. But even the first of all kinds need rest.” something about this moment made Stiles smile, it made her happy. The man wraps his arm gently on her lap and weakly tugs at her. “Now, we still have time before the rest wake. Come back to sleep.”

Stiles giggles to herself and falls down beside the man, “Its dawn, Darling.” Stiles whispers. The man chuckles once again and pulls her in closer.

“It will always be a full moon with you.” He kisses her forehead and Stiles is suddenly gasping for air. Gripping at the floor and a shirt … a -- “Derek!” Stiles screams. “Derek!” She screams again, another body is holding her, and Stiles feels it again, that warm dawn of safety.

“I‘m here. I‘m here.” it’s a whisper, like someone said as they’re walking away. It almost makes her sad, until her vision clears and she can see the familiar v-neck that Derek often wears. When Stiles realizes she’s safe, she curls herself into Derek and hopes that he never lets her go.

It takes awhile for Stiles to feel better, it takes her even longer to finally ask if Peter had been taken care of. Derek assures her that Peter will not be a problem, and promise to keep her safe until Peter is completely dealt with.

Its hours again, hours that Stiles spends reading those stupid books her mother left her. The sheriff comes home, and talks alone with Derek. Derek gets punched in the face. John gets driven to the hospital for a broken fist. Stiles isn’t left alone of course. Scott was volen-told to baby-sit. Scott watched Supernatural with Stiles and made pillow forts with her in the living room.

“Wanna talk about it?” Scott finally asks. They’re both laying on their tummies underneath a huge blanket fort with two mattresses underneath them. Stiles sighs and touches one of the books to her left, not to drag it to her. Or even to open it. Just to feel it there under her fingertips.

Before Scott showed up, Stiles read more about The first of their kind, in her vision, the women said that they were the first of their kind. And it didn’t make any sense. Who were they, what were they?

But Stiles need a much older book, one before the first of the three her mother gave her. There was a page, where Stiles’ mother left another note.

In there, everything will show itself. Trust your instinct.

It confused Stiles, because what instinct did Stiles ever have that was a good one to follow. But then it hit her, that’s what her mother wants her to do, because all of Stiles’ choices to believe … lead her here.

“I‘m scared, Scotty.” Stiles admits wearily. She feels her eyes well up with unwanted tears and Scott does what Scott does best. He scoots closer to her and huddles her into a hug. Because Scott knows she’s terrified of the unknown. And right now, her entire life is unknown.

“Wanna tell me what happened? You know, in the vision?” Scott asks, its quiet and undemanding. Which is one of the many reasons Stiles loves Scott. Her never demands anything from her. And she is forever grateful for her best friend.

Stiles bites her bottom lip, “I don’t really remember it all - ” lie, “but they were talking about the first of their kind. And that they wanted it to happen.” Stiles gives a moment before Scott gives her a look.

“All of it,” he wiggles her in his hugs. Stiles semi-smiles and does tell Scott all of her vision. And Scott takes a long moment in silence before he nods and remains quiet.

“They don’t feel like vision, Scott. They‘re … I don‘t know , memories.” Stiles half hazardly explains. “Like that whole other life kind of shit.”

Scott nods his head a few times before he makes an unpleasant noise from his throat. “Hand me your books,” Scott releases her from his hug and shuffles up to a sitting position. Stiles gives him a side long look before Scott waves his hands at her to give him the books.

So she does. “You said you felt like you knew him, like he looked like someone you might know.” Scott states as he flips through the last book. Stiles nods, watching as her best friend frantically turns pages. “Stiles, it was Derek‘s grandfather. Jon Hale.”

Stiles shakes her head, “No, Its Derek‘s father, I saw a picture of him from when Jeda went missing.” The information seemed so normal for Stiles that the surprised look on Scotts face mislead her.

“Stiles … how did you know that?” Scott asks. “Aside the point, we‘ll come back to it. Derek father, Stiles died the night before Jeda went missing. The newspapers got it wrong, that man in that picture, is Derek‘s grandfather.”

“How - No that‘s. Mrs. Hale called him husband … there‘s no way -”

“Stiles if you read the report, like I know you did. Mr. Hale was quiet, not a quote or anything from him the night of that report. Stiles, this family … there are secrets that run deeper then just the Emissaries.” Scott looks scared, a look Stiles hasn’t seen since the night they were out in the woods looking for a dead body. Stiles has never truly seen fear in her best friends face. Not until tonight.

“Why … Scott why was he so young, why did he still-” Stiles feels her head begin to hurt and she can’t focus. Scott sets the book aside, still open to the page he wanted it on, and takes Stiles into another hug.

“Stiles the Hales are almost as old as time, Not Derek and his siblings of course. Or their mother. Derek is supposed to help you understand the book, and your visions. He‘s -”

Stiles shakes her head, “I don‘t talk to him about it, I don‘t trust him.” a whimper leaves Scott and Stiles knows why.

“Stiles your mom,” he gives her a moment to let it sink in, he always does when he brings up her mother. “she didn‘t have to marry Talia. Because Talia was the Emissary.” something click in Stiles’ head. It all finally made sense.

Her visions, those where the first werewolves. Its in their blood, when the first Emissary was found something awoke in that bloodline. Something that had to change. Emissaries were protectors of a necessary evil then.

Jon Hale … the first to marry a human Emissary. She was the first of her kind. They were the first of their kind.

In the book, Stiles remembers reading about how Emissaries no longer had to marry their Alphas because the bond was already strong enough. After George and Talia … there was no need to be married. But George died - no, “Scott how did Mr, Hale die?” Stiles asks. Scott looks taken back and shrugs.

“Only the Hales know. There‘s rumor that he didn‘t die, he just took Jeda and left.” Stiles watches the expression Scotts face.

“That wouldn‘t make sense. Why would George Hale runaway with his one year old daughter?” Stiles ponders the thought for a moment.

“She would have been Laura‘s age, 29 or so. Jeda would have been the rightful Alpha. Maybe they didn‘t want that for her.” Scott adds, Stiles shakes her head.

“It still doesn‘t make sense. Scott, why would they -” Stiles goes wide eyed, “The same reason Derek is hiding me now.”

Scott looks confused, the head tilt gave him away. Stiles grabs the book from Scotts side and flips through the pages, “Peter is not Derek biological uncle. My mother wrote something in here, a note. Something only I could understand and I couldn‘t before -”

There it was, in a small part of the bottom of the page, Blood it thicker for wolves, but family is stronger. “Scott, you don‘t have to be blood related to anyone to be family. You‘re my brother, right?” Scott nods, completely unsure. “Peter isn‘t Derek‘s real uncle. Jeda would have been the rightful alpha, she was promised to Peter to keep him in line. Tell me, would you want that for your child?” Stiles watches as Scott raises a brow at her, Stiles laughs because it all makes sense now, “My mother and Talia made sure Derek would be the next rightful Alpha, they made sure I would be his Emissary. To keep me and the pack safe!”

Stiles feels like the world has left her shoulder and feels like she just solved the greatest mystery of all of history. And Scott still looks lost. But Stiles has no more time to explain because Derek is walking in through the front door with John beside him. John waves his broken hand at both Stiles and Scott, and Stiles shakes her head.

Derek announces that Scott can go back to his mother’s home and that tomorrow he will be returning to ensure Stiles is safe. Of course not because Derek is incapable of it himself, but John made sure there was more then one werewolf around.

Stiles doesn’t go up to her room, instead she stays in the fort her and Scott built. And she sends the rest of her night there, finally able to sleep.

Chapter Text

Stiles wakes up to the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. Rubbing her eyes she sits up and steadies herself for a stretch and yawn.

“Good morning.” Stiles spasms hard enough to knock herself off her bed. When she peeks over Derek is sitting at the bay window watching her like that creepier that he is.

“Dude, work on the whole quietly brooding thing. I don't want a heart attack every time you come in here to watch me sleep.” Stiles grunts as she stands and heads to her closet. She suddenly feels like shopping, real shopping. The kind that makes your bank account cry. Or well, it would if you weren’t Derek fucking Hale.

“I‘ll take you.” Derek says, Stiles turns around to see Derek standing at the open doorway of her closet. Stiles isn’t surprised. She simply raises a brow. “Shopping. I‘ll take you.”

“How did you-? You know what never mind. I‘m not gonna question your weird mind tricks. Even if I wanted to go shopping, I don‘t have to cash to do it.” Stiles states, she finds a Star Wars shirt that she hasn’t seen since 11th grade and pulls it off its hanger. She looks at one of the drawers before pulling one and finding her space leggings. Because space leggings are the shit. “Plus, you said Scott was supposed to show up and baby sit me again.”

“I do.” Derek says, Stiles meets his eyes and knows he isn’t joking. Because why would Derek joke. He doesn’t have a sense of humor. Maybe he did, once. Stiles gets lost in the thought of Derek having a sense of humor when she hears him clear his throat. “You want to get out of the house. it’s a win-win. I didn‘t say baby sit. He had other plans.” he states.

Stiles stares at him for a fond moment before she sighs and agrees to go with him.

At the mall, well okay, first of all, Stiles was really excited to see the roads, other cars and other people. but at the mall, Stiles almost faints because she’s surrounded. There’s a lot of noise and bright lights. She’s quickly feeling uncomfortable until Derek takes a hold of her hand. “Don‘t let go, unless you have too.” it’s a whisper and Stiles can feel it comfort her in a way she isn’t totally sure of. But she likes it.

They walk around for almost two hours and Derek is stuck holding all of her shopping bags. Stiles doesn’t feel horrible, but she feels unsettled that Derek choose to buy her new clothes. And see, Stiles doesn’t buy new clothes to just pile in her closet. Before hanging the new stuff, she folds the old and places them in boxes. When she gets the chance she donates that to charity. Her mother did that, taught her that.

The Stilinski code, Give others what you have, share your riches. Stiles doesn’t forget, never thinks that she’s worth more then someone else.

Stiles sees a Victoria’s Secret and whimpers at Derek. He rolls his eyes and pushes her towards the door. Stiles squeals with excitement, and though Derek looks unhappy to follow her. There’s a warm feeling in her stomach that has her thinking otherwise.

Its almost dark and Derek’s arms though muscular, didn’t looks like they could take anymore shopping. So Stiles calls it a day and let’s Derek lead her out and to the car. On the drive back to John’s house, Derek keeps looking over at Stiles.

“What?” Stiles asks, its shy and timid. Derek looks back at the road and clears his throat.

“Did, did you have fun?” Derek whispers, it's so quiet that Stiles almost missed it. She looks over at Derek and gives him a tired smile with a nod. Derek seems to take a deep inhale and nods as he exhales “Good. That's good.” Stiles watches him for a second before she realizes that Derek looks stiff.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, “You seem like there's a stick up your ass. Well more then usual.” Stiles giggles, Derek doesn’t seem to thinks its funny, so Stiles clears her throat and tries again. “Hey, um, thank you. For, you know, today. I really needed to get out of the house. So, um, thanks.”

Derek seems to loosen up after that, he nods his head at her. But doesn’t say anymore. The rest of the car ride is in silence and Stiles doesn’t mind. It doesn’t feel awkward not like it did before.

Getting home, John is at the door and he’s watching as Derek is pulling out bag, after bag of clothes from the trunk of the Camaro. “Stiles did you just buy this man broke?”

“What are your talking about, I barely made a dent in his account.” Stiles laughs, Derek seems to agree because he seems lighter now then when he was in the car with her. John makes a joke about how Derek shouldn’t let her run him dry or let her push him around. But all Derek does is give this half smirk and looks at Stiles. It tickles her, makes her slightly giddy.

“Um you can just set those where ever. I need to clean out my closet first anyway.” Stiles says, Derek is entering the room and raises a brow at her as he sets the bags on her floor. She takes a deep breath and smiles, “My mom, she uh, she told me to share my riches. So every time she bought me something new, I‘d be replacing something old. So I‘d put it in a box and give it to charity.” Derek’s looking at her, but Stiles can’t tell what it means or even what it looks like. I guess she can say it sort of looked like fondness.

“let me help you,” Derek sort of asks, and its different then his normal I’m Derek Hale and You need to let me do whatever I want because I’m Derek type of thing. This was him trying to ask to actually be helpful. Stiles nods, because what else can she do?

Derek helps her fold her old clothes and pack it away in bags and boxes she had laying around. And its quiet between them, only the occasional question of “Do you want this packed?” and Stiles enjoyed it, like really enjoyed it.

John eventually called them down for dinner and Stiles was excited because food. Stiles thinks about earlier, the look on Derek’s face. The fond look, under all that angry. It made her feel a tidbit special, because as far as she knows, she’s the only one to make him look like that.

“I assume you had fun, I‘m glad you didn‘t let her buy the whole store.” John jokes as he serves the plates. Its stir-fry, one of his many favorite dishes. It was a little known fact that John Stilinski knew his way around the kitchen. His thing was that as long as no one knew, he never had to cook for them.

“I offered, but she refused.” Derek states. Stiles snorts because the horrified look on John’s face was gold. Stiles always wish Derek was joking, but the three hour mark Derek stopped and asked her if she just wanted to own the mall. Of course Stiles said no, but she really could have said yes.

“Its okay dad, I don’t own enough to buy the mall anyway.” Stiles smirks as she takes her plate and sits down at the dinning table. Derek follows and soon, John is joining them. Its nice, Stiles thinks, its nice to have them there and to be eating together.

“Stiles,” Derek calls, Stiles blinks a few times before she meets Derek’s eyes and raises a brow at him. “My family will be here tomorrow.” Derek looks from her then to John, and John gives Derek a nod and Stiles is just lost. So she shrugs her shoulders.

“Okay?” she stretches the word as far as she can. Derek rolls his eyes at her, but Stiles still doesn’t understand. “Your family is coming to Beacon Hills. Good for them?” Stiles offers with a wince. John shakes his head with a sigh and a smile. Derek is still looking at her like death so Stiles isn’t sure what to do now. So she takes a fork full of stir-fry and enjoys her meal.

“The ceremony, Stiles.” John offers in a whisper. Stiles almost chokes on her snow peas, coughing slightly she nods wearily and looks back up at Derek.

“Yes,” Derek says, “The ceremony.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles mumbles. She almost forgot about the ceremony. Almost forgot that the only reason Derek is here is because he is the next Alpha and she is his emissary. They have to get married. “Ohh, no. No, okay. I‘m sorry. But I can‘t I - nope, I can‘t I can‘t marry you. I‘m sorry, I‘m too young and pretty to be married and I didn't think about it till now and it's now-”

“Stiles,” Derek rumbles and takes her hand, its uneasy and off putting, but Stiles lets his hand stay there on hers. “It‘ll be okay.” it sounds like something Stiles would believe, had she not already become aware of her situation. Derek’s eyes are staring at her, those light green hazel ovals. Stiles never noticed, but Derek’s lashes are incredibly long, and incredibly dark. it’s a wave of a sigh that comes over her.

“I, Derek I - It's not that I don't want to get married. I, seriously, my only experience with you has been supernatural and violent. Supernaturally violent. And I … I don‘t even know how I feel about you.” Derek’s eyes are steady and unchanged at Stiles’ words. She expected some hurt, or anger. It almost seems like Derek knows something Stiles doesn’t, and Stiles doesn’t like that.

 Stiles finishes her dinner, "Thanks, Dad." she places her dishes in the sink and heads up stairs. Stiles is glad she's the only one, and Derek is probably being told to stay but John. Stiles really needs to think about it, because its not like she can just marry Derek and a week later not be married to  him. No, this is a forever thing, a till death do us part, kind of deal.

It's not that Stiles doesn't love Derek. Wait.

Stiles is hit with her own memories, memories of a little grumpy wolf boy that always made shiny eyes at her when she did something stupid or uncalled for. That little wolf boy was always there, always around to play whatever she wanted to play. Stiles remembers, she remembers Derek and all the times he was around just to be around her. Stiles' heart swelled a little, okay, a lot. Because after Stiles' mom died ... she didn't have many friends. She had Scott, but Scott was trying to figure out why his dad left and Scott was always kind of sad too.

But Derek, Derek was always grumpy, and mean to Stiles. He was never sad, which at that point in Stiles' life, everyone around her was sad. Always saying they were sorry for her lose and getting this distance look on their face. Derek was constant in his brooding, always telling Stiles she couldn't do something or that something was to dangerous for her to do alone. He was hovering as a child. Stiles laughs to herself as she remembers the messy dark hair and the unamused expression.

Derek was there for her in a way that no one really could be.

Stiles now remembers one tender moment. Stiles was in her room three months after her mother's passing and she was having another panic attack. she couldn't breath and even tried opening her window, hoping the nice breeze would fill her lungs. But instead of a breeze, Derek found his way into her room and hugged her. He whispered to her, asked her to breath with him. Stiles was curled against him and she felt her pain disappear.

Stiles did love Derek. She still loves Derek.

Chapter Text

Its been maybe and hour since Stiles left the kitchen. Derek hasn’t come up to check on her, and it makes her a little sad. But she needed her space. “Mom,” Stiles whispers, she’s sitting on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest as she looks up at her ceiling. “Mom, I- I know you set this up to keep me safe. To keep their blood line safe. I‘m guessing I spent those few years with Grandma for a reason.”

It’s a little bitter sweet. Because when Stiles left Beacon Hills she was just out of high school and … and Derek was leaving for New York. Stiles remembers that night, she was packing her things and there was a thud on he window. When she looked up Derek was there, his shiny blue eyes flashing just slightly.

“You‘re leaving.” Derek said too her. Stiles fiddles her fingers and nods. “I‘m gonna mi-” he cleared his throat, “I’m, we, we‘re leaving to New York.”

Derek might have not said it, at least not finished saying it. But Stiles felt it. Derek hugged her that night. He jerked her into it, and for a moment Stiles felt at peace.

Stiles then realizes something. That was the night they were both leaving Beacon Hills. And the first time Derek willingly hugged her. She doesn’t quite remember Derek after that, doesn’t remember him leaving but a fury burns in her chest.

“He knew!” she growls, Stiles hops off her bed and pulls her door open and runs down stairs, Derek and her father are there in the living room. Watching some stupid movie. At her stomping Derek looks over his seat at her and suddenly he’s standing and taking a few steps back. Her father the stands along with Derek a confused look on his face.

“You knew! Didn‘t you! That night, that night that I was leaving, you knew that we‘d have to meet again!” Stiles shouts, and it seems like its taken her father by surprise, but Derek looks completely unaffected. Which proves her right.

“Woah, okay, Stiles. What the hell is going on?” her father asks.

“That night, almost 8 years ago. You came to me the night before I was leaving and you hugged me. You hugged me. Derek, you knew all along that we‘d have to meet again. You and your family made sure that we would.” Stiles is rushing Derek, she’s throwing her fists in the air and hitting his chest with a loud thud. “You knew that I loved you! That I had to let you go like I did my mom! You knew!”

“Stiles!” she hears her father yell. But it doesn’t stop her, Stiles is hitting Derek with all her strength. But Derek is bracing himself on his feet.

“I hate everything about you. I hate that I love you, that I loved you then! I hate that I - ,” Stiles doesn’t realize she’s crying until her hands fall still on Derek’s chest and he’s gently wiping her cheeks, “Please don‘t say you love me.” and Derek doesn’t, he simply let’s her fall against him and again for the first time in almost 8 years, Derek is willingly hugging her.

John sighs and falls back into his chair. “You‘re mood swings are going to be the end of me, Kiddo.” he sighs. Derek huffs, and Stiles doesn’t move, because for a moment in Derek’s arms; she’s okay. She doesn’t feel like she’s falling, like the world is sinking around her.

It scares her a little. That she knows now what she could have known since she was 8. Derek was protecting what was his. And maybe, maybe Derek didn’t know she was his yet. She can’t blame Derek for the path their parents chose for them. She can only hope that they made the right choice.

Derek touches his chin to her forehead, and there’s a small weak rumble coming from his throat. And Stiles feels it. A sick and worried pain, pinched at her throat. Derek’s hurt, hurt that she’d be so mad at him for something he couldn’t control.

“I‘ll take her to bed.” Derek says. John, when Stiles peaks out from her hiding, is just waving them off. Derek pulls her away and meets her eyes. Their the hazel that she knows. That hazel of a little boy smirking at her when she handed him half of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Stiles wishes, she knows there’s nothing she can do now. Mrs. Hale is coming, with the rest of the Hale family.

The part of her that wants to run away is tearing her heart apart. But Derek is holding her willing half and asking her to complete him in a way that she doesn’t know if she can.

Derek pushes a little at her to move, and she does, looking away from him and leading the way back upstairs. A monster is here, a monster of different skins and Stiles is, is his ring master.

At her bedroom door, pushing it open, stiles feels her body stiffen, “How did we get here?” she whispers. Though she’s hoped that she hadn’t said it out loud, she knows Derek heard her. Be he doesn’t say a word. He touches the small of her back and leads her in to her room. Derek knows what she’s asking, and he knows the answer, but Stiles, she’s making a fool of herself trying to piece together her life now.

“I knew you, Derek. I used to know you.” she whimpers, her own fear exposed, “I can‘t, I can‘t win … with you. You could be my death, Derek. And your okay with that. I - my mom gave up her life for you and your family. Wasn‘t that enough for you. Wasn‘t her death enough for you.” when she meets Derek’s eyes again, their lifeless and dark as she searches for his response. Stiles’ chest hurts and her throat feels like there’s a hot iron shoved down it.

“You mother died to protect you.” Derek says.

Stiles frowns in disbelief, “She died keeping your secret, she died because you weren‘t careful. And she left me behind!” she shouts at him. “She left me …, I had her for a while and she was alive and happy. But you took her from me.”

“We all have our unwanted sacrifices, Stiles.” Derek meets her eyes, and Stiles is angry, because that’s not fair. “My father …,” Derek stops. And Stiles’ face unknots from her anger. That’s right. Derek lost his father, and his older sister because of this. Because of her. “My sister. There‘s not a day that I don‘t regret everything that I‘m doing. But I deal with it. Because its my birth right.” he explains, with a flash of his eyes, “You were born to be my wife. And as much as you hate it, Stiles. I -” he stops and looks away from her. There’s a deep sting in Stiles’ chest, she just stepped into an emotion she couldn’t handle.

“Derek, I -”

“You think this doesn‘t hurt me. You think that I don‘t feel the things you do, Stiles? I‘ve worked too hard for too long to make you love me. And all you‘ve done, all you‘ve ever told me, was that you hated me. And I can live with that for the rest of my immortal life. But can you.” Derek takes a step towards her, and she takes a safe one backwards. “I‘m a monster, Stiles. And I regret being this way. But I, because of you, will keep fighting to have you. To keep you safe.”

Stiles for a rare moment in her life is speechless. Derek’s not yelling at her, he’s angry and Stiles knows that. But he’s sad, and Stiles can feel it. Its chilling and makes her feel like she might just burst. “Derek,” is all she says, and he’s eyes shine a baby blue, the eyes of a killer. The sight is haunting in the dark of her room.

“Hate me all you want, Stiles. But you will be my wife. And I will love you for the rest of my life.” Derek takes a deep breath before he moves out of her way “You need a hot shower. I‘ll be downstairs. If, by chance, you need me. Good night, Stiles.” Derek opens her door, hesitates for a moment, but then leaves with the shut of the door.

Stiles catches her breath and feels her body shaking. Not out of fear, but loss. She just lost something she never thought she had because she refused to see Derek through her misery. And because of that, Derek, Derek is suffering more then she can understand.

Stiles steadies herself and does as Derek suggested. She stands for a long time under the spray of hot water. Pulling her long hair over her shoulder and letting the water massage her shoulder muscles. it’s awhile later when she’s finally out of the shower. She sits on her bed and starts to debate whether or not to call Derek into her room. He’s right. What room does Stiles have to complain. Her mother could’ve stood aside, Derek could have grown up with his father and his sister. But he didn’t, he lost so much more then his family, he lost his will, his choice. And he was right. Stiles can hate him all she wants, but this marriage has to happen. To keep her dad and her small family, safe. Stiles has to decide if she can live with herself after this. If she can maybe find a way to love Derek, the way he’s loved her.

“Derek.” she calls, its not loud, and she knows its not. She’s hoping that maybe he wouldn’t hear her. And for a short while, it was almost like he didn’t. and she’s about to lay down when her door cracks open.

“Yes,” Derek says, its not a whisper, but its close. Stiles takes a deep breath and calls him in. Derek comes in and stands at the end of her bed and Stiles fidgets.

“Can you lay down with me, please.” she asks. Derek doesn’t miss a heartbeat, he quietly walks to the opposite side of the bed and touches a pillow, watching Stiles for any movement. He moves a few of her pillows away and he rests himself against the head board of her bed.

Stiles eyes him a little before she awkwardly adjusts herself to lay her head on his chest. Derek doesn’t touch her, keeping his hands in his pocket and the back of his head. And something about it makes Stiles feel dirty. “Could you hold me, please.” she whispers into her room. Derek, he adjusts once more pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding on of her hands with his other hand touches the dip of her waist.

It almost feels like a stone is with her, like Derek doesn’t want to be there anymore then he has too. And this is Stiles’ fault. She did this to him. To herself.

“I‘m sorry.” she whimpers mostly to herself. “I shouldn‘t have blamed you. I shouldn‘t have -” Derek squeezes her side, she’s breathing, but it feels like the air is heavy around her. Stiles doesn’t say anything else that night. She falls asleep shortly after.

Her dream was another memory, there was dancing wolves around a large fire pit. They were howling and rubbing their heads against each other. Stiles remembers seeing the fool moon and her Alpha up atop a large rock almost smiling at her. The trees where light and green fresh of midnight rain and filled with warm pine. Stiles was sick and coughing sitting beside the fire, holding her hands down at her belly. Her eyes heavy and back weak.

Waking up, Stiles notices Derek’s gone. But she doesn’t mind. Stiles looks at her night stand and finds her mothers books. She picks up the middle book and opens it to a random page.

                                           Jan, 02 1961
           I heard her cry today. They are keeping us apart, Jon says that its better this way for the baby. I haven’t seen her since the birth and I miss her terribly. Ms. LowWolf says I should recover before I can hold my child. But I’m not sure I can wait that long.

           Jon came by to see me, I could smell her on his clothes. I didn’t know I would would grow to hate my husband. But I do. Has taken her from me and convinced me that it was for the good of the tribe. I have to see her, hold her once last time, I fear that my time with her is limited and I don’t want to leave without saying good bye.

          I miss her. And she’ll never know. She was born human into a world that wanted Fur. I made a mistake and I wish I could take it back. I know she won’t read this, and I know it needs to be kept a secret. But my daughter, I mourn for you. For the world that I brought you into. I love you. Please, forgive me.

Stiles feels her heart sink. And tears are falling down her cheeks. Stiles wasn’t there, but she feels as if she was, she was there writing this for her child for her new born in another tent crying away as the night grew longer. Stiles closes the book and takes a deep breath wiping her eyes and cheeks as she makes her way out of her bed. She gets dressed in her space leggings and a white v-neck. Braiding her hair as she makes her way out of her room and down the hall. At the top of the stairs, she hears noise.

People noises, Stiles quickly makes her way downstairs and woah. “People, Hi, uh, there are more people in my house.” stiles stutters as she looks at all the faces in her living room. Laura, Derek’s older sister. Cora, Derek’s youngest sister. A curly haired blond, Scott, Derek’s stepfather, and a few other’s that Stiles doesn’t really know.

But its when Stiles makes eye contact with Talia that her mind is at a stand still. “It was you.”

Chapter Text

  Talia Hale, long and beautiful. 47 never looked so gorgeous. "Pardon?" Talia responses. Stiles stares at her a bit longer, how can a women full of beauty, elegance. Sound so lifeless and hollow. Stiles took a hard swallow.

  "You," Stiles starts, a little raspy, "It was you, in the vision. You were crying and your mother," Stiles looks away from Talia's sudden grimace. "Your mother was held in a different tent then you, because you were born human." Stiles tries, tries really hard to look anywhere that isn't Talia's ugly sneer at her. But Stiles gives up and straightens her shoulders, gives Talia a blank, solid look. Swallowing a little louder, Stiles tightens her jaw, waiting.

  "Yes." is all she says at first. It takes her a minute or two before she decides to acknowledge Stiles. She clears her throat and takes a deep breath, "Let's sit, yes? This conversation will not come easily." and they do as she asks, Stiles sees it as a feat as the herd of people that followed her in make their way around her like Moses. Finding their seats around the small living room and kitchen. Derek takes her shoulder in his large palm. it feels deceiving and twisted. The morning was soon afternoon while everyone adjusted in the small space. They seemed stone and lifeless, like porcelain dolls. Stiles follows Derek's heavy pull to the kitchen table where there's one seat pulled out with a medium plate of food in front of it. "You need breakfast." Derek whispers in her ear. Stiles knows they can hear him, so why whisper. Why bother? Then a small warm feeling fluttered in her chest. Like an empty, dark room filling with light. They can hear him, but he whispered for her.

  Instead of being angry, instead of jumping down Derek's throat for thinking about her. She should just, "Thank you." she whispered back. Derek from the corner of her eye nodded. Stiles took her appointed seat and began to eat as Talia and her father took the other unoccupied seats at the dinner table. Stiles small breakfast was eaten in silence, Derek stood over her, not hovering, but watching. Talia glanced up every so often to what Stiles assumed was to look at Derek. when Stiles took her last bite and set her fork down that's when Talia took a breath and set her arms on the table. Her long, thin fingers intertwined. "It was me. Yes. I was born human, they kept my mother and myself apart as often as they could. Believing that the change would happen if I spent most of my time with the other wolflings in our pack." She explained, it was quiet and hurt. "Once I came of age, 15, and the change had not taken place. I was allowed my freedom. I was not the next alpha. It was clear to them that since I was without the gift, I was bred to be an emissary. My mark appeared after that."

  Stiles nods, she isn't sure why but it felt right. There's a heavy air around them, and Stiles is finding it harder to breath. Derek pulls a small chair out and sits beside Stiles, he takes her hand in his underneath the table. Talia notices, and frowns just long enough for Stiles to see it. Correcting her expression, Talia then sighs, "I met your mother,"  it was meant to hurt Stiles, and she knows it, "We loved each other. But not marriage love. She was my best friend and had been for many years. When our elders informed us that your mother was meant to be our Alpha, I lost," Talia's eyes weld as she paused for a moment. Stiles clenched her jaw and tried to breathe past the lump in her throat. "She was meant to be so much more then just that. I wanted her to be safe. That's all I wanted. And she was. Until she told me in secret that she was pregnant. With you." Talia gently twisted the last two words.

  Stiles knitted her brows, "I didn't kill my mother." Stiles grits out. "Don't blame your mistakes on me. My mother would have been fine. I would have had my mother -" The words hurt and her throat his burning. Derek squeezes her hand and shushes her. She wants to fight, wants to throw the table across the room. She wants to scream until all of their hearing is shot. But she doesn't. She sits there, with Derek's hand in hers, with his shushing in her ear. And she breathes.

  "I wasn't blaming you." Talia clears her throat, "You mother was supposed to be our alpha. I married a neighboring packs' alpha. Derek's father. I did it to protect my friend, I agreed that if I bared a wolf, they'd have their heir. If it'd keep her safe. Our condition was, if she bore a girl, our children would marry to keep the line of Emissaries and Alphas alive." Talia's expression then changes to something frightened, something long ago lost and alone. "When I became pregnant with, with my first child. she was wolfling. But tragedy took her from us. and three years later I was pregnant with Derek and Laura, my twins." Stiles makes a quick glance at Derek. But he remains motionless. "I bore my children before she was ever pregnant with you. Derek was next in line and when he was four, I believe, is when your mother told me she was with child. And my heart broke." Stiles was piecing together her mother's life and she could feel the heart break. Stiles was never meant to come into the world. The Emissary line was supposed to end with Talia.

  John, who silently listened, wept. Stiles met his softened face with red cheeks and watery eyes. Because he knew, he knew what was happening and still. To keep her safe, to keep her mother alive in their memories the way Stiles remembered her. He held it, he held it all behind the alcohol and the long shifts at the station. Sending Stiles away to live with her grandmother. John looked up, breathing harshly. Easy wasn't the word. Stiles wants it so badly to be easy. But its not.

  Talia shifts uncomfortably. "I, made an agreement believing your mother would never bare a child. She struggled, a lot. and it wasn't easy for your parents. She'd had multiple miscarriages. I gave myself hope that she'd never give her children the life mine were forced into." Stiles felt a surge in her spine, a painful surge that made her sit up straight. Her eyes watered and her throat tightened. Stiles looked at Derek, though his expression was vacant of any sadness. Stiles felt it. He didn't want this. He didn't want this as much as Stiles didn't. But they don't have a choice. Derek, Derek chose Stiles when he didn't know they'd marry someday. Derek loved Stiles long before the bond was set and Stiles was mean to him. Mean to him. All he's ever done was love her. "I'm sorry." Stiles whispers to him. Derek, who was sitting unmoved next to her, looks at her. Stares at her and his eyes open for a minute before the composer is back. He gives her hand a small squeeze.

  "I, I can't hear anymore. I would like to leave the room." Stiles takes a shaky breath. Talia nods at her and John goes to stand up with her, but Stiles waves him down. She just wants a minute to sit in her room. and remember her mother the was she was before the books. Before the muteness, before the job at Derek's hotel. Stiles wants to remember her mother in a sunflower sun dress in the middle of summer in a wheat field. Her cherry brown hair in two loose braids, the freckles on her shoulders. Her laugh, her round eyes squinting back at her when she smiled. That was her mother. Healthy, alive and vibrant. forgiving and gentle. Stiles missed her mother. Stiles missed her mother and it hurt that she wasn't here to explain all of this to her. because Stiles would't hate Derek. Stiles wouldn't want to leave and never come back.

  Walking up the flight of stairs, Stiles has a small realization.

  She can leave. No one will think twice to check on her if she's in her room for a few hours. They've never checked before. What will change? Stiles gets down the hallway and to her bedroom. She gives one last glance around to make sure she's alone, walking into her room she shuts the door and locks it. Her window leads to the side yard. There are no windows and not doors. It was late afternoon, the clouds rolled in again and there was a light rain hitting her window. Stiles changed her leggings to black ones and grabbed her grey pull over hoodie. she slipped into some socks and her convers. she took a deep breath when she finished tying her shoes. She'll just leave. she'll leave. Stiles takes a quick look around her room. she grabs her phone, silencing it and putting it in her pocket. Stiles is on her knees on the small reading area at her window. Her fingers touch the glass of the window and she feels a shiver, like regret in her belly. but she shakes past it and pushes her window up and open. Carefully she climbs threw and shuts the window. She was thankful for all the times she'd jumped out her window to go to a party or two with Scott.

  She makes it to the ground and looks around once more. When she felt it was safe, she started jogging out toward the street. there was no exact place she was trying to get too. Staying hidden and away from her usual spaces was best. Stiles looked up and the rain was getting heavy. She pulled her hoodie over her head and put her hands in her pockets. it was cold, cold enough that she can see her breath. and Stiles felt the breeze on her warm cheeks. she needed to find somewhere to sit out the rain for awhile. walking, Stiles eventually found her way into town. There was a small coffee shop by a bookstore, Stiles remember telling Scott her mother always talked about taking her there. But never got the chance too. So Stiles heaves herself towards the shop.

  Inside, its quiet and cozy. Stiles could see the appeal. "Let me know if you need anything, Honey," Stiles pulls her hoodie down and meets the eyes of a smiling blonde. Stiles nods at her. She won't need anything, at least, she doesn't think so.

  "What time do you close?" Stiles asks.

  "11:30, want to wait out the rain?" she asks, Stiles gives her a small smile with a nod. "Yeah, we get a lot of those. It wasn't supposed to rain this much. But what can you do." she laughs and heads through some double doors. Stiles finds a seat somewhere in the back. She take in the dim lighting and all the log and brick on the walls around her. it was aspin, log cabin or something. It was small and quaint. Stiles rests her arms on the table and then her head. Staring out at the rain. it was quiet and Stiles wished that her thoughts were too.

  Stiles doesn't know how long she'd been there, it was long enough for her to fall asleep and feel an ache in her neck. "The rain stopped a little. Might be enough to get back to where you were headed." Stiles looks up, the waitress from earlier is cleaning tables beside Stiles. Stiles stretches painfully. looking around and out through the windows. It was dark. Stiles pulls her phone out and there they were. 40 missed calls from Derek. 13 text messages from Scott. 20 missed calls from John. Stiles rolled her eyes and got up from her chair.

  "Thank you. I'm sorry I fell asleep. I," Stiles pauses for a moment, "I haven't been sleeping well." the waitress just smiles at her in agreement. Stiles heads out of the small shop and pulls her hoodie back over her head. the rain only slowed a little. it was still pretty heavy. looking up to the dark and dim lit clouds that covered the sky, Stiles lets the rain hit her face.

  "Stiles!" it startles her, when she looks Derek is standing at the other end of the sidewalk. He's huffing, chest falling in and out, his breath making small clouds. He's drenched in rain. How long had he been out. Stiles stands there, looking at him. and Derek, it doesn't take him long to start walking towards her. Stiles thought for a moment. She could run. Derek's a predator, she couldn't out run him. but she could try. But then, as she noticed he was calmly walking towards her. he wasn't running. He was, quiet. Stiles wasn't afraid anymore. Derek got to her and Stiles stared up at him.

  "Walk me home." Stiles says.

  "its late, let's leave this place." Derek whispers, its raspy and Stiles sees the water falling in small droplets from his cheeks. She offers him a smile, it isn't big or small. but enough so that Derek could see it. He's towering, Stiles doesn't realize how much larger Derek is then her until this moment. Derek goes to take her hand, but Stiles turns to stand in front of him, an angry that she felt before was gone. A sadness she felt, was gone. the regret and hate she felt before were gone. She didn't know for how long, and all of that anxiety was lifted, she pushed herself up and towards Derek. When their lips touched Stiles was unexpectedly warm inside. Derek took a second to realize what was happening. When he did, he took hold of her arms and help support her. kissing her back deliciously. The kiss was savory and wet from rain and earthy from the wet soil just outside of town. Derek's clothes were soak and Stiles could feel it seep through her thick jacket. it was welcomed and she wasn't at all bothered by it. Pulling away Derek connected their for heads and Stiles could feel his body relax.

  "I love you." she whispers, Derek jerks up and looks at her. His eyes are slightly wide and he seems a little in shock, so Stiles says it again. "I love you," looking Derek in the eyes, Stiles gives him one gentle peck. "Walk me home." She says once more. Derek swallows harshly with a nod. He walks her home. the walk is long and quiet, because Derek is taking his time. pushing into Stiles and breathing in her air. Stiles doesn't know what the senses are for wolves, but she can appreciate Derek's musk mixed with the earthy smell of the fields on their way back into the suburbs.