Chapter Text
Year 2026
Stiles ran over in worry to the alpha as he roared from a severe injury.
“Shit!” the human cursed as he continued running desperately toward the center of the conflict.
The darkness of the moonless night set the eerie stage for a catastrophic war unfolding around him, where everything was engulfed in chaos, death, and flames.
His friends, family, and acquaintances were dying one by one under the invasion of creatures that at first appeared to be simple dragonflies with emerald, green wings and eyes.
And after a ritual performed by a twisted and malevolent person like the hunter Kate Argent, they ended up becoming the executioners of an entire city, with her being one of the first to die at the hands of these new beings that were now slowly spreading across the world.
A scratch from their poisoned claws meant a painful and agonizing death, regardless of whether you were a supernatural being or human. The only difference was the time it took for them to die.
As best he could, Stiles dodged the horrifying and numerous creatures of enormous, amorphous size, with sharp claws and fierce, soulless eyes—invincible, immortal beings whose only goal was to kill everything in their path.
Stiles’ skill had developed to the point where he was completely capable of going unnoticed. Being the most agile and fastest, he could dodge them one by one without any problem.
In the midst of an unexpected battle, Derek was injured by the claws of the monsters that attacked simultaneously.
Stiles managed to distract them with a homemade bottle bomb and was able to rescue the werewolf.
Both ran toward the only place still standing in the entire city of Beacon Hills.
The Hale vault, at the school.
With the human’s help, the wolf was able to sink his claws into the entrance and make his way inside.
The structure was damaged, but it was enough for two people who had been living there for a considerable time, as it contained basic items like sleeping blankets, some essential kitchen supplies, potions, and everything they could salvage that might be useful for survival.
Stiles made him sit down while he searched the shelves for the things needed to start treating his wound.
The cut looked deep and advanced in its necrosis, as a strange black substance mixed with greenish pus oozed from the wound.
“Leave it, Stiles…”
“Shut up and let me heal you.” Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat as his glassy eyes filled with tears. “I told you not to go… You’re an idiot…” His voice sounded broken, and he tried with all his might not to sob while treating him.
“You know it has no cure…”
“No. You don’t know that.”
“Stiles… The nine herbs don’t work… Nothing works once the dragonfly venom enters your system… you know that…”
“I survived the cut… You will too.”
Derek’s grip on the human’s wrist loosened, and, extending his hand with a weak movement, he traced the mark on the brunette’s neck with his fingertips, in the shape of claws that now appeared pinkish and old.
“Just… come here…” He gave a small, weary smile. He had a high fever, though he looked pale and was sweating coldly.
Stiles shook his head, biting his lower lip until it bled.
“Don’t do this to me, Sourwolf… You’re all I have left… You can’t… just leave me…” He couldn’t help but sob as he continued covering the wound futilely with the potion, his hands trembling.
“Stiles… Please…” The gentle plea of the werewolf shattered his soul into pieces.
Seeing Derek so fragile was killing him.
The human closed his eyes, letting his tears fall, as he sat between the werewolf’s legs, hugging him and burying his face in his neck.
Derek let out a small huff as he wrapped his arms around the human, cradling him.
When it all began, they faced the problem as a pack, but due to their lack of knowledge about how lethal and urgent the situation was, they died one by one.
But after thorough investigation and much bloodshed, he discovered the truth.
Kate Argent had stolen something important before setting fire to the Hale mansion—the first emerald dragonfly.
And apparently, the only thing he could find out thanks to a vision from Lydia was that the one obtained was from Derek Hale… The problem is that the werewolf either didn’t remember or was completely unaware that the first emerald dragonfly was among his family’s heirlooms…
The vision wasn’t clear; it only pointed to Derek as the one responsible.
A brick more in the wall of guilt that had built up in the heavy heart of the werewolf, even though he didn’t exactly know how it had happened in the first place…
They researched every book, asked all their contacts, and there was no way to find a cure. They even tried to find a way to contain the dragonfly invasion, but they were impossible to defeat or capture.
Months passed, and everything fell to pieces; the world had become a battlefield, and tragedy was the daily bread.
Except for Stiles, the only living being who survived certain death at the claws of these creatures. But there was no longer a Deaton or a Lydia to help him find a cure, using him as a guinea pig.
This revelation had come later than it should have, and Stiles couldn’t help but blame himself for it.
For months, it had been just the two of them against the world, surviving as a team, watching each other’s backs.
The months turned into years, forming a bond that had always had the potential to be more than it was in the beginning.
“I liked you from the moment I saw you in the forest… did you know?” Stiles said, brushing his lover’s neck with the tip of his nose.
“Yes, your arousal could be smelled from miles away.” Derek stroked the brown-haired man’s hair smoothly, a small, amused smile on his face.
“In my defense, I was a hormone-driven teenager who, thanks to you, discovered that girls weren’t the only thing on the menu.”
“Don’t blame me, you were an unbearable brat.”
“I’m adorable.”
“I’ll correct myself—you’re unbearable.”
“Oh come on, Sourwolf… I know it took you a while to realize it because you’re a bit slow, and the end of the world had to happen too… but you finally realized that you love me, unbearable and all.” Stiles bit his lower lip, trying to smile, but his glassy eyes showed just how hard this was for him.
Derek cupped his cheeks and kissed him gently. “That’s true.”
“If you weren’t literally dying, I’d ask if you’re feeling okay.” Stiles rested his hand on the wolf’s, leaning into his touch.
“I was also attracted to you… maybe not as graphically as you were at first, but I always felt that… I don’t know… we had a different kind of bond. We weren’t friends, but we were a pack. By the time I realized it, you had already gotten under my skin, and I was trusting you in a ridiculously deep way, making you my anchor…”
Derek gently pressed his forehead against the humans, and he let out a small sob followed by a smile.
“Then… why didn’t you come looking for me?”
“I… couldn’t do to you what Kate did to me… When you became an adult, I intended to talk to you… But I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t…”
“…Whatever you would have said, I would have said yes, silly wolf…”
“You don’t know that—sexual attraction isn’t always what makes you connect with someone…”
“So this is your way of basically telling me that I don’t attract you and that you only want a platonic relationship?”
“If that were true, we wouldn’t have done it on every available surface in this horrible vault and in all the places we went…”
“Nice memories…” Stiles closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”
“You’re going to heal… Because you’re Derek Hale, you always find a way to cheat death, no matter what…”
“Not this time… I’m a little tired, darling…”
Stiles kept his eyes closed, squeezing his eyelids slightly as tears rolled down his cheeks and disappeared along the edge of his jaw.
“Derek… don’t joke about those things, they’re in poor taste, man.” he sobbed.
“Look at me,” the werewolf requested.
Stiles opened his eyes and looked into his eyes—the same ones that now gazed at him with adoration and tenderness.
Derek gently cupped his cheeks and stroked his cheekbones with his thumbs, wiping away the traces of tears.
“I love you.”
“No.”
“Please…”
“We won’t say ‘I love you’ like some disgusting goodbye. Rot, Derek.” Stiles shook his head, biting his lip and sobbing.
“I’m sorry for not telling you more often…”
“Then live, and tell me every day from now on…” Stiles looked at him pleadingly.
Derek was breathing above him; he didn’t have much time left, and they both knew it.
“I’ve always liked your name more than your nickname… Although I know… Your mother was the only one with the privilege of calling you that… Can I call you Mica?”
“I’ll let you call me that in the morning, big guy…” Stiles held the werewolf’s hands.
“…Let’s… have children… With your eyes, nose, and intelligence… and my… last name…” Derek was delirious.
Stiles’ smile looked just as broken as his heart. He stroked his hair, leaning the older man’s body toward his own so he could rest his face on his shoulder, holding him tighter in an embrace.
“How would we name them?” The human’s voice was broken.
“Eli… for a boy… Talia or Claudia for a girl… D… does that… sound… good to you?” he asked, at the peak of his fevered delirium.
“That sounds beautiful, my love…”
Derek, sounding tired, said, “Kiss me.”
Stiles gently nudged him and kissed him softly on the lips.
“Don’t cry too much…”
“I won’t make you promises I can’t keep…”
“I love you, Mica…” the wolf whispered with his last breath.
“And I love you, Sourwolf…” Stiles’ voice broke completely, as his muffled sobs shattered the last of his spirit while he held his lover’s body in his arms.
Thick tears traced the same path down his cheeks without stopping, as the sound of the rain accompanied the bitter, painful cries of the village’s last survivor.
Minutes passed, hours, days—Stiles no longer cared. He didn’t stop stroking his beloved’s hair, who lay dead in his arms. He had nothing left in this world.
“Well, look at that… The last living human…” a voice spoke beside him.
But Stiles didn’t even turn around—what was the point? If he had to die, so be it; he didn’t have a single damn reason left to keep breathing. If a supernatural being wanted to tear his heart out, he would gladly open his arms.
“Hey… I’m talking to you…”
The creature leapt gracefully in front of him to get his attention, perching on a shelf to reach his height. It was a black cat with bright violet eyes.
“Oh… I see… Your friend died.”
“He’s not my friend…” The brown-haired man’s voice was so hoarse it could be mistaken for a growl.
How long had it been since he’d spoken? He didn’t even remember the last word he had uttered… Was he already dead? How much longer until he would die?
The cat tilted its head. “Was this wolf your companion?” it asked with genuine curiosity, but without malice.
Stiles didn’t answer.
“This world is a mess… The dragonflies have taken over everything, infecting both the human world and the supernatural world…” The cat began to walk along the shelf, but received no response from the freckled man in front of him.
“Tell me, human… if there’s a chance to save the world, would you take it?”
Stiles looked at him, his eyes empty and his face gaunt and exhausted. He was despair personified.
“…There’s no one left to save…”
“Maybe not now… but perhaps you could prevent it if I take you to the past.”
Stiles’ dead eyes showed a faint glimmer of interest. “The past?”
The cat ascended.
“With the little power I have left, I could take you to the origin of all this, boy, so you can prevent it…”
“Who are you?”
“I am Sand, the guardian of the seven Nemed trees. I protect the balance of the world.”
“Well, what a guardian…” Stiles replied sharply, unrestrained. “Why decide to show up only now?” A man with nothing left to lose could have a tongue sharper than a hunter’s dagger.
The cat laughed. “I don’t intend to explain my duties to a human, especially since you wouldn’t be able to understand them.”
“Then you’re just a charlatan.”
The cat’s eyes glowed an even brighter violet.
“I simply have more important matters to attend to… so, are you going to do it or not?”
“What’s the catch?” Stiles squinted, suspicious.
“No catch. It’s a one-way trip—there’s no return. And if you succeed, it’s likely you’ll vanish along with any trace of your existence in this time. Are you okay with that?”
Stiles stared at him silently for a few seconds. Then he lowered his gaze toward the man who seemed to be “sleeping” in his arms.
“Will I be able to save him?” he asked, not taking his eyes off his lover.
“If everything goes well, yes… So, what do you say we finalize the details, boy?”
“Let’s do it.”