Work Text:
Stiles never had trouble keeping up with his pack. Not once in the last two years has he failed to keep up with them, follow through with them no matter what. Most of the time he’s ahead of them, actually, sorting things out before they have. He’s human, doesn’t have the invincibility complex most of the betas have at first, so he always knows his weaknesses. Sometimes Derek thinks he’s the strongest member of the pack; it’s part of why he’s so in love with the boy.
Stiles has never had trouble running with his wolves, so over the last two years they’ve kind of forgotten just how breakable he is. That fact is going to haunt Derek for the rest of his life.
He doesn’t shut down, doesn’t lock himself away in his room to sit with his ghosts. He’s got a pack to run, betas that need his guidance now more than ever. They’re all hurt and confused, and it’s making them act out, lose control. Keeping a firm hand on them is the most important thing right now. Derek is twenty-six, and he’s been through enough that he knows how to keep going. If he spends most of his time with the scent of blood in his nose, and Stiles’ voice in his ear, no one else needs to know.
Stiles dies brave and bloody on Halloween, and Derek hates how much he would’ve liked the irony.
***
November first Sheriff Stilinski leaves town. He tells his co-workers that there’s a family emergency, that he needs to leave town for a while to take care of an ailing relative. One of his deputies takes over his office while he’s away and no one seems to blink.
There’s no announcement of Stiles’ death, no obituary or funeral or mourning of any sort. Beacon Hills moves on and no one seems to know the kid passed away. It hurts.
Sometimes Derek wants to tear the town apart because people should be heartbroken, people should be crying in the streets because Stiles is gone. He’s dead and he’s not coming back. He doesn’t understand why the Sheriff would leave like that, why it’s being kept a secret. The pack whines and skulks, and more often than not they’re all clinging to each other in a mess of blankets and pillows on his living room floor. He tells them to keep the secret, though, because it’s not their place. Stiles may have been their pack-mate, but the Sheriff is his father. He’ll let the town know when he’s ready.
Derek gets his act together and jumps through the hoops to start training to be a deputy. He volunteers at the station and learns not to wince at the way Stiles’ scent seems to be ingrained into the building. It’s hard, but he gets small updates on the Sheriff. Nothing big, nothing concrete, but he knows the man is healthy, that the secret of Stiles’ death is still being kept.
He hopes his boyfriend would be proud of him for not running away.
***
Christmas is quiet. As is boxing day and New Year’s Eve. Pretty much the entire month of December is a subdued one for the pack. They spend the holidays with their families, but the rest of their time is spent together at the Hale house. They’d been starting to rebuild it before Stiles died, and everyone agrees they can’t stop.
A tree goes up in the corner of the living room, the tallest one they can find and they all work together to decorate it. The room has high ceilings, and Stiles had been giddy at the thought of how big their tree would be. He had loved the holidays and they try to make it what he would’ve wanted.
Melissa, the only non-pack person to know what happened, sends sugar cookies with Scott who quietly tells them stories about how he and Stiles always used to help her. Everyone eats one, and then another, and they’re all gone by the end of two days. Lydia barrels into the house one morning, a look of determination on her features. By nighttime the house looks like something out of storybook, with Stiles’ tree the highlight of it all.
Erica finds a batman tree topper, and no one bothers to hide their tears.
***
January passes and then it’s February and Derek spends most of the month with his fists clenched. It’s always been a hard month, that time in between winter and spring where the weather can’t make up its mind. He’s never liked February, and it’s even worse this year.
Valentine’s day is tough. He spends most of the day in bed, curled around a pillow and trying to remember exactly how Stiles felt in his arms. Around four he finally drags himself out and exercises until his legs shake. All of the single members of the back show up around nine and they go to a bar in the middle of town, trying to drink one another under the table.
Danny regales them all with tales of some of his truly horrendous dates, and Derek almost pities the kid. He’s going to have to try and find him someone worthwhile, because Danny is a nice guy, and Stiles had always liked him. It wouldn’t be at all surprising to find out that Stiles had been working that angle already, and Derek makes a mental note to check in with his drag queen friends. If Stiles is - was ever working on something without the pack knowing, those girls were the ones he went to.
It’s ass-o’clock in the morning when they finally drag themselves back to the Hale house, intent on crashing together just in case. It’s nice, and Derek feels warm and happy and he presses a sloppy kiss to Erica’s cheek before praising Lydia and her ability to find ways of getting even werewolves drunk. There’s a round of huzzahs that follow and Derek laughs again as his pack find places to crash.
He stumbles up the stairs to bed, barely remembering to brush his teeth so they’re not totally revolting in the morning. It’s a struggle to get out of his clothes but he manages it and collapses into bed, listening to his family settle downstairs.
Burying his face in the pillows he hopes Stiles will come to bed soon.
***
Scott proposes to Allison in March. Derek is ecstatic for his beta and kisses Allison on the forehead, because Stiles was always encouraging him to be more affectionate. He knows it was the right move when Allison blushes and hugs him, thanking him for letting her be pack.
Once again Lydia swoops in, taking over the Hale house in the name of an over-the-top engagement party. They’re the first of their friends to take the plunge, and everyone is stumbling over each other trying to learn the etiquette and protocol behind it. Scott can’t stop grinning like an idiot.
Less than a week later same-sex marriage is legalized in California and the pack goes wild. Danny tries to brush it off, avoid a celebration because he’s not with anyone, doesn’t want all the attention on him. Everyone knows this is important to him though, what this means for him. Jackson’s the one to plan the party this time and Derek manages to stay for an hour before he makes his escape, struggling to catch his breath.
He can practically see Stiles’ grin, can hear the way his heart would pause before rushing ahead when he would look at Derek, realize what this meant. Stiles had asked him once, voice teasing as he curled up at Derek’s side, if werewolves mated for life. He had pinched the boys side, told him to stop being an idiot. It had earned him a bright laugh and a wicked grin, Stiles quickly moving to lean over him.
“Maybe we’ll be the exception that makes the rule,” he’d said, voice still a running joke. Derek hadn’t been joking when he’d cupped his cheek and kissed him soft and slow, nuzzling at his jaw afterwards. “Maybe,” he’d said back.
Scott finds him a few hours later and Derek blinks back tears when he agrees to be the best man.
***
Everything falls apart on May 1st. They’re all in the woods not too far from the house, talking about this and that as they finish up their training for the day. Everyone’s there, and they’re all exhausted, when Derek sneezes.
It’s a small sneeze, and immediately the pack starts howling with laughter, teasing him about how delicate it was. He’s about to snap at them all when he feels his nose twitch, just a small little itch. Derek knows his body though, knows his woods, and he’s immediately on alert because something isn’t right.
Before anyone can react these little….things pop out of the woods. They look like some sort of gremlin or fairy hybrid, like something out of a book. They’re vicious though and the pack immediately form a circle to try and avoid having their backs open. Derek spares half a thought towards how good his pack has gotten, how strong they are now, before he focuses his attention on the creatures and trusts his betas to take care of themselves.
Whatever the monsters are, they’re quick and devious, darting in and out, catching them with long, sharp claws. There’s something magical to their scent though, something old and fragrant and Derek knows they’re in trouble.
“Stop!”
The things keep moving, laughing these high-pitched, childlike giggles. Derek is frozen in place though because he knows that voice, knows he must be facing some kind of shifter and that he’s going to have to watch Stiles’ body bleed again, this time at his hands.
“I said stop,” the thing that looks like his boyfriend says again, voice strong and determined. There’s an anger to it, and he marches out of the woods from the direction of the road. It looks so damn much like his Stiles, his beautiful boyfriend, and Derek wants to howl. “These woods belong to the wolves, they aren’t up for grabs, so get out.”
One of the things speaks then, utters some gibberish while the others giggle and titter. Fake-Stiles glares and he even smells like his Stiles, acts like him. When he opens his mouth though it’s the same gibberish coming out. Derek vaguely hears Lydia say something about Gaelic, but he doesn’t care, he can’t care because the gremlins are gone and fake-Stiles is watching him.
“Derek,” it says, eyes pained and Derek snarls as he takes a step forward.
“I don’t know what you are, but if you don’t leave I’m going to rip-“
“My throat out, I know,” it says, and the scent of longing and guilt and regret is so strong some of his betas whimper. Derek isn’t going to be taken in though, isn’t going to put up with something pretending to be his Stiles. “It’s me, I promise. Just let me explain everything, please, sourwolf.”
He howls at that, grabbing the thing and slamming it into a tree. Everything is red, all the pain and anger he’s had over the last six months is pouring out and he doesn’t want to control it. It won’t take anything to kill this creature, to rip its heart out. He just hopes it reverts back to its normal form, because he doesn’t know if he can survive watching Stiles’ body die again.
“Derek,” a voice sounds behind him and he hesitates, because that’s the Sheriff. He hears his betas shifting, smells the confusion. “Derek, it’s him. It’s Stiles. Just put him down and we’ll explain everything.”
“Please, kitten, I swear it’s me.”
Derek doesn’t know if it’s the Sheriff’s presence, or the use of the nickname but he lets Stiles drop. He can hear Stiles’ voice the first time he called Derek by the petname, the way tears started streaming down his cheeks as he howled with laughter. It had been Mrs. Stilinski’s petname for the Sheriff, and Stiles had thought it was a hilarious joke. He’d never used it in front of anyone before, though, had kept it just between them. Just for them.
Stumbling back he lets himself fall to the forest floor, flinches slightly when Stiles kneels in front of him and puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “It’s me, kitten, I’m back. I’m so sorry, but I’m back. I’m never leaving you again,” he promises, and Derek can’t even find it in himself to be ashamed of the sob he lets out when Stiles hugs him.
He clings to his boyfriend, shaking, and hopes this isn’t a trick.