edited: 5/14/20
edited: 9/5/23
The monotonous beeping of the heart monitor was a sharp contrast to the wild beating in Derek's chest.
They had all rushed to her room as soon as they heard. Allison had left her side only long enough to give the news to Scott, the first person she had encountered, who then spread the word to the rest of the pack who didn't hesitate to drop what they were doing to get to their friend.
Four days had gone by since Derek and Stiles reunited. Three days had gone by since Derek and Stiles holed themselves up in his study and bared their gaping souls to each other in all their bleeding glory. Two days had gone by since Derek no longer felt the burning agony he had been tortured with for weeks now due to the constant fear that he wasn't good enough for Stiles.
He hadn't been troubled by his insecurities, not since Stiles had quieted them with his assurance that he wasn't going anywhere. For once, Derek let himself believe it. He was going to make their relationship work, he wasn't going to lose Stiles to his past.
For two days, things had been good. Things had been surprisingly good. It was as if someone had taken Derek out of his real life and traded the horrors for something rich and beautiful and much more than Derek deserved. His happiness was due to the ethereal creature who now clung to his hand like Derek was an anchor.
Derek marveled at it even now. He never thought he'd be lucky enough to have someone stand by him the way Stiles did, and it was as if the pair were living in their private bubble. But all bubbles popped, and Derek and Stiles didn't live an easy life.
The couple had been in the bath, getting ready to go to bed when the knock at the door came. A selfish part of Derek wished it never had. He wished he could still be surrounded by warm water and candlelight. His hands skimming along Stiles's stomach as the boy relaxed in Derek's arms, content to let Derek wash him as he dozed. But the knock had come, and Derek was thankful for it.
He had tried to insist Stiles stay in the bath, but Stiles was Stiles. He had all but laughed in Derek's face at the suggestion, and had already been throwing on one of Derek's t-shirts before the man could do anything to stop him.
The Alpha had tried to be firm with Stiles, but admitted he hadn't tried as hard as he could have. Stiles was pack now; Stiles was family. He had a right to this the same amount they all did. With urgency clipping their heels, the two had dressed quickly and left. The imaginary world Derek and Stiles had lived and loved in came crashing down around them in broken shards of light.
Nothing would be the same after this.
Lydia was waking up.
Stepping into her recovery room felt like stepping into another universe. Where outside in the hall the pack had been frantic, the need for revenge fresh on their minds as they raced to their friend, inside time seemed to stop. Silence blanketed the walls. The smell of lilac danced around them like fairy dust, though it was daisies that sat in a bulbous glass vase on the bedside table.
In the middle of it all lay Lydia. Her hair fanned around her like a crown of writhing flames, her hands were folded gently over her midriff, her eyelashes kissed her freckled cheeks. She was glass to touch.
Sensing her entourage, Lydia's nose twitched.
Her brows began to furrow as she roused from her sleep, her lips parted to take a breath. The room balanced on a precipice, waiting for the last gust of wind to push them over the edge.
Lily green eyes blinked open.
"Lydia," Stiles whispered at Derek's side.
The room erupted into chaos.
Allison was gripping onto Lydia's hand like a lifeline. She was trembling in relief and Derek knew that if Lydia had slipped away in all of this, Allison would have as well.
Isaac was taking the initiative and filling a glass of water for Lydia in Allison's moment of remission. It was then that Erica all but threw herself over Lydia in her enthusiasm to reconcile with her closest friend. Boyd and Scott were smiling their relief, and Stiles was quiet.
A tear slid down the boy's face.
Derek could read the guilt crushing him, like he wanted to celebrate the reunion as much as the rest of them, but thought it was his fault Lydia was there in the first place. It was a downright lie.
If anyone was to blame it was Derek. This was a burden only Derek could carry, but Derek didn't have the luxury of convincing Stiles of that right now. Lydia, for all that she was a wolf in sheep's clothing, looked entirely overwhelmed by everyone rushing her. Her pleading eyes met Derek's, and who was he to deny her request.
The Alpha cleared his throat, and the room silenced for him, as if parting the sea. He sent a slight smile to Lydia, his only sign of affection, but a mirroring grin widened Lydia's face as well. She knew as they all did that Derek cared deeply for them, even if he couldn't always show it.
"It's good to see you, Lydia," Derek said.
"My pleasure," was her only reply.
Her voice was raw from sleeping for so long, and Derek felt Stiles flinch at his side, as if every word Lydia spoke was a direct bullet to his heart. He made a vow to talk to Stiles about his misplaced guilt, but for now he carried on.
"I want to thank you," Derek continued, "for everything you did for me that day, what you did for this pack. Your heroics won't go unnoticed, or unrewarded. You've proved what it means to be a part of this family, and what we stand for time and time again. I can't ask more from you."
Derek squeezed Stiles's hand, and took the plunge.
"But I have to."
Allison curled her lip at Derek. She stood from where she had been stuck in her seat as she doted over her lover.
Derek knew he would have to go through Allison. Lydia was hurt, and Allison would do anything to prevent that from happening again. But, he also knew that to protect his pack in the long run he'd be pushing them now. It was his job to see the big picture, to make the necessary sacrifices that would benefit them in the long run. He knew what he had to do, it didn't stop the betrayal in Allison's eyes from slicing through Derek's facade.
Allison moved to put Lydia behind her entirely. Her face was gaunt as if she hadn't eaten in days and her skin stretched tightly over her bones. A sharp anger lay in her eyes.
"You will do no such thing," she growled at him.
Two weeks ago Derek would have roared at her for so publicly defying him, two weeks ago he would have shredded her apart for such insurgence.
He wasn't who he was two weeks ago.
He knew he had Stiles to thank for that.
He wasn't going to fight Allison, not when her defiance stemmed from defending someone they both cared about.
"Allison-" he tried, but she was rearing for any sort of confrontation. She had been cooped up in here too long, her thoughts of revenge had consumed her and she needed release.
"No," Allison spat. She stepped into his space, hands already curling into fists anticipating the chaos she knew would ensue.
"I don't blame you for what happened to Lydia, I already told you that. But I won't let you put her in harm's way again. She just woke up, she just came back to me. Let her be Derek, let her have a moment before you force her to relive-"
"Alli," Lydia cut in.
She was the only one who could have. Derek almost wished she hadn't. Allison needed to let her anger out, she wouldn't be useful to him or Lydia like this. She needed a fight; Derek could give it to her.
Despite his wishes, Allison stopped in her rampage. She put her back to Derek as she turned to Lydia, as if Lydia was a siren and Allison was helpless to resist.
Derek understood the feeling. As much as he had tried to subtly put Stiles behind him the second he thought Allison might get physical, the boy had his hands splayed across Derek's back in a silent sign of support. As if he knew this was a battle Derek had to fight for himself, but it wasn't one Stiles would let him fight alone.
It was as Allison settled back in her seat next to Lydia, attention focused solely on her girl that Lydia spoke again.
"As much as you have my heart I won't let you speak for me," Lydia said, intertwining their hands until their fingers were firmly knotted together.
Reluctantly, Allison nodded. She would always let Lydia make her own decisions, even if she disagreed with them. Lydia's focus landed on Derek.
"I can tell you whatever you need, Alpha," she said.
It was times like these that formality in their group was necessary. Derek was their Alpha. His job was to keep them safe. They could be damn sure that he would follow through with that vow.
But before Derek could inquire further on the matter, a voice spoke from the doorway.
"Glad to see you're awake, Lydia," Peter drawled as he stepped into the room, "thanks for the invite to this little party."
Derek felt Stiles tense behind him, and Derek was forcibly reminded of his boy's first interaction with the man. Mottled bruises flashed in Derek's mind, and he wouldn't deny he stood taller, daring Peter to cross a line. It seemed Allison was thinking the same as she straightened, and scorned.
"Glad to be awake, Peter," Lydia said in a sugar sweet tone, dripping in malice, "no help to you, I'm sure."
The blond man chuckled, piercing eyes scanning the room. Thankfully they didn't catch on anyone for too long.
"No need to get excited," he leered, "I'm not here to start trouble. Just checking in on family."
The word was hurled as an insult, and it found its way right in between Derek's chest bone.
Peter had always made his displeasure known when it came to Derek re-growing the pack. The Hale Pack had always been built on blood ties, family ties, rarely were outsiders invited in. To commission a new pack, made entirely of what Peter saw as foreigners, had been one of the main causes of the jagged rift that now lay between them. Derek would always have a spot in his heart for the old days, of course he would, but to survive they had needed to make changes. He didn't regret his decision, and he never would, not when it had given him a new family.
Peter was still lingering, waiting for someone to take the bait. Derek was content to stay silent until Peter realized his efforts had failed, but there was someone else who wasn't going to let Peter get away unscathed.
"You have no right to belittle them," Stiles said, stepping out from behind Derek, wrath vibrating through him.
Part of Derek reared its head at Stiles putting himself in the slightest hint of danger, but this was a test. This was an interaction Stiles needed to have on his own. If Derek was ever going to control his fear, this was a step in the right direction.
Peter, on the other hand, looked ready to pounce on Stiles.
"I have the right to do whatever I want," Peter countered, beginning to circle Stiles as if looking for the most impactful way to strike him down.
It was a particularly nasty skill of his.
Derek was on his toes, eager to step in before Peter could do anything. Still, he was trying to wait as long as he could in order for Stiles to take the lead.
"I'm the only one here with any claim to this pack," Peter sneered, "I'm the only one that actually belongs here. Not even your goddamn Alpha has that right anymore. The moment he defiled the Hale name he lost all claim. I'm the one this pack belongs to. I'm the one you should be fearing. I'm the one who should be-"
Stiles slapped him. Derek smirked as Peter doubled over, he knew what that slap felt like.
Pride surged through Derek. Stiles had caught Peter off guard. Peter had looked at Stiles like he was a slab of meat, ready to be torn into. He had thought himself so physically superior that Stiles was no threat. Peter should know by now, they all should, that Stiles was a predator. It was a truth even Derek forgot at times.
Stiles held his ground as Peter righted himself, dabbing at his mouth where blood was welling. Even as Stiles was met with the full weight of Peter's glare, he didn't back down. Stiles wouldn't be cowed, and Derek's heart swelled to an immeasurable size. The Alpha felt that now was the time to step in, to show Peter that if he bothered a hair on Stiles's head, Derek would kill him.
Derek moved forward, hand on the small of Stiles's back, returning the gesture Stiles had given him earlier. Derek was there, Stiles would never be alone.
Derek could see when Peter's calculations reached their final answer. He wasn't winning.
Not against Derek, not here.
"What are you waiting for?" Stiles snapped at Peter, "Get out."
Peter needed no more persuasion. He spit at Stiles's feet once, blood pooling on the floor, and then left the room with his tail between his legs. Derek felt the shift in Stiles as soon as his uncle was gone. It was as if Stiles thought he should be afraid in the aftermath, and instead felt nothing but acceptance. Derek kissed the top of his head before leading him gently back to the foot of Lydia's bed.
"As much as I enjoyed that," Derek said, "You should have let him be, he isn't worth it."
"I couldn't," Stiles replied, "not when he was insulting you."
His gaze left Derek's to address the pack still around them.
"All of you."
Derek followed Stiles's gaze to their friends, and was honored by the sight before him. Though they were no longer on the defense, every single one of his able pack mates were strategically armed. Derek realized it wasn't just him Peter had feared to fight, it was the entire pack he knew he couldn't beat.
"We protect our own," Isaac said, sheathing his weapon.
Derek shot him a grateful look, but he realized no one was looking at him. They were looking at Stiles. His pack hadn't protected Stiles because he was important to Derek, they had protected Stiles because he was important to them. Knowing it was more emotion then his team may have ever seen out of him, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind and placed a kiss behind his ear.
"They're proud of you," Derek whispered as the room started to buzz with noise once more, "so am I."
Stiles blushed.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was hours later. Morning had started to break over the horizon. Derek was sitting in his office, as he so often did.
A tumbler rested in his right hand, while his left carded through his hair. The formality he had shown his pack in the beginning of the night was all but gone, instead his shirt was mostly unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he was trying to drown himself in a drink that couldn't suppress the truth he had heard tonight.
After Stiles had his go at Peter, and the pack had settled once more, Lydia had told her story. It was a story that had chased Derek away from his bed.
He wished he could be with Stiles now.
After they had left Lydia's bedside, both caught up in their own heads with the information they had been given, Derek had escorted Stiles back to their room. He had let Stiles pull away from his grasp, and when the boy had questioned it, Derek's only excuse was that he had paperwork that couldn't wait. Stiles had seen through the lie, but there must have been something on Derek's face that kept Stiles from pressing the issue. Instead, the boy kissed Derek's cheek and whispered his love. Derek had almost stayed because of it, having no doubt that was Stiles's play all along, but the Alpha had forced himself to go.
There was a pit in his stomach. A dark pit where black cobwebs whistled of their own accord and wrapped up anything good in their grasp before choking the life out of it. That pit was overpowering. Derek was being pulled under, and he couldn't let Stiles submerge with him. It was why he had locked himself away all night, mulling over the information from Lydia and drowning it out with liquor when it got to be too much.
"There were two men, but their faces were covered.."
Even now Lydia's voice still rang in his head.
"All I could see were their eyes, a pair was blue, the other brown..."
Derek blinked hard, trying to will away the unforgettable picture painted in his head.
"They met up with a woman..."
Derek thought he was going to be sick.
"I'm pretty sure none of them had a soul. If at one point they did, it was long gone by now..."
"It's the Argents, isn't it."
That voice was real, the voice familiar. Derek took a deep breath now that his chest allowed it.
In the doorway of his room stood a girl. A girl with golden hair, and a ruthless smile. A girl with a wicked voice, and a body that entrapped Derek completely-
No.
A girl did stand in the doorway, but it wasn't the girl that appeared in his nightmares.
"Can't sleep?" Derek asked, voice hoarse from lack of use.
Allison padded her way further into his office. She was wrapped in a shawl, her brown hair lay lax below her shoulders.
"Don't change the subject, Derek. Tell me the truth," she said as she pulled out the chair across from his and sat.
She reached over the desk, plucking the glass from his hand and finished it off for him.
"You always did keep the good stuff for yourself," she said, wincing, then poured herself a shot.
Derek only smiled, but even then it didn't reach his eyes.
"Tell me the truth," Allison said, not giving him room to escape this conversation. Derek found that he didn't want to.
Allison understood. She knew what it was like to have everything she loved taken away by those monsters. She knew what it was like to be manipulated and tortured by them, to have her insides carved out for their pleasure. And Allison, just like Derek, had survived them. Had found something worth living for in the aftermath. Now the Argents were threatening to take that all away, again.
"It's them," he relented, remembering how he had once gone to her for reassurance that it wasn't who they feared it to be.
Now it was her looking for him to say it was.
"Who else knows," she asked.
She knew him too well.
"Just Stiles," he responded.
Allison's hand went tight against the drink in her hand.
"When Lydia was describing them I-I knew then," Allison said, "even if you didn't tell me, I knew who it was. Too many details added up, especially when compared to Isaac's and Stiles's accounts of what happened to them. But to hear her describe them, to hear the defeat in her voice..."
She trailed off, needing a moment to control herself. Derek found himself filling the silence.
"I tried to keep Stiles away from it all," he said, "I tried everything to protect him, to keep him out of their hands, to make sure they never knew about him. But everything I did went wrong. Lydia got hurt in the process, and now Stiles has a flaming target painted on his back. They'll use them to get to us, and the only reason they know about them is because of me."
Derek plucked up the courage to look away from where his hands were now splayed on the desk. If he was going to admit his failures, he was going to give Allison the honor of looking her in the eyes.
"This isn't going to be easy," Derek said, "This is going to be war, and war involves sacrifices. I need you to understand that. I need you to be on my side."
Allison studied his face, as if deciding whether or not to trust him.
"I understand," she relented, "you were right today, we needed this information. It couldn't wait. I think a part of me knew the truth and wasn't ready to face it. I trust you, Derek. The only person I would stand with in this war is you."
With that Allison stood from her seat and turned to leave.
"Allison, I'm sorry," Derek said, apologizing for past mistakes and the mistakes he might be forced to make in the future.
Allison didn't turn around again, but her answer echoed.
"Me, too."