3 Years Later

Good. If that's how Derek was going to describe things, he would've said that they were good. That the present state of his life and of his pack, was as best as it could be. That the various roads they had led themselves down had been worth it. But that had not been easy. No, by no means had it been easy.

There were many trials after Stiles' release from the hospital. He was shaky. Jittery. On edge and ready to blow a fuse at the slightest provocation. Derek in no way blamed him for it. Horrific torture tended to hurt one in ways that cut deeper than flesh. It was a pain that would leave a scar on Stiles' soul for the rest of his life. All Derek could do was be there. And he was.

Through every nightmare. Every panic attack. Every day in which Stiles couldn't be Stiles. The days where the darker parts of him were just a bit too strong. And strong they were. There was a shadow across his mind. A darkness, if you will. One that showed every so often. Just to remind them that it was still here. That it wasn't going away. That Stiles was still and would forever be healing.

But it didn't come without its advantages. Stiles, for all he was worth, hated to lose. And in some sick, twisted way, he felt that he had lost. That being captured and tortured was some manner of a failure. That he needed to get stronger. Derek, as well as the others, did their best to convince him otherwise. That he was already strong. But as Stiles always did, he loved proving people wrong.

He learned, studied day and night. Everything he could about the world that was now their own. About magic and werewolves and life. About all the things that made sense and none. He was frighteningly good at it. Much to no one's surprise. Derek was in awe of him. The way it seemed to be so effortless. The way that he managed to grow each and every day. He could only hope to match him.

He trained the betas, day and night. Teaching them what it meant to be pack. What it meant to be a werewolf. He taught them how to fight and how to survive. They were as good as Stiles. Learning new and more creative techniques every day. Progressing at a rate Derek didn't know was possible. And a good thing to. For there were those who made sure that they used them. Not that they always worked.

The first pack that came for them was numerous but uncoordinated. Their only strength being numbers. Nothing else. But there were people that they needed to protect. Those that they needed to keep safe. It wasn't as if they could rage out in the streets. Hacking and clawing and slashing as they saw fit. That made things more difficult for them.

The other pack didn't seem to care very much. They were willing to wage war wherever and whenever they saw fit. It was an ever present thorn in Derek's side. But eventually, they crossed a line that couldn't be ignored. They went straight for the humans of both packs. Or rather, what they thought were humans. Either way, it pissed him off.

Lydia was the first. The red haired vixen was seemingly innocuous. Not presenting herself as much of a threat. Much to their alpha's misfortune. Her scream was able to be heard from miles away. Even by humans. Up close and personal, it was enough to kill. And it did.

The first beta to die was found with his brain leaking out of his ears. Screaming for mercy as his life ended. Or so Derek was told. He wasn't there at the time of said death. All he knew is that those who retreated, did so with their tails between their legs. He was rather proud of Lydia for that. Not many outside of Hunters could take on multiple wolves at once and walk away unscathed. The next attack did not have the same results.

Derek got the call in the middle of the night. He was exhausted from his patrol duties. Taking some much needed rest. Though, when he was told that Allison was in the hospital. Nearly half of her leg torn from her body. He was there in record time. The others were present as well. Doing their best not to disrupt the ER waiting room. It was an ongoing effort.

The surgery took nearly ten hours. With three transfusions and at one point, her heart stopped. It was touch and go even afterwards. Chris was there, along with Victoria. Hands clasped together, their faces indifferent masks. The two of them still didn't like Derek very much. But tolerated his presence. Along with the others.

He knew better than to offer the bite. Which, if successful, would've healed the young woman. Minimalized her time recovering. So on and so forth. Allison was born a hunter. Would live as a hunter. And would die a hunter. There was no other path for her. No other choice. And Derek respected it. As did Scott and Isaac.

The three of them were odd. In a good way. Scott and Allison were back together. And with them, Isaac. Acting as some manner of an adhesive for the two of them. Keeping them together when the rest of the world wanted to tear them apart. Derek didn't exactly understand the nature of that kind of relationship. But he was happy for them. As happy as they could be.

The attack tested Scott and Allison in more ways than one. The latter hating her loss of independence during her recovery. Scott was overbearing and insufferable. Doing anything and everything for her. Much to the young woman's disdain. It wasn't that long before things came to a head, along with a screaming match.

Derek didn't make a point to get between them. Yes, they were pack. But their personal lives were their own. And he knew better than to interfere. In the end, they decided to wait till things settled down. To wait until the other pack was driven out till they decided anything. Which, as it turns out, happened sooner rather than later.

Arrogance was never one attribute Derek associated himself with. The other alpha, was very much the opposite. He actually tried to mount an assault on the house. The end result being his absolute and utter defeat. To no one's surprise. Derek's betas were well trained and worked as a team. Then there was of course, Stiles.

Allison had her bow. Lydia had her scream. Stiles, he had his sheer will and staggering brutality behind him. Mercy wasn't a concept he understood or even cared about. Not remotely. He came charging in. swinging a ridiculous metal bat. Cracking shins and skulls. The werewolves from the other pack didn't know what to think. Of this gangly human boy tearing through them with no fear or hesitation.

Derek silently smiled even as he tore through them. As he clawed and bit. He knew what Stiles was truly capable of. What he would do to protect his pack. What he would do to keep the one's he loved safe and away from harm. The others had underestimated him. And it the cost was by no means cheap.

At the end of it all, the other pack was on the hands and knees. Half dead and unable to fight back. Derek was more than ready to spare the alpha. Who was somehow still breathing. He wasn't the type to kill when someone offered surrender. But Victoria Argent didn't share that sentiment. Not by a longshot. She put three rounds in the man's head without blinking. Splattering his brains on the ground. Derek by no means blamed her. Not where Allison was concerned.

They buried the bodies of their enemies. Giving them a respectful burial. The others slunk away, knowing full and well that Beacon Hills would not be taken without a fight. And while Derek lost no lives on his end, they did not escape without their own form of damages.

Scott and Allison didn't patch things up. There was a rift between them. A void that couldn't be crossed or traversed. There was fault on both ends. Things that neither of them were willing to concede on. Where compromise simply wasn't an option. And while they had ended things, they at least ended them amicably. Derek could at least be grateful for that. Isaac was less so.

The young man made an excellent wolf because of his devotion. His loyalty. His trust. But he didn't have much of a stomach for violence. Yes, he would fight to defend himself and his pack. But at his core, he detested it. Which Derek understood. He was able to comprehend the man's reasoning. He had been pressed under the thumb of a violent man most of his life. Violence wasn't something he derived pleasure from. And there was nothing wrong with that.

When Scott and Allison ended their relationship, the young man was torn. The both of them were pack and friends. Two people he counted himself close to. He couldn't choose. For a long while, he cut himself off from both of them. Isolating himself away from them. Trying to understand what had happened. Things stayed that way for a while.

Eventually, either by fate or by happenstance, Scott found himself another girlfriend. Beacon Hills attracted all types. Much the rare and exotic. Somehow, a kitsune found its way into their lives. She was slender and raven haired. With a smile brighter than the sun. Kira was a young woman of clumsy joy and unmistakable charm. Derek didn't know why she came to Beacon Hills. He never bothered to ask. She just seemed to fit.

Scott and Kira progressed with each other quickly. Establishing themselves in a way that was easy and unforced. Allison wasn't the least bit sour about it. She had someone else as well. Somewhere along the way, she and Isaac became a thing. Transitioning to more than friends. With a gentle sort of grace. Fitting together without complication.

In the end, things even worked out for Boyd and Erica. The two of them finding their peace among all the madness of their world. The chaotic swirl of blood and insanity had finally settled for them to find themselves. Who they were. What they wanted. Which was each other. Derek was happy for them. He was happy for all of them. But none more so than himself.

For the first time, in a long time, he was truly happy. He had a pack of his own. One that he was proud to lay claim to. To call his betas his betas. To live and stand tall in a world that had once tried to destroy him. He found himself content and happy with the state of things. Especially Stiles.

The young man had been tried and tested. Broken and reshaped. Torn down and rebuilt. He was fragile and furious. Immovable and ever moving. He was human. Completely and utterly human. The foil to Derek in every way that he needed. A circumstance, wrapped in an enigma, topped with a sarcasm laced bow. He was Stiles. And he was here.

Derek didn't know at what point they found themselves again. When the horror of pain and broken bones became a murky memory. One day, he had realized it. With something as simple as Stiles' laugh. That genuine, beautiful laugh. The one that turned Derek's head. Making pause in heartbeat and breath. The one that made the world halt for a seemingly perfect second.

From there, things moved easily and without complication. The betas graduated from high school. Already adults in a world that still thought them to be children. Derek knew better. Being a werewolf, or a banshee, or a kitsune caused one to grow much quicker. In the mind at least. The lot of them were ahead of their years. Seeing farther into the every expanding horizon. They knew that they were here and that they were pack. But the future was funny in its ways.

College was always an option for Lydia. The young woman may appear vapid and empty headed. But she had a wit that transcended the layman. Able to have her pick of school as she saw fit. Jackson was less than pleased with her moving across the country. Derek was proud. He hugged her the day she left wishing her well. The others cried. Stiles was among them.

Scott, Isaac, and Allison all opted for local schools. Staying close to home. Where the dawns were familiar and the nights splendid. Erica and Boyd opted for a year off. Taking themselves along the road. Traipsing across the country. Finding wide open spaces and enjoying every minute of it. Stiles was, of course, Stiles.

The letter from the FBI's entry program came as no surprise. Stiles was quick witted. Strong. And relentless. Derek wasn't upset. On the contrary. He beamed with pride at the young man's accomplishment. Finding a joy he didn't know he had. The sheriff and Melissa both felt the same. There was some manner of bitter sweetness to it.

The program, of course, was on the other side of the country. Thousands of miles away. And no matter of calls or texts or Skype calls would change that. Derek knew it. Stiles knew it. But they didn't complain about it. Instead, they fucked.

They fucked slow and easy. Spending a night together before Stiles' departure. Enjoying the shape and warmth of each other's bodies. Tasting the salt and sweat on each other's skin. Engraining the vision of moonlight streaming in as far down in their memories as they could. Derek enjoyed every minute of it.

Come the morning, Stiles kissed him goodbye before leaving for the airport. It was a good kiss. One full of promises and hopes and dreams. A promise to come back. That they would see each other again and that no distance could take away what was theirs.

Some days were easier than others. Some days weren't. Derek loved his pack. And instinct demanded that they stay close. That they be together. That they all share and love and fight and laugh. But he knew the way of the world. That he would not consign them to being rooted in one place. Forever unable to move. Yes, it was hard. But it was worth it.

Stiles came home after what felt like an eternity. Hair long and shaggy. The beginnings of a beard sprouting around his face. Derek could no longer see him as young. He was a man in every sense of the word. In body. In mind. In soul. He was beautiful and sexy. And the first thing he did was jump into Derek's arms. Kissing him like a dying man gasping for air.

He didn't care that they were in the middle of an airport. That other people were watching and staring. Neither did Derek. But what he did care about, was when Stiles got down on one knee. Tiny little velvet box in hand. Because apparently their lives were a Hallmark movie.

The ring itself was simple titanium. Nothing flashy or eye catching. Subtle and everything that Derek loved. Stiles had picked it especially for him. He didn't need to ask the words. He said yes before anything else. Before the world, the universe could find any way to ruin the moment. Derek said yes.

Stiles kissed again. Even more shamelessly than before. And once again, Derek found himself not caring. This was theirs. Their moment. Their happiness. After everything the world had taken from them, it would take no more. They had their bliss. And it was irreplaceable.

The sheriff was less than thrilled to have such news so soon after Stiles had gotten home. The others, not so much. Erica, Lydia, and Allison apparently loved to watch wedding shows. So the idea of planning one sent them into a frenzy. Kira went along with their antics as best she could. Derek didn't even bother trying to wrangle them in.

Isaac, Scott, and Boyd were themselves. Making tiny little jokes and the like. Derek didn't care. Stiles had given him a piece of his heart. His soul. His body. His love. Yes, the world would continue to test them. To throw such hurdles and obstacles and so on. But he had his pack. He had his sisters. He had Stiles. And that, was more than enough.