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THE POEM FEATURED IN THIS CHAPTER IS 'PREMEDITATION' BY MARK R. SLAUGHTER (Copyright© Mark R Slaughter 2010). I CLAIM NO RIGHTS TO IT.

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"What's with all the sourpuss faces?"

Everyone stilled when Stiles' voice broke the heavy silence reigning over the Pack.

"Stiles! I thought you wouldn't come!" John rushed over to hug Stiles, and the younger man ginned and hugged him back before he looked around with a raised eyebrow.

"Where's Derek?"

"Derek hasn't come home yesterday," John said and Stiles pursed his lips with a thoughtful frown.

"And that's why you're looking over the maps of Beacon Hills and planning a search party? Isn't it the practice in Police not to start searching for someone until they're missing for more than 24 hours?"

"Derek always comes home by midnight," Scott said and Stiles looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Besides, we already went looking for him last night," Jackson said.

"And what did you find?" Stiles asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Nothing," John said. "We followed his trail to here." He walked over to the table and pointed at a black dot on the map. "His scent vanishes there. We found nothing. It's like he vanished into thin air."

To the surprise of everyone in the room Stiles bit into his bottom lip, his slightly accented fangs catching on to it. He looked up and everyone shivered when they saw his fire colored eyes. "Are you sure he's not just sulking somewhere? As much as I remember, he was prone to doing that."

"Not since you left," Scott said and Stiles looked at him. "Derek changed. I don't know what got into him yesterday that he attacked you like that, but he's a different man."

Stiles pouted with doubt in his eyes. "I haven't gotten that impression," he mumbled almost petulantly.

"That would be because you were gone for five years," Jackson said only to find himself hanging upside down in the air with Stiles' face barely an inch away from Jackson's.

"I don't like your tone, Jacks," Stiles spoke in a playful tone, but no one missed the threatening undertone. "You may remember me as an easy to bully kid, but you should remember that I have spent the past five years becoming something Werewolf mothers scare their naughty little children with." Stiles' voice was deceivingly sweet, and he grinned dangerously, showing a line of perfect teeth. "So shut your snout or I'll shut it for you." Jackson yelped when he fell and Stiles turned his back on him, grinning at everyone as though he didn't just threaten Jackson, head tilted to the right with an air of innocence around the Medjai.

"I'll help you find him, but if he's just somewhere hiding I call dibs on tattooing 'Sourwolf' on his pert little ass." He started walking towards the exit of the house.

"You can find him?" Peter asked and Stiles looked at him over a shoulder, eyes glowing emerald green and an insane grin tilting lush lips.

"Trust me, step-daddy," he snickered and Peter and John tensed up. "Nothing can hide from me."

cut

The Werewolves stood in a wide circle around Stiles. They were at a clearing some 10 miles outside of Beacon Hills.

A fair distance away from their borders.

A fair distance away from safety lines.

The Medjai was in the middle of the clearing, looking around as though he was taking an afternoon stroll in the woods, unconcerned and untouched by anything.

"Can you get to it?" Erica called out to him, worried and annoyed.

"Don't rush a miracle man, Catwoman!" Stiles called out to her. He pushed the bottom edges of his coat behind himself and kneeled, resting his left hand on his knee while he placed his right flat on the ground. "You'll get rotten miracles." He closed his eyes and bowed his head a little. The Werewolves frowned and for a few long moments nothing happened.

Isaac looked away from Stiles with a confused frown, glancing around in wonder.

"What is it?" Mellissa asked.

"It's grown quiet," Isaac muttered, drawing everyone's attention away from Stiles. "Too quiet."

In that moment a wave of power washed over them and they almost lost their balance.

Stiles' eyes snapped open and they were glowing green.

"Oh God," Allison gasped.

Green veins traveled up Stiles' hand and under his sleeve only to appear again on his chest. They continued to spread until they climbed up his face and under his hair until they faded into his eyes.

"Stiles!" John was about to run forward but Peter grabbed him and stopped him.

"He knows what he's doing, remember?"

"But – But that isn't… "

"Normal?" Peter snorted. "There's nothing normal about him anymore," he muttered and John frowned at his Mate. In that moment they were pushed forward by that same wave of power that pushed them back earlier, and Stiles took in a deep breath as his eyes turned normal again and the veins disappeared.

"Okay," he gasped. "Fuck…" He stood up and swayed a little. "Guys, we have a bit of a problem."

Everyone ran over to him.

"What happened?" Scott asked while Stiles rubbed his head with his hands and wrinkled his nose. "Well first, I won't get to tattoo 'Sourwolf' on Derek's ass," he grumbled and the Werewolves rolled their eyes at him.

"He was taken?" Isaac asked in a panic filled voice.

"Not just taken, pup," Stiles pressed out through his teeth. "He was overpowered and then taken." He let go of a low hiss and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Damn, my head is killing me," he grumbled only to raise his head when John placed his left hand on Stiles' forehead.

"Hush," John said before Stiles had the chance to say anything and Stiles' eyes crossed when black veins traveled down John's forearm.

Stiles grinned at John when his dad lowered his hand and frowned a little.

"Okay." John swayed for a second before he looked up and everyone gaped when his eyes turned silver for a second. "What the hell was that?"

Stiles snickered. "You, daddy dearest, just got a taste of the Spark," Stiles grinned while John looked at him with amazement.

"You feel that all the time? And did you say just a taste."

Stiles snickered and patted John's shoulder. "Multiply it by a hundred and you might get close."

"As fun as this is, can't you get a move on?" Lydia snapped and Stiles grinned at her.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. I'm gettin' to it."

"Where? Is? Derek?" Lydia bit out.

"Oh! Him," Stiles growled and everyone gaped at him.

He acted as though he forgot why they were there!

"Well, I think we might have a liiiiiittle problem."

"What happened?" Boyd asked.

"Hunters, that's what happened," Stiles shrugged and shifted his weight as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Derek can handle Hunters," Mellissa said.

"Not Hunters who have a Medjai in their midst," Stiles corrected her and the Pack tensed up. "Well, he's not a Medjai, per se. He knows some magic, but it's almost like he was trying to learn it all on his own. I could swear I met him somewhere before," he pouted and tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.

"Is he like you?" John asked and Stiles grinned at him.

"Nah! He's hardly a Level One. He's good enough to cover up their tracks and hide them from Werewolves, but he's nowhere near my Level."

"Then where is he, oh great one," Jackson growled through his teeth only to pale when Stiles smirked at him.

"Didn't you have enough, Jacks?"

"Stiles…"

"They're 5 miles…" Stiles turned on his heel, right arm flailing for a moment, "that way." He said and pointed one long, elegant finger towards the setting sun. "There were 17 of them when they came after Derek. He put up quite a fight, but 17 Hunters with pretty good taser guns? They'd put an elephant to sleep." He finished and started to walk towards West with hands pushed deep inside the pockets of his jacket. He stopped and threw a look over his left shoulder when no one followed.

"You going?" he asked and raised an eyebrow.

The Pack exchanged glances before they shifted as one, and Stiles grinned at them.

"One question before we leave," Lydia spoke seriously and Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you love him?"

Stiles yelped and tripped on thin air. "What?" he squeaked, and Lydia rolled her yellow eyes.

"Do. You. Love. Him. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

Stiles bent over backwards before he turned his hips and legs, and bowed forward with his eyes focused on the ground, before he bowed his head a little so that his bangs covered darkened orbs, casting shadows over them. "Why does it matter?" he asked in a low, hollow voice.

Lydia snorted and rolled her eyes again. "'Course it matters. There's no use saving him if you'll just break him again when you decide you want to leave us again."

Stiles raised his head, making everyone tense up when they caught sight of harsh, yellow eyes. "I've walked through hell to get stronger," he pressed out through his teeth in a distorted voice and Lydia choked up, suddenly unable to move as she faced rage radiating from gold eyes. "I left to get stronger. I left to get better. I left to get strong enough for him to want me. You think I would just leave after everything I've lived through. The only thing keeping me alive and sane during the training was my love for him!"

Lydia turned human again and her knees met the ground. Stiles walked over to her and bowed down so that his eyes looked directly in Lydia's wide ones.

"Don't you dare snap at me, Lydia Martin. You've ignored me for the better part of our lives, Jackson belittled me every chance he could get, Boyd couldn't stand my living, Erica hated me for something that wasn't even my fault, Allison stole all of Scott's attention from me, Scott lied to me and forgot about me, and Peter tried to kill me. My dad is the only one among all of you that has any right to be angry with me. As for Derek?"Stiles smirked and chuckled darkly."Well. How we go on from here is entirely up to him. I changed, Lydia. Let's see if I'm good enough for him now." He straightened and Lydia finally managed to breathe as Stiles turned his back on her.

"That was never the problem," she breathed out and Stiles stopped in his tracks. "You were always, always too good for him. Don't you get it, Stiles?!"

"Lydia..."

"No, Jackson!" Lydia snapped at her mate, looking at Stiles with eyes full of sorrow and pain, imploring the powerful creature to listen to her although he had his back turned on everyone. "I don't care if he kills me, he has to hear this!" she insisted and slowly stood up. "Derek never offered you the Bite, he never told you that you are his Mate, because you were always, always too good for him. You didn't have to change!" she cried out, trembling like a leaf in the wind, tears trailing down pale cheeks as she finally spoke the words which rested on her soul for far too long. "You didn't have to become this – this terrifying, omnipotent Medjai to get his attention! He kept you at arm's length because he knew that! He knew that he would never be good enough for you! He loves you, Stiles! He always loved you!"

Silence settled over the clearing as the sun set.

For a few moments nothing could be heard.

All of a sudden Stiles chuckled, making everyone tense up. Their hearts stopped when his chuckling grew louder, and a moment later he threw his head back and laughed.

"Stiles!" John moved forward but Peter wrapped his arms around his Mate's waist to hold him back. All of a sudden a wave of power broke out of Stiles and danced around him like a tornado of stardust.

His laugh wasn't a happy one.

It was so cynical, so filled with pain and sorrow that the Pack felt as though a hand made out of steel was gripping their hearts. He stopped laughing and bowed his head with his shoulders shaking.

"He always loved me?" he choked out between snickers, and everything stilled, but that strange stardust still danced around him. "Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he..."

"Why didn't you?" Mellissa stepped out. Lydia looked at the older woman when she placed her right hand on Lydia's left shoulder. "You loved him as well, Stiles. Why didn't you tell him?"

The stardust stilled and the wind carried it away as Stiles chuckled again. "We're idiots," he whispered into the wind, hands unclenching as he tilted his head back to look at the sky, and every gaped when they caught sight of a single tear trailing down one pale cheek. "We're both just stupid, idiotic, love sick fools." He swallowed difficultly, bowed his head, and rolled his shoulders. "Come on," he said and started to walk forward. "Let's get our Alpha back."

"Our Alpha?" Isaac asked hopefully while the rest of the Pack smiled and shifted again.

"Yeah, pup," Stiles murmured. "Our Alpha. Move out!" he snapped, crouched and jumped into the air leaving a trail of emerald green teardrops behind.

The Werewolves grinned and howled.

The Hale Pack was ready to Hunt.

United at last.

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Stiles grinned as he crouched lower on the highest branch of the canopy he was hiding in. The Pack was scattered beneath him strategically, waiting for the information he could give them. His eyes glowed silvery blue for a second and the wind danced through his short hair, making his necklaces clink against one another.

"There are only 22 Hunters, plus the Medjai," he whispered into the wind. "They are heavily armed though, so you should be careful. Leave the wanna-be-Medjai to me." He received 10 confirming answers.

"You be careful, son." John said and Stiles snickered.

"Don't you worry, daddy dearest," he grinned as his eyes turned fiery red. "This will be fun," he hissed and the air around him snapped with electricity. "This will be so. Much. Fun…"

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The door of the old forest Mansion suddenly slammed open, and the Hunters that were sitting around fires in the torn down house looked up in shock only to gape when they saw a twenty-something kid standing in the doorway almost nonchalantly with hands in pockets and an insane grin on the elf-like face.

"Sorry to crash the party, but I think you have something that belongs to us!" he called out and the Hunters grabbed their weapons.

The one closest to Stiles frowned at him. "I don't think so, kid. We have nothing that might belong to you. Why don't you run home to mommy?" The Hunter said only to gape when Stiles tilted his head back and his eyes glowed fiery red.

"Oh, me thinks you do," Stiles whispered darkly, the tone of his voice sending shivers down everyone's spines.

In that moment ten pairs of yellow eyes glowed behind Stiles, and threatening growling made the Hunters tens up.

"We want our Alpha back," Stiles said with a huge, evil grin stretching full lips.

The Pack slowly walked into light and Stiles snickered before his head snapped forward and he looked at the Hunters through messy bangs.

"Fetch."

The Hunters started shooting arrows and Wolfsbane bullets left, right and center while the Werewolves jumped around engaging in close combat.

Stiles walked right down the middle as though he was taking a stroll in a park. A Hunter tried to stab him with a knife but Stiles simply danced out of its way before he appeared well in the man's personal space and placed his hand on the Hunter's chest. The man's breath hitched in his throat as all air was sucked out of his lungs. He choked as he gazed with wide eyes in Stiles' icy-blue orbs, and Stiles snickered.

"Nighty night," Stiles sang, and the Hunter fell down dead.

Stiles snickered and continued on his way. He skipped down the stairs towards the basement. He heard shuffling in the front and hummed. A door appeared some 10 meters in front of him and he stopped in his tracks.

Everything went quiet on the other side of the door, and he bowed his head suddenly growing serious. The air shifted around him and his eyes darkened to almost black. He snarled, the right corner of his lips rising and showing an accented fang. The air shifted around him faster and he growled, baring white teeth.

It was whispering to him.

The air was telling him what the Hunters did.

They took Derek.

They tortured him.

And the air told him who was waiting for him on the other side.

Stiles slowly started to walk forward as his mind came to a sharp focus for the first time in four years.

He dared touch what was his.

Last time he was lucky enough to get away, but this time?

This time he would die.

The door slammed open and Stiles vanished in a gust of silvery mist.

"There's no one there!" a Hunter shouted.

"Close the door, you idiot!" an elderly voice snapped and the door was slammed closed.

A low, threatening chuckle echoed down the stone hallway.

"Nothing can save you now."

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Derek groaned as he woke up. He could hardly breathe, let alone move. His whole body felt heavy. He frowned when the sounds of gunfire, snarling and growling reached his ears. His nose twitched when a familiar scent tickled it, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Close the door, you idiot!" the Leader of his captors snapped.

Derek smirked a little when he felt a gentle caress against his brow, and he finally recognized that scent. A threatening chuckle echoed through the room.

'Stiles.'

"What was that?" one of the Hunters snapped when snickering echoed around them.

'Come on, Derek,' he thought as he fought to open his eyes. His blood was saturated with Wolfsbane and Mountain Ash, but it was not enough to kill him. It was enough though to slow down the healing process and make him weak.

"Oh, blade you'll warm tonight!"

The Hunters around Derek tensed up when a whisper echoed through the room. It sounded so loving and gentle that Derek felt a shiver run down his spine.

"What was that?" a Hunter asked.

"I can't see anyone!" another shouted.

"Calm down, you fools!"

The chuckle sounded again. "Awash in crimson-purple flows, your sheen will dull with aching flesh: palpating anatomic mounds; caressing, dancing, writhing round."

"Show yourself!" the first Hunter screamed and fired a shot into the shadows, and laughter echoed around them.

"Your meal form-whetted 'gainst a lonely bone, then to probe the pounding, begging heart."

Derek managed to open his eyes, but everything was blurry. Just as his sight came into focus, he saw a shadow detach itself from a wall, materializing into Stiles. The Medjai grinned and winked at Derek as he snapped a man's neck, only to disappear again.

"MARK!" a Hunter screamed and fired another shot into the shadows.

"Calm down, you IDIOT! Calm down! Whoever it is he's in here somewhere! He can't hide forever."

Derek tried to swallow but his mouth was dry.

"And all the while the prey will howl before the crumple; greet the mud."

The three remaining Hunters stood back to back with him in the middle. Derek chuckled and the Hunter that was facing him looked at him as though he was insane.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?!" he screamed and Derek smirked at him, his eyes flashing red for a second.

"There's no running away from him," Derek murmured and Stiles chuckled. Derek shivered when he felt a gentle touch against his back, and warmth spread down his body.

"Where is he?! Tell us!"

In that moment Stiles appeared in front of Derek and the Hunters turned quickly, aiming their guns at him. He grinned and waved his right hand as though he was greeting old friends.

"Hello, Gerard!" he greeted merrily. "Fancy seeing you again!"

The old man's eyes widened for a second before he frowned and sneered. "You," he snarled. "Should have known it was you. It's always you saving these monsters."

Stiles cackled and spread his arms to the sides. Derek gasped when he heard water rushing through pipes. "I think you're referring to the wrong people here, Argent," Stiles drawled mockingly.

'Take a deep breath, my dear Alpha.' Derek's eyes widened when Stiles' voice caressed his mind. 'Things are about to get wet.'

Derek trembled and tried to calm his quickly beating heart.

"You see…" Stiles spoke lowly as the sound of oncoming water grew louder and louder. "Werewolves are not the monsters here." Stiles grinned and the Hunters in front of him paled when his eyes glowed a deep aquamarine blue. "I am."

In that moment the water burst from the pipes in tendrils and wrapped around the three Hunters in front of Gerard. It slithered around their bodies and into their mouths, muffling their screams. Gerard turned tail and ran, and Stiles turned on his heel and looked Derek over with a dark frown on his face.

"Damn, Big Bad," he muttered and threw Derek a small smirk, although there was something that resembled sadness in his eyes. "They did a number on you."

"Get me out," Derek murmured. "There are more. Gerard is…"

"Don't worry," Stiles said and snapped his fingers.

Derek groaned in pain as the shackles that were holding him upright snapped open and he fell forward, only to fall into Stiles' awaiting arms.

"The kiddies have taken care of the Hunters. Gerard won't get far." Stiles secured his arms around Derek and the Alpha rested almost his full weight on Stiles.

"Thank you," he said and Stiles raised an eyebrow. "For coming for me. Thank you."

Stiles grinned wildly and Derek's heart skipped a beat. "You'd do the same for me." Stiles started to practically drag Derek out of there.

Derek chuckled and did his best to walk. "I would, Stiles. I would." Stiles snickered just as they reached the stairs and climbed them as fast as they could.

"STILES! PROBLEMS!" Scott's voice reached them and Stiles snorted.

"Be a good doggy and wait here," he said and lowered Derek on the floor.

"Stiles!" Derek called out weakly and grabbed Stiles' hand before the Medjai had a chance to run off. "I just – What I – What I wanted…" Derek's breath hitched in his throat when a pair of soft lips covered his and small but surprisingly sharp fangs cut into Derek's bottom lip.

His eyes were wide when Stiles moved back a little, a few drops of Derek's blood glistening on full lips. A tongue flickered out to lick them off and Stiles grinned at Derek.

"Wait right here for me, Sourwolf," Stiles said, and a smile Derek thought he would never see again decorated Stiles' handsome face. "We'll talk later."

And before Derek could get a grip of himself Stiles was gone. 'Later,' Derek thought and a small smile tilted his lips. 'There will be later.'

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"Jackson!" Lydia shouted in panic as Gerard directed a Wolfsbane root towards Jackson's heart. Time seemed to slow down as the Pack froze in mid motion.

'This is it. I'm dead,' Jackson thought. In that moment something slammed into him and Jackson appeared on the other side of the room, wrapped in Stiles' arms, breathless and about to puke.

"I thought I told you to leave this wanna-be-Medjai to me," Stiles spoke as he dumped Jackson on the ground and walked with a light step towards the middle of the room.

The Pack backed away while Gerard sneered at Stiles.

"So it's true. You're the Medjai I've been hearing about."

Stiles grinned and flailed his arms in a flashy bow. "Yours truly," he sang and straightened. "And you're still the old, self-righteous, motherfucking son of a bitch I not-so-fondly remember. I think I still have a scar under my hair from when you tried to punch a hole in my head."

Gerard sneered at Stiles and the Wolfsbane around him slithered to life. Stiles grinned and clapped his hands cackling madly with eyes wide with excitement.

"You won't kill me, boy. I know you won't."

Stiles snickered and shifted his weight. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward with an insane grin stretching full lips. "You're right. I won't kill ya!" he said and everyone besides Gerard tensed up. "You aren't a real Medjai, but you technically are one, and the law of the Covenant forbids me from killing you since I'm a Medjai of a much higher Level." Gerard frowned at that and Stiles snickered before his eyes went cold and his grin turned evil. "That still won't stop me from kicking the living daylights out of you," Stiles spoke in a distorted voice and Gerard attacked him.

The Pack was left breathless as they watched Stiles fight. He twisted and turned, slid and jumped with so much ease it appeared as though he was dancing a well practiced, synchronized dance. He would deflect Gerard's attacks as though they were nothing with just a wave of his hand. It seemed like Stiles was waiting for something. The Pack looked at Gerard and all of a sudden they realized what Stiles was waiting for.

The man was old.

Stiles was waiting for Gerard to tire out.

"Gotcha," Stiles hissed with a grin. He straightened and raised his hands as his eyes glowed icy blue, and Gerard was thrown back into a wall. He crumbled down in a dead faint and Stiles grinned brightly. "Pretty good, old man," he sang. "But not good enough." He looked around at everyone and tilted his head to the side with a small confused frown.

"What?" he asked.

John laughed and everyone looked at him before they looked at Stiles again. "Nothing, son." John looked at Stiles with pride filled eyes. "You're just… You're amazing." Stiles grinned at him. "Where's Derek?"

"Right here." A weak voice made them all turn around to find Derek leaning weakly against a doorframe. He was pale and his face was sweaty, his naked torso was covered in cuts and bruises, but he was alive.

That was the only thing that mattered.

Stiles grinned at Derek while Scott and Isaac ran over to their Alpha to help him walk.

"We fixed this up like a piece of cake," Stiles grinned and Derek chuckled.

"I'd say a job well done," he praised and Stiles' grin grew bigger.

"You've trained them well."

Derek's eyes warmed. "Didn't want you to come back and find half of us dead."

Stiles snickered, while the others rolled their eyes.

"Could you two flirt later?" Lydia asked as she cleaned her nails with a nail file she pulled out of god knows where. "I'd like to get home as soon as possible. Maybe I'll manage to see the last 45 minutes of The Notebook. It's on tonight."

Everyone rolled their eyes at that.

Even Stiles.

The Medjai looked at Derek again and walked towards him. "Hand him over," he said to the two Betas holding Derek up. "You two look dead on your feet." Isaac and Scott smirked at Stiles before they allowed him to take Derek from them.

"Let's get going," John said. "We still need to burn this place down."

"What about Gerard?" Allison asked. No one wanted to spare a glance for the old man so they just looked at Stiles.

"The Rules of the Covenant forbid me from killing him," he sighed before grinning evilly. "But it says nothing against him dying in a fire started by Werewolves." He received smirks for those words.

"It doesn't forbid me from killing you!"

"STILES!"

Everything appeared to happen in slow motion.

Stiles looked away from Derek in time to see a single Wolfsbane vein darting towards him. His breath was kicked out of his chest when Derek grabbed Stiles and spun them around.

Stiles' eyes widened as the vein pierced Derek's heart. A gunshot echoed through the old Mansion as Stiles grabbed Derek's heavy body and lowered him on the ground.

In that moment countless sounds filled Stiles' mind. His heart started beating loudly in his ears and his breathing became short and shallow. "No, no, no, no. You can't do this. You can't die on me, Derek. You can't die. Derek!" he snapped as he cradled the Alpha's head in his hands.

Derek was choking on his own blood and his eyes were glowing red as his heart and lungs tried to work around the thick Wolfsbane vein sticking out of his chest.

"Derek, look at me. You can't die, you hear me!" Their eyes met as Stiles caressed Derek's face with his shivering hands. "You can't die on me now! I didn't go through Hell and back for you just to have you die now!"

Derek tried to say something but it only resulted in painful, choked up coughs.

The Alpha raised his left hand weakly, trying to touch Stiles' face. Stiles saw it, grabbed it with his right, and placed it on his cheek, covering it with his own hand. "You can't die, Derek. You can't die."

"Thanks." Derek managed to press out. "Thanks for – for coming for me – thanks for saving… "

"No! You're the one who's supposed to save me, remember?!" Stiles snapped as tears gathered in his eyes. "You're supposed to snap at me, and push me against walls, and – and bully me, but in the end – in the end you're the one who's supposed to save me."

A small smile tugged on Derek's bloody lips as his eyes faded to their usual enchanting hazel color. "You were always – you were always the one saving me," Derek whispered as his eyes started to dull and his body gave up on him.

"No," Stiles blurted out when Derek's hand slipped from under his and hit the ground. The light vanished from Derek's eyes as he went limp.

Stiles' mind stilled.

His heart skipped a beat.

His breath felt like acid in his lungs.

"No."

He didn't hear the pained howls of the Pack.

He didn't see their tears.

All he could see was Derek's pale face; his lifeless eyes.

And something in him snapped.

The Pack gaped when Stiles' eyes glowed pearly white.

"I'm not letting you die, Derek Hale, you hear me?! You're NOT dying on me!"

Stiles' power snapped around him. His blood-red jacket was torn to shreds. The vein sticking out of Derek's chest dissolved into ashes and scattered into the wild current around Stiles.

Stiles placed his hands on the wound in Derek's chest and the center symbol on his back glowed. The tattoos on his skin turned pearly white and a light shone under his hands.

"I'M NOT LETTING YOU DIE!"

cut

Derek woke up with a start and looked around frantically.

"Easy, nephew." Peter pushed Derek down on the bed, and Derek looked around, realizing that he was in his room at the Hale House.

"What happened?" Derek winced, and Peter helped him drink some water. He took a seat beside Derek and the Alpha frowned at him. "Uncle? What happened?"

Peter's lips tilted into sad smile as he stared at his nephew with something Derek couldn't name shadowing his Uncle's eyes. "We lost you there for a moment," Peter spoke quietly, and Derek's heart stopped beating as memories flooded his mind.

"Stiles."

Peter's eyes dulled. "Derek-…"

"Uncle, where is Stiles?" Derek asked and pushed himself up again.

"Derek, I don't think you should…"

"Where is he?!" Derek roared and Peter recoiled.

"My room,." Peter said and Derek jumped out of bed. He rushed down the hallway to the last room to the right and barged in only to lose his breath and footing.

John stood up sharply and turned around, making it possible for Derek to miss the still, pale form of Stiles Stilinski. The rest of the Pack was in the room as well but Derek couldn't see them. He walked in and fell to his knees beside the head of the bed.

Peter walked in behind Derek and placed his left hand on the small of John's back. The Sheriff leaned on him as tears filled his eyes.

Derek could hardly breathe.

They laid Stiles on top of the covers with his right hand resting on his stomach and his left on the bed by his side. His head was tilted towards Derek. His heart was hardly beating. His breathing was practically nonexistent. His once sandy pink lips were almost blue. The tattoos on Stiles' skin were just empty ink now. They weren't glowing with the Spark anymore.

Derek was afraid to touch Stiles. He was afraid to touch the pale skin because he knew - he just knew it was as cold as ice; as cold as Death.

"Deaton told us," Lydia whispered. "Stiles went over the line. He wasn't just a Level Five. He mastered Life and Death, and he used it." Derek didn't need to look at her to know that she was crying. "He used it and now…"

"Wrong, Child."

Derek looked up when the room filled with the scent of Incense and a tall figure appeared in front of them, standing on the other side of the bed.

He seemed barely corporeal. His body seemed to be made out of endless particles that were constantly shifting and turning. His eyes were covered by a white hood but Derek could see three triangles under his right eye that Stiles had as well. The man sighed and took a seat on the bed.

"Zéev Al Abaddon," he muttered. "I do believe that you have proved us all wrong."

"Who are you?" Derek spoke brokenly and the man chuckled.

"I am Zéev's mentor," he said. "I am Shahzad."

"You are a Master Medjai," Peter breathed out and Shahzad chuckled.

"That is correct." Shahzad reached up to gently caress Stiles' forehead with the tips of his fingers. "I was the one who taught Zéev the ways of the Medjai. I must say that he not only proved me and my brethren wrong, but he exceeded all of our expectations."

"What's wrong with him?" Derek asked and Shahzad sighed.

"Zéev used his Spark to bring you back to life. He used his power over Will to make you heal. We believed that to be impossible - that only a Medjai who has mastered Life and Death can do such a thing." Shahzad snorted and shook his head. "You have proved us all wrong, my Little Firecracker."

"But if he's not of that Level then why is he – why is he dying?" Scott asked.

"Zéev has exhausted his Spark. He used everything he had to make it possible for you to live, young Alpha. I only hope you know just how much love it took for Zéev to hold for you to make it possible."

Derek gulped, licked his lips, and looked at Stiles' face. "Will he – Will he be alright?"

"Zéev is strong."Shahzad answered. "I remember countless times when I was forced to make his training harder just to exhaust his apparently unending energy." He remembered fondly. "Usually it wouldn't take him long to recover, but I do believe that this time he will need some help."

Derek didn't even need to think about it. "What do I need to do?"

Shahzad sighed and looked at Derek, the Alpha's eyes widening when he found himself staring into a pair of completely white orbs. "Love him." Derek frowned in confusion. "Love him as much as he loves you. People are often deluded with thoughts that love is a weakness. It is in fact the most powerful feeling in the world. It made it possible for Zéev to survive the Medjai training. It made it possible for him to master the Five Elements. It made it possible for him to convince us to let him out. We were wrong about him, you see? We had thought that he would be a Destroyer when in fact he turned out to be Life itself."

"How do you mean that?" John asked.

"Did he not tell you what his name means?" Shahzad questioned them.

"No. He never had the chance," Derek answered.

"We have named him Zéev Al Abaddon; Wolf of Destruction. His destructive power was so immense that we simply neglected to see his heart. His heart which to this day remained as pure and full of love as it was when he first came to us."

"Why did you come here?" Peter asked. "I thought Master Medjai couldn't leave the Sanctum."

"We have kept a close eye on Zéev ever since he left. When we saw what he had done, how he had risked everything to bring the one man he had ever truly loved back from the brink of Death, we have decided that one of us would come and correct the wrong we have done."

He placed his hand on Stiles' chest right over his heart, and pure white light radiated under his hand.

"Zéev Al Abaddon," Shahzad spoke firmly, although his voice was laced with tenderness. "You have earned this new chance I am gifting you with. Hereby I change your name, and thus I change your Purpose. Your name among the Medjai shall be Brachá Al Dilán - Blessing of Love - since your own love's blessing made your Will come true."

Stiles' tattoos started to glow and shift on his skin. Their lines grew softer and thinner and the three triangles under his right eye turned to three small circles. The light faded and Stiles' heart started beating just a little bit faster. Shahzad sighed and caressed Stiles' cheek again.

"I hope we never meet each other again in this world, Little Firecracker."Shahzad looked at Derek and his lips tilted into a thin smile. "Take good care of him, young Alpha. Let the past rest and look forward to what is yet to come." Shahzad started to disappear.

"Wait! You didn't tell me…" Derek called out, but it was already too late.

Shahzad was gone and only the smell of Incense and the vivid memory in their minds proved that he had been there at all.

"Derek…"

"Out," Derek bit out and climbed to his feet. "Please. I need – I need to be alone with him for a moment."

Without another word everyone stood up and left.

"Bring him back to us, Derek," John begged and Derek spared him a glance over his left shoulder.

"I will."

John nodded and closed the door.

Once they were alone, Derek took a seat on the bed, and leaned over Stiles with his elbows on either side of Stiles' head, aligning his lips with Stiles' right ear.

"I've always loved you, Stiles," Derek whispered under his breath. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, heart pounding in his ears. "I've always loved you. Even when I was pushing you away, even when I was trying to chase you as far away from me as possible, I've always, always loved you. When you left, I – I almost lost it. When you left it was only the Pack that held me together. They gave me the strength to wait for you. I still have the last message you've sent me saved in my phone."

Derek swallowed although his mouth was dry, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"I promised myself every night that once you came back I would talk to you. I promised myself a thousand times that I would tell you - that I would give everything I have to make you stay, even if you never loved me in return. I would have been happy knowing you were with us and safe."

He nuzzled his cheek against Stiles', as tears stung his eyes.

"And then you came back, and you made that stupid comment about Shahzad, and the only thing in my mind was that you had someone else, that I had missed my chance. I got so angry, but not with you. I got angry with myself."

He buried his nose in Stiles' neck and breathed in Stiles' unique scent.

"Please, Stiles..." Tears escaped his eyes, but he wasn't even aware of it. "Please, come back to me. I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. You make it all go away; the guilt, the anger, the pain - everything. I don't care that you've changed. I don't care that we have thousands of things to discuss and fix. Please." He moved back a little and looked at Stiles' sleeping face.

Long lashes rested upon pale cheeks, and his breath fanned over Derek's face with each slow deep breath he took.

"I love you, Stiles Stilinski; Brachá Al Dilán," Derek choked out and a tear rolled down his face to land on Stiles' soft lips. "I love you."

Derek leaned down and kissed Stiles, trying to pour every single piece of love he had in his heart in that single, chaste kiss.

He moved back a little and looked at Stiles' face, trying to find the slightest change. His heart sunk and he gasped out a breath, resting his forehead on Stiles' chest.

"Hey there, Sourwolf."

Derek's heart stopped and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Why so sad?"

Derek's head snapped up and his eyes met open, tired orbs of the most beautiful brown color Derek has ever seen in his life.

Stiles was awake.

He was smiling.

His eyes were full of warmth.

His heart was beating strongly in his chest.

Color was slowly but surely returning to pale cheeks.

"Stiles?" Derek's voice broke and the younger man chuckled lightly. Derek looked into those warm eyes seeing the traces of the old Stiles surfacing.

"Hey," Stiles said again.

Derek couldn't speak.

He couldn't think of anything to say.

All he could do was stare at Stiles' perfect, cinnamon orbs, breathe in his scent and enjoy the strong beating of Stiles' heart.

Stiles chuckled lightly again and Derek focused on those amazing eyes.

"Do I need to be in a coma for you to be able to say something? 'Cause that can be…" his words were stolen when Derek leaned down and captured Stiles' lips in a heart wrenching, emotion filled kiss. Stiles moaned into Derek's mouth and wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, holding on for dear life.

The kiss was filled with love and promises.

It was filled with every bit of pain and doubt and sorrow they've lived through.

It was a promise that they would try to make things work again.

An oath that they would never exclude each other again.

But most of all it was a kiss that marked a new beginning.

It was a new day for the both of them; a new chance.

And if either one heard the cheers that came from the ground floor or the loud 'pop' of the opening of several champagne bottles, they simply chose to ignore it.

Later they would celebrate together.

Later they would talk.

For now none of that mattered.

Nothing but their love.

And that they were finally together.

cut

THE END

Now it's better.

Not so scary anymore, ne? ;)