Author's Notes: I know, I know. I'm way behind on updating. I'm cutting wisdom teeth and they are being a bitch. Since Derek's alone a good bit of this chapter, there is going to be quite a bit of contemplation on his past and inner dialogue, with bits of action thrown in. On a side note, I'd like to thank everyone who's following this story and who has favorited it. Anyway, enjoy! I do not own Teen Wolf.

Don't forget to read Stiles' POV of this chapter in, 'I Can't Stop You.'

Figuring I had let Stiles get about as much of a head start as I was comfortable with, I briskly dressed and went in search for my mate.

Using his scent to track him, I followed his path that led into the woods, and not to his vehicle. I doubled my pace, my wolf and I worrying about him being newly turned and defenseless in the woods without me.

Getting closer to him, I could start to perceive his emotions in his trailing scent.

He must be encountering the full force of his werewolf abilities, as the scent of amazement, thrill, bewilderment, and sheer joy have grown strong in his wake. I was slightly heavyhearted that I wasn't there with him when he was experiencing such things for the first time. I remembered my whole family being with me while I fully turned when I hit puberty; us celebrating my transition as a 'werewolf sweet sixteen' of sorts by me rough housing with my siblings without them having to hold back, and my parents taking me deep in the woods to fully undergo the enlightenment that came with being a full-fledged werewolf.

A spike of acidic hysteria in the air brings me out of my memory, focusing me back on my objective: Stiles.

Making my way to the outer edge of the area, I find him leaning down to pick up something outside of a house. I stay back, out of sight and sound, watching as he finds what has to be his spare key. He turns looking at the forest that's shielding me, before going inside. I brighten at the thought that he might have sensed that I was here. With Stiles verging with his abilities, it has me and my wolf wondering when Stiles's wolf will gain enough command and cognizance within him to sense us.

I reach out with my hearing, listening to him make his way through the house, up the stairs, and opening the door to enter a room. Easing my way up the trellis of the house, I land on the part of the roof that the window of the room is visible from. I move adjacent to the window to stay concealed.

It's then I find that he's not alone in the house. It seems my reprieve in anxiety was artificial the more heightened the activity in the room gets, with elevated heart rates and then hostile toned words cause me to reflexively want to defend my mate.

When I see an unknown man get closer as if to grab Stiles, I can't hold my wolf or myself back any longer. I effortlessly break through the window, trying my best not to inflict any damage to Stiles in the process, whilst positioning myself between the domineering man and my mate.

"What the holy hell are you doing?" I ignore the derision from my mate and instead focus on the threat to him.

"He was approaching you in a threatening manner. I'm protecting you." It was as simple as that.

"Who the fuck are you? Are you him? You the one that got me? I can smell that you're one of us, are you the guy then?" I don't understand what the man, which I now notice is just a mere boy, is talking about, but he's so geared for an attack that the smell of the room has a primal edge to it. This only makes my wolf more attentive to the pending fight.

"What is he talking about?" I don't answer, because I haven't a clue as to what he is going on about either.

"What are you talking about, Scott?" Good, maybe he'll reply, shedding some light on what's enraged the unknown werewolf so.

"Werewolves, Stiles. I'm talking about werewolves, like you are now…and the wolf that bit me, turning me into this unnatural thing, this abomination." His eyes light with fury when he says 'and the wolf that bit me'. How could he possibly think I was the wolf that gave him the bite? All he would have to do would be to smell my scent to know that we've never come in contact, let alone think I bit him. He's obviously untrained, and therefore not apt enough in his abilities to know such things as this.

"You're the one, aren't you? You are the only other one I've come across." I keep quiet, not knowing how to convince the rogue werewolf that I didn't turn him.

As I'm trying to form a plan, I scent Stiles's distress and hear his astonishment in a gasp he inhales. No. He couldn't think I actually bit someone else, could he?

"I can't believe this. Why would you do this?" Shit…he does.

Even though I know I shouldn't, I turn my back towards my enemy to stop Stiles from moving away from me.

"Stiles." I say as cautionary as I can to not upset him further.

"Why are you here, haven't you done enough damage. Can't you leave me alone to deal with what you've done to me."

"You're not safe with him." My wolf whines, pleading him to believe us.

"What are you talking about. I'm perfectly safe with my best friend that I've known since I was 6, as opposed to you, the person stalking me and who actually turned me in to a werewolf, whom I don't know at all." So now I know the identity of the previously unrevealed teen wolf, Scott.

I grab Stiles's hand, getting him to focus on my eyes willing the connection to work it's magic.

"You can trust me Stiles. I told you I would never hurt you. We're mates, soul mates, if you'd rather look at it like that. I want to protect you." Please accept our fate together.

"How can you stand there and say that after what you've done. Stiles, don't listen to him he's trying to con you." Shut up, asshole.

I kept my concentration on Stiles's eyes, hoping he would feel the draw as I do, but a malevolent sounding hiss of my beloved's name came from behind me and broke Stiles out of our union.

I can't stop my wolf from growling through me when Stiles jerks his hand from mine to go to the other boy's side.

Paying attention to Stiles, when I should have been watching my threat, causes me not to see the teen wolf fly across the room to get at me, claws extended. I was trained well, thus able to get away with barely any damage other than to my shirt.

I've had enough of this werewolf meddling in Stiles and my affairs.

The wolf hadn't landed very well, so I grabbed him by the throat before he recovered his stance to defend himself, and started squeezing.

"Stop you're hurting him. You said you wouldn't hurt me, well you are by hurting him." Stiles. I pause, hearing my mate's heart pound at such a rate, that I'm taken back to when I almost killed him. I scent the air, and find panic, but most importantly anger. Then, to my worst fear, when I look at Stiles, I see tears falling from his large, frightened eyes. Damn, what am I doing?

I unlatch my grip from the werewolf's throat and, penitent, left through the window I had broken earlier not allowing myself the privilege to look upon my mate a second time.

I've always had a proclivity for screwing things up. I guess it's good to know the reliability of that hasn't changed.

I'm just chock full of stupid. If I could have convinced Stiles to be with me, perhaps he could have looked past my ineptitude. Yet I was inept at convincing him too.

As I reflect on my life, all I see are failures.

I failed to do the one thing pack and family is supposed to do, protect and save each other. Instead, I got mine murdered. I've never been able to forgive myself for it, thus never getting past it. Hell, I've failed to live since their deaths. I had been carrying hope that I would have a second chance to build a life after finding Stiles, but I've failed, yet again, to acquire that.

At every turn I unsuccessful. Can't I do anything right?

I so wish I had had my family here to guide me through dealing with the mating bond, then I wouldn't have messed everything up so terribly.

And it's as I'm thinking upon this that I feel the first strike of claws to my side, digging in deep, shooting pain throughout my left side.

Without me doing so, my wolf takes over in defense. I shift and immediately smell my attacker, the werewolf that's friends with Stiles, Scott. I'm then, also, aware of Stiles not far off watching the fight with a mercurial look on his face.

Looking at my mate is when I know what I have to do, or rather not do.

I wouldn't allow myself to hurt Stiles again by hurting his friend, so I don't reciprocate his attack, more or less trying, feebly, to suspend serious detriment to my body.

It was working somewhat, until the point where I was becoming dizzy from what I suspected was blood loss. I had suffered too many deep cutting wounds. It made my movements sluggish, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to put up with much more.

That's when I heard the teen wolf's boisterous voice pronouncing that Stiles needed to not stand there and do what they had come here to do.

This was it; the culmination of all the injustices I've incurred brought down upon me…finally.

Once I felt the new set of claws join with the other all fight in me vanished. Even my wolf did not want to stop the onslaught. My wolf and I had vowed we would do no more harm to our mate, and we would not backtrack on that again, even to save ourselves.

Suddenly, everything stopped; they had stopped.

"You should have the final blow. He only turned me into this impurity; he essentially murdered, turned, abducted, and stalked you. Kill the perverted werewolf asshole, so we can be done with this and go home back to our normal lives."

Stiles stiffly moved in front of me, looking deep into my eyes.

Not only could I see the hesitation, the conflict within, I could infinitesimally sense it through the mate bond that we had never been able to fully form properly.

Still, I knew. Even before his friend had said the words, 'final blow', I knew.

We would never be together, we would never share a love like the mating bond had prophesized; we would never grow old with each other. And in such a situation as this, if my mate weren't the hand that was dealing out the punishment, I would wish for him to hold me, comfort me, as it should be as I leave this life behind.

Yet, things never seem to work out for me 'the way they should be.'

I was slouched down on the ground, but was still able to see his hand draw back, claws glistening with blood, my blood.

He paused when our eyes met once more. This was it, the end. I would never be able to lay my eyes upon my mate, or anything else, after this. I accepted the fact that my last memory and sight would be of him, Stiles, and I was all right with that, even if the memory wasn't ideal.

As his hand began to move in a downward motion, I said the one thing that had been a present in my mind since meeting him, "My mate, I love you."

Once it was complete, I felt myself draining. Both of blood and essence, until there was a vast nothingness, a black void.

Not really sure if it's my imagination or not, I think I can hear the voices of my family say, "go…go." They must not want me to be with them, wherever they are; they haven't forgiven me for what I've done.

"Go…go back to him."

I don't know how long I lingered in this void or how long I would have to remain there to wait.

That was until I connected to a spark; it was just a slight ember, but it shown bright in the dark void drawing me towards it. I knew of only one thing it could be; surrendering, I let it take me to it, envelope me with it's light.

***Chapter Music Playlist: "My Obsession" - Cinema Bizzare, "Stripped" – Shiny Toy Guns, Arrival of The Birds (StArt Remix) – The Cinematic Orchestra