HELLO! I am so, so sorry for the long delay – again – in getting this posted! But! This is it! The final chapter! Thank you so SO much to everyone who has stuck by this fic, and commented and favourited it or even just read it and I don't even know about it. THANK YOU ALL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! No idea when I'll crank another fic out, but you can always come bother me over at my tumblr, which is: QuirkPuppy. Until next time!

.o.O.o.

.o.

The next few days passed by in a remarkably boring fashion, considering the recent influx of chaos that had taken over Stiles' life as of late. He didn't even get to spend much time killing things in video games, since Scott had been devoting most of his waking life to figuring out ways to sneak around with Allison, and Stiles quickly got bored of inciting violence without competition. To shake up the monotony of Wikipedia-binges, bad daytime television and cheetoes, and, if he's being totally honest, a lot of masturbating which may or may not feature Derek Hale, Stiles decided that he was going to head down to the Station and bother his dad and stick his nose where it doesn't belong in the Sheriff's office, which was always full of something interesting in drawers that clearly need better locks, come on dad, when are you going to learn.

Or at least that was the plan, until suddenly Scott's name was flashing up on his phone.

"Well, well, well…" Stiles said as he picked up. "The prodigal best friend has returned."

"You have to go on a date with me." Came the rushed, desperate reply.

Stiles wrinkled his nose in confusion, taking the phone away from his ear to look at the screen, and yep, that was definitely Scott's name. "Scott, I mean… I love you and all, buddy, but – "

"Not like that." Scott huffed, in a tone that indicated that he believed Stiles to be the insufferably crazy person right now.

"Oh, so now I'm being shoved into the friend-zone?" Stiles mock-petulantly shot back. "Not cool, baby."

"Stiles, oh my god, just listen –"

"The friend-zone is total bullshit perpetuated by immature, possessive douchebags, by the way." Stiles continued, just to be a contrary, just because he could.

"Oh, like you're one to talk." Scott snapped.

"Excuse you." Stiles curtly retorted. "If you're referring to Lydia, I'll have you know that I never once treated her poorly based on her continued choice to refute my charming advances. She's already dating an actual douchebag, she doesn't need another one getting all up in her business based on her choice to pick the first one over the second one."

The line was silent for a moment, before Scott's flustered reply came. "What? I don't even know… Look, will you go on a date with me or not?"

"That depends." Stiles said. "Are you planning on putting out, or not?"

"STILES."

"Well maybe if I knew what the hell you were actually talking about, I wouldn't be trying to plan a romantic night for us!" Stiles told him, tilting his head to support the phone with his shoulder as he pulled on his shoes. No use holding off on putting clothes on and getting on with his own plans of taking the Sheriff's station by storm for his own amusement if Scott wasn't going to hurry up and get to a point.

"Urgh, look," Scott said, no doubt making that scrunchy putting-thoughts-into-words face. "Allison and I were going to go on a date tomorrow, but her aunt Kate caught her texting me about it, and on top of her being a crazy bitch, apparently she could also potentially tell Allison's parents about it, so Allison had to lie and say she was going out with Lydia, for some sort of girl date."

"Hot." Stiles commented.

"Shut up." Scott told him. "Anyway, so then, I don't know, apparently Lydia is, like, actually going to come along to help cover for Allison, which is great, I guess, but now there's no way I can be caught dead going with her, or the whole thing will fall apart. So you have to come get me and come along so it's not suspicious and no one finds out."

Stiles rolled his eyes, shrugging into a jacket. "Okay, one: I hope you know that this plan is falling apart at the non-existent seams. If her parents saw you and her together with me and Lydia it would just look like a double date, not just woops what a coincidence that we all bumped into each other. And, two: I don't have to come get you and go on a weirdo faux-double date with you."

Scott didn't reply right away, but when he did, it was in his puppy-voice. "But you're going to, right?"

Stiles sighed. "Of course I am, stupid."

o.O.o

Of course, Scott had failed to mention that this dubiously planned double-(but-not-really)-date was going to be taking place way out in the middle of freaking nowhere, all the way out at the preserve.

"You're paying for my gas." Stiles told Scott, approximately fifteen minutes into the drive out, at least another five or ten to go.

Scott fidgeted around in his seat, impatient. "It had to be out of the way. You said it yourself, it would be totally suspicious if her parents caught us around town or something. Besides, I thought you liked… hikes and nature and shit."

Stiles gave him a sidelong glance. "I don't like them this much."

Grinning sheepishly, Scott scooted down in the passenger seat a bit. "But you like me this much?"

"Some days." Stiles said, looking back at the road. "Although I'm really not sure why."

The preserve was a large expanse of woods, fields, and hills with the occasional creek thrown in, mostly left in its natural state aside from a few paths running through it and an occasional service bridge put in over wider strips of the creek. It was a point of pride for Beacon Hills, to have such a natural, relatively untamed area right outside of town, in this day and age. Stiles did think it was pretty nice, in an absent kind of way, and had in fact had some pretty magical Disney moments encountering deer and quail and, once, a coyote, as a kid with his parents, but he couldn't say it was an especially engaging destination, especially since he was going to be visiting it again on a super awkward not-double-date.

Could have been worse, though. Apparently Lydia had apparently tried to drag Jackson along to make it an actual double date, and Stiles couldn't even begin to imagine how grueling that would have been, to be dragged through nature as a fifth wheel with two simpering couples. Or possibly forced to carpool with Jackson.

Urgh.

As Stiles pulled off onto the dirt shoulder that served as a "parking lot" to the main trailhead of the preserve, there were only two or three other cars parked along it, one of which Stiles recognized as Allison's dad's SUV that he must have let the girls borrow for the day. Scott, of course, spotted it as well, and practically threw himself at the door as soon as the Jeep was in a relatively immobile state, even though the ignition was still running. By the time Stiles got the Jeep appropriately parked and shut off, and wandered over to the girls and Scott, his best friend had already managed to completely wrap himself around Allison, who was, for her part, grinning happily, dimples flashing at Stiles as he ambled over.

"Hey Stiles!" she greeted. "Thanks for coming along today, since, well… you know how it is."

"No problem." Stiles replied, even though the drive out kind of had been. But all the same, it wasn't like he'd had anything else planned for the day, and although he had technically met Allison a few times in passing as Scott traded over between Stiles and her, he had never really gotten much interaction with his best friend's star-crossed lover, and maybe it'd be nice to finally get to see what all the fuss was about. She was pretty, and seemed nice, but so far he wasn't getting it, so maybe prolonged exposure would reveal what drove Scott bonkers when it came to her.

"Stiles."

That tone was absolutely no good, and as Stiles turned to face Lydia, he could tell that there were figurative dark clouds gathering on his horizon. A sudden flashback to high-tailing it out of a completely thrashed library reminded Stiles of the last time he had seen Lydia, and what terms it had been left off on.

"Yeah, hi, hello. You look especially gorgeous today, Miss Martin." Stiles uneasily attempted, but it was obvious that Lydia was having none of it, by the squaring of her shoulders and the aggressive angle of her hips.

"So you want to tell me why the hell my library looked like the aftermath of a tornado with no culprit in sight last time I saw your face?" She spit, looking a mixture of furious and begrudgingly curious. Lydia had always loved a good dramatic mystery. Allison looked between them with trepidation, and Scott – in an attempt to save his date – pulled her along towards the woods. Stiles floundered between answering Lydia and running like a coward for a moment before rushing to catch up with Scott and Allison.

Nearly an hour later, after a lot of Scott and Allison attempting to keep ahead of Stiles (who was determinedly hounding them in an attempt to escape Lydia's keen interrogation, and how she was even keeping up in those skinny jeans and calf-high leather boots, Stiles would never know. Possibly she was driven by the force of her own wrath and determination.) and Lydia, things had settled down, and the four of them were having a good hike along the creek. Stiles was amusing himself by making gagging sounds every time Scott and Allison held hands or did this weird thing where they just sort of put their faces really close together and smiled at each other, which Lydia scoffed at, but Stiles knew that deep down she felt the same, if the amount of time she had been spending on her phone was any indication.

"That's poison oak you just stepped in, good job." She told Stiles, as he overbalanced in his attempt to not slip off a rock into the freezing creek water, and landed in low, ruddy-coloured shrubbery.

"Fantastic." Stiles quipped, sidestepping into another patch of it, before jumping out into the safety of dry, fallen tree leaves on dirt. At least he'd worn jeans – hopefully they would have kept it from touching his skin, and he could just wash them as soon as he got home.

"Oh my gosh!" Allison yelled from a few yards ahead, and Stiles looked up to see her jumping back, Scott grabbing her protectively, as a large amount of crashing exploded from the nearby bushes. Lydia screamed as something came rushing out in a large blur, and Stiles made a vague attempt to move in front of her, but mostly he just ended up shoving her to the ground and then launching himself out of the way as whatever it was came running right at them, followed by several more.

More crashing could be heard as they fled further away into the woods, and no one said anything for a minute until Allison burst out, smiling, "Were those deer?", sounding entertained at their own reactions. Scott burst out laughing, and Lydia rolled her eyes, pushing herself to her feet. Stiles laughed in both amusement and relief, but then there was another crashing creature bursting out of the bushes.

The girls screamed, and Scott shoved Allison behind himself, shouting "Stiles!" Stiles, for his part, was frozen in shock, not sure if he could believe his own eyes.

It was the wolf.

It must have been the same wolf, because how many huge black wolves could there possibly be running around in Beacon Hills, but it looked completely different somehow. Maybe it was seeing it in broad daylight, the sun making its thick fur shine with dark brown undertones and bright silver highlights, or maybe it was seeing it without clumps of bloody matting dripping ominously to the dirt, but Stiles was floored at the magnificent creature that was standing before them. The massive creature that was… staggering, stumbling, falling over in front of them.

"What the fuck." Lydia shouted, hysteria tightly wound in her voice. "Is a wolf doing here?"

"Stiles, no!" Scott cried out, at the same time as Allison squealed, "What are you doing?"

Because Stiles didn't even think about it before he stepped forward, dropping to his knees in front of the heaving beast. At first it was hard to tell what was wrong, but as Stiles shuffled closer he could see something sticking out of its shoulder – a bright red tuft among the wolf's mane.

"I think someone shot a tranquilizer at it." Stiles said, looking up at the horrified faces of his friends. Scott was looking like his brain might explode, both from the shock of the wolf's re-appearance, and from being the only other person who knew about the connection between the wolf and Kate-crazy-fucker-Argent, aunt to Allison who was standing with there, and wow it was going to be a bloodbath (hopefully not literally) of awkwardness if Kate was the next beast to burst out of the foliage.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Lydia snapped, shifting from foot to foot, as if she couldn't decide if she wanted closer, or further away.

"We should go." Allison said, pulling at Scott's arm in the direction of the path back to the cars. "Before it wakes up or gets angry…er. We can call Animal Control on the way back."

Stiles impulsively shifted closer to the wolf. "No way." He told the group at large. "We're not just leaving it here."

"Stiles…" Scott said, sounding reluctant to say it, but firm all the same. "We're not exactly equipped to deal with this. It's… dangerous and weird, and we need to get out of here and get ahold of someone who knows what do to."

Derek, Stiles realized. Derek had told Stiles to call him if anything weird happened, and this definitely qualified.

"I'm gonna make a call." He said, standing and pulling his phone out, pacing in a nervous-energy circle as he pulled up Derek's contact information and hit 'call'.

The phone rang… and rang… and rang, and rang and rang. It rang for much longer than Stiles thought phones usually did, before finally switching to voicemail. A generic, automated voice informed him that he had reached the voice mailbox of – and here Derek's voice cut in awkwardly and gruffly with his own name – "Derek Hale", please leave a message after the tone, or press 1 for more options.

"Who the hell are you even calling?" Lydia demanded, which, to be fair, was a valid question. Not everyone had wolf-emergency contacts on speed dial.

The tone on Derek's voicemail beeped infuriatingly, and Stiles knew it wasn't an answering machine that Derek could hear him on and pick up when he heard Stiles' voice leaving the message, but he left one anyway.

"No, I don't want to press one for more options, unless one of those options is getting your ass out here right this fucking second. What the hell, Derek, you can't just tell me to call you if I need to, and then just not answer. I'm out at the preserve, and kind of in the middle of trying to deal with a very large, furry problem, so you need to call me back absolutely A.S.A.P, hopefully before I even finish sending you a very irate follow-up text message, which I will be doing the second I hang up. Call me back, asswipe!"

Hanging up, Stiles immediately set to formulating a text message to Derek, as promised, when Scott cleared his throat.

"What?" Stiles said, not looking up from his fingers flying across the keyboard.

"We really shouldn't stick around much longer." Scott said, and winced at the glare Stiles sent at him, but continued. "If, uh… if someone else shows up, it probably wouldn't be a good idea for us to be hanging around."

Stiles sighed, sent off SOS 911 WOLF EMERGENCY CALL ME BACK LOSER WAT THE HELL, and took in the scene. Scott… was probably right. If Kate Argent showed up and found Scott and Stiles caught up in her wolf hunt again, not to mention joined by two other bystanders, one of which was her own niece, things would be getting very tricky very fast. She probably couldn't kidnap and hold-for-ransom all four of them for being witnesses, but Derek had heavily impressed upon Stiles what a psycho bitch she was, and it probably wouldn't be best to take chances.

"Okay." Stiles agreed, and everyone seemed to collectively sigh in relief, but that was only because Stiles hadn't finished his statement yet. "But we're not leaving it here."

Another outburst predictably greeted this announcement, and Scott resorted to using expansive gestures since he couldn't be heard over the screeching of the girls, but Stiles had made his decision.

"Look, someone shot it, and someone's going to come looking for it. We can't just let them come find it and… make it into a decorative pelt or something." Stiles insisted, throat feeling tight at the very thought.

"Maybe it got shot because it's a wild wolf in the middle of Beacon Hills and needs to be taken away." Lydia snapped, ignoring Allison's "Who would even do that?"

"Look." Stiles said, kneeling down and scooting in carefully towards the wolf. "You guys do whatever, but I'm not gonna just leave it here."

There was another onslaught of shouting in response to this, but Stiles decided that he didn't care, and time was of the essence. Who knew how long ago the wolf had been tranquilized, and how far away it had been able to run before coming across them? Kate could be coming along any minute now. Stiles wasn't entirely sure how he was going to carry the wolf on his own, but maybe someone would volunteer to help after witnessing Stiles' struggle. If not, Stiles had piggy-back carried Scott's drunk ass around for a whole night during their end-of-school celebration a month or two ago… surely he could figure out how to make this work on his own, somehow.

The wolf was laying pretty still, chest slowly heaving breaths that came out as soft whuffs from its muzzle to stir the dry dirt, but it still seemed at least a little bit conscious from the way its eyes would slowly blink and try to focus on noise and movement, and its limbs would occasionally twitch in what seemed like a useless attempt at proper movement. Stiles crept as closer slowly, and thankfully everyone else had decided to watch him tempt fate in silence, because the last thing he wanted right now was for sudden noise to startle the wolf into a burst of adrenaline-inspired activity involving sharp teeth and large claws.

"Heeeeey wolfy." Stiles gently coaxed, reaching out a shaking hand towards its ruff, wondering how on earth he had come to be this recklessly stupid. If Derek was ignoring him because he thought Stiles was crying wolf again, and Stiles got his arm bitten off, the first thing he was doing was getting a metal claw installed in its place so he could slash Derek's pretty face with it. "It's your buddy Stiles, remember me? We're gonna be friends, okay? I'm gonna touch you and you're going to be super thankful and not maul me to death, deal?"

A low, rumbling growl came from the beast's chest as it made a great effort to focus on Stiles, but there wasn't much that it could do like this, apparently more drugged than it was letting on, if Stiles was already this close. Emboldened, and accompanied by a "Stiles, oh my god no" from the peanut gallery, Stiles finally reached out just that bit further and made contact with the wolf's thickly furred neck, gently applying experimental pressure that he hoped was vaguely reassuring.

"Shh… there's a good wolfy. We're gonna help, okay? But I've got to pick you up, so please for the love of god understand that I am helping and don't tear my throat out, okay?" Stiles cooed, shuffling closer and running his fingers through the wolf's fur, from the neck down over the shoulders. Bracing himself, he pulled the tranquilizer dart out with one swift yank, but aside from an abrupt peak in the ominous growling and a quick twitch, nothing happened. Stiles' heart was thudding so loudly against his chest he was sure the wolf and anyone else within the tri-county could hear it as he awkwardly shifted the wolf so that he could get a grip under its arms to attempt to pull it up. The low rumbling never let up, and Stiles' life flashed before his eyes as he leaned in closer to reach under its chest and slowly worked the wolf's prone form up off the dirt. The growling grew even deeper for a moment, and the wolf's sluggish limbs half-heartedly attempted movement, but Stiles shushed it again, and, after taking a few deep, snuffling breaths that Stiles could actually feel over the back of his neck, oh my god, the wolf settled down and let Stiles awkwardly heave it up over his shoulders.

"Shit." Scott hissed in shock and awe as Stiles slowly stood up, the wolf half-draped over him like some sort of living medieval cloak, and then rushed in when Stiles slipped, grabbing the wolf's back end so that Stiles could get it more firmly around the front.

"Thanks." Stiles wheezed out, half from the exertion, half from the terrifying thrill of oh my god he was carrying a wolf. Half carrying. Whatever.

"This is the most batshit insane thing we've ever done." Scott told him, as if Stiles had been unaware.

"Thanks, buddy." Stiles told him. "I hadn't noticed."

Somehow, with a great deal of hefting and awkward transporting – including an especially memorable occasion of trying to get across the creek without slipping and falling and getting soaking wet and mauled – they made it back to the cars, Allison and Lydia having scouted ahead to make sure that no one else was around to witness four people shoving a wolf into the back of a Jeep. Getting its massive prone form into the back was no easy feat, but between Stiles and Scott they finally managed it.

"Now what?" Lydia asked, giving Stiles a 'you-are-even-weirder-and-stupider-than-I-ever-coul d-have-imagined' look.

"Oh, I was going to check him into the pound and put up 'lost dog' fliers." Stiles replied.

"What about the vet?" Allison asked.

Scott nodded enthusiastically. "That could work. Deaton can keep it in a kennel until we can call Animal Control or whatever. He won't be happy about it, but I don't think he'll rat us out for bringing it back either."

"Alright." Stiles agreed, absently stroking over the wolf's flank as it slowly rose and fell. The wolf had long since stopped growling, simply making sounds of protest on the long walk back to the car whenever Stiles and Scott weren't able to be gentle enough stumbling over the rocks and uneven pathways. "That could work." Also he was going to call Derek again, because seriously, what the hell.

"Hey, that looks like my aunt's car." Allison suddenly said, looking across the street to where a sleek black SUV was parked almost completely off the road, into the trees. "Was it here the whole time?"

Shit shit shit, how long had Kate's car been there? Had they not noticed it when they had initially parked? Or had she come by after Stiles and Scott and the girls had arrived, themselves? Shit, Stiles' Jeep wasn't exactly unrecognizable, and Kate would know her own bother's car as well, and know exactly who else was at the preserve at the same time as her and the wolf. Again.

"Whelp, time to go!" Stiles loudly responded, over Scott's "It's probably just a coincidence!" Allison didn't look convinced, but when Stiles carefully tucked the wolf's tail in and shut the back of the Jeep, it wasn't like she had much of a reason to stick around and find out.

"So, let's all agree to never speak of this to anyone. Ever. I'm talking about, like, to the grave." Stiles said, walking around to the driver's side and pulling the door open.

"Yeah, right." Lydia said, slipping into the passenger door of Allison's dad's car as soon as Allison unlocked it. "As if I want everyone thinking I'm crazy, and Jackson never letting me out of his sight again? No thanks."

"Scott!" Stiles snapped, and Scott and Allison broke apart quickly from their lingering goodbye kiss. "Not the time!"

The drive back seemed both much longer and much shorter than the drive out. The wolf was starting to make more snuffling noises and regaining a bit more movement, making every second a terrifying stretch of are we going to make it in time, but Stiles was so busy keeping the exact speed limit – because they so could not afford to get pulled over right now – and dictating text messages for Scott to send to Derek using Stiles' phone, that they were actually pulling up to the vet's office before he knew it.

The vet's office that was very firmly closed.

"Oh my god, it's Sunday." Scott moaned.

"Why the hell is a vet's office closed on Sundays?" Stiles demanded. "Do they expect animals to just not need medical assistance on the weekends?"

"Vets are always closed on Sundays!" Scott hysterically informed him. "You have to go to Emergency Clinics on Sundays!"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Stiles snapped. "Don't you have like a, like a key or something? Don't you work here?"

"I... okay, yeah, I have a key." Scott said, rooting around in the bag at his feet.

"Fine." Stiles decided. "Then we'll get it in, put in a kennel, and then you're calling Deaton, and then Deaton is calling Animal Control."

"Why can't we just call animal control!"

"Because then we're connected, and nothing happens around here so it's going to be a big deal, and they'll fuckin' put our names in the paper for everyone to see. We don't need two strikes from your girlfriend's psycho aunt!"

"Urgh, fine!" Scott relented. "I'll just… I'll go unlock the back door, and come back to help you get it taken in. Then we'll call Deaton and let him handle it."

It was a good plan – the only good plan that had been concocted over the last twenty four hours, if you asked Stiles – until everything went to pieces. Scott got the door unlocked and was back to help team-lift the wolf into the clinic in record time, but as soon as Stiles unlocked the back and opened it up a hundred-plus pounds of furry beast was leaping out, knocking Stiles and Scott to the ground.

"What the hell!" Scott cried out, eyes wide as he flailed back to his feet. "I thought it was knocked out!"

"So did I!" Stiles shouted back as he pushed himself up. The wolf was standing very still, staring them both down calculatingly from where it hand landed in the parking lot. "I think… I took the dart out, and it took so long to get here that whatever was in its system already just… wore off. Oh god. Good wolfy, pretty wolfy, please don't be mad."

The wolf huffed, once, staring Stiles down with eyes the green-grey colour of the forest itself, before turning tail and running off.

"No!" Stiles shouted, throwing his arms up and spinning in a frustrated circle. "Come on, we brought you all this way!"

"At least it seemed okay." Scott said reassuringly, shuffling closer and looking in the direction the wolf had run off in.

"For now." Stiles darkly gritted out, completely gutted that he had come so close to getting the wolf to safety, only for the stupid thing to bolt.

Dumb animal, Stiles thought to himself as he slammed the Jeep's door after getting in, going to drop Scott back off at home, and then head back to his own. But he knew he didn't mean it. When that wolf had looked at him, Stiles couldn't help but feel like it had known, had looked right into Stiles' very soul somehow, and known exactly who he was and what was going on.

But it had still run away.

o.O.o

By the time Stiles got home it was getting dark, because Scott had wanted to properly freak out and rant and panic at Stiles for a very long time about 'we could have died' and 'Allison is going to be so freaked out and never want to go on a date again' and 'that was definitely Kate Argent's car oh my god what if she saw us what if she tells Allison what if what if what if…' and Stiles had taken the time to talk him down. Stiles pulled his Jeep into the drive, noting that his dad's cruiser wasn't there, and then did a double take and nearly floored his Jeep into the wall in surprise because Derek was right there at his front door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Stiles demanded, slamming out of the car and storming up to the front door, where Derek was looking distinctly unruffled.

"Waiting here for you to get home." Derek said, hands in the pockets of his ridiculously stupidly smoking hot leather jacket.

Stiles scoffed. "Are you kidding me? What century is this? I called you and sent you approximately five hundred million texts all afternoon, you could have called back instead of showing up a'courting at my door!"

Derek shifted, frowning. "I didn't have my phone with me."

"You didn't –!" Stiles began, loudly, his voice cracking mid-way through. He angrily rummaged his keys out and jammed them in the door, pulling it open and hauling him inside, not wanting the whole street to hear this conversation. Because it was going to be a loud one, Stiles was going to make sure of that. He slammed the door, and rounded back on Derek. "You didn't have your phone with you, after specifically giving me your number and telling me to call in an emergency? All while there is an active emergency situation running around in the woods at any given time, hunted by a secondary, even greater pressing emergency? Is that really the time to not have your phone on you?"

Derek shifted on his feet again, not saying anything. Stiles couldn't even see his face to figure out what his response might be, which made him realize that they were basically both just standing around in the dark in his foyer.

"Urgh, you're impossible." Stiles declared, throwing his arms up and turning on his heel to the kitchen. He slapped the light switch on the wall as he entered, and Derek trailed after him. There was a note on the fridge about leftovers from his dad, and Stiles pulled out the plate that had been made up, shoved it in the microwave, and then rounded back on Derek, who was hovering somewhat awkwardly just past the kitchen threshold.

"So what the hell are you here for, then?" Stiles snapped.

Derek scowled at him. "Checking up on you."

"Well I'm still in one piece, no thanks to you." Stiles said, holding onto his anger, and trying very hard not to feel like of warm and pleased that Derek had come to check up on him to make sure he was okay.

"I told you I didn't have my phone on me." Derek said. "I came over right after… as soon as I got back to my phone and saw the messages." And Derek did sound kind of awkward about it, which Stiles thought might have been a show of guilt, which appeased him somewhat. And Derek did look sort of… peaky. His hair was a bit more ruffed up than usual, and his clothing looked rumpled, and he seemed just sort of exhausted overall.

"You kind of look like shit, dude." Stiles told him.

"Thanks." Derek replied, rolling his eyes.

The timer dinged on his food a minute later, and Stiles retrieved it from the microwave and took it up to his room, still followed by Derek. Stiles' heart beat a little faster as Derek followed him up the stairs, because Derek was going to be in his room, and Stiles hoped he hadn't left out anything embarrassing, like dirty underwear, or something horribly embarrassing still pulled up on his computer screen. Stiles could have asked Derek why he was still there, as he pushed open the door to his room and kicked his lacrosse uniform out of the middle of his floor, sitting down in his desk chair. But he didn't. Because he kind of enjoyed Derek hovering around, checking up on him, and presumably feeling guilty over not picking up the phone when Stiles needed him. Derek looked around Stiles' room (which thankfully did not currently display dirty underthings or inappropriate internet tabs pulled up on the computer screen) before sitting down awkwardly on the edge of Stiles' bed. No one else besides Scott or his dad had ever sat on his bed before, and Stiles' stomach felt squirmy things about Derek being on it. The jury was still out on good-squirmy or bad-squirmy, but if Stiles was being honest with himself, the outcome was leaning heavily towards the former.

"So how do you know so much about this?" Stiles asked to break the silent tension.

"About what." Derek gruffly returned.

"About…" Stiles tried to clarify, twirling his hand at the wrist in a circular gesture to the room at large as he set his plate down on his desk. "You know, the wolf and the hunter and stuff."

Oooooh, Stiles hadn't known it was possible for scowls to get quite so deep and angry. But Derek's face looked like it was about to frown right off and start committing violence all on its own with no help from the rest of him, and Stiles froze, fork of food stuffed in his mouth.

"Uh," Stiles continued after swallowing, "As expressive and intimidating as that face is, it kind of only makes me want to know the answer even more, dude. I just spent the afternoon carting around a semi-unconscious apex predator, I think I deserve to know why."

Derek sighed, scowl turning into something closer resembling a resigned frown. He didn't reply right away, but Stiles had all night and was willing to either wait him out or actively pester the answer out of him, so he buckled in and wondered which it was going to take. Derek seemed to sense this, and made the decision to avoid the pestering by providing an answer. "I… know Kate."

"Yeah, I got that impression a while ago from the jumping me in the club and bodily dragging me out of her sight like an aggressive ninja of the night." Stiles told him.

"I mean I know her." Derek grit out, scowling down at his shoes. "I, a long time ago, I used to…"

Stiles eyes widened in surprise as he connected the dots that Derek was struggling to verbalize. "No way dude! I mean, she's kind of hot in an intimidating dungeon-cougar way, but like… she's totally crazytown bananapants. In, like, a way that totally outnumbers the aggressive attractiveness or whatever she might possibly have going on in her favor."

"She wasn't like that at first." Derek grumbled, still looking anywhere but at Stiles. "Or, she didn't let it show."

"Oh." Stiles said, not sure how else he was supposed to respond. He'd never had a crazy ex, or known anyone else who had; what were you supposed to say? Sorry? That sucks? Hope the sex was good at least?

Except, ew, that gave Stiles icky creepy-crawly feelings. He didn't want to think of psycho Kate putting her crazy hands on Derek. Not just because he got stupid jealous feelings over it (or, not only because of that, at least) but because it squicked him out to think of people using others, and Derek sure was acting like someone who had been conned, because obviously it bothered him to think of her, and obviously it had something to do with him not knowing about her being a psycho hunter.

"Sorry." Stiles said, awkwardly, as he took another bite of his meal, because he really had no idea what else to say. "Did she, like, trick you into helping her shoot wolves?"

Derek flexed his knuckles, clenching and unclenching his fists, grimacing as he answered. "She burned my entire family alive."

The plate of leftovers crashed to the ground, the plate breaking and the food splattering everywhere, but the sound barely registered over the ringing in Stiles' own ears at the admission. The burnt wreck of a house in the woods, Derek having been away from town until recently, the intensity behind his insistence that there was a very real and tangible danger even though all Stiles had seen so far was a gun pointed at an animal… Everything slotted into place, and Stiles was shaken with a surge of empathy and fear.

"That's…" he said, gripping the arm of his computer chair tightly.

"She's dangerous." Derek said, as if that wasn't suddenly more clear than ever, and as if he wanted to cut off whatever comment Stiles was going to have on the matter.

"Yeah." Stiles agreed, a bit breathless. He sort of wanted to go sit next to Derek and give him a hug or something, but wasn't sure if that would be welcomed. Derek didn't seem like the type to suffer sympathy well. "Okay, so… so what are we supposed to do? My dad's the sheriff, we could – but why isn't she already in prison?"

"Lack of evidence." Derek spat.

"So… what do we –"

"We don't do anything." Derek told him, finally snapping his gaze back up and meeting Stiles directly in the eye. "The only reason you're even involved is because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm working on it, and all you have to do is stay out of the way."

Shocked and angry, Stiles stood up and glared at Derek. "Uh, excuse me? Last I checked, I was the one, both times, who was there in time to keep that wolf from being a pelt while you showed up fashionably late to the party. You said that she'd kidnap me or god knows what else if she saw me again, so I'm pretty sure it's a little late for me to not be a part of this. I'm helping."

"You're not –"

"Pretty sure I am." Stiles cut in. "What the fuck, Derek, you can't just think I'm going to keep my head down and hope it all goes away. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not some delicate flower. I'm in too deep to back out now. That's what she said."

The last comment probably didn't do much to aid his declaration that he was prepared to take this seriously and be an adult contributor to the solution, but whatever. It wasn't like Derek could make him stop being involved. That would be fighting a war on two fronts, and Stiles had the feeling Derek knew that, by the way he sighed resentfully and shook his head.

"Why do you even care?" Derek asked. "You don't have to do anything more than keep out of the way and be alert. Why would you want to go out of your way for some… some stupid animal."

"It's not a stupid animal." Stiles immediately shot back. "It's… it's a really cool wolf who never hurt anyone and doesn't deserve to just die."

"You don't know that." Derek told him.

"Yeah, well." Stiles shot back, pointing accusingly at Derek. "I still think I'm right. That wolf is awesome. It's just… it's wild, but it's not dangerous. It looked right at me, the last time I saw it, like it was looking into my freaking soul, and didn't even try to scratch me. It's not a dumb animal, and it's not right that she's going to kill it. And it's not right what she did to you, and your family. That's like, on a totally other level, but this is still messed up, and there's still time to do something about it."

Derek was staring at him curiously, arms folded loosely over his lap, as if he had never really seen Stiles before. Stiles wasn't sure if he had crossed some sort of line, mentioning what Kate had done to Derek and his family so offhandedly, but what Derek asked was: "You like the wolf?"

"Well, yeah." Stiles said uncomfortably, shrugging, and not sure why that was what Derek was choosing to focus on. He felt like some of his steam had left him, and continuing to stand while Derek just sat there and looked up at him seemed a bit silly, in his own room, so he flopped down on the bed next to Derek, his stomach flipping a little at the nearness and the location. "It's not like wolves are bloodthirsty monsters like fairytales always seem to make them out to be. They're really smart, and they're social animals, just like people, and they're, I don't know." Stiles had never really thought much about wolves until this whole ordeal. "That one in particular seems really… something. Not like I've ever run into any other canis lupus to compare, exactly, but it just seems like it doesn't want to hurt anyone. It just wants to be left alone, or go back to its pack, probably."

Derek took in a deep breath, looking down again. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"And, hey," Stiles continued, elbowing Derek companionably. "I'd kind of prefer you not chewed up and spit out by the psycho-ex either."

"You don't even know me." Derek said, looking uncomfortable.

"Uh, I guess." Stiles conceded. "But I, you know, I like you or whatever –" Oh yeah, real cool Stilinski "– so, you know. I'd sort of prefer it if you stuck around."

Oh my god, could he sound any more like a middle schooler with a crush?

Derek sighed, standing. "You don't know that."

"I know what I want, thank you very much." Stiles snapped back, standing as well. "I'm not a kid." Derek met his determined expression for a moment before looking him up and down quickly and then returning his gaze again.

"I know that."

Stiles was taken aback, and he could feel his traitorous cheeks heat as he flushed. Did Derek just check him out? But before he could ascertain that one way or the other, Derek was already walking away, leaving through Stiles' open bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked, quickly following after him, being careful not to trip down the stairs.

"I'm leaving." Derek said, crossing more efficiently that he should through the dark first floor towards the door, considering that it was only his second time in the house and it was just about impossible to see anything. Stiles himself clipped his hip, hard, on a corner. "It's late, and it's been a long day. You should get some rest."

"I'm fine." Stiles told him as he rubbed his hip, not sure how to convey that he didn't want Derek to leave without sounding weird. Derek paused as he opened the front door, looking back at Stiles once more time. Stiles' heart beat heavily in his chest, and he stepped right up into Derek's space. Derek eyed him, assessing, before shaking his head and stepping out the door.

"Goodnight, Stiles."

"Night." Stiles exhaled, pushing out the door onto the porch to watch Derek go down the stairs, and turn away down the sidewalk. Derek looked back one more time when he got to the end of the block before turning the corner, and Stiles felt stupid for still standing there watching him. He waved awkwardly, and saw Derek shake his head in some mixture of amusement and frustration before taking the corner and disappearing from sight. Stiles closed the door quietly and locked up before trudging back to his room and flopping down onto his bed. He had a lot to think about, with the murderer of both animals, and, apparently, people on the loose, and what they were going to do about it to, and what it had meant when Derek looked at him like he did, and why Stiles got such a swooping rush from it. It wasn't just that Derek was attractive. There was something about him, something deeper, underneath all the standoffish bitterness that Stiles was drawn to. It took Stiles hours to get to sleep, and even when he did he still tossed and turned all night.

The next morning, although he hadn't heard anything during the night, Stiles found a set of paw tracks in the dirt in the yard below his window.

o.O.o

The next day at lacrosse practice, Scott was nearly out of his mind with anxiety over the previous day's events. 'You don't even know the half of it', Stiles thought to himself – and he wasn't going to tell Scott, either. Not just because Scott's anxiety would reach apoplectic levels if he knew the full truth of what they were up against, but because it didn't seem right to tell someone else what Derek had confided in him. It had occurred to Stiles last night that it had probably been that very huge, morbid story that Derek had been stealing from the library's public records archives. It wasn't that there wouldn't be other records of the event – hell, Stiles could probably just ask his dad about it over dinner if he wanted the details – surely something like that would be impossible to completely cover up in a close-knit town like this – but Derek had wanted to get rid of the public records. If he didn't want anyone else to know about his messed up, tragic past that didn't already know about it, then Stiles wasn't going to blab. Not even to his best friend.

"I just don't think we should be messing around with this wolf stuff or any of Derek's business anymore." Scott was hissing to Stiles in what he probably thought was a discreet manner as they changed into their uniforms at their lockers.

"You're free to bail, dude." Stiles told him. "Just as long as you don't get caught messing around with Allison by her crazy aunt until we figure out how to get that situation taken care of."

"I'm not – what do you mean, we? What do you mean taken care of, oh my god!" Scott said, getting tangled in his jersey. He wiggled it into place, continuing, "I just said that I don't think –"

"I meant me and Derek, not you." Stiles clarified. Was he maybe a bit bitter about the amount of time that Scott was spending sneaking around with Allison, leaving Stiles on his own to apparently fall into the wrong (right? Stiles wasn't sure) crowd? Probably, but far be it from Stiles to not snark back when it was even remotely deserved.

"Duuuude." Scott whined. "That's what I'm talking about! I don't think me or you should be hanging around with him. He's not… he's… you know."

"He's fine." Stiles snapped, defensive.

"Come on, Stiles." Scott wheedled. "Don't you think it's a little shady that he's tied up in all this? Do you really think it's a good idea to get involved?"

Stiles opened his mouth to defend Derek – because what did Scott know? – and tell him that they'd been involved ever since they decided it would be a good idea to trespass at the remains of someone's tragic, burned down family home and gotten caught, but Finstock chose that moment to pop in and yell at everyone to hurry up, eager to get them onto the field and run them ragged.

Thankfully, it seemed that a grueling practice was just what Scott needed to wear him down so he could stop freaking out, because a grueling hour of sprinting, grass-stains, and – there was really no other way to say it – using their sticks to heave heavy balls through the air later, all he had to say on the matter (through panting and wheezing as he pulled his sweaty jersey off back at the lockers again) was "Fine, you do whatever. But I don't want to hear any more about it, and I'm going to be really upset if you die."

"I'm not going to die, Scott." Stiles retorted, rolling his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"You're either going to get eaten by a wolf or shot by a hunter." Scott insisted. "That's your life now. I hope you're happy. I hope it's worth it for your stupid crush on Derek."

Stiles froze, arm halfway shoved into his locker to pull out his change of clothes. "I don't…" he started, but then realized he wasn't sure how to finish.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Oh please. All you talk about anymore is 'Derek this' and 'Derek that' and 'Derek said…' or whatever."

"Yeah, well," Stiles began without a proper defense in mind, unwrapping his bundle of clothing, and pulling it back on piece by piece. When he took his phone out of his pocket to check the time there was a missed call from Derek, and a follow up text reading: "let me know when you are home" which seemed vaguely ominous, but also sent a fissure of excitement through Stiles at the prospect of spending more time with Derek one-on-one.

"What?" Scott prompted, leaning in to look at Stiles' phone.

"Nothing, it's just Der –" Stiles started, before cutting himself off.

Scott threw his hands up. "You see! It's always Derek, Derek, Derek!"

"Well I could say the same about you and Allison!" Stiles threw back, and Scott got that glossy look in his eyes for a second before shaking his head.

"Fine." Scott relented. "Obviously this is a thing that you're going to do, I just hope that you know what you're getting into. Also if he hurts you I'll kill him."

"Thanks, buddy." Stiles said, clapping Scott on the back and hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. "Seeya later."

Stiles didn't run from the locker room to his jeep in his eagerness. He just took very long, purposeful strides, thank you very much. He texted "on my way" back to Derek as he crossed the field to the parking lot, nearly getting hit by a car as a reward for his distraction. By the time Stiles got home and parked his jeep, Derek was already sitting quietly on his front porch, and Stiles tripped over himself in his haste to exit his vehicle.

"Hey, creeper." Stiles greeted, a bounce in his step as he approached. "What were you planning on telling my dad if he decided to enter or exit the house and saw you loitering?"

Derek rolled his eyes and stood, tucking his hands into his pockets. "The patrol car isn't in the driveway."

"Hmm." Stiles acknowledged as he strode to the door, pulling out his keys. He smiled when Derek automatically followed him in the house, closing the door behind them as if he was already a regular guest. "You know," Stiles continued in a teasing lilt as they headed upstairs. "Scott thinks you're sketchy, doesn't want me hanging around you. And here you are making sure I'm conveniently home alone when you show up. Should I be worried?"

Derek didn't answer right away, and when Stiles smiled back over his shoulder as he pushed into his room and dropped his backpack, Derek was frowning. Stiles' smile dropped.

"Hey, come on dude, I was kidding."

"I wouldn't hurt you." Derek told him, shifting awkwardly in the doorway.

Stiles frowned. "I know that. Get in here, what's up?"

"Nothing's up." Derek told him in a surly manner, crossing the room to sit on the edge of Stiles' bed. Stiles' stomach flipped again, his heart skipping a few too many beats to be healthy, and Derek raised an eyebrow at him before Stiles got his act together and sat down next to him. Probably a little too close to be inconspicuous, but whatever. Stiles was living life on the edge these days.

"Then why did you blow up my phone while I was at practice?" Stiles asked him, shuffling back so that he could lean his sore muscles against the wall.

"I didn't blow up your–"

"Oh my gooood, stop stalling!" Stiles groaned. "What's up grumpy-face? Just spit it out."

Derek glared at him, then sighed, resituating himself more comfortably on the bed. "Who else have you told about any of this?"

Stiles didn't even have to think before answering. "No one, no one at all. I mean, Scott knows, because he was there. But even then, all he knows is about the wolf stuff. Not about any of the, you know… you stuff."

Nodding, Derek took this in, as though that was the answer he suspected anyway. "Okay."

Scooting closer, Stiles sat right beside Derek, bumping their shoulder. "Dude. What's up?"

"Kate's been setting traps around the house all week." Derek told him, and Stiles knew he meant his family's house, or what was left of it at least. "And if something happens… I don't want you involved, so no one else can know that you know anything."

"What's going to happen?" Stiles asked, leaning forward and trying to get Derek to look at him, but Derek resolutely looked down at his lap with a scowl. "Derek? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know." Derek admitted. "But if… if there was ever an investigation… no one else can know that you know me. It wouldn't look good."

"An investigation of what?" Stiles asked, heart picking up. Derek definitely wasn't telling him something.

"Anything suspicious."

Stiles turned sideways, one leg hanging completely off the bed, the other tucked under himself so that he could face Derek directly. "Dude. What the hell is going to go down, and why won't you tell me about it?"

"Stiles…"

"Derek."

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Derek stood, going to the door. Stiles froze in shock even though his brain was screaming to not let Derek just walk away when something big was obviously brewing on the horizon, but Derek just shut the door and came back to sit down. Stiles couldn't help but notice that Derek sat down exactly where he had been before, even though he could have used getting up and coming back as an excuse to move away from where Stiles had positioned them so closely that his knee was pushed up against Derek's thigh.

"I'm going to try to set her up." Derek said. "She's been out there nearly every night, checking and re-setting the traps. If I can…" And here Derek paused, gathering himself. Stiles nearly whined aloud in anticipation and concern. "She doesn't know that I know about the traps; she hasn't seen me near the house since the first night –"

"Wait, which first night?" Stiles cut in. "You weren't there when Scott and I found the wolf –"

"– so I think I can trick her into getting caught in one of them, herself." Derek continued, as if he hadn't heard Stiles. "I'd call the police. I'd be able to tell them that she had been trespassing, setting illegal traps, carrying a firearm on my property, even that… that we used to… and it would be very suspicious, and they'd have to take her in, and maybe even revisit the old case, if I implied that she was a suspect, and they found her there again."

"That's… Derek, oh my god, that's…" It was dangerous, and risky, and would bring up all sorts of attention to something that Derek had obviously tried very hard to put behind him. It was not a good idea. "Why don't we –"

"No, Stiles." Derek firmly insisted. "It's the only way. She needs to get caught in the act, because no one would ever take my word for it, and you cannot be there. Not under any circumstances."

"But –"

"Did you miss the part about me calling the police?" Derek snapped, and Stiles shut up. Derek hadn't been anywhere near hostile towards him in some time, but an edge of his old danger was creeping into his voice, the way he held himself. "Stiles, your dad is the sheriff. He can't see you anywhere near this, and Kate can't see you anywhere near this again, or she'll connect the dots and tell him you were involved. She'll be able to turn it around on you, and me, and… Stiles, you just can't. I won't let you."

It made sense, damn it. "But, okay, there's got to be some way –"

"No." Derek said, and he reached out to grab Stiles' arm to emphasize his point. "I'm only letting you know because you've been helping so far, and you have a right to know since you're involved, and we need to keep our stories straight, but you have to let me do this on my own. There's no other way."

Making a frustrated sound, Stiles scooted even closer, his heart pounding. "You're going to get hurt."

Derek shrugged. "Maybe."

"Uuuuuurgh, Derek, oh my god." Stiles groaned. "This is crazy. No way."

"I'm not asking for permission, I'm telling you as a courtesy." Derek growled.

Stiles yanked his arm back out of Derek's grip, but didn't move away, so that Derek could receive his glare at close-range. "I only want to help. You're just as stubborn as that damn wolf. Maybe after all of this is over the two of you can be best friends who live in the woods and never let anyone else come close or try to do you any good, and see where that gets you."

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. Derek looked like someone had struck him across the face; a mix of shock and confusion and anger and betrayal all mixed up together. Stiles cringed and drew back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"It's fine." Derek said, voice cold. "You're not wrong."

"Damn it, Derek, I didn't mean it like that." Stiles told him. "You have been letting me help, I just… I'm frustrated that I can't do more, and this is the best idea we've got to go on."

"It doesn't matter." Derek said, standing. "Now you know what you need to know."

This time, when Derek went to the door, Stiles jumped up after him, because he was pretty sure that Derek wasn't going to come back. He trailed Derek silently out of his room and down the stairs, and they both paused when Derek opened the front door.

"I mean it, Stiles." Derek told him, fixing him with a hard look. "Stay out of this one."

"Whatever."

"I'm not trying to push you away."

"Fine."

Derek shifted from one foot to the other, looking like he wanted to say more, but instead he just sighed and turned to leave. Stiles almost let him go, but darted forward at the last minute, wrapping his arms around Derek's chest and pressing his face into the back of Derek's jacket. Derek stiffened, but didn't move away.

"Be careful, stupid." Stiles mumbled into the leather he was smushing his face into.

He felt Derek draw in a sharp intake of breath, then nod, and Stiles reluctantly unwound his arms from around him. Derek didn't say anything more, didn't even look back, but Stiles still watched him until he turned the corner and was out of sight. Then he went back inside, locked the door behind him, crawled back up to his room and opened the window so that he could hear the roar of Derek's Camaro as it sped away while he laid down on his bed.

o.O.o

Stiles must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew he was waking up, and it was dark. He wasn't sure what had woken him at first – maybe the discomfort of his day-clothes that he had been sleeping in, or the slight chill coming in from the open window – until he heard a sound. It was very faint, and a weird sort of tone that Stiles couldn't place.

Until suddenly he did.

Scrambling for his phone and his shoes that he had kicked off, Stiles thundered down the stairs three at a time, thankful that his dad was working the evening shift and wouldn't be home until much later, because there was absolutely no stealth at all involved as he blundered his way to the door, barely managing to lock up behind himself in his rush to get out, into his Jeep, and driving.

He'd never heard a wolf howl before, not in person, but he knew it when he heard it, and he knew that it meant trouble.

In his newfound hobby on Googling wolves, Stiles had learned a few things about why and when wolves howled. They didn't go around doing it for no reason, or just because they happened to see the moon in the sky like in stories and cartoons. They howled to signal to others, when they were hunting or in trouble. The only wolf around here for miles had no one else to call out to for a coordinated hunt, but Stiles was sure it wouldn't be able to stop itself from instinctually howling for help if it was in trouble.

Stiles drove at double the limit with the windows rolled down as he barreled towards the Hale property. He hadn't known (because Derek hadn't specifically said), but had suspected that Derek was going to enact his plan that very night. It was the perfect night for it – calm and brisk with a full moon overhead to see by – but there were definitely no wolves meant to be involved. Adding a wild animal into an already dangerous mess of a plan did not bode well for anyone and was just asking for trouble, and it would seem as though trouble had been delivered. There was no way a lone wolf that knew it was being hunted would give away its position unless things went very south very quickly, and Stiles' heart pounded for what that meant for Derek's involvement at the scene as well.

When Stiles pulled off the road next to the barrier keeping him from accessing the private turn-off for the Hale property, he nearly strangled himself in his seatbelt in his haste to get out of the car. The click of the hinge as the door popped open seemed excruciatingly loud in the still silence, and Stiles pocketed his keys without closing the door, because the last thing he needed was to make an earth-shattering noise and completely blow his cover, alerting psycho Kate to his presence. The jog up to the house seemed endless, especially when another wolf howl burst through the woods at a frankly alarming volume, and he definitely managed to step on every single perfectly crunchy stick littering the drive that cracked with a loud snap as he stumbled blindly through the dark. He worried vaguely about the wolf traps that Derek had mentioned, but just hoped that they had been set off the road in the bushes somewhere, because even if he had planned on slowing down, there was still no way he'd be able to see clearly enough to avoid them, even with the full moon's light filtering through the trees.

After way too long, the turn to the house finally came into view, and Stiles slowed down as he approached, praying that he'd obliterated all of the crunchy sticks on the way up, and that there were no more to give him up with here at the house, where the trees held back for the clearing. He couldn't see anything, and it wasn't like any lights were on in the house, but he could definitely hear scrabbling from inside the shell of the house, and a voice, and then suddenly a burst of blue light sizzled through the cracks, and was gone just as fast. Lungs tight, heart beating staccato-quick in his chest, Stiles crept closer.

The front door had been left open, or maybe it had always been open, because no one was inside, so what was there to keep out? Stiles pressed closer, keeping low and next to the walls, darting in quickly and cornering himself in the entry room to keep his back safe, and to give his eyes a moment to adjust in the darkness. He could hear the sounds and voices more clearly from inside, and it sounded like they were coming from right at the top of the stairs – and yep, that was definitely Kate.

"Oh, come on." Her sickening voice purred. "Don't be like that, puppy. Let me see your pretty face. Don't you want to come out and play, Derek?"

'Derek!' Stiles' brain shouted, and he gasped aloud. Another burst of blue light zapped through the air, and this close, Stiles could hear an accompanying crackling noise to go with it. A nearly inhuman noise of pain followed, and Stiles' stomach dropped. Derek!

Hardly daring to breath, Stiles crept to the foot of the stairs, hoping and praying as he never had before that they wouldn't creak. Perhaps to make up for all of the noise he had made getting there, the house answered his prayers and the old, worn, decaying stairs didn't make a single groan of protest under his weight. He could hear Kate's voice goading Derek on – "Now don't be so shy, Derek, it's unbecoming. Show me how handsome you are." – and by the time he got to the top of the stairs Stiles was nearly crawling on all fours in his attempt to stay low and out of sight.

It belatedly occurred to him that he definitely should have brought some sort of weapon, or even just grabbed a large branch on his way up the drive, but it was a bit late for that now. Listing himself ever so slightly from his crouch on the stairs, Stiles dared to peek up to get an idea of what he was about to burst into – because he was definitely going to do something – but was completely thrown by what he saw. Kate was there, brandishing something about the size of a nightstick, but sizzling and glowing dangerously, and Stiles realized that what he had been hearing and seeing flashes of earlier was the crack of electricity and the sparks resulting from hitting flesh. Her gun was slung over her shoulder, so the use of the electricity was just a taunt, a torture, and Derek… Derek wasn't there.

The wolf's large body was half crumpled to the floor, dragged up against the wall like Stiles had done when he first entered the house, to brace against and protect itself from the back with, but it wasn't doing much good. Kate was standing over it, feet firmly planted and ready to strike out at any forward movement from the creature, which was panting heavily and foaming slightly at the mouth as it shook. It met Stiles' eyes with its own, which were positively glowing, and gave a low, rumbling growl. Stiles quickly looked around, but there was definitely no sign of Derek. But just as assuredly, he had definitely heard Kate say his name, and confusion swept through Stiles' fear.

"Giving up so quickly, Derek?" Kate said, sounding amused and mock-disappointed. "My, how the mighty have fallen. Your family would be ashamed. I'm a little ashamed myself."

The wolf bared its glistening teeth threateningly, but otherwise made no attempt to defend itself or escape. Its eyes kept darting from Stiles' to Kate, and rumbling low and thunderously from deep in its throat. It tried to get up, but immediately collapsed again under the effort.

"Pathetic." Kate whispered, withdrawing the electric whipping stick, and reaching back for her rifle. She was quick, the movement obviously well practiced, and had it leveled right between the wolf's eyes in one smooth motion, as she clicked off the safety.

"NO!" Stiles shouted, rushing forward.

Kate turned quickly, rifle still raised, and quickly retargeted on him, but Stiles' dad had taught him a thing or two about what to do if someone ever pointed a gun at him, and he quickly ducked to the left as his momentum kept him barreling forward, which enabled him to reach out and grab the barrel of the rifle and shove it away, just as she fired. The shot resounded so loudly that Stiles' ears rang with it, but the bullet went straight past him, missing by a mile. Kate let out a curse, shifting and yanking away, and she was pulling the rifle back around, and that was going to be it, she was going to put a bullet in his head and his dad was going to be so sad, and Scott had told him that this was going to happen –

A snarling sound accompanied Kate suddenly tripping, nearly falling, and Stiles saw the wolf clamping its maw around her leg, yanking her off balance. She was scrambling for her gun, and kicking out at the wolf, which was barely managing to stand, and Stiles just… pushed.

They had somehow managed to make it right up against the banister, which suddenly gave way, and one second Kate was there, the next there was nothing. Stiles overbalanced and nearly toppled off the edge as well, but then he was being jerked back, and there was hot breath fanning out over the bare skin of his lower back, because oh my god, the wolf had snapped out and gotten ahold of his jacket and shirt, and was yanking him back roughly in some horrible game of tug-of-war, because he was still mostly falling off the edge, and he wasn't sure if he would rather fall to his death or be mauled by a wild enraged beast. He made the mistake of looking back in a panic, and saw the huge hulking beast holding onto him, and lurched forward in terror, because this was it, he was going to die one way or the other – until suddenly he wasn't.

Between one blink and the next everything shifted and warped, and Stiles thought he was going to throw up from disorientation, but then strong arms were wrapping around his waist and pulling him back, which was a good thing because he definitely lost all ability to hold himself up as his legs gave out and he collapsed into the hold and was dragged back to solid ground.

"Derek?" Stiles gasped as he hit the floor, half on top of the body of his rescuer. He immediately flailed, pushing away and trying to get up, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "Derek, oh my god, what the hell, get off, what the fuck just happened?"

Derek let Stiles escape his grasp, then threw himself back against the wall, heaving for breath. He was covered in dirt and bruises and gashes that slowly clotted before Stiles' very eyes, and Stiles instinctively wanted to lunge for him and check to make sure he was okay, but after what he had just seen…

"What… Derek!" Stiles gasped. "What the fuck was that? Did you just… am I going crazy? You just… the wolf. Derek, come on… I know this is like, fucknuts crazy, but are you the wolf?"

Closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall, Derek sighed, and nodded.

"What the fuck?" Stiles reiterated, eyes wide. "Did that really just happen? Wait, oh my god, where's Kate – did she –"

"She's dead." Derek panted.

Stiles' eyes went even wider, and he drew back, tentatively looked towards the edge of the floor where the banister used to be, pushing himself up slightly to see if he could see over it. "How do you know?"

"You probably shouldn't look." Derek told him, and Stiles sagged back to the floor. "There's… I smell a lot of blood."

"You smell –" Stiles gasped in disbelief.

"Stiles. You saw me. You know what I am."

Stiles was pretty sure he knew, but there was no way. Just no way. There was definitely a word for what Derek was, but it couldn't possibly be real, even though he had just seen it with his own eyes.

"I don't… did I hit my head?" Stiles asked.

"You're fine."

"I think fine isn't exactly the word I would use." Stiles said. "Not for either of us."

Derek winced.

"Sorry." Stiles said, scooting a little closer, and realizing that he was maybe being a bit insensitive towards someone who had just saved his life. "Are you okay?"

"I'll heal." Derek said, which really wasn't a super reassuring answer. But as Stiles looked closely, Derek was healing, the scrapes and bruises fading slowly right before his eyes.

"No way." Stiles breathed.

"Stiles…" Derek said bracingly, as though preparing for Stiles to freak out on him.

"Can you do it again?" Stiles blurted without thinking, and Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "You know… the thing. With the… wolf thing."

Derek looked unsure, but Stiles scooted even closer, watching him intently, and with a heavy, resigned sigh, Derek was gone, and the wolf was back.

"No fucking way." Stiles said, automatically reaching out to touch. The wolves ears tipped back unsurely, but it… he… Derek, allowed Stiles to gently pet down the short silky hair on the top of his head, all the way back into the dense ruff of his mane. There was definitely a word for what Derek was.

Werewolf, Stiles brain whispered to him.

As soon as Stiles pulled his hand back, Derek shifted back, eyeing Stiles warily.

"So, all this time…" Stiles started.

"Yeah."

"And that's why she wanted to… to hunt… you? Your family?"

"Yes."

"That's… super messed up."

Derek frowned suspiciously. "Aren't you… afraid? Disgusted?"

Stiles shrugged, swallowing nervously. "I mean… it's kind of weird. But also kind of super awesome. I'll let you know my final verdict when the shock wears off."

Derek let out a disbelieving laugh, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall again. Stiles knew he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself, and he reached out and touched again, this time coming in contact with the sharp line of Derek's nose, the distinct angle of his cheekbone, the soft arch of an eyebrow. Derek opened his eyes, watching Stiles curiously, and patiently allowing the prodding.

"How are you even real?" Stiles whispered reverently, his heart picking up in excitement. Suddenly so many things clicked into place. "Do it again."

"Stiles…"

"Please, just one more time!"

Brow furrowing warily, Derek asked, "You don't mind the wolf?"

"Are you kidding me?" Stiles scoffed. "I kind of love it."

Derek's face shifted into cautious, hopeful disbelief, before it shifted once more into fur and a damp nose and a mouthful of sharp, dangerous teeth.

"Awesome…" Stiles breathed, leaning forward and stroking along the smooth cheeks and softly pulling at the velvety ears. "You're amazing."

Before he knew what was happening, the wolf was gone again, and Derek was there, pulling Stiles forward into his lap, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Stiles' neck, breathing him in.

"Woah!" Stiles said, but let himself be held, shifting into a more comfortable hold. Derek was strong all around him, and Stiles' cheeks warmed at being so engulfed by him. Derek clung to him for a minute or so, before quietly sighing two words into Stiles' neck.

"Thank you."

Stiles hummed warmly, nuzzling his face into Derek's hair, which was soft, even as dirty as it was. "You're welcome. Hey, what do you say we get out of here?"

o.O.o

By the time Stiles and Derek got back to Stiles' house, the patrol car still wasn't back, and Stiles wondered how long he had actually been gone. It had felt like a week had passed since he had last been in his room with Derek, but here they were again, safe and sound.

"Hey, should we call someone about… um… at your house…?" Stiles warily asked, as he changed into a clean shirt and took his jeans off, throwing Derek a clean pair of sweats to borrow.

"In the morning." Derek replied, collapsing onto Stiles' mattress.

"Hey!" Stiles said, grinning. "No dogs on the bed!"

"No dog jokes." Derek grumbled, rubbing his face into Stiles' comforter.

"Oh, there are going to be plenty of dog jokes." Stiles promised, crawling into the bed alongside him and pulling the comforter over the both of them.

Derek huffed out a halfhearted attempt at an annoyed sound, before allowing Stiles to scoot right up to him, tucking exhaustedly and comfortably along his front. Stiles' nerves sang in delight at the heavy arm that draped over him, pulling him closer.

"Hey, Derek." He whispered.

"What?" Derek grunted.

"I'm glad you're the wolf."

If Stiles didn't know any better he'd swear the noise he got into response to that was embarrassed and pleased, although he was sure Derek was trying for annoyed. But the cuddling kind of ruined it. Apparently now that Stiles knew Derek's big furry secret, Derek allowed a lot more affection. There was a dog joke in there somewhere.

"Hey, Derek." Stiles whispered again.

"What?" Derek growled.

"I kind of like you." Stiles confessed. "In case that wasn't obvious."

Derek sighed the sigh of the heavily burdened. "Stiles."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Yeah, okay."

But he was pretty sure Derek liked him too.

o.O.o

The next morning, Stiles woke up alone, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if it had all been a very vivid dream. But the bed smelled different, a little wild, and when he went outside, he checked beneath his window and found a fresh set of paw prints.

He went back inside, grabbed a bowl of cereal, and headed back up to his room to check his phone. There was a text message waiting for him that he didn't know how he had missed before.

Derek Hale: today is going to be crazy. let me know if/when you still want to be a part of this mess.

Stiles grinned.

Awesome.

.o.O.o.

the end!