Scared to Death

It was dark. He couldn't breathe, as if all the air around him has been taken away. Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub. He can hear the familiar heartbeat, one that he held on tightly, one that has served as his life. Stiles. It was his mate's heartbeat. It used to be twice as fast as his own, but still in sync with his. Now, it was slow. Slower than usual, slower than his own. And that scared the hell out of him. It was supposed to be quick as a cheetah chasing its prey. It should be loud as a horn, blaring to warn the village of its enemies. But it wasn't. It was slow like a snail on the earth. It was calm and quiet like the soft running of a stream. And he was scared to death of its implications.

Finally, finally, there was light to let his eyes see clearer. It was a forest. The Hale's forest, specifically. He let his senses take over him and that was when the smell of blood hit him and the wet, slick feeling of that same crimson fluid on his hands, his chest and his neck, was felt. A familiar weight was in his arms, on his lap, lying limply and weak with pale skin and chocolate eyes that were starting to dim. He knew that body perfectly well, has been inside that body one too many times. That body has always fit perfectly with his own in every way imaginable. Stiles. His heart stopped at the sight of his mate, bloody, limp and his usually bright eyes were dim and blank. He couldn't breathe.

"Derek." Stiles croaked then choked on his own blood. He shushed his mate as his eyes began to hurt. His sight was getting bleary and he could feel something wet running down his cheeks. What were those again? He couldn't care less. His mate was hurt. His mate's heart was getting slower and slower as the seconds passed.

"Stiles." He sobbed as the light in those eyes has died and his mate's stare was blank. He pulled his mate close to chest, embracing him tight as he finally cried loudly. He gave a final howl to mourn the death of his mate.

"Derek." He heard his mate's voice whisper in his ear. It hurt even more, to still hear his voice when his lips won't even move. "Derek." The voice called again. "Derek!"

He gasped for air as he sat up, soaked with sweat. His eyes were still bleary, from the tears he knew he cried.

"Hey, you were whining in your sleep." he heard Stiles whisper from behind him and the warm touch of his mate's hand played on his skin, on his shoulder blade. He quickly turned his head to see Stiles sitting up, rubbing his eyes as the hand on his shoulder blade started to move in circles. When he didn't respond, Stiles really looked at him and quickly moved forward and dragged his head to his chest; his ear placed on his mate's chest, right where his heart was placed. "Shh. I'm okay, Derek. I'm right here. It's just a dream." Stiles said in a quiet voice as he ran his fingers through his hair. He finally choked out a sob as he shook. He wrapped his arms around his mate's waist just to be sure that he was right there, warm, breathing and alive.

Yes, it was just a dream. It was the exact same dream he has been having ever since the alpha pack has attacked Stiles, his mate, almost eight years ago, when they almost killed the young man. It was almost pathetic, being so scared of a distant memory; a memory he should've moved on by now. But he just didn't (doesn't) want to lose his mate—his family, his home.

He remembered how he felt, so, so scared to death that he would lose Stiles, that he would never get the chance to tell the younger man how he actually felt, who he was to him. Yes, it was all a dream. He fell asleep with his husband of three years, his mate, after they've tucked their year and a half of age son, the son Stiles carried in him when they found out that a male alpha had the ability the impregnate another male. His son and his mate were safe. They are safe.