& now
title: all my sins, they have overtaken me
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
fandom: teen wolf
rating: pg/teen
warnings: harm to animals, canonical character death, blood
character(s): Derek, w/ appearances by Talia & Paige, mention of Peter & Cora
word count: 1,247
notes: wanted to have this out by tonight and literally scraped by with minutes to spare on AO3.
It’s not the first lesson his mother teaches him (you can never tell anyone what you are). It’s not the second (always be careful, always be on your guard). But he learns early.
There’s a fawn at the edge of the yard. It’s mangled and bloody. Derek thinks of the road, just past the trees at the end of their driveway. The other animals he’s seen broken by cars and the log trucks that thunder past in the dark. He thinks how much it must have hurt to get this far. Wonders where its mom is, if she knows what happened to it. If she’s somewhere on the Preserve looking for her lost baby, or if she’s down on the side of the road and the fawn left her behind.
Derek watches the deer shake and pant in the grass. It’s so little. Derek creeps up to it, reaches out one of his hands and strokes his fingers along its side. The fawn makes an awful noise. Derek just wants it to stop hurting. He remembers the way his mom held him when he fell out of the cedar tree in the backyard and broke two of his ribs. How it felt better when she brushed the hair out of his eyes and pressed her lips against his forehead while he healed.
The fawn is quiet. Derek looks down at his hand and there are black lines under his skin. Now he hurts and he doesn’t understand. His fingers twitch and the lines disappear; the fawn bawls. Oh.
His mother finds him later, only half awake and still clinging to one of the little deer’s legs. She pries his fingers away and carries him into the house. Behind them, the fawn is still. Derek thinks it’s gone now, but he couldn’t let go. His head aches. He sniffs and hides his face in the crook of his mother’s neck.
She takes him in the kitchen. Sits at the table with him in her lap and makes him drink a big glass of juice. She rubs her cheek against the top of his head and whispers, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. You were very kind. Has that happened to you before - what you did outside?”
Derek shakes his head. His mom takes his one of his hands in hers.
“I want you to watch, Derek.”
The black lines crawl up her arms and he tries to wriggle away; he doesn’t want to hurt his mom. He can’t. She holds him tighter.
“Shhhhh, it’s alright. This is part of who we are. What you did for the deer, what I did for you, it’s another thing that makes us special. You know the gifts we have - being faster and stronger. Being able to heal ourselves. Taking someone’s pain, that’s how we give something back for those gifts. A way to help keep balance. Do you understand?”
Derek nods. Curls up tighter in the cradle of his mother’s arms.
“But why didn’t it. Why couldn’t I save,” his breath stutters and he scrub at his eyes. He’s a big kid now; he shouldn’t cry. His mom tilts his head up. Her fingers are warm against his chin.
“We can only help, Derek. And sometimes that’s the hardest part. Sometimes you’re going to wish you could make the pain disappear, but you can only take some of it away. You can’t take it all.”
Paige cries when he holds her too tight. Cries when he’s barely touching her at all. Big, fat tears that track down her face and soak into his shirt.
Her blood seeps between his fingers.
Derek doesn’t know what to do. He brought Paige to the nemeton because it’s somewhere safe, somewhere powerful, though his parents say the power‘s waning, almost gone. But he thought if he could get her here, he could. There would be a way to save her. There’s nothing.
Paige’s heart races; her breathing’s too fast. He tries to draw her pain away. Once, twice. Each time it gets a little harder. The pain doesn’t want to go and Derek is shaky. His bones burn down to the marrow. His chest aches. Paige clings to him; it has to be ten times worse for her. Derek holds on.
He tries again, coaxes and demands. Scrambles to get a grip on that feeling in his head, the one that comes when he’s done this right. (It’s the easy hurt of losing a baby tooth, the steady beat of his family’s hearts at night, the phantom-smell of his mother’s shampoo. He wonders what it‘s like for everyone else.)
It doesn’t work. Derek fights the urge to howl. This is his fault. This is. Paige is dying, and he can’t do anything. He pulls her closer, tucks her head under his chin. She shudders.
“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers. “I’msorryI’msorryI’m-”
The words run together in his mouth, collect in a knot at the back of his throat big enough to strangle him. Paige puts her hand to his lips. She tastes like blood and rot.
“Hey, this isn’t -” Her voice chokes off. Derek feels the agony roll through her like a wave. Paige sobs.
“It hurts. I can’t, I can’t. Please.”
Derek knows what she’s asking. His mother taught him this too. He presses his face to her hair. Rests her head against his shoulder, puts one hand on the back of her neck and squeezes. Listens to her heart stutter and stop.
He doesn’t remember Peter taking Paige from him. Doesn’t remember Peter having to break his arm to do it. Derek huddles in the dark, between the roots. Goes somewhere in his head he’s never been before. Only his mother is strong enough to call him back when she comes to bring him home.
Derek hasn’t done this in years. If not for Cora, he wouldn’t be doing it now.
At first he was afraid it wouldn’t work. That by shutting that part of himself off for so long, he wouldn’t be able to help this time either. The connection kept slipping through his fingers. But Derek gritted his teeth and pulled.
He’s been siphoning off her pain for hours. More often than Peter thinks, more often that he should, if he was still listening to warnings. He’s not. He lets go long enough to take a deep breath. Wipes Cora’s mouth, tilts her head up enough to get water into her, a mouthful at a time.
The room swims around him. He doesn’t tell Peter.
But Peter’s already in his head telling him there’s a way. Telling him he could save his sister, maybe. That he should and he shouldn’t in turns. There’s a cost, Peter says. You can’t take so much without giving something in return - you know that.
Derek doesn’t care.
He kneels beside the bed, takes his sister’s arm. He closes his eyes and reaches. Cora’s breath rattles. Pain lances through him strong enough to make him gag. Pressure builds behind his eyes. He draws the pain in, pushes all he has, everything he is at his little sister. Deep in his chest, the power he carries as an alpha flickers and dims.
Derek howls because this hurts worse than wolf’s bane, worse than the pipe Kali shoved through his lung. It feels like he's burning out. He tastes ash on his tongue. Maybe he is.
Under his fingers, Cora’s skin is warmer; her hand twitches in his.
Derek keeps going.
- end
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
fandom: teen wolf
rating: pg/teen
warnings: harm to animals, canonical character death, blood
character(s): Derek, w/ appearances by Talia & Paige, mention of Peter & Cora
word count: 1,247
notes: wanted to have this out by tonight and literally scraped by with minutes to spare on AO3.
It’s not the first lesson his mother teaches him (you can never tell anyone what you are). It’s not the second (always be careful, always be on your guard). But he learns early.
There’s a fawn at the edge of the yard. It’s mangled and bloody. Derek thinks of the road, just past the trees at the end of their driveway. The other animals he’s seen broken by cars and the log trucks that thunder past in the dark. He thinks how much it must have hurt to get this far. Wonders where its mom is, if she knows what happened to it. If she’s somewhere on the Preserve looking for her lost baby, or if she’s down on the side of the road and the fawn left her behind.
Derek watches the deer shake and pant in the grass. It’s so little. Derek creeps up to it, reaches out one of his hands and strokes his fingers along its side. The fawn makes an awful noise. Derek just wants it to stop hurting. He remembers the way his mom held him when he fell out of the cedar tree in the backyard and broke two of his ribs. How it felt better when she brushed the hair out of his eyes and pressed her lips against his forehead while he healed.
The fawn is quiet. Derek looks down at his hand and there are black lines under his skin. Now he hurts and he doesn’t understand. His fingers twitch and the lines disappear; the fawn bawls. Oh.
His mother finds him later, only half awake and still clinging to one of the little deer’s legs. She pries his fingers away and carries him into the house. Behind them, the fawn is still. Derek thinks it’s gone now, but he couldn’t let go. His head aches. He sniffs and hides his face in the crook of his mother’s neck.
She takes him in the kitchen. Sits at the table with him in her lap and makes him drink a big glass of juice. She rubs her cheek against the top of his head and whispers, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. You were very kind. Has that happened to you before - what you did outside?”
Derek shakes his head. His mom takes his one of his hands in hers.
“I want you to watch, Derek.”
The black lines crawl up her arms and he tries to wriggle away; he doesn’t want to hurt his mom. He can’t. She holds him tighter.
“Shhhhh, it’s alright. This is part of who we are. What you did for the deer, what I did for you, it’s another thing that makes us special. You know the gifts we have - being faster and stronger. Being able to heal ourselves. Taking someone’s pain, that’s how we give something back for those gifts. A way to help keep balance. Do you understand?”
Derek nods. Curls up tighter in the cradle of his mother’s arms.
“But why didn’t it. Why couldn’t I save,” his breath stutters and he scrub at his eyes. He’s a big kid now; he shouldn’t cry. His mom tilts his head up. Her fingers are warm against his chin.
“We can only help, Derek. And sometimes that’s the hardest part. Sometimes you’re going to wish you could make the pain disappear, but you can only take some of it away. You can’t take it all.”
Paige cries when he holds her too tight. Cries when he’s barely touching her at all. Big, fat tears that track down her face and soak into his shirt.
Her blood seeps between his fingers.
Derek doesn’t know what to do. He brought Paige to the nemeton because it’s somewhere safe, somewhere powerful, though his parents say the power‘s waning, almost gone. But he thought if he could get her here, he could. There would be a way to save her. There’s nothing.
Paige’s heart races; her breathing’s too fast. He tries to draw her pain away. Once, twice. Each time it gets a little harder. The pain doesn’t want to go and Derek is shaky. His bones burn down to the marrow. His chest aches. Paige clings to him; it has to be ten times worse for her. Derek holds on.
He tries again, coaxes and demands. Scrambles to get a grip on that feeling in his head, the one that comes when he’s done this right. (It’s the easy hurt of losing a baby tooth, the steady beat of his family’s hearts at night, the phantom-smell of his mother’s shampoo. He wonders what it‘s like for everyone else.)
It doesn’t work. Derek fights the urge to howl. This is his fault. This is. Paige is dying, and he can’t do anything. He pulls her closer, tucks her head under his chin. She shudders.
“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers. “I’msorryI’msorryI’m-”
The words run together in his mouth, collect in a knot at the back of his throat big enough to strangle him. Paige puts her hand to his lips. She tastes like blood and rot.
“Hey, this isn’t -” Her voice chokes off. Derek feels the agony roll through her like a wave. Paige sobs.
“It hurts. I can’t, I can’t. Please.”
Derek knows what she’s asking. His mother taught him this too. He presses his face to her hair. Rests her head against his shoulder, puts one hand on the back of her neck and squeezes. Listens to her heart stutter and stop.
He doesn’t remember Peter taking Paige from him. Doesn’t remember Peter having to break his arm to do it. Derek huddles in the dark, between the roots. Goes somewhere in his head he’s never been before. Only his mother is strong enough to call him back when she comes to bring him home.
Derek hasn’t done this in years. If not for Cora, he wouldn’t be doing it now.
At first he was afraid it wouldn’t work. That by shutting that part of himself off for so long, he wouldn’t be able to help this time either. The connection kept slipping through his fingers. But Derek gritted his teeth and pulled.
He’s been siphoning off her pain for hours. More often than Peter thinks, more often that he should, if he was still listening to warnings. He’s not. He lets go long enough to take a deep breath. Wipes Cora’s mouth, tilts her head up enough to get water into her, a mouthful at a time.
The room swims around him. He doesn’t tell Peter.
But Peter’s already in his head telling him there’s a way. Telling him he could save his sister, maybe. That he should and he shouldn’t in turns. There’s a cost, Peter says. You can’t take so much without giving something in return - you know that.
Derek doesn’t care.
He kneels beside the bed, takes his sister’s arm. He closes his eyes and reaches. Cora’s breath rattles. Pain lances through him strong enough to make him gag. Pressure builds behind his eyes. He draws the pain in, pushes all he has, everything he is at his little sister. Deep in his chest, the power he carries as an alpha flickers and dims.
Derek howls because this hurts worse than wolf’s bane, worse than the pipe Kali shoved through his lung. It feels like he's burning out. He tastes ash on his tongue. Maybe he is.
Under his fingers, Cora’s skin is warmer; her hand twitches in his.
Derek keeps going.
- end