A Hundred Echoes (Chapter Four)
Title: A Hundred Echoes
Author:
hunters_retreat
Artist:
destielwinchi
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 23,000+
Summary: In the wake of life altering events, the Beacon Hills pack is trying to settle into some semblance of normal. After the nogitsune, all Stiles wants is to be able to breathe easy and know that his friends are safe. When Stiles begins to dream of his friends though, they turn out to be something extraordinary. Stiles is a spirit walker. The dreams leave him empathic and unable to control himself, but salvation comes in the unlikely form of Derek Hale. Stiles just needs to know two things. What is stirring in the woods of Beacon Hills to cause the entire pack to dream of horrific things? And can Derek help him learn to center himself and control his empathy before it’s too late?
This was bad. Really bad. Like, epic in the grand scale of life and death situations a definite ten. Stiles couldn’t even see Derek. The woods were shrouded in a purple-grey fog that he knew wasn’t natural. It wasn’t even the color that set him running from it, but the feel of death it pushed before it.
“Derek!” Stiles knew he was dreaming and Derek was in the forest somewhere.
Stiles stopped running as he heard a howl break through the silence of the night. Derek was to the east and Stiles just needed to get to the werewolf before the fog got to him. Deaton wasn’t entirely sure Stiles would be able to stay in one of the pack’s nightmares if they were dying in it. He thought he might be thrust out of the nightmare before it happened and therefore the other person would wake before it could kill them but Stiles didn’t want to test that theory anytime soon. Especially since he didn’t believe a word of it.
He tripped over a log and rolled down a hillside and threw himself back up into a run. When he turned to look back over his shoulder at the fog, it seemed to slow. He yelped in joy at the prospect but tripped again and found himself face down on the nemeton.
He threw himself back, shuffling in an awkward crabwalk from the monstrous stump before he stopped. He didn’t trust the nemeton or the magic it brought to life but Stiles couldn’t help the feeling that the nemeton was protecting itself and that he was safe here in this circle. Or at least safe from the fog.
“Derek! Follow my voice!” Stiles shouted out into the darkness. He heard a howl in response, pained but closer, and Stiles hoped Derek was as good at tracking as he’d always claimed he was.
The wind blew across the clearing and Stiles looked up to see the Hunter’s Moon low over the trees. It was blood red and Stiles shivered at the thought of a blood moon in Derek’s dream. He let out a deep breath and called Derek’s name again and heard the howl even closer now.
Great, he was in the most fucked up game of ‘Marco Polo’ ever.
The wind changed direction suddenly and Stiles noticed the fog around him as it began to swirl. It hadn’t come closer to the nemeton but it had begun to creep close around him. He was going to be trapped there -with Derek on the other side.
“Derek! The fog is closing in! You have to hurry!” Not that he thought Derek was taking a leisurely stroll but Stiles hoped the urgency - not panic, he was not panicking at the thought of Derek stuck out there on one side of the fog and him trapped in the center - of his voice gave the werewolf some speed.
He could hear Derek approach but even as he willed the other man faster, Stiles watched as the fog encircle him. “Damn it!” he screamed at the clearing.
Derek howled in pain and Stiles could see him at the other side of the fog as the tendrils began to seek Derek out. His skin burned with each touch and Stiles knew then what caused the purple tint in the fog now. Wolfsbane.
“Derek! Wake up! It’s just a dream!” It was pointless but he had to do something. He saw Derek as he began climbing one of the great trees to get out of the way of the fog. It would keep him safe a little while but he couldn’t stay up there forever.
“Get out, Stiles!” Derek said around a mouthful of fanged teeth. His blue eyes could see better in the dark than Stiles’ human ones but he ignored the way Stiles shook his head. “Get out of here!”
Stiles turned away from Derek and looked around the clearing. There was nothing to help him, nothing to stop the fog, except the nemeton.
“God damn it. You have caused us nothing but trouble,” Stiles yelled at the tree stump. He looked at it and noticed the small branches that dotted the edges and the new growth at the center. “Tonight, you’re going to help instead.”
He didn’t know what he was doing but Deaton said he had a spark of something and he was a spirit walker on top of that. He had magic and while he didn’t have the belief Deaton said he needed to perform real magic, Stiles had a need to believe tonight and a determination to make it happen.
He stumbled up onto the stump and pulled the fresh leaves from the center and began to crumple them between his palms. “If you can protect yourself from this damn fog then you can protect Derek from it too.”
He cupped his hands and blew lightly on the inside where the leaves were, willing them to dry. He didn’t dare to look to see if it worked but instead he walked to the edge of the fog closest to Derek. “Give him a pathway.”
He closed his eyes and held desperately to the idea that the leaves, powdered in his hands, could make a path, much like he’d once draw a circle of mountain ash with a little dust and his belief.
He threw his hands out and screamed, “Give him a path!”
He opened his eyes in time to see the fog spreading away and a thin fox-like figure ran through the fog, clearing the way. “Derek!”
He didn’t need to call his name because Derek had seen what had happened and he was already on his way down from his perch in the tree. He reached the small fox and the two ran together, the fog catching at Derek’s heels or arms a couple times but the man hunched in on himself to make himself a smaller target as he ran.
Derek didn’t stop running until he had an arm wrapped around Stiles. For a second, Stiles stared up at Derek and he could feel everything. It wasn’t just empathy around him and the feel of others, but there was something connecting him to Derek. Derek’s eyes went alpha-red and Stiles gasped but before he could speak the world went black.
**
Stiles woke to the blackness of his room, his father standing guard over his bed with his gun pulled. He bled anxiety and fear into the room and Stiles had a hard time breathing through the emotions he caught from his father. Love, exasperation, terror, but beneath it all, determination and grim pride.
“Dad?”
“Stiles? Thank god. Are you okay? We need to get out of here.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain on the way kiddo. Are you hurt?”
“I need to get to Derek.”
“Is he still… stuck?”
“No, I got to him. I’m still open.”
“Can you make it to the car or is the jeep easier for you?”
They’d never discussed traveling when Stiles was in such a state but he was grateful his father had thought it through. Sometimes objects held a psychic impression of what had happened before. As much nasty stuff as Stiles knew had happened in the back of his father’s car, he’d never been a part of it. There were too many bad memories in the jeep and as much as he loved her, he needed to keep his head clear.
“The cruiser is good, just let me sit up front.”
“Honestly son, I’m surprised you haven’t ended up in the back yet.” His father teased as Stiles got out of bed and found his clothes. He was still on alert but his father had always been good at putting on a brave front when he thought Stiles needed it.
“Where are we going?” Stiles finished pulling his shirt over his head then slipped his feet into his shoes. His emergency bag was by the door, along with his bat. He grabbed both as his dad stepped into the hallway. Stiles watched with a growing sense of anxiety as his father walked out of his bedroom, checking for possible danger.
“Dad?”
“Just watch my back and stay close Stiles. I’ll explain in the car.”
He might have continued to push except that his empathy told him his father was deadly serious and there was a real threat. There was no telling how long he’d been in Derek’s dream with his father standing guard over him.
Stiles tried to work it out as they walked together down the hall and towards the stairs but there were no pieces to put together.
Things had been quiet in Beacon Hills since the departure of the nogitsune. Other than Stiles’ newfound ability to spirit walk and the occasional pack or hunter that wanted to cross their territory, the pack hadn’t been this secure since they’d formed.
It made no sense that they were being attacked in their home like this. Unless it wasn’t supernatural in origin but someone that had decided to come after his dad. He was a good cop and a better sheriff, especially now that he had all the pieces. If it was human, they’d find something they hadn’t expected. Stiles and his dad weren’t about to go down without taking a swing at whoever threatened them.
The way was clear and they paused at the bottom of the stairs before moving on again. “Stay behind me, son.”
“Dad, I’m not letting you-“
“Shut up Stiles. Stay behind me and get the car unlocked. Then scoot over to the other seat.”
Stiles could feel that there was no point in arguing with his dad and he took a deep breath. He wanted to do something more than hide behind his dad but Stiles couldn’t do anything but take the keys when his dad handed them over, careful to drop them instead of touch Stiles.
If he was a superhero, he’d be able to cast out his empathy and feel if anyone was there. In reality, Stiles had no control over his ability and the only times he’d touched anyone other than Derek, it had ended in enough pain to cause him to black out and a subsequent week’s worth of emotional instability as he tried to process what his brain had learned through the brief touches.
When his father moved calmly out the door, Stiles followed him, his eyes still searching for something. The driver’s side was thankfully blocked by the jeep and Stiles and his dad were able to take cover there. Stiles got the door open and threw his bag and bat across the car then shimmied across. “I’m in,” he called out to his dad.
He put the keys in the ignition and had it started before his father sat down and slammed the door closed. He peeled out of the driveway and took off, though Stiles noticed he didn’t turn on the emergency lights.
“Dad?”
“Call Argent. The pack is being attacked. He warned me but I don’t know anything more than that. He said to get to Derek’s loft.”
Stiles called Argent’s line and put it on speaker but there was no answer. “Chris, I’m awake and we’re on our way. Hope you’re there.”
He didn’t dare leave more. He tried not to think about why Chris Argent wouldn’t answer his phone but he refused to believe anything bad had happened to him. He could feel the concern creeping into his dad’s thoughts though.
“He’ll be okay Dad. Chris is a badass.”
“Language, Stiles.”
“Come on, Dad, I think this warrants a little language.”
His dad didn’t answer but Stiles could feel the smug affection from his father and that at least felt better than the anxiety his father was pushing at him.
“How are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Hyped-up. Anxious. Scared. Going out of my mind with worry.”
“How is Derek going to be when we get to him?”
“Uninjured.”
“That’s a first.”
It was the first time he’d had a chance to think about it and now that he was, he couldn’t help but realize that this dream had been different than the others. “Most of Derek’s nightmares are really personal,” he voiced. He didn’t usually talk about what he saw there and Derek was terse when he had to explain any injuries Stiles got in them. It was private and Stiles tried not to reveal anything he learned, not even about Jackson who wasn’t quite the douchebag he’d been when he left Beacon Hills.
“He doesn’t dream about fears really. He punishes himself with his nightmares,” Stiles continued. “This wasn’t like that at all. I was running in the forest for hours before I found him. When I did, we got cut off from each other.”
His phone rang and he answered without looking for the id.
“Are you okay?”
“I got Lydia out and we’re headed to Derek’s,” Jackson answered quickly.
“What the hell was it?” Stiles asked.
“Another pack. I was at Lydia’s when three betas came out of nowhere and attacked us.”
“Shit, how did you get out?”
“Lydia isn’t stupid. She’s been planning in case something did happen. She has a wolfsbane spray.”
“Lydia made wolf mace?”
“Yeah. She promises you some now that it’s been field tested. Between the two of us we got past them and ran. Got a message from Argent saying to head to the loft. Where are you?”
“Dad and I are pulling up now.”
“See you in two.”
Stiles hung up and looked at his dad. “Wait for Jackson. We’re better off going in together.”
Annoyance brushed him quickly and he realized he had just given his dad orders but his dad didn’t say anything. Jackson was there less than a minute later and they ran into the building together.
“Lydia, you okay?” His father asked before Stiles could. He wanted to check on her himself but he pushed himself against the wall of the front entryway, back into a corner as far away from the others as he could be. It was too much, all three of them there with their emotions on overload.
“We’re fine. Stiles?”
“Stay back,” he answered softly. Concern and desperation radiated from the others. “I just need to get to Derek.”
“Shit, he had a dream?”
“Stiles said Derek was uninjured,” the Sheriff relayed.
Normally, Stiles would marvel over the way his pack had pulled together in the last year but it was too hard to think with their emotions around him.
“Can he move?” Jackson asked.
“Stiles?”
“I … yeah. Just give me a minute.” He took a deep breath to steal himself to move closer to the source of anxiety but he wasn’t quite ready.
“Shit,” Jackson muttered. It would have been slow going except Jackson pulled out his phone. “Derek, is the building safe?” Stiles didn’t hear the answer but Jackson kept going. “We have Stiles on the stairs. I don’t think he’s making it up on his own.”
Stiles couldn’t hear what they were telling him but he felt the others back away. Then he felt the calm collectedness that was Chris Argent even under attack and just behind that was Derek.
The others parted but Stiles didn’t move. Derek didn’t stop and it wasn’t until Derek had his arms around him that Stiles could breathe again.
“Derek, we need to get upstairs,” Chris reminded them.
Derek didn’t say anything to Stiles but he knew what the werewolf was going to do anyways. He was still too open to speak, too caught up in what was happening and the relief he felt because Derek was there to buffer him from the outside. He put his arms around Derek’s neck as Derek picked him up.
The closeness gave him the chance to begin his recovery and he let out a shuttered breath. “The others?”
“Isaac came with Chris. Parrish is safe at the station and won’t leave until we tell him it’s safe or we decide to go get him. Scott and Melissa made it ten minutes ago with Kira and her parents’ right behind them.”
“What took you so long?” Chris asked the others.
“We were attacked at Lydia’s,” Jackson answered succinctly.
“I couldn’t touch Stiles. He was still dreaming,” the Sheriff answered. “We didn’t have any trouble though.”
They made it up to Derek’s loft and Derek sat on the couch with Stiles still wrapped around him. Derek slid his hands up under Stiles’ shirt and Stiles let out a deep breath. “Better?” Derek asked.
Stiles nodded but kept his head buried in Derek’s shoulder. “What the hell happened tonight?”
“Stiles, are you okay?” Scott asked before he could say anything else. Stiles pulled away from Derek enough to look at the others. Scott crouched down in front of him and while there were no marks on him, there was fresh blood on his shirt. Kira’s clothes were blood-splattered too, as was Noshiko’s. Her father, Ken, seemed clean and Melissa was looking them all over.
“I’m good dude. Just stay back a little longer.”
Scott took the hint and he settled on the floor across from them. The others pulled up around them and Stiles was able to see the whole pack. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a sigh of relief.
“More space?” Scott asked, but Derek shook his head.
“He’s fine. That’s just relief that everyone is here. Chris, you want to tell us what’s happening?”
“It looks like the only people that weren’t attacked were you and Stiles,” Chris answered. “I was heading to bed when Isaac came thundering down the stairs. He smelled something unfamiliar in the house and realized it was the scent of unknown weres. We were attacked by four werewolves. We killed two but the other two got away before we could stop them. I started making calls while Isaac drove us here.”
“I was actually at Kira’s,” Scott said. “Mom and I were just going to leave when a group of weres attacked. Mrs. Yukimura was amazing.”
“You weren’t bad yourself, Scott,” she said with a small nod of her head. “There were eight of them. I’m assuming by the numbers they had been watching us and knew we were together.”
“So a new pack is trying to take our territory?” Scott asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“And why wouldn’t they attack Derek and Stiles at the same time?” Lydia asked.
Stiles looked at Derek and the beta nodded his approval. Stiles pulled away from Derek though Derek shifted on the couch so that Stiles was pressed between him and the arm. No one could touch Stiles until Derek was ready to let them and Stiles was fine with that.
“Because we already were. It can’t be a coincidence that this happened on the same night as this weird-ass dream.”
Derek nodded. “It wasn’t a usual nightmare.”
“When are they anymore?” Isaac asked.
Stiles gave a small huff of laughter at that but Isaac was one of the few who hadn’t been bothered by the thought of Stiles in his nightmares. Some of the others had a harder time with it, but Isaac’s biggest fear had been helplessness. Chris, Derek, and Scott had done a fair job of helping him deal with the overwhelming fear he’d once had of his father. Being a werewolf, as well as the training the others had given him, had taken care of the rest. After a bad nightmare, Isaac was as likely to come find Stiles and say, “that sucked” as he was to just ignore it completely. No harm. No foul. Not everyone was so nonchalant about the way Stiles invaded their nightmares.
“This was…” Derek took a deep breath and Stiles knew he was searching for the words to describe it. He never talked about his nightmares and Stiles wasn’t sure he would. He’d figured Derek would walk out when it came time and leave Stiles to fill in the blanks.
“It was prolonged,” Derek finally said. “My nightmares generally happen quickly. Something attacks. Something bad happens. This was almost like being hunted.” He looked at Stiles then for confirmation. “It felt like something wanted to keep us there.”
“Both of us,” Stiles added. “Jesus, something is stalking us in your dreams.”
“A dream stalker?” His dad asked aloud. Stiles didn’t need empathy to hear the exasperation in his voice.
“There is a lot of lore about dreams, Mr. Stilinski,” Lydia answered.
“You don’t need to remind me, Lydia. I did all the reading when this first started,” his dad reminded them. Not just the research the others had put together but anything he could get his hands on. He’d been to Deaton umpteen times and taken ancient tomes from whatever library Deaton pulled them from.
“I thought we agreed that Stiles was the one responsible for what was happening though?”
“I am,” Stiles answered before anyone could answer. “That doesn’t mean something else isn’t here. The nemeton was in Derek’s dream too. It … it helped me get to him.”
“I think we need to call Deaton again,” Chris said. “He was at the clinic when I called to warn him.”
His dad already had his phone out. “Working on it.”
“For now,” Chris Argent spoke to the group. “I think it’s safe to say we need to stick together.”
No one spoke about what to do next. Deaton said he’d be by in the morning. Chris set up a watch schedule while Lydia and Jackson pulled up the security system Chris had outfitted Derek with. The rest of them found a place to settle in for the night and tried to get some sleep.
**
Derek couldn’t help himself. He knew Stiles wasn’t ready to face the others alone yet. It took time to get Stiles completely closed off and with the rush of adrenaline from the attacks he knew it was going to take longer than usual. His bed was a no- go since he wasn’t about to do that in front of the others. Not that they hadn’t seen him and Stiles in compromising positions before but tonight he felt too raw, too exposed. It wasn’t the same and every instinct in him was telling him to take Stiles and mark him, to claim him, to protect him as only he could. So he shepherded Stiles up the spiral stairs to the extra room.
Stiles let himself be led and Derek didn’t question how docile the young man was. Stiles had chosen Derek as an anchor for some reason he didn’t understand and Derek had accepted that. He never let himself question why he’d never fought against it. Derek wasn’t above ignoring what he didn’t want to deal with.
As soon as Derek opened the door Stiles dropped onto the bed. There was nothing else in the room except a small table and chair, and the bed was just a box spring with a mattress resting on the floor.
Derek dropped down beside him but he grabbed Stiles as he did and rolled them until Stiles was half on top of him. Stiles didn’t argue and Derek just pulled and tugged until he could get a nose full of Stiles’ scent. He pushed his hands up under Stiles shirt again, but Stiles pulled away slightly. Derek was about to ask but then Stiles had his shirt off and his hands were pulling at Derek’s. He understood then and without question took his own off. Bare skin was better, he thought as Stiles settled his head in the crook of Derek’s neck.
“Better?” Derek asked with a soft huff.
“Much,” Stiles answered quietly.
“They’ll figure this out. Deaton will know something.”
“Deaton will stare suggestively at us for two minutes, tell us he’s heard of something but he needs to do more research, then disappear until we’ve figured it all out and tell us it’s what he thought all along. There might be some ear scratches for Scott for being a good little alpha.”
Derek huffed out a laugh and couldn’t keep from smiling at the image. “Deaton does what he can,” but there was still laughter in his voice. “Besides, we have Lydia and Chris and you. Between the three of you, I think we can figure this out.”
“And you don’t count in that equation?” Stiles asked as he looked up at Derek.
Derek hated the looks Stiles gave him sometimes. Stiles trusted him and it wasn’t that Derek wouldn’t try or that Derek doubted himself, but they’d been up against a lot of nastiness and there were only so many times any person could fight before they lost a round. Derek had lost a lot of rounds already and what he hated was the thought that Stiles could trust him so completely and that one day he’d look down and that look would be gone.
“I do my best. For now, I’ll let you brainiacs figure it out. I’m here to keep your emotional stuffing together. If that’s possible,” he teased.
Stiles smiled and it was the first one Derek had seen tonight. It was a good sign that the empathy was beginning to fade and that Derek had made the right move to physically distance them from the others for a little while.
Stiles settled against his side again and Derek could feel something different from Stiles. “What are you doing?”
“I just … it’s like this itch. I was too open downstairs and I focused on you instead.”
“That’s what you normally do, isn’t it?” Derek asked. They didn’t really talk about it in detail. As much as Stiles bitched about Derek being too stoic, Stiles was deceptively good at moving conversations away from his own personal issues.
“Yeah, I mean I just focus on you and what you’re feeling. I always figured it was the whole having to control your wolf thing that made you easier to focus on. You have control of your emotions unlike most of the others.”
“Your dad?”
“Not a good choice. Chris is the only other one that doesn’t hurt to be around when this starts but to be honest, it creeps me out a little. I can feel the emotions are there, but it’s like they’re all bundled up and tied away. He’s so compartmentalized he’s gonna blow the fucking roof off one of these days.”
“Chris will pull through. He’s a survivor.”
“He’s got Isaac. It’s become his saving grace.”
“For the both of them, I think,” Derek admitted. As much as he wished he’d been able to do right by Isaac, he’d done the right thing by sending him away before the alpha pack could hurt him worse. It was still a dick move, but Derek didn’t care so long as Isaac survived.
“Tonight, when you found me in the dream, it wasn’t the same.”
Derek rolled Stiles off him and sat up on one elbow to look down at him. He had so many conflicting emotions about Stiles and he knew they all had to be on the surface for Stiles to feel tonight. He hated it but Stiles had never commented on what he felt. And Derek had never delved into the tangle of emotions he felt on these nights either. Derek wasn’t an empath like Stiles but the other man pushed enough emotion at him that he did sense it. Derek didn’t know what that meant or how he did it. It wasn’t always comfortable but it helped Stiles shut it off and that was what was important.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that split second before I woke, it wasn’t just you or just me. I felt…”
“What?”
“Connected to you.”
Stiles whispered the words and Derek wanted him to take them back but even if he did it wouldn’t change the truth. Whatever had happened, they had been tied together. He couldn’t deny it. He didn’t even want to.
“Stiles.”
Stiles closed the distance between them, his head buried in the crook of Derek’s neck again as he pulled Derek down on top of him. Derek trailed his nose over the soft flesh of Stiles’ neck and took a deep breath.
“I need…” Stiles whispered. He didn’t say anything else but without warning Derek felt the sharp bite of teeth where his neck and shoulder met.
Derek moaned against the pain but it sent shivers down his spine and the crushing need to return the bite. He wrapped his arms under Stiles’ shoulders and held him closer as he returned the bite with human teeth. Stiles bit harder and Derek could smell blood in the air.
Derek teased the skin between his own teeth and sucked hard enough to bruise. He could feel Stiles’ heart speed up under him, taste his excitement and Derek bit just hard enough to break the skin. Stiles hissed and pulled at Derek harder. Derek released the skin and licked at the broken flesh. It wouldn’t heal as fast as his would but Derek knew it would heal far quicker than he wanted. For once, he wanted to see Stiles’ skin bruised and broken.
He pulled away slightly and it was only then that Stiles let him free. Derek turned his head slightly to rest his forehead against Stiles’ temple.
“I can still feel it,” Stiles said into the quiet between them. “The empathy, it’s closed to everyone else but you’re still wide open.”
Derek had an idea of what it was, a fear, but he couldn’t deny how much he wanted it to be right. “I know. I can feel it, too. It’s okay Stiles. It’s okay for us to have this.”
“Yeah?”
Derek nodded. He wasn’t ready to face the questions he knew he’d see in Stiles’ eyes so he turned them over again and pulled Stiles until his head was resting on Derek’s chest. “Go to sleep Stiles. They’ll be up here soon enough to pick that brain of yours.”
Stiles let out a small huff. “And what happened just now?”
“Will still have happened when you wake up. We’ll discuss it then.”
He didn’t know if Stiles could feel his hesitancy to talk about it just yet, but to his surprise the younger man let it go.
“Good night, Derek.”
“Good night, Stiles.”
The night would be long and Derek wouldn’t sleep. He could give Stiles what comfort he could before the others found something for them to work on though.
Chapter Five
Author:
hunters_retreat
Artist:
destielwinchi
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 23,000+
Summary: In the wake of life altering events, the Beacon Hills pack is trying to settle into some semblance of normal. After the nogitsune, all Stiles wants is to be able to breathe easy and know that his friends are safe. When Stiles begins to dream of his friends though, they turn out to be something extraordinary. Stiles is a spirit walker. The dreams leave him empathic and unable to control himself, but salvation comes in the unlikely form of Derek Hale. Stiles just needs to know two things. What is stirring in the woods of Beacon Hills to cause the entire pack to dream of horrific things? And can Derek help him learn to center himself and control his empathy before it’s too late?
This was bad. Really bad. Like, epic in the grand scale of life and death situations a definite ten. Stiles couldn’t even see Derek. The woods were shrouded in a purple-grey fog that he knew wasn’t natural. It wasn’t even the color that set him running from it, but the feel of death it pushed before it.
“Derek!” Stiles knew he was dreaming and Derek was in the forest somewhere.
Stiles stopped running as he heard a howl break through the silence of the night. Derek was to the east and Stiles just needed to get to the werewolf before the fog got to him. Deaton wasn’t entirely sure Stiles would be able to stay in one of the pack’s nightmares if they were dying in it. He thought he might be thrust out of the nightmare before it happened and therefore the other person would wake before it could kill them but Stiles didn’t want to test that theory anytime soon. Especially since he didn’t believe a word of it.
He tripped over a log and rolled down a hillside and threw himself back up into a run. When he turned to look back over his shoulder at the fog, it seemed to slow. He yelped in joy at the prospect but tripped again and found himself face down on the nemeton.
He threw himself back, shuffling in an awkward crabwalk from the monstrous stump before he stopped. He didn’t trust the nemeton or the magic it brought to life but Stiles couldn’t help the feeling that the nemeton was protecting itself and that he was safe here in this circle. Or at least safe from the fog.
“Derek! Follow my voice!” Stiles shouted out into the darkness. He heard a howl in response, pained but closer, and Stiles hoped Derek was as good at tracking as he’d always claimed he was.
The wind blew across the clearing and Stiles looked up to see the Hunter’s Moon low over the trees. It was blood red and Stiles shivered at the thought of a blood moon in Derek’s dream. He let out a deep breath and called Derek’s name again and heard the howl even closer now.
Great, he was in the most fucked up game of ‘Marco Polo’ ever.
The wind changed direction suddenly and Stiles noticed the fog around him as it began to swirl. It hadn’t come closer to the nemeton but it had begun to creep close around him. He was going to be trapped there -with Derek on the other side.
“Derek! The fog is closing in! You have to hurry!” Not that he thought Derek was taking a leisurely stroll but Stiles hoped the urgency - not panic, he was not panicking at the thought of Derek stuck out there on one side of the fog and him trapped in the center - of his voice gave the werewolf some speed.
He could hear Derek approach but even as he willed the other man faster, Stiles watched as the fog encircle him. “Damn it!” he screamed at the clearing.
Derek howled in pain and Stiles could see him at the other side of the fog as the tendrils began to seek Derek out. His skin burned with each touch and Stiles knew then what caused the purple tint in the fog now. Wolfsbane.
“Derek! Wake up! It’s just a dream!” It was pointless but he had to do something. He saw Derek as he began climbing one of the great trees to get out of the way of the fog. It would keep him safe a little while but he couldn’t stay up there forever.
“Get out, Stiles!” Derek said around a mouthful of fanged teeth. His blue eyes could see better in the dark than Stiles’ human ones but he ignored the way Stiles shook his head. “Get out of here!”
Stiles turned away from Derek and looked around the clearing. There was nothing to help him, nothing to stop the fog, except the nemeton.
“God damn it. You have caused us nothing but trouble,” Stiles yelled at the tree stump. He looked at it and noticed the small branches that dotted the edges and the new growth at the center. “Tonight, you’re going to help instead.”
He didn’t know what he was doing but Deaton said he had a spark of something and he was a spirit walker on top of that. He had magic and while he didn’t have the belief Deaton said he needed to perform real magic, Stiles had a need to believe tonight and a determination to make it happen.
He stumbled up onto the stump and pulled the fresh leaves from the center and began to crumple them between his palms. “If you can protect yourself from this damn fog then you can protect Derek from it too.”
He cupped his hands and blew lightly on the inside where the leaves were, willing them to dry. He didn’t dare to look to see if it worked but instead he walked to the edge of the fog closest to Derek. “Give him a pathway.”
He closed his eyes and held desperately to the idea that the leaves, powdered in his hands, could make a path, much like he’d once draw a circle of mountain ash with a little dust and his belief.
He threw his hands out and screamed, “Give him a path!”
He opened his eyes in time to see the fog spreading away and a thin fox-like figure ran through the fog, clearing the way. “Derek!”
He didn’t need to call his name because Derek had seen what had happened and he was already on his way down from his perch in the tree. He reached the small fox and the two ran together, the fog catching at Derek’s heels or arms a couple times but the man hunched in on himself to make himself a smaller target as he ran.
Derek didn’t stop running until he had an arm wrapped around Stiles. For a second, Stiles stared up at Derek and he could feel everything. It wasn’t just empathy around him and the feel of others, but there was something connecting him to Derek. Derek’s eyes went alpha-red and Stiles gasped but before he could speak the world went black.
**
Stiles woke to the blackness of his room, his father standing guard over his bed with his gun pulled. He bled anxiety and fear into the room and Stiles had a hard time breathing through the emotions he caught from his father. Love, exasperation, terror, but beneath it all, determination and grim pride.
“Dad?”
“Stiles? Thank god. Are you okay? We need to get out of here.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain on the way kiddo. Are you hurt?”
“I need to get to Derek.”
“Is he still… stuck?”
“No, I got to him. I’m still open.”
“Can you make it to the car or is the jeep easier for you?”
They’d never discussed traveling when Stiles was in such a state but he was grateful his father had thought it through. Sometimes objects held a psychic impression of what had happened before. As much nasty stuff as Stiles knew had happened in the back of his father’s car, he’d never been a part of it. There were too many bad memories in the jeep and as much as he loved her, he needed to keep his head clear.
“The cruiser is good, just let me sit up front.”
“Honestly son, I’m surprised you haven’t ended up in the back yet.” His father teased as Stiles got out of bed and found his clothes. He was still on alert but his father had always been good at putting on a brave front when he thought Stiles needed it.
“Where are we going?” Stiles finished pulling his shirt over his head then slipped his feet into his shoes. His emergency bag was by the door, along with his bat. He grabbed both as his dad stepped into the hallway. Stiles watched with a growing sense of anxiety as his father walked out of his bedroom, checking for possible danger.
“Dad?”
“Just watch my back and stay close Stiles. I’ll explain in the car.”
He might have continued to push except that his empathy told him his father was deadly serious and there was a real threat. There was no telling how long he’d been in Derek’s dream with his father standing guard over him.
Stiles tried to work it out as they walked together down the hall and towards the stairs but there were no pieces to put together.
Things had been quiet in Beacon Hills since the departure of the nogitsune. Other than Stiles’ newfound ability to spirit walk and the occasional pack or hunter that wanted to cross their territory, the pack hadn’t been this secure since they’d formed.
It made no sense that they were being attacked in their home like this. Unless it wasn’t supernatural in origin but someone that had decided to come after his dad. He was a good cop and a better sheriff, especially now that he had all the pieces. If it was human, they’d find something they hadn’t expected. Stiles and his dad weren’t about to go down without taking a swing at whoever threatened them.
The way was clear and they paused at the bottom of the stairs before moving on again. “Stay behind me, son.”
“Dad, I’m not letting you-“
“Shut up Stiles. Stay behind me and get the car unlocked. Then scoot over to the other seat.”
Stiles could feel that there was no point in arguing with his dad and he took a deep breath. He wanted to do something more than hide behind his dad but Stiles couldn’t do anything but take the keys when his dad handed them over, careful to drop them instead of touch Stiles.
If he was a superhero, he’d be able to cast out his empathy and feel if anyone was there. In reality, Stiles had no control over his ability and the only times he’d touched anyone other than Derek, it had ended in enough pain to cause him to black out and a subsequent week’s worth of emotional instability as he tried to process what his brain had learned through the brief touches.
When his father moved calmly out the door, Stiles followed him, his eyes still searching for something. The driver’s side was thankfully blocked by the jeep and Stiles and his dad were able to take cover there. Stiles got the door open and threw his bag and bat across the car then shimmied across. “I’m in,” he called out to his dad.
He put the keys in the ignition and had it started before his father sat down and slammed the door closed. He peeled out of the driveway and took off, though Stiles noticed he didn’t turn on the emergency lights.
“Dad?”
“Call Argent. The pack is being attacked. He warned me but I don’t know anything more than that. He said to get to Derek’s loft.”
Stiles called Argent’s line and put it on speaker but there was no answer. “Chris, I’m awake and we’re on our way. Hope you’re there.”
He didn’t dare leave more. He tried not to think about why Chris Argent wouldn’t answer his phone but he refused to believe anything bad had happened to him. He could feel the concern creeping into his dad’s thoughts though.
“He’ll be okay Dad. Chris is a badass.”
“Language, Stiles.”
“Come on, Dad, I think this warrants a little language.”
His dad didn’t answer but Stiles could feel the smug affection from his father and that at least felt better than the anxiety his father was pushing at him.
“How are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Hyped-up. Anxious. Scared. Going out of my mind with worry.”
“How is Derek going to be when we get to him?”
“Uninjured.”
“That’s a first.”
It was the first time he’d had a chance to think about it and now that he was, he couldn’t help but realize that this dream had been different than the others. “Most of Derek’s nightmares are really personal,” he voiced. He didn’t usually talk about what he saw there and Derek was terse when he had to explain any injuries Stiles got in them. It was private and Stiles tried not to reveal anything he learned, not even about Jackson who wasn’t quite the douchebag he’d been when he left Beacon Hills.
“He doesn’t dream about fears really. He punishes himself with his nightmares,” Stiles continued. “This wasn’t like that at all. I was running in the forest for hours before I found him. When I did, we got cut off from each other.”
His phone rang and he answered without looking for the id.
“Are you okay?”
“I got Lydia out and we’re headed to Derek’s,” Jackson answered quickly.
“What the hell was it?” Stiles asked.
“Another pack. I was at Lydia’s when three betas came out of nowhere and attacked us.”
“Shit, how did you get out?”
“Lydia isn’t stupid. She’s been planning in case something did happen. She has a wolfsbane spray.”
“Lydia made wolf mace?”
“Yeah. She promises you some now that it’s been field tested. Between the two of us we got past them and ran. Got a message from Argent saying to head to the loft. Where are you?”
“Dad and I are pulling up now.”
“See you in two.”
Stiles hung up and looked at his dad. “Wait for Jackson. We’re better off going in together.”
Annoyance brushed him quickly and he realized he had just given his dad orders but his dad didn’t say anything. Jackson was there less than a minute later and they ran into the building together.
“Lydia, you okay?” His father asked before Stiles could. He wanted to check on her himself but he pushed himself against the wall of the front entryway, back into a corner as far away from the others as he could be. It was too much, all three of them there with their emotions on overload.
“We’re fine. Stiles?”
“Stay back,” he answered softly. Concern and desperation radiated from the others. “I just need to get to Derek.”
“Shit, he had a dream?”
“Stiles said Derek was uninjured,” the Sheriff relayed.
Normally, Stiles would marvel over the way his pack had pulled together in the last year but it was too hard to think with their emotions around him.
“Can he move?” Jackson asked.
“Stiles?”
“I … yeah. Just give me a minute.” He took a deep breath to steal himself to move closer to the source of anxiety but he wasn’t quite ready.
“Shit,” Jackson muttered. It would have been slow going except Jackson pulled out his phone. “Derek, is the building safe?” Stiles didn’t hear the answer but Jackson kept going. “We have Stiles on the stairs. I don’t think he’s making it up on his own.”
Stiles couldn’t hear what they were telling him but he felt the others back away. Then he felt the calm collectedness that was Chris Argent even under attack and just behind that was Derek.
The others parted but Stiles didn’t move. Derek didn’t stop and it wasn’t until Derek had his arms around him that Stiles could breathe again.
“Derek, we need to get upstairs,” Chris reminded them.
Derek didn’t say anything to Stiles but he knew what the werewolf was going to do anyways. He was still too open to speak, too caught up in what was happening and the relief he felt because Derek was there to buffer him from the outside. He put his arms around Derek’s neck as Derek picked him up.
The closeness gave him the chance to begin his recovery and he let out a shuttered breath. “The others?”
“Isaac came with Chris. Parrish is safe at the station and won’t leave until we tell him it’s safe or we decide to go get him. Scott and Melissa made it ten minutes ago with Kira and her parents’ right behind them.”
“What took you so long?” Chris asked the others.
“We were attacked at Lydia’s,” Jackson answered succinctly.
“I couldn’t touch Stiles. He was still dreaming,” the Sheriff answered. “We didn’t have any trouble though.”
They made it up to Derek’s loft and Derek sat on the couch with Stiles still wrapped around him. Derek slid his hands up under Stiles’ shirt and Stiles let out a deep breath. “Better?” Derek asked.
Stiles nodded but kept his head buried in Derek’s shoulder. “What the hell happened tonight?”
“Stiles, are you okay?” Scott asked before he could say anything else. Stiles pulled away from Derek enough to look at the others. Scott crouched down in front of him and while there were no marks on him, there was fresh blood on his shirt. Kira’s clothes were blood-splattered too, as was Noshiko’s. Her father, Ken, seemed clean and Melissa was looking them all over.
“I’m good dude. Just stay back a little longer.”
Scott took the hint and he settled on the floor across from them. The others pulled up around them and Stiles was able to see the whole pack. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a sigh of relief.
“More space?” Scott asked, but Derek shook his head.
“He’s fine. That’s just relief that everyone is here. Chris, you want to tell us what’s happening?”
“It looks like the only people that weren’t attacked were you and Stiles,” Chris answered. “I was heading to bed when Isaac came thundering down the stairs. He smelled something unfamiliar in the house and realized it was the scent of unknown weres. We were attacked by four werewolves. We killed two but the other two got away before we could stop them. I started making calls while Isaac drove us here.”
“I was actually at Kira’s,” Scott said. “Mom and I were just going to leave when a group of weres attacked. Mrs. Yukimura was amazing.”
“You weren’t bad yourself, Scott,” she said with a small nod of her head. “There were eight of them. I’m assuming by the numbers they had been watching us and knew we were together.”
“So a new pack is trying to take our territory?” Scott asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“And why wouldn’t they attack Derek and Stiles at the same time?” Lydia asked.
Stiles looked at Derek and the beta nodded his approval. Stiles pulled away from Derek though Derek shifted on the couch so that Stiles was pressed between him and the arm. No one could touch Stiles until Derek was ready to let them and Stiles was fine with that.
“Because we already were. It can’t be a coincidence that this happened on the same night as this weird-ass dream.”
Derek nodded. “It wasn’t a usual nightmare.”
“When are they anymore?” Isaac asked.
Stiles gave a small huff of laughter at that but Isaac was one of the few who hadn’t been bothered by the thought of Stiles in his nightmares. Some of the others had a harder time with it, but Isaac’s biggest fear had been helplessness. Chris, Derek, and Scott had done a fair job of helping him deal with the overwhelming fear he’d once had of his father. Being a werewolf, as well as the training the others had given him, had taken care of the rest. After a bad nightmare, Isaac was as likely to come find Stiles and say, “that sucked” as he was to just ignore it completely. No harm. No foul. Not everyone was so nonchalant about the way Stiles invaded their nightmares.
“This was…” Derek took a deep breath and Stiles knew he was searching for the words to describe it. He never talked about his nightmares and Stiles wasn’t sure he would. He’d figured Derek would walk out when it came time and leave Stiles to fill in the blanks.
“It was prolonged,” Derek finally said. “My nightmares generally happen quickly. Something attacks. Something bad happens. This was almost like being hunted.” He looked at Stiles then for confirmation. “It felt like something wanted to keep us there.”
“Both of us,” Stiles added. “Jesus, something is stalking us in your dreams.”
“A dream stalker?” His dad asked aloud. Stiles didn’t need empathy to hear the exasperation in his voice.
“There is a lot of lore about dreams, Mr. Stilinski,” Lydia answered.
“You don’t need to remind me, Lydia. I did all the reading when this first started,” his dad reminded them. Not just the research the others had put together but anything he could get his hands on. He’d been to Deaton umpteen times and taken ancient tomes from whatever library Deaton pulled them from.
“I thought we agreed that Stiles was the one responsible for what was happening though?”
“I am,” Stiles answered before anyone could answer. “That doesn’t mean something else isn’t here. The nemeton was in Derek’s dream too. It … it helped me get to him.”
“I think we need to call Deaton again,” Chris said. “He was at the clinic when I called to warn him.”
His dad already had his phone out. “Working on it.”
“For now,” Chris Argent spoke to the group. “I think it’s safe to say we need to stick together.”
No one spoke about what to do next. Deaton said he’d be by in the morning. Chris set up a watch schedule while Lydia and Jackson pulled up the security system Chris had outfitted Derek with. The rest of them found a place to settle in for the night and tried to get some sleep.
**
Derek couldn’t help himself. He knew Stiles wasn’t ready to face the others alone yet. It took time to get Stiles completely closed off and with the rush of adrenaline from the attacks he knew it was going to take longer than usual. His bed was a no- go since he wasn’t about to do that in front of the others. Not that they hadn’t seen him and Stiles in compromising positions before but tonight he felt too raw, too exposed. It wasn’t the same and every instinct in him was telling him to take Stiles and mark him, to claim him, to protect him as only he could. So he shepherded Stiles up the spiral stairs to the extra room.
Stiles let himself be led and Derek didn’t question how docile the young man was. Stiles had chosen Derek as an anchor for some reason he didn’t understand and Derek had accepted that. He never let himself question why he’d never fought against it. Derek wasn’t above ignoring what he didn’t want to deal with.
As soon as Derek opened the door Stiles dropped onto the bed. There was nothing else in the room except a small table and chair, and the bed was just a box spring with a mattress resting on the floor.
Derek dropped down beside him but he grabbed Stiles as he did and rolled them until Stiles was half on top of him. Stiles didn’t argue and Derek just pulled and tugged until he could get a nose full of Stiles’ scent. He pushed his hands up under Stiles shirt again, but Stiles pulled away slightly. Derek was about to ask but then Stiles had his shirt off and his hands were pulling at Derek’s. He understood then and without question took his own off. Bare skin was better, he thought as Stiles settled his head in the crook of Derek’s neck.
“Better?” Derek asked with a soft huff.
“Much,” Stiles answered quietly.
“They’ll figure this out. Deaton will know something.”
“Deaton will stare suggestively at us for two minutes, tell us he’s heard of something but he needs to do more research, then disappear until we’ve figured it all out and tell us it’s what he thought all along. There might be some ear scratches for Scott for being a good little alpha.”
Derek huffed out a laugh and couldn’t keep from smiling at the image. “Deaton does what he can,” but there was still laughter in his voice. “Besides, we have Lydia and Chris and you. Between the three of you, I think we can figure this out.”
“And you don’t count in that equation?” Stiles asked as he looked up at Derek.
Derek hated the looks Stiles gave him sometimes. Stiles trusted him and it wasn’t that Derek wouldn’t try or that Derek doubted himself, but they’d been up against a lot of nastiness and there were only so many times any person could fight before they lost a round. Derek had lost a lot of rounds already and what he hated was the thought that Stiles could trust him so completely and that one day he’d look down and that look would be gone.
“I do my best. For now, I’ll let you brainiacs figure it out. I’m here to keep your emotional stuffing together. If that’s possible,” he teased.
Stiles smiled and it was the first one Derek had seen tonight. It was a good sign that the empathy was beginning to fade and that Derek had made the right move to physically distance them from the others for a little while.
Stiles settled against his side again and Derek could feel something different from Stiles. “What are you doing?”
“I just … it’s like this itch. I was too open downstairs and I focused on you instead.”
“That’s what you normally do, isn’t it?” Derek asked. They didn’t really talk about it in detail. As much as Stiles bitched about Derek being too stoic, Stiles was deceptively good at moving conversations away from his own personal issues.
“Yeah, I mean I just focus on you and what you’re feeling. I always figured it was the whole having to control your wolf thing that made you easier to focus on. You have control of your emotions unlike most of the others.”
“Your dad?”
“Not a good choice. Chris is the only other one that doesn’t hurt to be around when this starts but to be honest, it creeps me out a little. I can feel the emotions are there, but it’s like they’re all bundled up and tied away. He’s so compartmentalized he’s gonna blow the fucking roof off one of these days.”
“Chris will pull through. He’s a survivor.”
“He’s got Isaac. It’s become his saving grace.”
“For the both of them, I think,” Derek admitted. As much as he wished he’d been able to do right by Isaac, he’d done the right thing by sending him away before the alpha pack could hurt him worse. It was still a dick move, but Derek didn’t care so long as Isaac survived.
“Tonight, when you found me in the dream, it wasn’t the same.”
Derek rolled Stiles off him and sat up on one elbow to look down at him. He had so many conflicting emotions about Stiles and he knew they all had to be on the surface for Stiles to feel tonight. He hated it but Stiles had never commented on what he felt. And Derek had never delved into the tangle of emotions he felt on these nights either. Derek wasn’t an empath like Stiles but the other man pushed enough emotion at him that he did sense it. Derek didn’t know what that meant or how he did it. It wasn’t always comfortable but it helped Stiles shut it off and that was what was important.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that split second before I woke, it wasn’t just you or just me. I felt…”
“What?”
“Connected to you.”
Stiles whispered the words and Derek wanted him to take them back but even if he did it wouldn’t change the truth. Whatever had happened, they had been tied together. He couldn’t deny it. He didn’t even want to.
“Stiles.”
Stiles closed the distance between them, his head buried in the crook of Derek’s neck again as he pulled Derek down on top of him. Derek trailed his nose over the soft flesh of Stiles’ neck and took a deep breath.
“I need…” Stiles whispered. He didn’t say anything else but without warning Derek felt the sharp bite of teeth where his neck and shoulder met.
Derek moaned against the pain but it sent shivers down his spine and the crushing need to return the bite. He wrapped his arms under Stiles’ shoulders and held him closer as he returned the bite with human teeth. Stiles bit harder and Derek could smell blood in the air.
Derek teased the skin between his own teeth and sucked hard enough to bruise. He could feel Stiles’ heart speed up under him, taste his excitement and Derek bit just hard enough to break the skin. Stiles hissed and pulled at Derek harder. Derek released the skin and licked at the broken flesh. It wouldn’t heal as fast as his would but Derek knew it would heal far quicker than he wanted. For once, he wanted to see Stiles’ skin bruised and broken.
He pulled away slightly and it was only then that Stiles let him free. Derek turned his head slightly to rest his forehead against Stiles’ temple.
“I can still feel it,” Stiles said into the quiet between them. “The empathy, it’s closed to everyone else but you’re still wide open.”
Derek had an idea of what it was, a fear, but he couldn’t deny how much he wanted it to be right. “I know. I can feel it, too. It’s okay Stiles. It’s okay for us to have this.”
“Yeah?”
Derek nodded. He wasn’t ready to face the questions he knew he’d see in Stiles’ eyes so he turned them over again and pulled Stiles until his head was resting on Derek’s chest. “Go to sleep Stiles. They’ll be up here soon enough to pick that brain of yours.”
Stiles let out a small huff. “And what happened just now?”
“Will still have happened when you wake up. We’ll discuss it then.”
He didn’t know if Stiles could feel his hesitancy to talk about it just yet, but to his surprise the younger man let it go.
“Good night, Derek.”
“Good night, Stiles.”
The night would be long and Derek wouldn’t sleep. He could give Stiles what comfort he could before the others found something for them to work on though.
Chapter Five