Archive of Our Own ^beta

Love is a fire that burns yet burns unseen,

A wound that injures, yet without distress,

A happiness that is not happiness,

Sorrow that is no sorrow yet is keen;

'Tis rather not to love than love, I ween;

To wander among men companionless,

To deem no blessing that which still doth bless

And count that gain which but our loss hath been.

by Luís de Camões, translated by Fidelino de Figueiredo

Stiles stared at the blood seeping through Braeden’s fingers on Derek’s abdomen. It was like the Berserker had turned on him and ripped his heart out of his chest. He swallowed, his breathing shallow. He wanted to cry and scream, but he yearned to save Derek. Stiles felt it in the depths of his soul. He stumbled closer to the pair–and God, they were a couple, but Stiles loved Derek; he loved him so much that his soul cried out for him in agony, in grief.

“Go. Save him,” Derek pleaded–and Stiles couldn’t. If these were Derek’s final moments on this Earth, he couldn’t leave him; if this was Derek’s last request, he refused.

He blinked his eyes, hardly acknowledging the tears. Stiles knelt next to Derek, but his gaze went to Braeden. “Please,” he said. “I can’t–Please let me stay with him.”

Braeden looked at him with understanding in her eyes. She nodded, her lips set in a firm line. “I’ll go with them.” She wiped her fingers clean and cocked her shotgun. “Be careful.”

Derek groaned in pain. Stiles flinched and applied pressure to his wound, his fingers immediately slick with his blood. Derek panted, fighting against death. “Stiles,” he managed to get out. “What are you…?”

Stiles looked at him with open longing, unable to hide it anymore. He shook his head. “I couldn’t leave you, Derek,” he said. “You have no idea, do you?”

“I do now,” Derek gritted out, grimacing. “I do, too,” he said, his head lolling back against the boulder.

Leaning forward, Stiles pressed his forehead against Derek’s. He breathed in and out with his eyes closed. He felt a wildfire inside him like a spark had lit his flame. He heard Derek’s breathing become shallower and eventually stop altogether. Choking on a sob, Stiles opened his eyes to a blinding bright gold light beaming from the wound on Derek’s stomach. He marveled at it as the wound closed, but Derek remained still.

Stiles clenched his jaw and stood, accidentally wiping blood (Derek’s blood, damn it) on his jeans.

Anger raged in him. Then he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled around and caught the Berserker’s bone dagger in his hand as it went for his heart. He sucked in a harsh breath of hurt. Stiles glanced at Kate behind the Berserker and smiled. His hand burned the same bright gold as the magic that went into Derek’s abdomen, and the dagger turned to dust, crumbling in Stiles’ hand. The Berserker screamed in rage and brought its fist down, aiming for Stiles’ head. Stiles feinted to the left. He then lifted his right hand and slapped his palm against the Berserker’s chest. His magic poured into the Berserker’s chest, disintegrating all it touched.

“Magic, huh? That’s cute, sweetheart,” Kate said. “I’ve seen what your little vet can do, so I’m not scared of some baby witch who just grew into his powers.”

“That’s funny because I’m not Deaton. I’m much angrier and I happen to have a particular hatred for you.”

Kate laughed. “Now that’s funny. I barely even know your name, kid.” She aimed her shotgun at him. “Stiles Stilinski, isn’t it? The Sheriff’s kid, Scott’s best friend. Nothing special to report, and yet here you are, glowing gold.” She grinned. “Someone’s going to die for that error… Actually, it might be you.”

Pumping the shotgun, she shot at him, but the bullets ricocheted off a golden barrier. She shot again, and the barrier held strong. Kate hissed in frustration, her eyes flashing blue.

Chris Argent, Deputy Parrish, and the Calaveras jogged up beside him with their guns drawn. “Stiles, what the hell?”

Stiles shrugged. “Apparently, I have more than just a little spark. Who knew?”

“Where are Derek and Braeden?”

“Derek’s dead,” he said, clenching his jaw. “And I told Braeden to find Scott.”

Argent nodded tersely. “How long do you think this barrier will hold?”

“I don’t know, but let’s find out,” Stiles said, his eyes still on Kate.

Kate grinned at him. “So you can stop bullets. Let’s see how you handle a direct attack. Get them!” She pounced at Stiles as her Berserkers charged the hunters and Parrish.

The hunters opened fire, but the bullets only did so much to slow down the Berserkers.

Stiles fell back desperately, throwing a ball of light at Kate that only knocked her back. She hissed in rage, her skin transforming into dark fur. She grabbed Stiles by the throat, pushing him against the wall of the nearest building. “In a different life, you and I could have worked together to destroy these beasts, but since you made your bed with these monsters you can rot in it,” she said, her voice a low growl.

“Y-you’re one to talk,” he choked out, his nails scrabbling for purchase against her tightening fingers. “What exactly does sleeping with teenage wolves make you, Kate?”

Baring her fangs at him in an enraged growl, Kate lifted him off his feet and banged his head against the building. “It makes me resourceful, kid.” Stiles listened, his head spinning. He heard enough to attack. He pushed his hands against her abdomen, shocking a spark of magic into her like he had the Berserker. She hissed, letting him fall to the ground.

Stiles groaned. He needed to get up before Kate recovered, but–God, his body ached. He throbbed in places he didn’t know he could throb.

A howl echoed off the buildings around them. Stiles twisted his head to look at Derek’s body. His vision swam for a moment. Only–only Derek’s body wasn’t there–just a pool of blood where it had been. Hope bubbled out of Stiles in a manic laugh.

Kate said something, but it sounded like angry warbling through the buzzing in his ears. She kicked out at him, but–

A large black wolf with glowing red eyes bounded over a wall, snarling and biting at Kate. Kate screamed, scrambling to get away from the wolf. The wolf transformed, standing on its hind legs until it finally morphed into Derek–a very naked Derek.

Stiles tried to blink away the blur that looked like intentional censorship, his head hurting as he focused his senses on Derek and Kate.

Kate stared up at Derek in shock and horror. “You’re dead,” she whispered, her head shaking in disbelief.

“No. I was evolving, something you’ll never do,” Derek said, looking down at her with a smug smile.

One of the Berserkers turned its back on Parrish and attacked Derek, swiping at him. Derek angled out of the way. Then he grabbed the Berserker by the mask with both hands, ripping it in half with a bright flash of gold–and it turned to dust.

Stiles watched Derek with relief in his eyes. When Derek turned to face him, Stiles smiled, his eyes going soft with tenderness. Derek winked at him as he grabbed the last Berserker and tore its head off. It dispersed into dust and covered him with the residue.

Without the Berserker bearing down on him, Argent loaded a yellow wolfsbane bullet into his gun and shot Kate as she scurried to her feet. She flew backward from the impact, her beta shift dissolving into her human face. She peered up at her brother in abject betrayal for a moment before she darted for the temple.

“I don’t think so,” said Stiles as he held out his hand. From his outstretched hand came a rope of gold, lashing around Kate’s neck. He yanked her back, forcing her down to the ground with him. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Derek furrowed his brow, frowning at him. “Stiles, you don’t have to be the one–”

“I’m not Scott, Derek. I’m not about to let someone run free on the off chance that they can be redeemed, especially when that someone is Kate fucking Argent. She dies right now, by my hand or yours. Make your choice.”

“Then we do it together,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded. The golden rope still tugged a struggling Kate towards them. He offered his free hand to Derek and gasped as their fingers touched; a warmth spread from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet and the top of his head. A glance at Derek told him he felt the same thing. Derek helped him to his feet.

Derek grabbed Kate by the throat, his claws digging into her flesh. She struggled against him, looking smaller than she ever had. “Derek, y-you wouldn’t… You’re not a killer.” Derek looked stricken, his grip loosening.

“He’s not, but I am.” Stiles concentrated his spark into his right hand; he pushed it against her chest. “Derek, jump back in 3, 2, 1.”

Derek jumped back. Stiles lit his wildfire spark. And Kate screamed as she ignited in flames. Derek blanched, looking sickly in the orange light of the fire, and he looked on in horror. She screamed, and screamed, until she eventually stopped moving altogether. Until she was nothing but ash on the ground.

Burning alive was a horrible way to die, but Stiles was a big believer in karma. He felt guilty for making Derek participate and watch, but he felt nothing for putting down a psychopath like Kate Argent.

Exhaustion seeped into his bones, and Stiles’ knees buckled. Derek caught him before he fell. Stiles leaned into his arms, seeking the warmth that spread whenever Derek touched him. Whatever it was, whether it was his spark or something else supernatural, he knew they both needed answers.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Stiles whispered, resting his head on his shoulder. “I knew you couldn’t kill her, but I didn’t have to commit so hard to revenge.”

Ducking his head, Derek smiled. “Don’t worry about it. A little trauma never killed anyone.”

Stiles groaned, his head throbbing with the reverberations the sound made in his skull. “I think I might have a concussion,” he whispered pitifully.

“Your dad’s gonna kill you,” Derek said sagely.

“Oh fuck! What about Scott? And the others? We have to find them!”

“Let the rest of us take care of that. You did enough today.”

Grunting in annoyance, Stiles squinted up at Derek despite the pain. “Don’t treat me like some damsel now, Derek. I was a badass. I’m a badass.”

Derek’s lips quirked. “Yeah, you are. Come on then–” He hefted Stiles up into a princess carry.

Stiles’ breath hitched. “God damn, I missed that werewolf strength. I could get used to this.”

“I knew you only loved me for my werewolf strength,” said Derek dryly.

Coloring with embarrassment, Stiles tucked his head under Derek’s chin. “We haven’t said it yet, but I do. I love you. It came on so gradually that I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I fell for you.”

“I know.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open. “Did you just Solo me? You sneaky secret nerd!”

Derek grinned, then swallowed. Stiles watched his Adam’s apple bob. “I do too. It just never felt like the right moment. Even now, there was Braeden—but she seemed happy enough to step aside, so I don’t feel guilty about this. About us.”

Heart thumping in his chest, Stiles pressed his thumb against Derek’s cheek and caressed him gently. “Can I kiss you?” he said, his gaze dropping to his lips. He had wanted to kiss Derek for years–and now the chance was so close that he couldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

“You never have to ask again,” whispered Derek, so close that all Stiles had to do was tip his head up and their lips brushed. Derek took hold of Stiles’ chin and brushed their lips together again; then Derek kissed him, his lips parting beneath Derek’s as he arched up into his body.

There was a crash behind them, presumably from the church, but neither of them was in a hurry to part. Stiles turned his head just to check on the situation. He immediately relaxed because at the front was Scott, then Peter, Malia, Kira, Braeden, and Liam followed.

Scott’s nose scrunched up. “Dude, what the fuck? Why are you all over Derek like that?”

“Well, you see, when a human and a werewolf love each other very much–”

“Don’t be a dick. You know Derek’s dat–well, with Braeden.”

Stiles shrugged. “She’s right here, Scott. I’m pretty sure if she had a problem she would be speaking up for herself.”

Braeden bared her teeth in a smile at Stiles. “Right you are.” She looked at Scott. “Don’t worry about it, Scott. Derek and I always knew we were temporary. A long-term romance would just distract me from finding my quarry. Besides, they’re kind of cute together, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t.” Scott sounded pouty and Stiles squinted over at him from his place in Derek’s arms.

“What’s up with you, Scotty? Why are you so against this? Because this is happening and nothing you say or do will stop it,” Stiles gestured between him and Derek, his eyes intent on Scott.

Scott set his jaw at being called out. “It’s nothing personal, Stiles. I just don’t–” He paused for too long.

“Tell me! I know you’re not homophobic, so spit it out, buddy.”

“I don’t want Derek to steal my best friend away from me!”

“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Scotty-boy, but we’re a little different from best friends right now.”

Scott growled in frustration, putting his hand over his face. “I know, but it’s been a constant thing since we ran into him in the woods. You two just keep getting closer–and eventually, he’s going to steal you away entirely.”

“Put me down,” Stiles said, patting Derek on the chest. And man, the things he wanted to do to that chest. He hobbled over to Scott, took him by the shoulders, and shook him gently. “Listen, the only way you’re going to lose me to Derek is if you act like a complete asshat. I love Derek in a soul-crushingly all-encompassing way, but I love you as a brother and nothing is ever going to change that.”

Scott hugged him tightly. “Sorry for being an asshole. You guys are pretty cute together,” he grumbled against his shoulder.

“Good, now let me get back to my hot new Alpha boyfriend,” Stiles said, though he didn’t have to go anywhere because Derek walked over and scooped him back into his arms.

“Wait. Derek’s an Alpha again? How?” Scott said, seeming somewhat panicked. “What’s that going to do to the pack?”

“I’m not even entirely sure how I’m an Alpha again, but Stiles’ magical abilities might have something to do with that,” Derek said. “As for the pack, it depends on whether we think we can exist as co-Alphas or if we think we’ll butt heads. We can either keep the pack together or split it up. I suggest we give it a trial period.”

“... Stiles has magic now too?!”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Do keep up, Scott. We always knew Stiles had a little spark of something in him.” He sniffed the air, a grin spreading across his face. “We just never knew it could grow into a wildfire,” he said, a bit of awe and admiration in his tone that Stiles didn’t want to think about too closely. “Or restore the Hale spark to where it belongs.”

Stiles stared at Peter suspiciously. “Since when did you get all helpful and wise?”

“Actually,” Liam spoke up from the rear. “Peter helped us figure out that the Berserker in there was Scott and we managed to convince him that he wasn’t a monster.”

Peter’s lips quirked up smugly as he winked at Stiles. Stiles shuddered.

“We’ll come back to that later, ‘cause there has to be some motive there, but I think we should all get out of here. Parrish and Argent are waiting by the van. We can get home and talk to Deaton, and then I can get grounded for the rest of my life because I’m pretty sure there are at least thirty missed calls from my dad. And when that’s over, I can spend an amazing weekend in bed with Derek.”

“Maybe I should have stopped the rambling before you mentioned sex.”

Stiles looked up innocently. “Who mentioned sex?”

Derek pecked him on the nose. “You know what you meant.”

***

“Ugh, you smell terrible,” his dad said as he hugged Stiles to his chest.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You don’t smell that much better, old man.”

His dad looked over at Derek and Malia, both standing just inside the door like a couple of awkward dorks, and he raised an eyebrow. He spared a glance at Stiles, squinted his eyes in that detective way of his, and opened his arms wider. “Alright, you two, get over here.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I can do that now that Stiles is dating Derek,” Malia said, though it looked like she was inching toward them.

Derek froze in place like he would melt into the furniture if he stayed still enough.

“That’s great, Malia. A real subtle way to drop the bomb on my dad,” Stiles said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get over here. Both of you.” He made significant eyes at Derek, scrunching his nose up towards his dad.

“I guess it can’t hurt to add one more Hale to the family–but we’re having a serious talk before Peter comes waltzing in, do you understand me?” his dad said.

“I would never–”

“No, but I might,” his dad said, patting his son on the shoulder. “Now how do you all feel about lunch?”

Malia thought about it. “I could catch us some prey in the Preserve if you want–”

“Pizza. She likes pizza. I hear even Derek likes pizza, isn’t that right, big guy?” Stiles went to punch Derek in the shoulder only to feel his arm yank against the cuffs that locked him to his dad’s desk. “Derek? Dad? … Malia?”

Dad tightened his grip on Derek and Malia’s shoulders. Only Derek looked back apologetically. Stiles slumped in defeat. “... bring me back a slice?”