Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, 2013

“So, we got to get you out of here. The police are coming right now, and we got to get you the hell out of here…”

“Wait,” Derek said, stumbling as Stiles hauled him to his feet. He shook his head trying to clear his mind, trying to get his thoughts in order.

They were at the hospital. Cora was sick. Jennifer had taken Stiles’ father and Scott’s mother, and Stiles had just said something about Scott going with Deucalion of all people…

Derek’s heart pounded as he considered the dream – the vision he’d had during his unconsciousness. Had his Mom really reached out in some mystical way to help him? He wanted to believe that it was the latter so badly…

“I think I know of a way of finding your father,” Derek said out loud.

“You do?” Stiles stumbled to a halt in his attempt to drag Derek from the elevator.  “How?”

The sound of sirens had Derek’s head tilting. 

“Police,” he stated grimly.

Stiles grimaced.  “You should get out of here and get to the loft.  Peter and Isaac were taking Cora there. I can hold off the police here.”

“No,” Derek growled, some instinct told him that was a very bad idea. “We’ll call them on the way to get your father…and Scott’s mother. There’s a way to keep Cora stable.”

Stiles looked torn between relief and disbelief, but he nodded quickly.

They made it into the back parking lot without being detected. There were several cars left abandoned after the evacuation. Stiles pointed at an old beat-up Ford and Derek nodded. It was easier than trying to get to either of their own cars. It also hadn’t escaped him that neither he nor Stiles had let go of each other. 

“OK,” Stiles said, once they were in the car and had started driving. “What’s the plan?”

Derek grimaced. “Drive out to my old family home. Do you have your phone?”

“And then what?” Stiles asked, handing over his phone.

“I’ll explain when we get there,” Derek said. He dialled Peter’s number and rattled off his instructions to keep Cora stable, closing the call without waiting for Peter to reply.

“The Darach was right about one thing,” his Mom cupped his cheek.

Derek shivered at her touch; it had been so long.

“Emissaries are overlooked,” his Mom smiled sadly, “I didn’t pay enough to attention to the machinations of ours and it cost our pack dearly.”

“Our Emissary?” Derek shook his head, confused. “You mean Deaton?” 

The branches of a large tree shielded them, but the edges of the space they occupied were lost in fog.

“I listened to his advice to only train Laura, to cut down the Nemeton to stop its corruption, to ignore your trauma after killing Paige to save her from pain, to hide Peter’s children,” his Mom sighed heavily. “Stone by stone he built the path that would lead to our destruction.”

“No!” Derek said on a sob. “It was my fault!  It was…I fell for Kate Argent and told her about the defences, the tunnels, and…”

His Mom wrapped him a hug and he sobbed in her arms, just like he’d wanted to do the night he’d lost her, lost all of his family but Laura…and Cora…Cora…he was going to lose Cora because he’d been fool enough to fall under the spell of a Darach.

“It’s alright, Derek,” his Mom said, easing back, both her hands held his head so she could hold his gaze. “Cora is not your fault.  Our deaths are not your fault. Know this, believe this.”

Derek flinched at her words, but her amber gaze blazed red underscoring her order.

“You can save the Guardians, Derek,” his Mom said, “offer a mating bite to Mieczyslaw…”

“Who?” asked Derek.

“You know him by Stiles.”

Derek reared back, almost breaking his Mom’s hold. He liked Stiles – not that he would admit it willingly outside of his own head. But mating? Stiles was too young. He had never allowed himself to think about him that way. He never wanted to be anything like Kate. “He’s too young!”

“He’s seventeen,” his Mom said, firmly, “old enough to consent to the bite and he’s coming into his power, Derek.”

“His power?” asked Derek, dumbfounded.

“His power as a Spark, a magical being,” his Mom said. “He will be your Emissary. Deaton already plots to corrupt him with a ritual that will drive him dormant or worse open him up to possession.”

Stiles?!  But Stiles was Stiles. 

Derek tried to make sense of it. 

Stiles was brave and foolish and smart, sure, but magical? 

Yet he had laid down the mountain ash circle during the ill-fated attempt to capture the kanima…why hadn’t Derek questioned that?   

“Overlooked,” his Mom whispered. 

She glanced over her shoulder suddenly. “We don’t have much time. Bite Stiles. Anything romantic or physical can wait if you wish till he’s older, but the bite will anchor you and him. You’ll be able to find his blood kin. It will protect you from the lunar eclipse.”

“But Cora…”

“She needs to drink Peter’s blood, it will sustain her until Stiles can heal her,” his Mom said. “He brought her back once already, and anchored by your power, he can bring her back the whole way.”

He felt her hands slipping away…

“Derek!”

The urgent snap in Stiles’ voice yanked Derek back to the present.

The ruins of his family home were lit up in the thin light of the Ford’s headlights.

Stiles raised his hands from the steering wheel. “What now?” he demanded.

“This is going to sound insane,” Derek prefaced.

Stiles snorted. “What’s new?” His eyes met Derek’s, as sombre and as serious as Derek had ever seen him. “Tell me.”

Derek explained his dream succinctly and waited for the fallout.

Stiles’ eyes were wide in shock.  Derek could hear his heart racing. 

“I’m magic?” Stiles blurted out, before he moved abruptly throwing his hands up. “That’s not what’s important right now!” He stilled and pointed a finger at Derek. “You want to bite me?!”

“If I give you a mating bite,” Derek explained again tersely, “it will anchor us. I’ll be able to find your father, you’ll be able to heal my sister.”

Stiles threw up his hands again. “HOW?!”

Derek squirmed a little in his seat. “I don’t know, but if I bite you, we’ll find out.”

Stiles closed his eyes briefly, clearly thinking. He opened them again on a sigh. “Say we do this,” he gestured between them, “does this make me a werewolf?”

“No,” Derek shook his head. “It’s a different kind of bite.”

“Right,” Stiles said, “a mating bite which means if you bite me we’d be, what, werewolf mates?  And what does that mean?  I mean, is that like werewolf married?  Is that like legal married? Will we permanently bound to each other or is does it wear off or…?”

“I don’t know!” Derek cut in sharply. 

They glared at each other.

Derek took a deep breath. “Look, I wish I could answer all your questions, Stiles, but we’ve got limited time here, and I don’t know. Maybe there’s answers in my family’s vault. What I do know is that if I give you a mating bite, it will bond us for tonight, to save your father and my sister. It doesn’t ever have to be anything more than that right now. You’re young still and we can decide that when you’re older.”

Stiles turned away and stared out of the windscreen towards the burnt-out husk of Derek’s family home.

“So, we get werewolf married for convenience right now, save our people, and find out the exact consequences later,” Stiles said almost as though he was talking to himself.  He pressed his lips together and grimaced but nodded. “OK, OK.” He turned back to Derek. “Fine,” he said, “bite me.”

Derek felt his heart trip a little in his chest at the acquiescence and the order, but he’d known Stiles would do it. While he’d had no doubt that Stiles would do anything to find his father, he also knew that Stiles was one of the good guys at his core; he’d always try to save people. “Give me your wrist.”

Stiles took a deep breath and held out his arm. It was shaking a little but when Derek glanced up into Stiles’ eyes all he saw was determination.

Derek shifted into his beta form and took a gentle hold of Stiles’ arm, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, filling his senses with Stiles; his scent, his rapid heartbeat and there at the edges, the feel of his magic. He let himself be filled with memories of Stiles; meeting him in the Preserve, Stiles holding him up in the pool, Stiles’ hand on his shoulder after he’d killed Boyd offering comfort…

He kept his mind full of Stiles and bit down gently…

Stiles gasped, his breath stuttering.

Magic bloomed between them, fast and hot and sharp…

Derek’s eyes flashed. Images raced through him, knowledge of his ancestors unlocked and suddenly there in his mind. He looked up at Stiles who stared back at him, wide-eyed with wonder. 

“You’re magically bound to your father, and now I’m magically bound to you,” Derek realised. “We can follow your bond.”

Stiles nodded. He pressed a hand to his heart as though that would calm its racing beat. “And I know how to heal Cora.” His eyes flashed white with his own unleashed power.  “Let’s do this.”

fin.

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