Summary: Since coming into his magic, Stiles lives a life of seclusion deep in the Preserve. Derek comes to him, half-feral and in trouble. Maybe Stiles needs Derek just as much as Derek seems to need him.
Info: 9k | Teen | Feral Derek, Magic Stiles, Anchors
Notes: This is simply awwwwwwwwwww. Feral Derek with magic Stiles, a lot of hurt/comfort and them being each other’s anchors <3 -C
“Derek,” Stiles says, whispers, and pulls the wolf into a hug. He probably shouldn’t, since he and Derek had never actually reached the hugging stage before Derek left town the last time, but Derek is practically vibrating with the need to be comforted.
Stiles doesn’t know which is more strange — the hug itself or Derek’s reaction to it. Derek doesn’t even stiffen first, he just goes limp against Stiles and lets out a long breath or what seems to be relief, his hand fisting in the back of Stiles’s shirt like he never wants to let go. He tucks his face into Stiles’s neck and whimpers, practically gasping in and out like he can’t get enough of Stiles’s scent. It’s worrying. Stiles is really fucking worried right now, but all he can think to do is to pull Derek over to the sofa and cuddle with him there.
“This is probably a bad idea,” I muttered as Amanda and I snuck across campus.
I couldn’t see Amanda’s face, but I could feel her smirk.
“It’ll be fine! We can be romantic under the stars!”
“Under the stars of an Anchor!” I hissed.
Our college is a bit of a weird one. We have all of the normal things colleges have, but we also have some… extras. The Anchors are one of those.
I couldn’t really tell you what an Anchor is. I doubt anyone but They can. One girl, who seems to know an awful lot and absolutely slays at card games, tried to explain to me once how they’re like trees, except that their roots grow down millenium. I’m not really sure how something can grow down a time period, but I wasn’t keen on asking. Anyways, it’s commonly accepted that Anchors are places you Don’t Go, especially since one time Joshua went to one on a dare and never came back. That was a year ago, and we still haven’t heard from him, but his girlfriend insists she can hear him whispering to her when she walks past that specific Anchor.
A week ago in the dorms I was hanging out with Amanda and her friends when they dared her to spend the night at an Anchor. Amanda being Amanda, she cheerfully agreed, and who would I be to let my girlfriend face certain doom alone?
So that’s where we were headed. The sky was vast and cloudless, littered with tiny stars, but I was more focused on the way Amanda’s long hair bobbed against her back. Amanda wasn’t fully like the rest of us, so she could be a little rash sometimes. I still loved her, though, even if she couldn’t hold my hands because my rings burned her.
The Anchor Amanda brought us to didn’t look like anything to do with a magical millennia-spanning tree. It looked like a perfectly round, grassy hill. There was no clear ring around it, no “keep out” signs or mushrooms, but I could feel my skin crawl and prickle as soon as I passed over the five foot line from the start of the Anchor’s slope. Amanda didn’t shiver. She looked perfectly fine as she hiked up the hill ahead of me, though maybe her hair looked a little more vibrant, and her long legs a little too long. She sat down below the crest, so that her head didn’t go over the top of the hill. Everyone knows that you never stick your head up over the top of something here. It’s just dumb. I didn’t speak any more of my doubts as I took my place next to her on the cold grass, not willing to jinx things. She twined the tips of our fingers together and looked up at the stars.
“It’s so pretty out tonight,” She mused. “Look, you can see the Milky Way.”
I didn’t look. I didn’t feel like it was a good idea to expose my neck, so instead I watched Amanda and the way the stars cast silver highlights on her cheeks. For a split second, her eyes looked yellow with slit pupils, but then she was smiling at me and they were human again.
“I’m so glad I’m out here with you,” she said.
“I couldn’t let you go alone,” I hedged, fully knowing I never would have been able to stop her, let alone “let” her.
She flashed a white, pointy grin at me before observing the lawn. “It’s nice out here. I wish we didn’t have to stay inside so much, the gardens are so perfect at night.”
I can’t help but wonder when Stiles started meaning this much to Derek.
I can’t help but wonder when Derek decided that Stiles was good for calming him, a safe place during dark times.
I mean, we all know Stiles and Derek had one of the best developments on the show, and along the way, they developed a great amount of trust in one another, but this… this is something else.
When did Derek’s trust develop into this?
Maybe it had to do with the multiple times Stiles saved him, or the many unspoken agreements they had before going in to do something dangerous… or maybe, it was in the episode where Boyd passed away.
Stiles wasn’t close to Boyd, not as close as everyone else was to him, but somehow, he still understood what it felt like for Derek losing a pack member. Therefore, reaching a hesitant hand out to rest on Derek’s shoulder.
That simple gesture probably meant more to Derek than anyone realized.
Stiles was there trying to comfort him. Stiles cared enough to try and do so.
And maybe he kept Derek from falling apart altogether at that moment.
Maybe that’s when Derek realized that Stiles really was there for him and maybe that’s when the building trust he had for Stiles locked into place.
Maybe that’s when Derek realized that Stiles could be his anchor.
For months, Derek has been struggling with his control. As Scott’s second, he can’t afford to lose it now, not with the pack relying on the treaties they’re trying to broker with the local hunter groups to expand their numbers. The problem is simple: anger is no longer Derek’s anchor. The solution? Well… that’s where it gets complicated.
“You feel important,” Derek finally blurts out, the tips of his ears going red the second the words are out of his mouth.
Stiles blinks at him. “What?”
Baby-faced Derek bites his lip again, which is… distracting. “Something is wrong,” he finally says, slowly. “I don’t know what, because none of you are telling me anything—” and ah, there’s a hint of the old Derek. Stiles would recognize that scowl anywhere. “—but I know that everything smells wrong. And that I can’t feel mom anymore. I can’t feel anyone, except for you.”
Jackson sat heavily on the riser beside Scott, knocking their shoulders together. “This is weird and I hate it.”
“What’s weird and why?”
“This whole situation,” Jackson said. “With the Ghostriders and the missing dude you’re so obsessed with.”
“And why do you hate that?”
“Because now I can’t stop thinking about it!” Jackson bit out, and he really did sound supremely irritated by that. “I keep thinking that if even Danny’s forgetting shit because of this guy, then I must be forgetting shit too, and that is so not cool. So now I’m running over everything that’s ever happened in my entire freaking life looking for moments when the Ghostriders could’ve fucked with my head.”
Scott had to admit that Jackson had a point. He’d been doing the same thing ever since that first memory with obvious pieces missing. Honestly, it was hard for him to find a memory that did feel whole. Even sitting on the bench alone didn’t feel right.
Derek goes missing and when Stiles finds him, he’s without his memories. He can’t let Derek out of his sight though. Not now that he’s right there in front of Stiles, within touching distance, for the first time in almost a week. “Derek, please, just let me get you to the loft at least.” “No.” “What do you mean, ‘no’?” “I’ll walk myself into town.” “Sure. But you’re going the wrong way.” Derek furrows his brow and looks along the road. “I suppose… I don’t know which way to go.” His voice is small. “I can’t remember.”
“Derek-” Stiles breathed. Then, more steady, more demanding, he said, “Derek, stop.” Derek didn’t stop. That’s when Stiles knew something was wrong. -or- Derek gets enchanted and things don’t go according to anyone’s plans.
Derek lets Scott kill Peter for the cure at the end of S1. This is the story of how that choice changes everyone’s fate.
“Sir, you should know…” Derek starts to say, then snaps his mouth closed when the Sheriff takes one hand off the steering wheel, and holds it up in a halting gesture.
“You’re not a bad kid, Derek.”
“I’m a werewolf,” Derek says, before he can think about it. For the first time in his life the word feels dirty, like something to be ashamed of. It makes him feel like a little kid again, using a curse word without understanding what it means.