Sterek Stories - A Collection - I

Back after the snap

"My son is back. Stiles is back." The words parade through Noah's brain as he tries to weave his way through traffic. There's chaos everywhere, though until now it seems to be a good kind of chaos. A hell of a lot of confusion, yes, but Noah has seen a lot of happy reunions already. Like how deputy Parrish suddenly materialised next to him at the coffee machine, wondering where in the world his mug had disappeared to.

"I was just holding it!" were his first words, while Noah tried to push back the heart attack he was about to get. Said mug had fallen to pieces when Jordan Parrish turned into dust five years ago.

"You can use mine," he'd said and pulled his dearly missed deputy in a bone crushing hug.

As soon as he was able Noah had pulled himself away from the station. Stiles is back. His son is back! When he reaches the loft he takes the stairs two at a time, racing towards the heavy sliding door that seals off Derek's apartment. It's not locked, it hardly ever is. Werewolf hearing makes for a good alarm system. As do claws and fangs, for that matter.

He finds them on the floor by the large window, holding on to each other for dear life. Noah would like to do the same, so he just falls to his knees and reaches out.

"Hey dad," Stiles says like it's just been yesterday that they saw each other and Noah cries heavy tears. His son is back. He is really back.

It's Stiles who directs them all over to the sofa, who arranges them to sit with him in the middle, holding both their hands firmly as they lean against him. "How long was I...?" he asks carefully.

"Five years," Noah answers in a thick voice. His face is still wet with tears, but they're happy tears.

Stiles sucks in a breath with a hiss. "Holy shit." He squeezes their hands hard, his brain probably barely wrapping around the idea of having been gone for so long. It's a testament to all the weird shit he has been through since he was 16 years old that this new fact, him being gone for five years, doesn't warrant a bigger reaction.
"The others?" he asks a few minutes later. "Scott?"

"Scott was fine," Noah reassures him. Their friendship was a bit rocky in the few years before The Snap, but Scott would always be his son's oldest friend. "The others, well," he swallows heavily, "they were all gone."

Stiles whips his head around to look at the man next to him. "Oh, Derek," is all he says, but it sounds broken and Noah knows that Stiles understands what it means. What it meant.

Derek never liked to talk about it, yet Noah is good at putting bits and pieces together to form a whole story. That is his job, after all. So he knows how Derek felt the packbonds disappearing one after the other, like someone cut the invisible lines with blunt scissors. He lost all of his betas, along with his human packmates, until he was left with a True Alpha who had always been unwilling to form a real pack with him and a Hunter's daughter. And there was Noah, who was pack by proxy, courtesy of his teenage son who never knew how to leave well enough alone.

It was a good thing Noah knew about werewolves before that dreadful day, because nothing could have prepared him for the desperate Alpha werewolf he found in his living room a short week after the Snap. Derek hadn't been able to change back to human for at least six days. Six days in which Noah was fairly certain he hadn't slept. Or ate. What he did do in those days was unknown; he doubted Derek would be able to tell him, as he was pretty out of it. When he turned up in Noah's house he was at his wit's end and after Noah talked him down somewhat he'd crashed in Stiles' bedroom to sleep for 28 hours.

Derek looks equally lost now, his facial features bordering on werewolf constantly. It's a strange sight, with the eyes flickering between red and his normal colour, and the workings of his jaw when he pushes back his fangs. Still, as lost as he is, he's not dangerous. In danger of breaking down, yes, but not dangerous to his surroundings.