The Ghosts we see at Night

xXx

Beacon Hills has a protector lurking in the woods; a black wolf who's been seen every now and then, despite there being no other wolves in California. He protects hikers and runner from the threats they don't even see, never looking for anything in return. People only catch a glimpse of black fur or blue eyes, glowing in the trees; he's become a legend told around the campfire, speculation whether he even really exists or how long he's been there.

The truth is, he's lived in Beacon Hills all his live, leaving for a time after he'd thought he lost everything. Only to come back and loose more.

His howls fill the night, stilling the forest around him as the creature in the woods listen to him mourn. He sounds broken and lost, people hear the sounds echoing through the trees and they all wonder what happened to him? Why doesn't he leave?

As dawn, he leaves the woods and trots up the steps to a house, the same house every morning where he's let inside by a man who quite possibly is more broken then him. For a time, the man told him, begged him almost, to change. But the wolf couldn't face the man as a human, not ever again. It was easier to be there in this form. It would hurt them both too much to come to him as a human; eventually the man understood and let it go..

So, he let the wolf in every night, giving him a warm place to sleep and a meal he didn't have to hunt.

He'd leave, if not for this man.

The boy he lost, wouldn't be happy if he left him.

So, he stays.

He stays, visits the man in the house, listens to the stories that told about him.

The stories are all far better than the truth. The stories make him seem like some mystical creature, a phantom in the woods.

Not a man who only one year ago lots the person he loved most in the world.

-----

Derek should have expected it, he really should have; things were just going too well. He was happy and in a good place, he'd found his pack and a family and he was in love.

He hadn't expected to fall for the scrawny kid with moles and freckles speckled across his face and neck; he was always drawn to his neck. He refused to think about the way he made him feel, about the way his wolf seemed to respond to him. Pushing him against the door in his room was more an excuse to get close to him, to take in his scent, then it was a true act of aggression.

Mexico changed him, physically and mentally; he thought he was going to die, he sent him into the church for his friend, for their alpha, because he couldn't bare for him to watch him die. The boy had lost too much and he wasn't going to watch a friend die, not again.

He had finally come to terms with his feelings for Stiles, in that moment where he was between life and death he allowed himself to love him as he watch him run in, casting one last lingering look back, to save their alpha. It would be okay, he accepted that he was in love with Stiles, accepted what his wolf had known all along. Maybe it was too late to do anything, but he never thought love was a happiness he could have.

But his wolf wouldn't go down easy; even as he felt himself fade, Braeden calling to him and crying for him, the wolf thrashed and growled in protest. It wouldn't let go, Stiles just ran head first into danger. That couldn't happen, and Kate. She was there somewhere, lurking and waiting to pounce.

No, no he wasn't going to die here, not tonight.

His wolf clawed its way to the surface, ripping and tearing at him from the inside; he felt like his body was on fire, every bone breaking and twisting until he was standing on four legs.