Shatter My Reality

Impostor

Derek tried to ignore the anticipation and confusion that rolled off of Isaac as they trekked through the woods. It was after midnight. Derek had once again needed to get out for a bit. However, Stiles had insisted no one leave alone.

"If you have something you want to ask, just ask it," Derek growled.

Isaac glanced around as if there might be someone around to hear him. "Do you have any theories?"

Derek tossed a confused look at Isaac. "I said earlier I didn't have any."

It was true. When Derek and Stiles explained the situation to the rest of the pack, they all tossed around theories or suggestions. Derek, however, had offered very little.

"Right, but now that Stiles isn't here..." Isaac trailed off.

Derek's jaw clenched. He'd spent the day with Stiles near. All he wanted was to not be around Stiles, or think about Stiles. Just for a moment.

"Like do you think it actually could be the nogitsune?"

"No. It didn't smell right. This was..." Derek shook his head. "This was too close to Stiles. I truly believed it was him."

"What about the sleepwalking theory?" Isaac pressed as they continued deeper into the woods.

"He couldn't have gotten back to the loft before me. Besides, Peter said he didn't leave his room," Derek answered between grit teeth. He fought for the patience he was severely lacking.

"So any theories that weren't suggested?"

Many ideas had been tossed around. Nogitsune, sleepwalking, shapeshifter, doppelganger.

Derek sighed, resigning himself to the conversation. "If it weren't for the smell, I'd say it could be any of them. But it really was too close." He didn't know anything that could make itself smell like something else. He knew smells could be masked, but this was different.

Isaac suddenly stopped. "Does it smell like Stiles rolled in leather?"

Derek snapped his head toward Isaac. "Leather." That was the scent that didn't fit. But how had Isaac known?

"I smell it. It's coming from that way," Isaac whispered, pointing east.

Derek quietly approached Isaac's side. The smell hit him. They must have been directly downwind.

Isaac looked at Derek with wide waiting eyes. Derek swallowed. It reminded Derek that this was his beta. The only one he had left. He was responsible for what happened to him. Just like he was responsible for what had happened to Boyd and Erica.

"Stay close," Derek said before following the scent. He had to know who or what was walking around with Stiles' face.

The scent continued to grow stronger until they reached a large clearing. The moon peered down onto the large stump that sat in the middle. The nemeton.

Derek's eyes were red as he scanned. He held a hand out, stopping Isaac from entering the clearing. On the opposite side, a figure emerged.

Isaac took in a breath as he saw Stiles approach the Nemeton. "It's Stiles. It has to be," he whispered so quietly that if Derek weren't a werewolf, he wouldn't have heard.

They watched Stiles approach the stump. He reached out like he was going to touch it but paused. His eyes scanned around him, giving Derek and Isaac a clear view of his features. There wasn't a detail off.

The wolves watched as he snapped his fingers, and a flame emitted from his palm, like he was holding a flaming piece of coal.

"Whoa," Isaac puffed.

Derek narrowed his eyes. Since when had Stiles gotten so good at magic? He needed fuel still. Herbs or a spark. He couldn't just summon it.

"How did he get out here so fast?" Isaac shook his head. It didn't make sense.

The smell of grief hit Derek's nose. Sharp and pungent. It was a scent he hated smelling on Stiles.

Derek turned away and pulled out his phone. He ignored the shake of his hands as he sent Stiles a text asking him where he was. He watched the Stiles in the clearing, but he didn't reach for his phone.

Derek's phone buzzed with a response. "The loft." His jaw clenched. His next move had to be a smart one.

Isaac was once again looking to him for direction, his eyes wide and uncertain. He didn't know what to make of this any more than Derek did.

"Stay," Derek whispered. He imagined Stiles making a cheap dog joke, and his chest clenched. He pushed Stiles from his mind and focused on the look-alike instead. He carefully made his way around the clearing, careful to not make a sound that would alert the impostor. Thankfully, he'd grown up in the woods. He knew how to manipulate his steps to not make any noise. Watch for loose twigs, and fallen leaves. Stick to patches of moss or stable branches.

Once Derek positioned himself behind the impostor, he stepped out, catching him by the throat. He didn't know what he expected, but when the figure thrashed in his grip, there was no super strength, no disappearing act. He pressed him to a nearby tree. His hand clasped around his throat. He didn't press in, allowing him to breathe.

"Derek." Isaac stepped out, his eyes wide.

"Who are you?" Derek demanded.

The figure reached up, his hands grasping at Derek's arm that held him in place.

Derek's skin warmed before turning into a white-hot burn. He let out a hiss of pain as he released the look alike. A low growl emitted from his throat, and his eyes flashed red. His fangs and claws extended as he took a step toward the man.

The impostor's eyes went wide, and he turned to run. Derek leapt at him, pinning him face down.

"Please don't hurt me," the man pleaded beneath him. Derek faltered. He even sounded like Stiles. His claws and fangs retracted instinctively. The sound of Stiles pleading to Derek for his life made bile rise in his throat.

"Derek," Isaac said his name again. He ignored him.

He yanked the man to his feet and pushed him back against the tree again. "Talk."

"Derek, wait," Isaac reached Derek's side, putting a hand on the arm that was pressed against the man's chest, keeping him in place. "Can't you smell that? He's terrified."

"Of course I'm terrified. He just grew fangs," the impostor said. His voice wavered, his eyes beseeching whoever would listen.

Derek's jaw was clenched. He looked just like Stiles, even up close. The whiskey brown eyes, the angle of his jaw, the shape of his nose, even the moles that dotted his face. The smell was still off, though. Isaac had nailed it; Stiles rolled in leather. The ozone was there too, just beneath the surface.

"Who are you?" Derek demanded. This man looked like a cornered kitten. Nothing threatening about him. Of course, one might think the same thing when looking at Stiles. But Stiles was dangerous in his own way. He didn't need fangs or speed or strength. He was clever. But this wasn't Stiles, no matter how much he looked like him.

"Sp-Spencer. My name's Spencer," He stuttered, glancing between Isaac and Derek, a pleading lilt to his tone.

"Spencer who?" Isaac pressed, sensing Derek's patience waning.

"Spencer Stilinski."

*AN*
Finally the reveal! Hope you liked it! And don't worry, I won't make you wait too long!