Searching For You (TW/TMR Fusion)

Chapter 12

It seemed like there was an invisible line separating Derek Hale from the rest of the occupants in the Stilinski residence's living room.

On the other side of the werewolf Alpha, Sheriff Stilinski stood, wearing his holster with his gun, armed with bullets from Chris Argent. Flanking the Sheriff, Isaac stood to the right while Lydia was on the left. The pack members were scattered around the living room, wary of openly defying their Alpha but unwilling to stand by his side.

Looking at his pack, Derek felt exhausted. He could feel pack bonds connecting them to him and each other. The bonds among themselves were strong still, but their connection to him, their Alpha, was tenuous at best. He couldn't find even a trace of the bond that once connected Isaac with Derek.

Derek knew that the reason the pack had splintered was him. If he hadn't done half the things he had, maybe the pack would still be whole, maybe Stiles, the pack's anchor, would still be safe, maybe Stiles wouldn't have suffered so.

There were many things that Derek regretted. But what caused him the most pain was the way he had treated Stiles.

Looking back, Derek realized that without Stiles, the pack wouldn't have gotten out of many problems with all their limbs attached. Also, Stiles was there whenever anyone needed him in whatever form it may be- someone to lean on, a quiet companionship, a sympathetic ear to vent, or a non-judgmental advisor. Even though Derek hadn't realized it then, he knew now, Stiles had been the one who had held the pack together and helped them to maintain peace and calm. Derek might have been the Alpha, but Stiles had been the pack's anchor. And now, he was gone because of Derek's idiocy.

Since the first time they had met, when Stiles and Scott had trespassed into the Hale property, Derek had been intrigued by the erratic boy who talked almost always about anything and everything. It had been so very interesting to hear the way his attention seemed to jump from one thing to another in the span of a second. It had taken almost all of Derek's self-control to keep his fascination under wraps. It didn't help to smell that the fascination was very much mutual and that Stiles had been well on the way to be infatuated with him.

Derek had done everything he could, in his own misguided way, to deter the infatuation. But if anything, Stiles had become even more ensnared in the werewolf's orbit.

In a small corner of his mind, right next to the corner filled with amazement for the breakable human and baffled astonishment that someone could actually be as attracted to danger as this insane being was, Derek was surprised and pleased that someone like Stiles (human he may be, but Derek wouldn't deny that he was among the most gorgeous and talented individuals Derek had known) could find someone like Derek (broken, flawed, naive, so very dirty, the reason his parents, his family was all dead, his fault he believed the honeyed words of Kate Argent, his fault they are all dead, dead, DEAD) worth his attention.

As time wore on, Stiles' interest in Derek didn't wane, instead it waxed even more. Derek's fascination (and lust, when did the gangly kid grown into this slim, muscled, sun-kissed, doe-eyed youth with cherry red lips and sex hair that he'd love to run his hands through and grip tight) didn't seem to disappear either. But he made sure to disguise the concern and care he had for Stiles with harsh words and rough gestures.

No matter how many times the pack and Derek himself told Stiles to stay away from the fight or danger zone, Stiles made sure to charge in right after them. Derek was scared shitless that one day, Stiles might not get out of it unscathed.

He dreams of Stiles. His head is thrown back in laughter, his pale expanse of neck dotted with moles on display to the world, his warm brown eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief. Derek fantasizes that one day, he might be the cause for that delightful laughter, but he knows it won't happen. As it always happens, his dream turns into a nightmare as the laughter stops and is replaced with high, blood curdling screams. Derek runs towards him, his heart thundering, the only thought looping through his mind being, 'not Stiles, not Stiles, please not Stiles'. When he finally reaches the one who has captured his heart (only in his dreams will he ever admit it, never in the waking world, must keep Stiles away, must keep him safe), it is to see the bloodied and broken body lying on the floor, blank eyes staring accusingly right at Derek, his phantom voice whispering through the air, "It's your fault." And standing right over him, cackling gleefully, hands cradling a desperately beating heart, cruel eyes holding his gaze mercilessly, is Kate Argent. "Look at what you've done, Derek darling." As he stands there, unable to move, screaming, fire engulfs them all and he wakes up with a gulping breath, sweat clinging to his skin, ears ringing not with screams or cruel laughter, but with the soft whisper of Stiles' voice, "It's your fault."