Chapter Text
Sometimes, when Derek had nothing better to do, he found himself staring at Stiles. His eyes lingered on Stiles’ form as he did mundane activities—flipping through a book, picking up the random pieces of laundry strewn around their bedroom, the way his head tipped to the side as he lost himself in thought. They were all stolen moments—individual incidents that made Derek’s heart flutter and chest tighten at the thought of all the time they lost over the decades.
Stiles, for his part, wasn’t ignorant of the eyes following him. He tried to pretend he couldn’t see Derek, which worked most of the time. But there were sometimes when Stiles would turn his head to look at Derek, a small smile crossing his lips, knowing exactly what Derek was thinking.
There were some times, when they reached for each other in the middle of the night, that their touches felt brand new—as if the years they lost were just now being filled in. Those were moments they both cherished.
On the quiet nights, Stiles would be stuck awake as different memories plagued his mind. Images of Derek’s mother and the prison she was forced into continuing to constantly change—a final trick on Gerard’s behalf.
On those nights, Stiles would watch Derek sleep. He rested on his side, easily tracing the curves of Derek’s face. He frowned whenever Derek would emit a faint whimper, his body slightly moving in protest to his dream. Stiles would ease his fingertips over Derek’s furrowed brow, pushing away the uneasiness as best he could. He moved to press his fingers through Derek’s chest hair, savoring the feeling of having Derek beneath his palms. He’d press his cheek against Derek’s chest, thankful when Derek’s hold on him tightened in response. The action grounded them both, reminding them that they were real and that Gerard couldn’t hurt them anymore.
On the bad nights, Stiles always woke up screaming as Derek’s arms pulled him out of his night terrors. He tightly gripped Derek’s arms, thankful for their support as he eased his breathing. He tried to assure Derek that he was fine, forcing a small smile or pretending that he wasn’t exhausted the next day. He clung to that belief long enough—until Derek reached out to the others in hope of fixing it all.
~*~
Derek placed delicate kisses across Stiles’ shoulder blade, smiling to himself as he followed the moles trailing up and over Stiles’ neck. He continued his actions even as Stiles started to squirm awake, turning in his arms.
Stiles sleepily smiled as he barely blinked his eyes open. “Good morning,” he quietly greeted Derek with a faint smile crossing his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to Derek’s lips, curling himself even closer.
“Morning, sleepy head,” Derek murmured against Stiles’ tousled hair.
“You don’t have to go anywhere today, right?” Stiles tiredly asked against Derek’s throat as he nuzzled into the hollow of his shoulder.
Derek couldn’t stop his chest from purring as his wolf welcomed the contact. His wolf yipped and howled in excitement as it ran through a mantra of Stiles and mate and home, things he was convinced he lost. “Not if you don’t want me to,” he answered.
“Lazy Sunday it is,” Stiles stated against Derek’s Adam’s apple, peppering small kisses underneath his jaw.
“It’s Friday, Stiles,” Derek softly corrected him.
“We’ll just have to be lazy until Sunday, then,” Stiles answered, pulling back from his hiding spot to look at Derek. He placed on last kiss on Derek’s lips before speaking. “I’m going to take a bath,” he explained as he pulled out of Derek’s reach, slipping out from underneath the covers.
Derek moved onto his back, folding his arms behind his head as he watched Stiles head for the bathroom.
“I expect you to join me,” Stiles added as he looked over his shoulder at Derek, slowly slipping into the bathroom.
Derek quickly threw the sheets back, making his way to the bathroom. He easily pulled Stiles into his arms, holding him tightly against his bare chest.
Stiles smiled as he his body melted into Derek’s touch, moving his head to give Derek better access to his neck.
Derek gently nuzzled along the hollow of Stiles’ throat, grazing his beard across the delicate skin there. He pressed his nose against the back of Stiles’ ear, closing his eyes as he savored the feeling of Stiles’ hair brushing against his face; basking in Stiles’ scent overpowering his senses.
Stiles smoothed his hands over Derek’s forearms, gently dragging his nails against his skin. He released a faint groan when Derek let his hands roam across his lower body.
They made love on the bathroom floor, the idea of taking a bath become an afterthought.
Derek clung to Stiles, burying his face in the hollow of Stiles’ throat. He gently nipped at Stiles’ clavicle, careful not to break his skin. He sucked on his skin, appreciating the light bruising it held before quickly disappearing back to its beautiful pale tone.
Stiles writhed against Derek’s body, his fingernails leaving small crescent shapes in Derek’s skin as he marked him. He curled his hands into Derek’s hair, releasing small encouragements as his hips canted against Derek’s.
Derek felt overwhelmed by the constant praise falling from Stiles’ lips, spurring his movements onward. He felt weak, completely susceptible, to the words Stiles breathed with every roll of his hips. He craved them—needed them—having been deprived of them for centuries. He pressed his face into Stiles’ chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he continued his rhythm.
Stiles ran his hands down Derek’s back, clutching tightly to his muscles as he ignored the small burn the bathroom rug was causing on the top of his ass as Derek’s pace quickened. He didn’t care though, he even enjoyed it more as he embraced the ache as proving it was real—they were real.
Stiles cried out when he finally came, rambling pleas for Derek to keep going tumbled from his lips as his body trembled against Derek’s. His panting was heavy as he started to consciously process the aftermath. He gingerly ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, loving the delicate roll of Derek’s hips as he still moved inside him, seeking his own release.
“Keep going,” Stiles softly spoke against the shell of Derek’s ear. “Come on, Derek, come for me.” He reached his hands between them, lifting Derek’s head from its hiding place against his chest. He felt his own eyes flash blue in reaction to the sight before him: Derek’s eyes were burning their deep crimson, his pupils completely blown; his lips were barely covering his fangs, almost completely shifted into his altered form.
“I love you,” Stiles breathed, closing the gap between their lips.
That pushed Derek over the edge. He released a moan, swearing as his hips halted their movement, stilling inside Stiles as he let the last waves of his orgasm quake through him.
Stiles allowed his limbs to fall limp, remaining spread eagle with Derek still settled between his thighs. He ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, the pads of his fingertips massaging his scalp as they both steadied their breathing.
Derek kept his head resting against Stiles’ chest, reveling in the faint drumming of Stiles’ heartbeat just beneath his ear. He closed his eyes as he listened to the soothing rhythm.
Stiles was the first to break the silence. “We really need to shower, now.”
Derek released a small chuckle, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He smiled as he looked up at Stiles. He placed a gentle kiss on Stiles’ chest before finally pulling out of Stiles. He slowly climbed to his feet, pulling Stiles with him.
Stiles partially groaned, almost wishing to nap on the floor opposed to actually standing.
“Shower than bath,” Derek answered Stiles discontentment with a peck on the tip of his nose.
They actually managed to shower, cleaning themselves of yesterday’s weariness and this morning’s pleasures. Stiles smiled when Derek actually moved to grab the scented bubble bath. It wasn’t until they were completely lax in the tub, Stiles’ back pressed against Derek’s chest, that Stiles playfully taunted him.
“You have scented bubble bath,” Stiles cooed as he picked up the bottle in question.
Derek merely grumbled in response, the vibrations from his chest causing Stiles to wiggle his body even closer. Regardless of all his attempts, he couldn’t fool Stiles—Stiles knew he was a great big teddy bear when it came to him.
“‘Rose and Chamomile Natural Bubble Bath’,” Stiles read from the bottle. He mumbled the product details to himself, actually releasing a giggle when he reached the last sentence. “‘Give your skin a bouquet of Roses and some extra love with this renewing bubble bath. Renew yourself with love’.”
Derek released another grumble, keeping his eyes shut as he allowed his head to rest against the lip of the tub.
“This sounds like something Lydia would own,” Stiles commented.
“She recommended it,” Derek answered.
“You’re taking bubble bath advice from Lydia?” Stiles asked as he dropped the bottle back onto the bathroom floor, relaxing against Derek’s chest. He idly played with the small suds floating on the surface of the water.
“When I spoke to her about your night terrors,” Derek reluctantly stated. “She recommended small, home remedies, as ways to help you out.”
Stiles nodded, a small smile falling over his features. “Thank you.”
Derek answered by shifting his body enough to let Stiles fall even more against his chest, wrapping a protective arm around Stiles.
Stiles closed his eyes as his whole body lost all its stress, easily becoming pliant through the bubbles soft aroma. He rested his head against Derek’s shoulder, listening to his softs breaths exhaling beside his ear. His thoughts started to drift, thinking about their next course of action if he was to be rid of the night terrors. He barely noticed the lullaby he started to hum, forgetting where he learnt it as its melody overtook his vocals.
Derek slowly opened his eyes, listening to Stiles’ humming. Something was familiar about the tune, catching him off guard. It made him think of the forest, of the night sky, of a soft pelt keeping him warm from the bitter cold. It made him think of red eyes that faded to a green that matched his own. He thought of the soft growls and purrs he often dreamed of when he was young, alone and scared as he cowered under Gerard’s mercy. The melody followed the rhythm of the lupine growls that calmed him during the haze of his first full moons.
“Stiles,” Derek weakly called his name.
“Hm?” Stiles hummed as he let the lullaby fall from his lips.
“Where did you learn that?” Derek cautiously asked.
“The lullaby?” Stiles asked, unaware of just how affected Derek was. “I don’t know, I just woke up knowing it, I guess.” He opened his eyes once he felt how rigid Derek’s body had become. He turned his head to catch sight of Derek’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Derek continued to stare off to the side, his mind lost in remembering memories from far sooner than he could recall.
“Derek—” A loud, banging knock on the loft door cause Stiles and Derek to turn their attentions away from one another.
“I’ll get it,” Derek answered, easily slipping out from behind Stiles when he leaned forward.
Stiles’ eyes followed Derek as he easily wiped himself off before slipping into a pair of sweatpants. He worried his bottom lip as Derek went to answer the door, trying to decipher where he heard the lullaby—unfortunately, to no avail.
Stiles groaned as he realized it was useless as he tried to sort through both Gerard and Peter’s memories, as well as his own. He quickly pushed himself up from the tub when he felt the waves of panic coming from Derek, sensing them even under the calm he was trying to emit. He didn’t bother with clothes, merely wrapping a towel around his waist as he exited into the bedroom.
That was how he found Scott standing at the threshold, begging Derek to come in and speak with them. He spoke in hushed tones, trying to persuade Derek to trust him, only to have Derek completely block his way.
“Scott?” Stiles questioned as he walked forward from the bedroom, recognizing the human’s voice almost instantly.
“Stiles, don’t,” Derek warned as he turned to face him.
“Derek, let him in,” Stiles insisted, knowing that Scott would have news of Allison, if not more.
Derek looked away from Stiles, remaining an obstacle between Scott and the loft as he continued to silently ignore all attempts at allowing Scott in the room.
“Derek,” Stiles almost huffed, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to determine what they could be discussing.
“Let me help,” Scott pleaded from behind Derek’s shoulder.
“We’re happy how we are,” Derek bit back, acting as if Scott was a salesman trying to sell them some atrocious merchandise.
“Allison did some research,” Scott looked to Stiles as he continued to talk, despite Derek’s death glare. “She found the blueprints for Talia’s prison. She discovered how to unlock it.”
“We’re busy, Scott,” Derek nearly threatened through clenched teeth.
“It’s your pendant,” Scott finally stated, ignoring Derek. “That’s why Gerard was so infuriated by you being with Derek—even more so when he realized Derek had taken it.”
“He used the pendant because he knew I’d never leave my father’s sight,” Stiles answered, shaking his head.
“Deaton said that following after these memories may make them disappear,” Scott answered. “They’ll fade and stop haunting Stiles’ every moment.”
“At what cost?” Derek snapped. “My mother can’t be controlled, or did you forget that piece of information?”
Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding Derek’s sudden hostility towards his mother. “What does Allison think?” He cautiously asked Scott, bypassing Derek directly.
“She wants to help,” Scott partially frowned. “Even though … even though we’re both human, we both decided we want to help. You’re going to need my blood, right?”
Derek bristled at the mention of Scott’s blood.
Stiles and Derek had gotten into a fight about the cure. Even if Derek took the cure Deaton derived from Scott’s blood, he would still be immortal. Scott’s blood somehow didn’t cancel out the original immortality gene the Hale bloodline perfected. The bite from a Hale granted immortality in the form of a wolf or bat, but once Scott’s blood had been introduced, it reversed those affects, leaving the person mortal once more. As a result, Stiles refused to take it.
Stiles argued with Derek that it was pointless for him to take the cure, only robbing them of spending an eternity together. Derek’s initial fear of Stiles still being susceptible to sunlight had eroded away when Stiles first stepped out into the sun’s setting rays. Stiles eventually made Derek see the error in taking the cure—Derek would be immortal regardless, so why condemn Stiles to having a short life of mortality?
Allison on the other hand, gladly accepted the cure. She embraced the ability to be human once more in hopes of having the life her mother always hoped she would have—the life Gerard robbed her of. She was happier now, content in putting her aiming skills to use in competitions rather than life or death situations. She was happy being with Scott and finding value in their day-to-day routine. She was, however, sorrowful to think of having to leave Stiles behind one day, but she understood his decision to remain a Vampire in order to be with Derek.
When Derek first reached out to the others about Stiles’ night terrors, Allison was the first he informed. Everyone had worked tirelessly to try and help free Stiles from those dreadful hauntings, but the hard work was only now paying off.
“Tell Allison that Derek and I need to talk about this first,” Stiles managed as he closed the gap between them. He hovered next to Derek, uncertain if he should lay a hand on him. “I’ll call,” he added, hoping Scott would realize that leaving would be the best course of action.
Scott hesitantly nodded, backing away from the door. “Whatever you choose,” he started. “We’re willing to help.”
Derek slid the loft door shut with more force than necessary. He released a sharp sigh, turning to walk further into the loft.
Stiles idly flicked his thumb along the edge of his towel, trying to understand Derek’s reaction towards Scott.
“You can’t go,” Derek finally uttered.
Stiles frowned, watching Derek lean against the back of the couch, his arms locked against the piece of furniture as his shoulder blades rigidly hunched. “Why?” He softly asked, walking closer to Derek.
“Because this is putting us right back in the middle of the war,” Derek replied.
“The war is over, Derek,” Stiles explained. “I owe Peter this—for giving me the strength to get to you, to overcome Gerard.”
“You owe no one anything, Stiles,” Derek weakly answered as he let his head hang.
Stiles moved behind Derek, wrapping his arms around his waist as he rested his cheek against Derek’s shoulder. “Then think of this as a gift—from me to you. I can give you your mother back, and I can get rid of these nightmares.”
Derek closed his eyes, allowing Stiles’ words to sink into him.
“I promise you,” Stiles began as he pressed a kiss into Derek’s back. “I am always going to fight for us—for what you deserve. I have to do this, Derek. You can help me, or let me go alone. No matter what, we’ll come back here, and we’ll be together.”
Derek weakly nodded, allowing Stiles to slip away from him as he headed towards the bedroom. “You’re the only thing I ever wanted,” he quietly admitted to himself, knowing Stiles wouldn’t hear him.
~*~
“I still don’t agree with this,” Derek huffed, following behind Stiles as he slowly made a path through the trees.
“Noted, just as with the last twenty times you said so,” Stiles replied as he remained focused on the memories.
“You could have given Peter the memory and had him go alone,” Derek stated.
“So uneager to find your mother?” Peter playfully questioned as he sped up to walk beside his nephew.
“I’m uneager to find what state she is in,” Derek replied through gritted teeth.
“Stop fighting,” Stiles shushed them both. He rolled his eyes as he trudged through the woods, following in the footsteps of Gerard’s memories. He paused as his eyes scanned the woods, looking for the correct path.
Derek ignored Peter as he moved to walk beside Stiles. He reached his hands out to touch Stiles’ shoulder when he noticed the tension forming there. He wasn’t surprised when Stiles lurched from him, apologizing as he shook his head.
“I’m fine, it’s just a lot to take in,” Stiles answered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Derek replied.
“I can see it,” Stiles explained. “As if it’s right there in front of me. And then it vanishes. It’s Gerard’s last attempt to stop us from succeeding,” he sighed in exasperation.
“Once this is done,” Derek started, turning Stiles to face him, wrapping his arms around him as Stiles leaned into his chest. “We’ll spend the next week together. Just us.”
“Just us,” Stiles sighed, a small smile settling over his lips. “Sounds nice,” he uttered against Derek’s lips.
“Don’t mean to interrupt your moment, but could we hurry this along?” Peter impatiently questioned.
Derek released an exasperated sigh, turning his head to glare at his uncle.
Stiles placed a small kiss on Derek’s cheek as he slipped from his grasp.
~*~
Talia’s prison was part of the underground network of tunnels beneath an abandoned church. The structure was giant, containing hidden passages and secret doors that lead to various dead ends and even looped back to the beginning.
Gerard’s memories had started to become clearer than before—the further Stiles ventured, the easier it was to burden them. They all halted in front of an ornately carved door bearing the Hale coat of arms.
Stiles watched as Derek ran his fingertips over the door, tracing the outline of his family’s crest. He offered him a small smile when he looked back to Stiles. It was Peter who spoke first, breaking the silence they shared over the past hour.
“Stiles should remain back,” Peter explained.
Stiles allowed his face to twist into a look of displeasure as he spoke. “I’m not—”
“I agree,” Derek concurred with Peter, cutting off Stiles’ argument.
“I don’t,” Stiles immediately protested. He grew furious when both Peter and Derek appeared to ignore him. “I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not,” Derek answered.
“What makes you both so special?”
“Literally the fact that we are part of the only family whose blood allows them to survive being bitten by both species,” Peter sighed in an exasperated tone, a look of annoyance falling over him.
Derek moved to take Stiles to the side, speaking in a softer tone as he tried to avoid Peter butting into the conversation.
“I need to do this,” Derek answered. “Just me and not you.”
“Why?” Stiles asked in anger as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re stronger together, you know that. Allison’s outside as backup—she’d never let anything happen to me.”
“Stiles, I need to do this by myself—without you,” Derek insisted, his voice rougher than before as he held himself back.
“Why?” Stiles demanded. “I want to help get your mother back—I always have, Derek. From the first moment we spoke about freedom, I wanted to free you and your mother.”
“I have to do this for myself, Stiles. Please understand,” Derek replied.
“For yourself?” Stiles incredulously asked. “What, is this a power trip of some kind? You have to prove that you’re still in control?”
“No!” Derek angrily answered.
“Then, what?” Stiles quickly asked.
“I’m not strong enough, Stiles,” Derek breathed, avoiding all eye contact with him.
Stiles felt a chill of anger bristle through his spine. “And what? This will make you stronger? Finding your mother and facing her will somehow—what? Prove that you’re the strongest Lycan?”
“No, I—”
“God, Derek, what could be so important that you’d—”
“I can’t lose you again, Stiles!” Derek suddenly yelled as he looked up at him.
Stiles stared at Derek, completely lost for words as he let Derek’s statement sink in.
“I’m not—I can’t handle it,” Derek weakly explained, letting his head hang. “I can’t do it again. I can’t watch you get hurt—die—because of me. Because I’m not strong enough to protect what I love.”
“Derek, you won’t lose—”
“Don’t,” Derek quickly uttered. “Don’t tell me I won’t lose you, because you can’t promise that. I’ve suffered centuries knowing you were dead because of me—centuries more not knowing you were alive. And I’m not going to make the same mistake of risking you for anyone.”
“Then what? You want to kill your mother if it means protecting me from her?” Stiles quietly asked.
“If she can’t be changed or controlled … I have to put an end to her suffering, Stiles,” Derek answered. “Please, just …” He slowly ran his fingertips along Stiles’ arms, their touch barely ghosting over Stiles’ skin but still managing to pull small shivers from them both. “Stay back here.”
Stiles wanted to argue, call Derek irrational, but deep down he knew Derek wouldn’t leave him unless he promised. He knew that after it all, he owed Derek the right to face his mother on his own. He reluctantly recanted his decision to follow after Derek, giving into his request. He nodded, reaching his hands up to cup Derek’s cheeks in his palms as he kissed him. It was soft and sweet, filled to the brink with urgency and need, with a hint of melancholy in their scents when they finally pulled apart from one another.
Stiles slid his hand into Derek’s, pressing the cold metal of his pendant into Derek’s palm. He gave him a small, reassuring smile as he let him slip from his grasp. He remained by the entrance, his eyes lingering on Derek’s form as he retreated into the inner chamber, following after Peter.
~*~
Derek ran his fingertips over Stiles’ pendant, still familiar with every curve and twist of the metal from the centuries he spent observing it. He looked from Peter to the prison door, uncertain if he should unleash whatever Gerard had locked away. Talia was clearly something to fear if Gerard decided to cage her as opposed to utilizing her for his own needs. He quickly inserted the pendant, turning the mechanism before backing away from the opening door. He slid the pendant back into his pocket as he waited beside Peter.
Both of them took a step back when they heard a deep echo from within, the sound of a pad full of claws clacking against the emptiness. The sound grew louder—quicker—before they caught sight of a dark pelt bleeding out from the darkness.
The giant wolf released a bellowing roar, causing both Derek and Peter to wince and recoil. It advanced towards them, allowing both men to back out of its reach. The wolf turned its head to examine its surroundings, evaluating the quickest escape route. It snarled as Peter made a move to reach out to it.
Peter calmly held his hand in place as he practically cooed, “Talia. It’s Peter.”
The wolf snarled in response, its tongue flicking over its fangs before its eyes darted towards Derek. It huffed, snapping its jaws as it paced in front of both men.
Stiles slid to a halt by the door when he saw the wolf, having abandoned his post the minute he heard the roar. His eyes fell on Derek, knowing he would be angry with him if he moved forward—if he placed himself in danger.
“Mom,” Derek softly called, his voice weak and unsure.
The wolf immediately turned to look at Derek, cocking its head to the side as it evaluated him. It moved closer, ignoring Peter and Stiles in favor for encroaching Derek’s personal space. It sniffed the air, leaning in to run its nose along Derek’s hair, carefully tracing around his facial features before huffing. It growled, an uncertain look gracing its now green eyes.
Derek remembered those green eyes and inky fur. He remembered how he would cry from the cold until the familiar warmth of Alpha would wrap around him. He remembered the lullaby his mother purred and rumbled to ease him asleep.
Derek allowed his wolf to take control, partially shifting into his beta form to allow his vocals to change. He sung the soft rumbles and purrs following the same melody Stiles had hummed a few nights ago.
Peter turned his attention towards Derek, shocked at the sound of the lullaby. “Our mother sang that to us,” he spoke in a hushed tone.
“And my mother sang it to me,” Derek answered when he noticed the wolf easing from its hostile stance. He continued to softly hum before slowly reaching his hand up, his fingertips easing into the wolf’s fur pelt. He was surprised that it pushed into his touch, welcoming it as the soft rumble left its chest in response to the melody.
“Mom,” Derek finally stated again, catching the wolf’s attention. He let his beta form melt away, retaking his human form once again. “It’s me—your son. It’s … Derek.”
The wolf eyed Derek for several moments before rearing its head back to release a sorrowful howl. The howl caused something to constrict in Derek’s chest, his wolf whining in response. It was the howl of a mourning wolf—a lost soul looking for its pack. Its eyes dashed towards Peter, uncertain what to make of both men.
“We want to help you,” Peter explained. “Let us help you, Talia.”
The wolf turned its attention back towards Derek, pressing its face into his chest as it rested all its trust in him.
Derek looked at Peter, quickly nodding in confirmation for Peter to act.
The wolf roared when Peter injected the needle into its side, causing the animal to snap its fangs towards the source. It whimpered as it bit at the spot, feeling scared and betrayed.
The others watched on in wonder as the wolf’s joints snapped and creaked, its form shrinking completely. It curled onto the ground, trying to escape the pain of transforming into something else.
Derek almost stumbled back when he realized the wolf began to lose its fur, revealing a smaller, fragile human form. His eyes dashed towards Peter, realizing that his uncle was just as shocked—yet relieved—that their plan worked.
Peter moved first, placing his coat around Talia’s shoulders, holding her against his chest as he wrapped her body in the material. He pressed soft kisses into her hair as he murmured words of joy at having her there—small words of praise and infinite happiness at having his sister back.
It took her a few minutes to find her voice, but eventually, it cracked as she willed her vocal chords to focus on a language besides growls. She slowly looked up, catching sight of Derek still glued to his spot as he stared at her with wide eyes and disbelief.
“Derek,” Talia gently called his name, wincing as her throat tingled from the foreign sounds she was making.
Derek stumbled the few necessary steps forward, his knees hitting the floor as he fell to the ground in front of his mother.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Talia’s voice cracked as she reached a hand out to cup Derek’s cheek. “I never—I never thought … I thought I lost you,” she confessed with tears in her eyes.
“I thought I’d never know you,” Derek echoed as he pressed his cheek into her welcoming palm.
Stiles moved forward, placing a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder. Derek smiled to himself, feeling completely at ease. For the first time in his life, Derek felt completely wanted and truly loved.
In the end, Gerard lost.
Derek was free.
He had his family.
He had his pack.
He had his mate.
Derek loved, and was loved in return. He could look upon their faces for the first time in hopeful light.