Archive of Our Own

It starts when he hears a soft pair of shoes in the tree outside his window

“No. Absolutely not. It’s a school night, a night for school work, and deep meditation.” The sound of his window being firmly closed, and Stiles grits his teeth. “Also didn’t we just kill this weeks big bad? Don’t I deserve a break? So I say no, no sir, nada horchata, whatever you want it can wait till we’re all about to die again.”

The book that drops on his desk makes his laptop rattle. Like a thick compression of death, more book than book. The titanic of books, and Stiles can feel his face doing something very unattractive as he stares at it.

“I need you to figure this out.” Derek says, as if Stiles hadn’t just told him no.

“No.”

“Stiles.”

“No.”

Stiles eyes up the book sitting innocently on his desk, its old in a cool way, distressed pages and faded leather handiwork. Exactly the kind of book Stiles would peg for being full of old werewolf secrets and possibly blood magic.
Well he would have pegged if he was a total asshole who judged books by there sometimes incredibly appropriate covers.

Also if it wasn’t a matter of principle that he not do anything important for Derek when the aforementioned creeper was being creepy.
If Derek was creepy and mysterious he didn’t get help.
And that’s what Stiles focused on instead of the amazing leather bound volume monster secret book.

It said a lot about his life that normally he would be thrilled to page through an entire book of monster secrets. It was almost like he enjoyed his homework like some kind of freaking nerd.

But as a helpful reminder to him to say no, it was also the book equivalent of Mount Rushmore and Stiles wasn’t sure he wanted to read any book that was somehow wider than him.

“Stiles!”

He spins around in his chair, legs spread out becuase he’s a little shit and fixes Derek with a grin.
“Yes?”

“Read the book.”

“No.”

“Stiles.”

“Yes Der-Bear light o my life.”

Something in Derek’s face spasms like he can’t decide if he wants to choke Stiles or just take a running dive out of the window. Frankly Stiles is hoping for a running dive. Not that he’s against choking in theory but they don’t even have a safe word and really that’s just etiquette.

Derek takes one step towards him, and then another. His face is dark and considering. And without revealing anything Stiles tries to reach under his desk where he keeps a can of wolfbane laced pepper spray taped just out of sight.

Becuase this isn’t angry Derek, Stiles has no clue who this is, but he was reminding him of Peter. Dry crazy very bad Peter.

He grips around under his desk blindly before his fingers connect with the can. The smooth weight makes him feel safer even if technically Derek could rip his throat out before he ever stands a chance of getting the spray anywhere it will hurt. But Derek is just watching him, before painfully slowly, he smiles.

“Are you ok? Becuase you look possessed, which frankly is a good look for you but honestly everything is.”

The smile grows wider, less obviously forced, smoothing out the wrinkles that are permanently stuck in the corner of his mouth.

“Are you dying. Do we need Deaton?”

Derek takes a deep breath in.
“Please Stiles.”

It was the please that ended it.

“Please Stiles, I need you to figure this out.” Derek doesnt say please. And he definitely doesn’t say it while looking at Stiles like he’s the last marshmallow in a bowl of lucky charms.
And for a second Stiles almost tells him to take it back. Threaten him, throw him against a wall, send Peter after him.

Don’t say please.

“Are we dying?” Stiles asks.

The look in Derek’s eyes shutters and then disappears, “Just do it. For me.”

Stiles stares at the smile, the crinkles eyes, the way Derek is looking at him like there’s something there to see.

And he shoots finger guns,
Derek climbs back out the window and the book ends up in his lap.

Because Derek said “Please.”
When the book opens its first notable quality is that it’s all written in archaic English.

The things I do for you, Stiles thinks grimly.

——
“Derek said ‘Please?’” Scott repeats.

Stiles nods, ducking out of the way of a few annoying freshmen who aren’t looking where there going.
“More than once.”

“Wow,” Scott whistles, “are we gonna die?”

“I give it a fifty-fifty.” Another near miss in the hallway.

“That’s better odds than last year.” Leave it to Scott to find the optimistic outlook.

“It’s still mostly death,” Stiles steps a little closer to Scott to avoid another cluster of people who don’t seem to notice him.

The trials of high school. Scott who has been walking practically sideways to talk to him has somehow managed to completely avoid random assholes walking in to him.

But in general crowds part for Scott without comment, Stiles would have figured it was because he was slightly more popular now. But everyone parted for Kira, and Malia and Theo.
So it was probably a caveman instinct. Something that saw past Scott’s wide eyed puppy dog happiness and somehow knew he could tear them to pieces.

Or maybe he was just more popular.

“So what’s in the book.” Scott is side eyeing him with studied casualness, and Stiles knows he could say it was anything, any variation of horrific murder spells and Scott would just nod his head and probably mutter “Cool.”

“I think it’s a lot of murder spells.”

Scott nods his head “Cool.”

He has the best friend ever.

They separate for class and even though Scott makes vague we should talk in a bit plans. Stiles already knows those will turn into let’s follow Kira around so he isn’t actually planning on seeing Scott again later, and between school, and Mr. Harris the book becomes the least important thing in his mind.

After all there not dying yet. And so the book becomes a bit of a paperweight that he remembers just enough so that he doesn’t lose it somewhere.

But after a week when he comes home from school it’s to find Derek waiting in his room the book on his desk, which means Derek had found its semi permanent home under his bed and he looks so pissed.

“You didn’t read the book.”

“I glanced at it.”

The growl that Derek gives out is fifty shades of not cool.
“Oh hey no, bad dog. No growling. I’m looking through it. But between school and life and the whatever is in the woods this week I’m taking time to read it when I can alright?”

Derek sizes him up unimpressed “make time now.”

“No, I have homework, no.”

Derek scowls again and Stiles tried to quietly size up the distance between him and Derek and his favorite baseball bat. Because this was rapidly heading in a direction he was not ok with.

Snarky upset Derek good.
Murderous angry Derek bad.

“Look, You won’t tell me what it is, and I can’t ignore my life for you dude I need to study, and eat, and sleep, and play video games and beat off.” He stops and thinks about that list for a moment. “Not necessarily in that order. I’ll get to it when I have time dude.”

Whatever he’s saying must go in one ear and out the other becuase Derek surges forward and pins him against his door. On the one hand terrifying, on the other hand balance has been restored to his life and deep down where he will never admit it. Stiles is ok with this.

“No bad dog, put me down.”

Derek leans in close his hands spasm on his chest and arm where he’s being held up.

“Do you want me to be a dog?” Derek asks suddenly.

“Uhhhh.”

“Do you think I would look good in a collar?” Stiles goes from confused to horribly turned on faster than he would ever like to admit.

“I wasn’t, I didn’t mean.”

Derek swoops in close Stiles can feel the ghost of Derek’s stubble on his cheek. The curl of warmth in his chest.
“I’m sorry Stiles, I didn’t mean to push.”

In a second his brain will turn on and the words Derek is whispering in his ear will have meaning beyond, big solid hot body pressed up against his.

“Whenever you have time to look into it, for me. Just let me know ok.”

“Yes, absolutely, I’ll do that. Yes.”

Derek’s smile legitimately brightens the room and he’s placed down on the ground so gently that he’s still in a confused state of near bliss when Derek ducks out the window. His soft smile firmly in place, as he turned back. “Thanks Stiles, your the best.”

“Uh huh.”

The first thing stiles does is furiously masturbate until he’s nearly sobbing into his pillow. Then he takes a shower, then he pulls the massive book on the desk becuase honestly. School can go fuck itself.
The fact that he spends the entirety of his time reading it thinking about soft shy Derek before his mind abruptly decides it likes leather collar Derek too makes even the most boring of reading interesting.

After a few days Derek comes back with coffee more smiles and a teasing expression, Stiles may have felt his heart stop.

And it becomes routine to a point. Which is so scary and amazing Stiles wanders the hallways in a daze. And through it all he’s reading Derek’s book, the one that’s too big and too rough and weird to not be something. Although Stiles is having trouble caring when Derek is gaurenteed to come through his window at some point with good food and coffee and gently lean over his shoulder to see what he’s up to.

Life is good.

And it doesn’t take long for Stiles to make a breakthrough.
He would have made it a lot sooner if he hadn’t started in the middle of the book. But then again he had made all kinds of important discoveries by starting books in the middle. The middle is when books became interesting.

So maybe it takes longer to catch on that the book the size of his upper torso is totally not a spell book.

It was a Spell Book plural, one spell. Over five hundred pages. With multiple detailed graphs.

Only one spell.

Stiles is calling before he’s really thought it through.
“Hey, did you know this spell book has only one spell in it?”

The sound of heavy breathing and grunting over the line. Stiles takes that for all the go ahead Derek will ever give.

“Yeah, I mean its not even really a spell book more of a Spell book. Because there’s only one spell in it, and it seems like an important one, but seeing that a spell on like what, half a page can kill a man I really don’t think I want to know what the spell on five fuck hundred pages can do to a man, or woman, wolf person? it seems kinda dangerous to all persons is what I’m getting at. Doesn’t that seem bad to you?”

More breathing and rustling sounds.
“It’s three in the morning Stiles.”

Stiles glances up at his clock, “Yes it is.”

“Stiles.”

“I am one with the night,” and he didn’t realize how late it was, how tired his eyes feel, the sun had been up the last time he looked.

But he had to call Derek, because well.

He’s scared and his hand tightens around his phone when he thinks it.

But he doesn’t need to say that. Derek had somehow become one of the three people on planet earth who had a Stiles to reality translation book.

But Derek is quiet, and he can feel his leg jiggling up and down as he listens to every ragged breath over the line.

“I’m sorry,” Dereks voice is soft and tired, but Stiles presses the phone closer to his ear anyways. To hear every last word.

“I’m so sorry Stiles,” a ragged breath, “but I need you to figure it out.”

“That’s not making me feel any better about this thing.” He says.

“I’m so sorry.”

“At least give me the cliff notes on what it’s for.”

A long silence.

“Please Stiles.”

Stiles isn’t a stranger to that eureka moment. That falling lightning when everything makes sense and he can just see it. The puzzle he can finally put together, the monster he knows he can beat, the scene playing out in his head where everything makes sense.

Stiles lives for that eureka moment, he counts on it to keep Scott safe, to keep his Dad safe.

Like an out of body experience where everything everyone has ever done plays out in front of him and he doesn’t just remember it he sees it.

And he sees it now. The soft look the broken expression. The way Derek looks him in the eyes when he says please. Because Stiles is 16, and dumb and stupid. And Derek is gorgeous in a stupid way. And the way he watches Derek is fairly obvious.

And just because Lydia never needs to borrow homework from anyone unless she wants to fail a class doesn’t mean Stiles was any more immune to a pretty pair of eyes asking him to pass his chem notes and do all the hard work.

And apparently he’s still that nerd because even when the lightning strikes and he hears that same breathy quality in Derek’s voice he still knows it works.

Just because you know how the hot dog is made doesn’t stop it from being delicious. And apparently knowing that Derek is a dick who is willing to smile and bat his eyelids for chemistry notes does not actually stop Stiles from wanting to help him.

“Wow,” Stiles whispers, “your a total asshole.”

There’s a loud breath through the line. And it’s three in the morning.

Stiles hangs up but he doesn’t go to bed, he gets through another forty or so pages before dawn.

Knowing it’s all one spell really helps with his comprehension.

“Wow dude you look awful,” Scott points out helpfully. “You feeling ok?”

Stiles rubs at his eyes, his bags feel like they have bags “Yes Scott I feel magical.”

Scott nods his head “Cool.”
A group of people skirt around him and nearly bowl over Stiles.

It’s a very magical way to start his day.

———
“Have you worked it out yet.” Derek asks, from his perch on Stiles bed. Most people would back off upon being called out on there amazing douchbaggery but Derek has only increased the time spent leaning over and on him.

Almost like he was afraid Stiles would suddenly develop enough pride to turn him down.

“No,” and after a moment “fuck no. I barely know what I’m looking at.”

“A spell.” Dereks scowl makes him look twenty years older.

“What kind of spell, spell matters in spell work Derek, and I still don’t know up from Adam with this thing.”

There’s a guilty second before the scowl disappears behind a smile. A calculated shuttering of Derek into a slightly stepford version of him. “I know you can figure it out Stiles.” He smiles with dimples, big freaking dimples.
And the sound of his sanity breaking makes his heart skip like a stone.

“I hate you.” Stiles says.

Derek smiles wider, and Stiles curses with every rage buried in his heart even as his hands carefully trace over faded text.
“I hate you so much.” He says.

Derek doesn’t respond just slides out of the window the thud of his boots ringing out as he lands against the gravel outside.

Stiles is alone but his shame keeps him company as he traces one line of spell into another. And all because Derek freaking Hale has dimples on his face.

————————
It takes him another week to put it together. A solid week of watching Derek smile at him as he pretty pleased his way into Stiles research time. A week of Scott blithely pointing out.

“Your room reeks of Derek.” And giving Stiles a suspicious side eye like it’s his fault that Derek is weird about how he asks for help.

Also the fact that stiles had spluttered and immediately shot back, “Your room smells like Kira.”

Which ok, yes, wasn’t the best comeback but Stiles is running on less than four hours of sleep so sue him if he incriminated himself.

But the fact is that when he’s about to doze off in Harris completely pointless chemistry class the one he may have not studied for because Derek was willing to lounge around his room in a tight pair of pants smiling innocently at him like the fucking liar he was. The thought suddenly strikes him that there isn’t enough time in the day for him to deal with this crap.

And oh so slowly as if his brain has been waiting for him to put two and two together. Stiles realizes that the spell, the all caps SPELL in his backpack actually might be able to put more time in a day.

And if you could put more in then couldn’t you take some out.
Or maybe even.

His ungraceful leap towards his backpack ends with him on the floor and Harris clearing his throat. Stiles beats him to the inevitable conclusion.

“Detention?” He asks.

Harris nods pleased. “Detention.”

Fuck.

———————
Time travel is a thing, a fucking magic thing that apparently Derek had dropped in his lap. And no he doesn’t need Derek to sell him on the many many points of time travel.
Even if they only got a day out of it, they might actually be able to get ahead of the monster of the week. Fuck if they got a few years they could get.

Allison, Boyd, Erica, they could be very not dead.

Isaac wouldn’t be halfway through Paris on his weird father son bonding trip with Chris.

If they could get a decade. They could, fuck it, Stiles could fix almost everything.

Maybe, if it works. Derek doesn’t need to check on him anymore and win him over with crinkled eyes, Stiles couldn’t put the book down if Derek begged him.

And it’s a sign of how completely distracted he is that he calls Scott with an S.O.S. Really honestly he knows better than that. But even after Scott had climbed into his room with none of the grace a werewolf sport athlete should have his brain hadn’t quite realized this was a mistake.

“It’s time travel!” He screamed.

Scott watches him bounce on his heels, “Ok, cool. What’s time travel?”

“Time travel is when you go from one time to another like if you suddenly woke up in the-“

“I know what time travel is!”

“But you just said,”

“No I didn’t,” Scott huffs irritated, “What is time travel? Not what is time travel like as a concept, I’m not that stupid Stiles.”

There’s a beat where Stiles really wants to argue that but he’s matured a lot since he was like 15, he’s older he’s 16 now. He’s an adult.

“Time travel like I think I can use magic to time travel.”

Scott’s eyes grow as wide as dinner plates.

“Think about it, I could send us a warning message about some of the absolute bat shit crazy monsters we absolutely could have used more info about. We could totally pass Econ with straight A’s.” And because he can’t say the things that matters.

Not unless he has a ton of liquid courage sloshing in his veins which he sadly doesn’t, he doesn’t say they could save Allison.

He doesn’t say that the nogitsune could be dead and gone before it ever took him. Doesn’t say they could save Erica and Boyd, get Isaac out even one day faster than before.

Before Jackson turned into a monster, before Lydia was covered in blood in a field. Before he dragged his best friend into the woods to find a body like a total idiot. All of it undone and gone.

And he doesn’t have too, Scott knows because even if he doesn’t know time travel, Scott knows Stiles.
And so when Scott lowers his eyes and gets his stupid hard shiny eyes.

Stiles already knows.

“You can’t do that.” Scott says firmly.

“Fine we don’t cheat on our Econ tests.”

“No, Stiles you can’t mess with time. I know that you know, that doesn’t end well.”

There was a time when Scott wouldn’t have bothered clarifying. When he would have ignored the clumsy joke and dragged Stiles kicking and screaming into the light side of the force where it hurt, where it was real. But maybe there was already a bit of a gap between them.

Maybe back before Allison Stiles would have remembered that stupid honorable Scott would never ever go for morally ambiguous time travel.

And maybe before the nogitsune that would have meant something to Stiles other than another secret in a long line of secrets he doesn’t tell Scott. It would have meant that Stiles would never do time travel because Scott would never.

Now.

He counts the beats until his heart steadies out into a calm pattern.
“Look, let me know if you change your mind. Until then, I’ll make sure Derek doesn’t get his hands on it.” And even though technically there all friends Scott nods in a firm agreement.

They both know Derek would never, could never let it go. Because he doesn’t need to remind Scott about the Hales, Derek has more reason than anyone to want a time machine.

‘But we can save them’ he thinks. And he wishes desperately that Scott will turn around. That at any moment Scott will hear the way Stiles is just thinking
‘We can save them’ and maybe he would stay. Maybe he could pull Stiles back from the edge.

He doesn’t look back.

When Derek stops by Stiles wastes no time.
“Scott said we can’t do it. But I’m thinking we do do it but we don’t tell him.”

“What?”

“The time travel, the one you flirted me into studying.”

A flash of guilt, “I didn’t flirt you into anything.”

“You so did, but I forgive you becuase time travel, timey wimey time travel.”

“I didn’t flirt you into it. That’s not a thing. I seduced you.” Derek informs him with a superior grin.

Stiles opens his mouth to argue closes it when he realizes that technically Dereks right. And it fucking sucks that he spent the last month being seduced and never even got to take his pants off.

“Whatever.”

“Wait, you figured it out?”

“Mostly, sorta, enough to know how to get to the end.”

“And you told Scott.”

“A lapse in judgment.”

Derek watched him quietly for a moment. “What do you need?”

There doing this.

“I don’t suppose you can get me the blood of a virgin. A rhinoceros horn and the shell of a beetle found only in,” Stiles takes a second to check his notes. “The misted forest of feudal Japan.”

Derek tilts his head. “Yes.”

There’s an energy between them now that didn’t exist before.

“Ok, so, time travel.”

“Time Travel.”
———————-

The details are given fast the excitement in the air brining a genuine amount of glee to Derek’s eyes. Not like a happy flushed pleased glow. But almost a murderers kind of warm and happy glow.
But Stiles felt it was appropriate considering it was somehow more appealing than the soft fake glow he used when he was flirting.

By the time the sun comes out Derek had already purchased three plane tickets and packed an overnight bag. By the time Stiles makes it to school Derek has already boarded his first flight.

When Scott turns and looks at him he cocks his head to the side once. “You look awful.”

“Thanks buddy.”

“Are you gonna be ok?”

“Oh look Kira.”

“Dude don’t try and distract me,” Scott raises one superior eyebrow when he jerks his head in the opposite direction. “Besides I already know she’s over there.”

“Ignoring how very creepy it is that you stalk your girlfriend like that, Derek stopped by my place last night. He didn’t take no time travel very well.”

“Did he try to hurt you?”

Way to be concerned after the fact.

“No, but you might not... see him around for a while.”

Not a lie.

Scott nods firmly, “Its for the best, I’m sure he gets that.”

The only thing Derek got was the need to keep Scott out of the loop. And something must show on his face because Scott stops one hand firmly on Stiles shoulder.

“And you understand why we can’t. Right?”

Stiles can’t look at Scott when he lies to him. “I’m not doing anything with the spell.”

“Stiles.”

He shrugs off the hand on his arm, “I’m just saying it would be a useful thing to have, but I swear Im not going to go out and start collecting spell ingredients.”

Scott tips his head clearly listening for the lie, before nodding his head.
“Good.”

“I know I am.”

Scott claps Stiles on his arm and moves him out of the way of an oncoming stream of people traffic.

Stiles presses his hand to his chest,
“I don’t deserve your kindness.” He breathes out in a swooning lilt.

Scott’s laugh is loud and braying and somewhere in the school Kira will smile and flounce her way towards it like a heat seeking missile. Or a Scott seeking missile.

But when he settles into his chair his phone buzzes quietly a text from Derek patiently waiting for him to peek at it.
He chances a glance at Scott only a few rows In front of him, smiling and settled in his own skin like he never was before the bite.
I don’t deserve your kindness.

It feels a little bit like he’s become the evil witch. They stop by beacon hills on a semi monthly basis. Lots of yelling, forbidden curses, one memorable occasion with lightning and storm clouds.

And while he doesn’t feel more evil than his usual amount of moral grey awesome. It bothers him a little how easy it is.

But only a little.

Derek starts mailing things to his house through UPS. Bugs and ferns, anything Stiles texts. He’s majorly tempted to ask for a limited edition Batman action figure but time travel means he can’t really keep it. And worse he’s afraid Derek would give it to him without any kind of fight, along with that cheap my soul may be dead but hey my teeth are shiny smile.

Also apparently UPS is on board with mailing anything if the price is right. Including a fermenting jar of bubbling blood that Stiles promptly shoved in his closet.
Later that night as Scott sits on his bed and plays COD he tilts his head back in a way he probably thinks is subtle.

“Dude your closet smell like vomit.” He says.

Stiles takes advantage of his momentary distraction to slaughter him.
“Dude, pot, kettle. Your whole room smells like vomit.”

“Your face smells like vomit.” And just like that Scott is leaning over his controller mysterious smell completely forgotten. If this is how most evil spells go he’s not at all surprised so many witches start doing them. It was like an evil shopping list that nobody was even trying to stop him from doing.

When he’s at the school he dumps out a pile of fish guts and buries them under the lacrosse field. Why he has to do that he isn’t sure. But he is doing it exactly the way the book tells him it needs to be done. Finstock walks up behind him in the middle.

“Billinski, what the fuck are you doing?”

Stiles looks at him, looks around the empty field. “Are you cursing in front of a student? What would the school board say?”

Finstock narrows his eyes, “Carry on Bilinski.”

Stiles salutes him, and immediately regrets it when he gets fish guts in his hair.

Later that day Scott makes a face at him, but aside from keeping him at arms length he doesn’t do anything else about it.

It’s really easy to be an evil spell caster. Maybe this is his calling.

——————
“It shouldn’t be this easy.”
Stiles informs Derek as he stumbles through the preserve at an unholy hour.

The tinny crackle of his cellphone splutters a bit before Derek’s amused scoffing can be heard through it. “Stiles we are both Scott’s common sense and his paranoia. If he thought there was a problem he would call us.”

“But still.” He doesn’t know why he’s insisting this. But on the road to doing potentially banned magical things he just assumed it would be harder. Earlier that night he had bid Scott and the pack good night before driving straight to the preserve where he was now sprinkling blood over a very unhappy plant.

“It’s fine Stiles.”

The plant seems to wither and contract before growing suddenly into an unsightly red fern. “I expected Deaton to find out.”

“Maybe.” It’s the only sound Derek makes as he finishes up the ritual. The ground turning black and mushy beneath his feet.

“One down, three to go.”

“Be careful Stiles.”

The woods around him shudder and groan, “Yeah I’m always careful.”

The next day Scott stops him in the hallway, “Hey did you sleep last night?”

“Nope.” He pops the P just to prove that he can.

“That’s not healthy.”

“I’ll sleep tonight, don’t worry about it Scott.”

There’s a moment where he wants to push. Stiles can see it, but pushing was something they did before all of this. Instead Scott nods and heads into class with a concerned pull to his eyebrows.

That night he does sleep, but only after he grounds down beetles until they can be mixed with mistletoe and sage. His hands are sticky and coated in a dark goo substance that may be magic. Or just beetle guts.

He showers for an hour before the stain goes away.

The tasks seem random at times, sudden or stupid. If Stiles was a gambling man he would bet that there is no rules for what he and Derek are setting out to do. That even this book in itself isn’t positive how this works. There are moments when the passages and double talk the book has leaves him wondering if the writer had even believed it possible.

He would be skeptical, but he can feel it. The blood and the burials around town like a spiders web spilling into him. It leaves him jumpy and keyed up, like he’s waiting for something. Even if he isn’t entirely sure what it is the spell is doing he knows there doing something, and if the way Derek not so subtly finds reasons to text him thruout the day its beginning to show.

Even Scott has started coming over every night with a wide smile and a hand that keeps reaching out but not quite touching him.
“You ok Dude?”

And Stiles will force his bouncing knee to just stop, stop moving stop shaking stop everything. “Yeah im fine.”

Scott doesn’t believe him but he doesn’t push. Derek sends him a hand in the mail, severed at the wrist. He wonders if Derek bought it, or if he found someone he didn’t mind taking the hand off of. He wonders why UPS is so ok with all his mysterious and bloody packages.

Either way, it goes in the closet with everything else until it’s ready. Until it’s time.

Derek doesn’t come back to Beacon Hills until everything is either in the ground or burrowed in the back of Stiles closet. And even though he doesn’t say he’s coming back Stiles can feel him. The web or whatever it is he’s thrown over the town feels him, quivers like a spider that’s caught the fly the minute he passes the town line. It’s so incredibly disturbing that he throws up a little in his mouth.

After a moments debate he texts a vomiting emoji along with the caption ‘thinking of you.’ He doesn’t need a response to know that Derek is rolling his eyes.

By some unspoken rule he doesn’t wait up for Derek. And when he does finally lay eyes on the man there at a pack meeting and he makes the appropriate noises.
Scott eyes Derek distrustfully, Theo and Liam clearly taking his side. Kira is trying to make herself an invisible bridge between them laughing as if Derek is telling jokes (he’s not) and Stiles.

Stiles wonders how long before he cracks. Lately power has been thrumming in his chest, brimming under the seams of an invisible thing in his blood. Magic wants to be used, to be made from nothing into something and he’s so keyed up he can barely stand it.

“Hey I’m heading in.” He tells them, Kira makes the appropriate amount of noise on that fact and Stiles doesn’t point out that none of the others except Scott notice wether he’s there at all or not most days. But it’s fine it helps that there not paying attention. He only has to wait in his Jeep about ten minuets before Derek quietly slides into the space next to him.

His Jeep loudly turns on, and begins a torturous clunking way up into the preserve.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you think. Where all crazy rituals in Beacon Hills eventually go.” Derek is only quiet for a moment before he rolls his eyes and settles in. A short drive and a slightly longer hike and there staring at the Nemeton, it sits ominously and quietly and Stiles pulls the last of what he had out onto the ground.

The hand, the blood, a bundle of herbs and a long red string.

Derek eyes him quietly “Is there an incantation a magic phrase.”

“Sure, Bippity Boppity Boo.”

He gets a cuff to his head for that but it’s totally worth it. “So no phrase.”

“It’s not about words, they hold no meaning too time. It’s all about the actions and the placement I think.”

“You think.”

“Yes Derek shockingly, I think all the time.”

He hears Derek’s sarcastic ‘sure.’ But he’s a bigger man than that also because that’s so not the point of tonight.

“Look Derek, the time spell really only affects the caster, but seeing as your the one who needs to go back in time. I kinda need,” he gestured vaguely at the Nemeton. “You know.”

Derek eyes the stump and then Stiles with equal amounts of trepidation before rolling up his sleeves.

“You need blood.”

“One day I’m going to learn how to ask questions the way you do.” He jokes even as he pulls the small blade from his back pocket. “Listen Derek, this isn’t going to be a normal cut, I mean hopefully it will heal but like. You might bleed out right now.”

Derek moves his arm closer to the blade, his eyes dark and grim.

“Ok then, I see your sure. But for the record we are going to have to talk about this whole martyr thing you got going on.”

He cuts once along the wrist, the only noise the soft grunt of pain as the blade breaks skin. For a moment nothing happens and then the blood hits the ground and the net comes alive. The magic pulsing inward as Derek’s cut grows larger and more gruesome.

And Stiles doesn’t freak out, he doesn’t. But he does pass out.

“Stiles,” even unconscious Stiles recognizes Derek’s pleading unhappy voice.

“Five more minutes.”

There’s a harsh solid grip on his arm, it takes a second for his mind to wrap what it is. He was being clutched, someone was clutching him.
“Stiles, it didn’t work.”

He sits up then, glances at the severed hand the black and muddy ground where Derek’s blood was sucked into the earth. The way Derek’s eyes were large deep pools of abstract horrified misery as if the magic bleeding wound that didn’t kill him was in any way disappointing. Although Stiles notes it has left behind a long faded scar on his forearm that looked pretty cool.

“No, it looks good to me.”

“We didn’t time travel.”

“Dude that doesn’t happen tonight. Like all things unnecessary and annoying we need to wait for the full moon.”

The painful grip on his arm lessens just enough for Derek to shove him into the ground.

“Ow.”

Derek kicks some dirt on his shoes like the petulant infant he must secretly be, but his eyes are relieved. He looks hopeful.
It’s really surprisingly easy to get away with things like this.

—————
That day at school Scott pulls him aside and tells him there’s an emergency pack meeting.

“Dude we just had one.”

“I know, but Deaton said he felt something last night. Some kind of power.”

Stiles can feel his eyebrows going into his hairline. On the one hand he’s glad that Deaton is finally doing his fucking job. On the other hand if it takes a magical nuke for Deaton to notice what’s going on it’s no wonder everyone is only ever stopped after they murder a lot of babies. And on that third hand he really didn’t want Deaton to notice what he was doing.

And now Scott was staring at him.

“I’ll be there.” He promises.

Its something, the start of something. When Scott doesn’t clap him on his shoulder, just watches him with silent eyes.
The moment passes but Stiles spends the rest of his day catching Scott watching him from the corner of his eye.

When he’s safely incased in his beloved Jeep he checks the date. Five days until the full moon, he can do this. When he glances up Scott is watching him with a furrowed brow from the field. He can totally do this.

That night there all at the vets office as Deaton starts his spiel.
“I’ve detected a presence somewhere in the preserve.”

He does his level best not to roll his eyes. He does.

“I believe that a powerful and dark magic is at work here tonight.”

This time he catches the way Derek clearly struggles not to roll his eyes.

“I believe that a coven of witches has taken up residence somewhere In the preserve. Proceed with extreme caution.”

Deaton stares at them all in turn. Stiles chokes down his expression into one solemn and prepared before the Vet gets a peek at the way he wants to choke on his own laughter.

Scott takes the center of the room, “Alright guys we need to split up into pairs and search the preserve.”

“Oh oh. Split up gang and search for clues.” He loudly cackles. The collective disappointed sigh everyone gives is honestly a little hurtful. “Did I say that out loud?”

Mason makes a soft humming noise.

“I’ll go with Stiles, we can take the North side of the preserve.”

Everyone turns to quietly stare at Derek.
Kira tilts her head “you want to go with Stiles.”

“Gee thanks Kira it’s not like I’m right here or anything.”

“You know what I mean.” She does look a little sorry.
But before anyone says anything Derek’s dragging him out by his collar.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later guys. Der-Bear here didn’t get his walk so he’s cranky.”

Scott’s eyes shift from him to the door to Derek, “No more dog jokes Stiles.”

He shoots a pair of thumbs ups as he gets dragged outside. Surprisingly, he manages to wait until there safely driving away in Derek’s Camaro before he asks.
“Are we really gonna scope out the preserve?”

Derek doesn’t say anything but the car turns away from the preserve. “Do you want chili fries or a malt?”

“Dude chili fries.”

Derek takes them to a beat up old breakfast diner. “The fries here are excellent.”

“I know.”

His face flashes briefly to a startled look.

“Dude I’ve grown up in this town my whole life. If you think there’s a single chili fry I have yet to try in town your dead wrong.”

The silence between them is awkward even as the waitress comes over to get there drinks only to be swamped under there fries and burgers order.
“Did you know,” Derek starts slowly, “that these are the best chili fries in California.”

The phrase hangs in the air between them.

“I didn’t know that, but I definitely believe it. You eat at a lot of diners?”

Derek nods slowly, “Laura liked NewYork but even when we were running. I liked to do it in California.”

A part of Stiles, the pushy needs to know part of him wants to press on that. Why do you talk about Laura now?
Why don’t you leave California?
What possessed you to find a sketchy tome on time travel instead of running off to wear speedos on the beach in Cancun?

Instead he shovels a handful of fries into his mouth.
“I can fit over a hundred fries in my mouth.”

“Somehow I believe that.” Derek deadpans.

And it’s weird, but only in that it could be weirder. Him and Derek in a back corner booth. No one dying or poisoned, and however unusual that is the waitress doesn’t seem to notice.

The sun is already setting when Derek drops him back at his Jeep.

“Full moon is in four days.”

Derek nods.

“Your not changing your mind though right?”

Derek shakes his head.

“Good neither am I.”

The next day after school Scott has them fan out into the trees. He spreads out a bit and takes off into the woods. When he’s not worried about dying in it the woods are actually really pretty. Shafts of light scattered over the dirt, a gentle breeze.

Derek.

“Are you following me?”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Show me where you buried the beetles.”

“Why?”

“Because I liked those beetles.”

“Dude I turned them to paste.”

“Stiles.”

His life was awful.
It takes a bit before he can track where exactly he left the bugs. The soil looks undisturbed and soft.
“I think there here.”

“You think.”

“Yes often, like I said.”

Derek’s bark of laughter seems to surprise Derek more than it surprises him. But honestly he’s hilarious he’s never surprised when his humor kills.

But they spend the rest of the day walking through the woods. Actually walking, the urge to press is growing stronger. The urge to push and peel away at Derek’s dry humor.

It’s almost like Derek’s in a rush to tell him things. He learns about his sisters and his brother. His parents favorite dishes and how he used to hide in the closet under the stairs when he was sad.

“It smelled like pack, like I was safe in there.” Derek had offered acting as if he always just handed out these personal tidbits without being literally tortured first.

But he doesn’t. He lets Derek talk and talk. When the day ends Scott eyes him from across the clearing. Shoulders tense and heavy.

On the third day, he spends it with Scott. Because Scott corners him as soon as school ends and when he trudged in through the front door his Dad’s face turning into clear relief over the fact that him and Scott are hanging out like old times means he can’t even get that upset over it.

“What’s up with you and Derek?”

“What’s up with you asking such weird questions?”

Scott’s unimpressed glare could move mountains.

“There’s nothing between us.”

“Does he still want the book?”

“The what?”

“Time travel book.”

“Oh uh no, I mean probably but he hasn’t asked for it.”

Scott drums his fingers on the desk, “let me hold onto it then.”

“Why?”

“It’s just, Derek suddenly comes back to town totally over the potential answer to most of his problems and now there’s suddenly a coven or something in the woods.”

“Have you been getting paranoid without me.”

“It’s weird Stiles and it’s weird that you don’t think that’s weird. Usually you pull me aside to tell me when somethings weird.”

“And I’m proud of your growth, from student to master kimosabe. But this time I don’t think Derek caused anything.”

“You don’t.”

“Nope, and while we’re on the subject can I just point the fact that you totally knew time travel would solve his problems and still threw it in the trash without even thinking it over.”

“What’s there to think over?”

“I mean nothing. But still. You could have pretended. Gone to talk to him.”

Scott eyes him, “Let me keep the book Stiles.”

It’s the Alpha voice, the one that means Scott knows he’s right and he’s willing to fight for it. The same voice he used when he faced down Duecalion with nothing. The same voice he used when Timothy Avers stole his power ranger in the second grade.

It never fails to make the hairs on Stiles arm shiver and curl.

“Ok.”

He hands over the book, and Scott seems to sag in relief when he grabs onto it. He would probably be really upset if he found out that the only thing in the book Stiles needed was smack dab in the middle of the book. And he’s read it so many times he has it memorized.

“Everything good.”

Scott smiles, “Yeah everything is good.”

The fourth day he feels a phantom ache up his arm and down his leg. He doesn’t need to confirm he already knows. But it doesn’t stop him from calling Scott.

“Where are you guys right now.”

“Out in the preserve I was about to call you. Liam found a patch of dead ground were calling Deaton out to take a look at it.”

The phantom sensation becomes like an ache.

“Ok sure, just make sure that Liam isn’t touching it or anything.”

There’s a second of silence. “Stiles do you really think I’d let anyone touch the creepy dead ground in the creepy forest.”
He sounds reasonable but Stiles can hear a faint scuffing sound over the phone and the phantom sensation in his limbs fades to nothing.

“Course you wouldn’t.”

On the fifth day. The last day.
He buys curly fries for his Dad. Drops them off at the station and smiles as his father warily checks them for poison.
“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Who did you kill?”

“No one.”

“Then what’s this, thought I was dying of every disease on Web MD.”

“According to the Internet you are, but I figured you deserved a treat.”

His Dad makes a skeptical sound but it doesn’t stop him from eating the whole tray plus the burgers Stiles puts in for him.

Stiles eats mechanically. He didn’t realize how much he and his Dad didn’t do things anymore. They used to watch movies, and eat meals together. Now it was all just secrets and double talk and werewolves.

“As much as I appreciate my son letting me eat the food my money pays for. You sure there’s nothing you want to talk about.”

“Always.”

His Dad stares him down from across the desk. The two of them sit in silence. When his Dad finally closes the space between them and hugs him they do it quietly.

They cry quietly too.

Derek is waiting for him back in his room. He doesn’t know what he told Scott how he managed to slip away when Scott is probably having him followed. But he’s too tired to care.

“You know, you can’t keep hiding in my room whenever people are looking for you.”

Derek thumps his head against the wall, “For whatever reason no one ever thinks I would willingly be here.”

Stiles makes a face “Those people are dumb.”

“Yeah.”

Derek waits until the sun sets to ask. Waits until there walking back through the woods.

“What do you get out of this. I asked Scott, he said your mom got sick. You can’t fix that.”

“Why can’t I be doing this out of the goodness of my heart help you fix your life.”

Derek’s silence is both judgmental and insulting.

“What if I told you it was the only way to save Boyd and Erica.”

“I would say that you care about them but not this much.”

Stiles lets the silence roll around them as they make there way back to the Nemeton.

“There was a way, to let my Dad know about werewolves and witches and,” he waves his hand through the air to encompass his whole body. “Stuff. The way I did it wasn’t it.”

There’s a moment between them before Derek says anything.
“That’s a good reason.”

And it is, even if it seems small. Like the kind of thing Lydia would have slapped him across the face for before telling him to get into therapy.

But his Dad didn’t trust him, loved him sure. But most days the house was empty. And on the days they both were home, they both crept around like roommates that couldn’t bear to see each other. Sometimes Stiles would see evidence that his dad had been in his room, a shifted chair. The chess pieces moved or touched.

He couldn’t live like that.

“If this doesn’t work. I don’t think I can keep going the way I was.” Stiles says instead.

Derek helps him over a tree root before eyeing him. “I know all the best Diners on the California coast.”

It’s a promise.

They make the rest of the trip in silence.

In the end it is as simple as everything in his life. He’s really only just getting started when Scott comes crashing through the underbrush.

It all goes to shit pretty quickly.

Stiles is stuck where he started the roots of the Nemeton holding him in place. But Derek fights like he can’t feel pain, and after everything, after knowing about the family that might be waiting for him if this works. He might not feel anything at all.

But he doesn’t win

His body crashes against the ground hard his leather jacket cleanly shredded through Scott stands over him his claws hard and red eyes glowing an unnatural hue.

“Stiles, you can’t do this.”

There eyes meet over Derek’s body. And they both see it, Scott won’t let him, Stiles won’t stop.

If he hadn’t hesitated he would have stopped him, would have pulled off another last minute miracle save the way he always does. But this time he stops. He launches across the remaining clearing like a rocket. His teeth gleaming in the dark. And Stiles screams and flinches back the claws clip his arm cutting through skin.

He hasn’t had time to feel it when his magic rushes out and around him. It’s like watching the stars rush out of the sky and fall. Somewhere Scott screams, and the echo reverberates in his bones.

When he wakes up he’s in his room.
————-

And he’s small.

It’s not what he expected it would be. Time travel takes an object and magically sends it to another time. But sitting across from his dad, who very clearly isn’t the sheriff (yet a small always victorious part of his mind reminds him) it’s never going to be stranger then being ten years old and knowing exactly how he’s going to grow into his features.

It’s strange, his whole life is surreal. The only saving grace if he can even call it that. No one seems to be too concerned with how weird he is, words like grief and time to adjust float around over his head. His Mothers things sit unused around the house.

Soon he knows his dad will go through like a hurricane every little strand and piece of her caught in the wake until the house is sterile. The only memory of her the few pictures his Dad inexplicably left alone. And the box he only pulls out when it’s just the two of them.

Usually on holidays.

It’s strange to be small again and to see the lines on his Dad’s shoulder creeping down.

Once when he’s heading out to Scott’s all ten years on a bike he isn’t tall enough to properly pedal. He spots Derek across the street. Mentally Stiles knows that Derek is only 15 but it’s still strange to see him in an ill fitting bright colored teenage dream monstrosity.

He almost looked normal.

Derek’s head perks up to an invisible sound and swivels around towards him. Derek gives him the slow head nod. Stiles gives him the finger.

That night Derek climbs through his window.
“This is so much more creepier now that I’m a baby.” And more embarrassing he can’t believe he has the entirety of his kidz rock collection out on the desk where anyone can see.

“It’s not creepy.” Derek tells him.

“Oh cool, so I can tell you remember which is cool, for a bit I was wondering If I had to make like a running suicide leap at your mom or something to change the timeline.”

“No.”

“Oh well I’m glad I saved your family then. No need to thank me or contact me in any way to let me know I’m amazing I’m sure I can figure that out myself.

Derek is still staring at Stiles like he can’t believe it’s still him in there.
“Thank you Stiles.”

“Your welcome.”

“I don’t belong here.”

“My room is a sacred place.”

“I meant Beacon Hills.”

“What?”

“I told my parents about Kate, about how she wanted to see me. And they were surprised and scared. But I think we went back to before she really had her hooks in me.”

“Uh. Ok.”

“But after I told Kate that, she said that she wanted to say goodbye, properly.”

“Dude that’s a trap.”

“I know.”

“Your being weird.”

“I already went.”

“What dude, why would you do that?.”

Derek shrugs his face pinched “I always thought of her as this huge thing. An unstoppable force. But I saw her trap coming, I knew how to get around it. I handled her backup her wolfsbane.”

“She’s just a person.”

“Yeah.”

“She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know, I killed her.”

“I realize this is sharing hour, but what the hell dude.”

“I don’t belong here in this town. I’m not Derek. Not the Derek I was.”

“Your palling around in a brand new Edgar suit.”

“What?”

“Men in black don’t worry about it. Actually maybe worry I love that movie if we’ve gone back to before MIB I’m gonna cry.”

“It’s not that old.”

“But your face is.”

A young constipated Derek trying to glare him down is probably the greatest thing Stiles has ever seen.

“I wanted to say goodbye Stiles.” Derek reaches out slowly, places his hand carefully on the edge of Stiles knee.
“I wanted to say thank you. For everything, for saving my life for trying to keep us all together and for this.”

“If you want to thank me then wait for me.”

“What?”

“You said that you knew every dinner on the coast. You said you would take me if I wanted.”

“Stiles your barely eight.”

“Your only five years older than me. I’m totally ten right now and I bet you a Milky Way that you can’t shake your alpha and your mom will make you go to school.”

“Probably.”

“I propose that you graduate and you wait for me. Just long enough that I graduate and that way if we choose too then I can go with you.”

Derek watches him quietly
“If WE choose too.”

“Yes obviously.”

“I feel like this is a you choose too.”

“Happy Stiles, happy life.”

He expects a quippy come back but instead Derek’s eyes grow fond.
“Yeah ok Stiles. I’ll wait.”

“Oh neat, didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Derek laughs and then Stiles laughs because Derek sounds like two quarters having sex when he laughs. God he is going to hate puberty with a passion the second time around.

And then Derek takes a diving leap out the window.

His Dad opens the door taking a wild rushed look around the room.
“Hey buddy,” His dad nudges the closet door far enough aside to peer into it. “Who you talking too?”

Stiles pauses to catch his breath, “Just my imaginary friend.”

“An imaginary friend.”

“Yeah, his names Der-Bear grumpy face.”
Out side his window he can hear what sounds like a growl.
But his dad scratches his forehead and smiles down at him.

“Want to invite your imaginary friend downstairs. I have pancakes.”

“For lunch.”

“And dinner.”

He races his dad downstairs and beats him by a step. His victorious wining screech overshadowed by the realization that his Dad let him win and that calls his entire childhood ability into question.

But there’s food on the stove and his Dad leans over him to help him decide what to watch. And somewhere Derek would be sitting with his family.

And the future looked bright.