Chapter Text
Derek couldn’t remember his life before the curse.
That wasn’t quite true. He remembered walking on two legs, remembers looking at the world and seeing colours instead of smells, he remembered - and doesn’t that memory make his heart ache - what it felt to have opposable thumbs. He could never remember what he looked like, or what other people looked like. He knows he must have had a family, remembers Laura, but only as shadows, and he can’t remember himself with them. Not as a human.
He wondered, sometimes, if the reason he doesn’t remember is that it never really happened. His family could have been just a dream, just another spell Kate weaved to make him ache. It would be just like her to do something like that. The only thing he knows for certain to be real is her. He recalls with perfect clarity what it was like being with Kate and then losing her, having a home and then wandering through the Waste, trying to find something to eat and shelter from the storm.
A low rumbling sound made him snap out of his thoughts, and he turned his head towards the source of it. There was a shadow in the distance, black and ugly against the grey sky. It smelled of smoke, and magic, and reminded him of her, so he moved closer to it cautiously. The thing, the building, started moving away from him and he ran to catch up, fighting his exhaustion with the thought of possible warmth, and maybe even food.
The building stopped, just as he felt he was going to collapse and not make it, and he hit the wooden door with his side. It opened, unbroken, but he didn’t think about the implications of that. He walked inside the strange building and collapsed next to the blazing fireplace. The part of him that didn’t remember how to be human warned him, howled about danger and vulnerability but there was also a voice, a strange voice that told Derek to sleep and so, he did. Before he closed his eyes he noticed that the fire looked slightly like a face, but it only looked forty to sixty percent evil and he wasn’t alarmed by it.
“Holly shit, Lydia. When I said I wouldn’t mind some company now that everyone’s away I didn’t mean this!”
The voices seemed to grow louder with every passing second, but he paid them no mind, and slept.
*
In the land of Ingary, where magic is just another useful skill in the job hunting department, and warlocks, witches and enchanters are selling their services around every corner, a man of great magical skills can easily find himself in the middle of problematic situations.
Or maybe that was just Stiles.
“You are making a big deal out of nothing,” said Lydia from the fireplace. Her voice was sharp and she looked irritated, although, for reasons unfathomable to the wizard, her expression seemed to soften every time she looked at the big, black wolf that was sleeping in front of her. Stiles could swear that she was burning brighter and warmer than she usually did, just to make the creature more comfortable. That annoyed him even more.
Her actiong just proved that his being here was a spectacularly bad idea. Lydia never brought in strays. If you don't count Scott that is, but Scott had left ages ago and Stiles had agreed they let him help running the shops in Porthaven and Kingsbury. And Allison. She was the last person that Lydia had brought in and was willing to care for, and they both knew how well that turned out. Not that Allison had been a bad addition to their little dysfunctional household, but it was because of her that he met Kate and this whole lone wizard travelling in a moving castle routine started. And now Lydia wanted to look after this wolfman that had obviously been cursed by none other than Kate herself.
Really, if Stiles didn’t know her better he’d think that the fire demon was trying to irritate the Witch on purpose.
“He’s cursed,” he told her just in case being so close to smoke all the time had somehow damaged her senses. “By the Witch of the Waste. Who I have been trying to avoid for years and you know that! He is also a huge scary animal. With teeth. Lots of teeth.”
The sizzle of the flames sounded like a cackle and he glareed at the strawberry blond fire. The green flickering flames that are Lydia’s eyes were teasing.
“Are you scared, mighty wizard Stiles? " she laughed pulling a log closer and stretching over it. "Of a little pup?”
He looked down at the sleeping wolf and regreted all of his life choices. Starting with catching that star.
"I'll bring back a couple of chickens to feed him, when he's up," he said. "Just make sure we stay under her radar, okay?"
"Have I ever let you down?"
The wolf turned in his sleep, moving closer to the fireplace. Stiles walked out to the busy streets of Kingsbury, hanged the 'Closed' sign on his door, and tried to remember whether wolves could eat dog food.