Chapter Text
Prologue
Strumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the Jeep made its way across the dirt road to the Hale house, Stiles was grinning. A plate of warm homemade cookies sat on the passenger seat.
Yeah, Derek did say he wasn’t interested in him. That he was too young. That he wasn’t his type. That a relationship between them wasn’t going to happen, but that was right after he had kissed him.
Derek kissed Stiles.
As in, their lips touched. Their tongues wrestled. Their hands molested the other’s body. Their hard cocks touched (granted, clothes were in the way, but whatever).
So, Stiles didn’t care what Derek said. He knew Derek liked him and obviously, Derek knew he liked him. It might take a while, but Stiles was going to win Derek’s heart.
He figured he’d start with his stomach.
Stiles parked the jeep and grabbed the plate of cookies and got out. He felt one of the cookies and yep, it was still warm. Perfect. He went up the steps and stopped front of the door.
Stiles exhaled. Butterflies multiplied in his stomach and he tried to shake them off but failed. He’d never felt this nervous. Just the possibility of a future with Derek Fucking Hale sent goosebumps up his entire body.
He opened the door.
His mood dropped even faster than the plate did. The sound of the ceramic plate shattering when it impacted the floor was barely audible when compared to the sound of his own heart breaking into a million pieces.
“Stiles! I --”
Derek was fucking Erica against the wall. The very same wall they made out against just a night earlier.
Stiles blinked a few times, hoping it was just a mirage. It wasn’t.
Stiles just turned around and went down the stairs, Derek’s shouts reaching his ears but never entering them.
Stiles got in his jeep, started the engine, and turned around, the Jeep bouncing down the road. His mind was a blank as he stared at the road. It was dark; Stiles never turned on his headlights.
Thoughts began forming in Stiles’ head. The image of Derek and Erica against that wall popped up over and over again. Derek’s words repeated themselves in his head.
Too young. Bullshit, Erica was the same age.
Wasn’t interested. Bullshit, why was he all over him then?
Wasn’t his type. Bullshit, why did he look at him like he wanted to take him into a dark hole and spend days fucking his brains out?
Why would Derek do that to him? Why would he push him away but have no problem fucking Erica? Why would he tear his heart out like that?
Stiles’ chest started to clench, and he started breathing heavily.
“Oh god,” Stiles muttered, recognizing the first stages of a panic attack. He hadn’t had them in years, but this one came fast and strong.
“Fuck fuck,” Stiles gasped, his air rapidly diminishing.
He slammed on the brakes.
Instead of stopping, the Jeep shot forward and hit a bump on the road. The wheels twisted and Stiles swerved the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to right the Jeep.
The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was that he never buckled his seat belt.
“What do you want, Erica?”
Erica grinned, walking seductively closer and said, “You. I want you.”
Derek glared at her. “You’re not getting me.”
Erica was beautiful, that was obvious. The bite gave her confidence to carry herself well, to be sexy. But, she was too young and a freshly turned Beta. She wasn't Alpha Female material. Besides, Derek’s heart was reserved for one person only, and it wasn’t her.
“Why not? You’re hot, and I’m beautiful. We belong together.”
Derek grabbed Erica’s throat and slammed her against the wall, baring his fangs. Derek's rejection was on the tip of his tongue, but then a scent hit him.
Stiles.
Derek froze. “Why do you smell like Stiles?”
Erica frowned. “Ugh, ew. Must be the jacket he let me borrow after Lydia ‘bumped’ me into the pool.”
Derek raised an eyebrow.
“Lydia hasn’t liked me ever since I got the bite. She’s jealous or something.”
Derek kept his hand around Erica’s throat, but his grip relaxed. Stiles’ scent was so intoxicating, Derek just couldn't pull back. And Erica wasn't Stiles, so Derek couldn't hurt him. Derek couldn't lead him on, because as much as he wanted him, there was no way they could get together.
The night before was a mistake. Derek gave in and kissed Stiles. His wolf howled in approval, but he can't. Stiles was still too young. He had his future ahead of him. College and all that. He was pack, but he wasn't a werewolf. Keeping him around was far too dangerous, especially if they knew he belonged to an Alpha.
And now, here, Derek had someone coated with Stiles’ scent. His wolf knew that it wasn't really Stiles, but it was content in breathing in his scent. Apart from the previous night, it was the most action he would get with Stiles, quite possibly, ever. He’d never have an opportunity like this again...
So, he took it.
Derek growled and nosed Erica’s neck and inhaled in Stiles’ scent. Erica grinned and unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them down, then went to work on unbuttoning Derek’s. Derek picked her legs up and pinned her back against the wall. With her feet, she pulled his jeans and boxers down to his ankles.
“Jesus, you’re big,” Erica moaned as Derek bit down on her neck.
“Don’t speak,” Derek snapped. He picked Erica up and shoved his cock into her, growling. Erica moaned and Derek covered Erica’s mouth. Erica was tight, so Derek had to take his time before he was completely inside her.
The entire time they were fucking, Derek’s nose never left Erica’s skin where Stiles’ jacket had been covering. Derek fell into bliss, pretending that Erica was Stiles. The scent was so strong, it didn’t matter that it wasn't really him.
Then, Derek heard something shatter. He jerked his head toward the sound and saw Stiles standing at the door, gaping at them.
“Stiles! I --”
Derek pulled out of Erica immediately and fumbled at his jeans. Stiles turned around and left, and Derek shouted, “Stiles!”
Derek pulled his jeans up and buttoned up and ran out of the house, but it was too late. Stiles was already leaving.
“Fucking fuck,” Derek muttered.
Erica stood at the porch and stared at Derek.
“You like him, don't you? That’s why you fucked me, isn’t it? Because you smelt him on me.”
Derek growled and his crimson eyes burned, but he didn’t answer her questions.
“Get the fuck out,” Derek said instead. He stomped up the stairs and entered the house, and grabbed the door. He was about to slam it when he heard a loud crashing noise from the road.
“STILES!”
Erica gasped and Derek blew past her and hopped into his Camaro. He nearly slammed into a tree when he backed out and sped down the road.
No, that wasn’t you, that can’t have been you, no, it wasn’t, Derek prayed.
Derek was nearly at the main road when he finally found Stiles’ Jeep. It was upside down, dents apparent on all sides. All of the windows were shattered.
Derek hit the brakes and screeched to a stop and he jumped out. He ran to the jeep and ducked under an open door and peered inside. Stiles was lying face-down, his arm in a twisted angle, blood pooled around him. He could see shards of glass stuck in his body.
“Stiles!”
No response.
“Fuck, fuck,” Derek muttered. He listened for Stiles’ heartbeat and exhaled in relief when he found it. He crept inside and carefully pushed the debris off him and then carried him out, just in time for Erica to reach them.
“Oh my god,” Erica whispered. “Oh god, Stiles.”
“Open the fucking door,” Derek snarled. Erica whimpered and opened the passenger door and stood aside as Derek laid him on the seat. Derek slammed the door shut and hopped into his seat and peeled away, leaving a shouting Erica behind.
“I’m so sorry,” Derek whispered. “Just hold on, don’t leave me, please.”
Derek past every red light he saw, his speed breaking a hundred easily. He blew by the Sheriff's patrol car, drawing him into a chase. As soon as the sirens came on, Derek sped up.
Derek finally stopped when he reached the hospital. He hopped out and ran around the car and opened the passenger door, just as the Sheriff stopped.
“What the hell was that all about, Hale? What do -- is that...”
Derek said nothing and just ran right into the hospital, Stiles in his arms.
“Someone help, RIGHT THE FUCK NOW,” Derek shouted. Several nurses dropped what they were doing and scrambled to Derek’s side. The Sheriff stopped just in front of Stiles’ head and stared at the blood that streaked down his face.
“What did you do to him, Hale?” The Sheriff's voice was so low and coarse, Derek could barely understand him.
“Car accident,” Derek said. “His jeep’s over at the dirt road where my home is.”
The Sheriff glared at Derek. He gulped and ordered the nurses to take care of Stiles. One of them wheeled a bed in and Derek laid Stiles down on it and they rushed him away.
Derek stood there, staring at his arms and chest, covered with blood. “Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck.” He balled his hands into fists in an attempt to stop the shaking. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the Sheriff’s eyes, even though he knew he was looking at him. He could smell the Sheriff’s anger and worry. Mostly worry.
After several hours, the doctor finally came out and spoke to the Sheriff and Derek.
“Okay, Sheriff. And you’re the one that brought him in?”
Derek said nothing. The doctor nodded slowly and continued, “He’s got several broken bones. He lost a lot of blood. We’ve managed to set the bones and fed him the blood he needed, but my major concern is his head. He hit his head pretty hard, several times. I’m afraid he’s in a coma, and I’m not sure when he’ll wake up. It may be tomorrow, but it may be years. There’s also a real good possibility of brain damage. I’m sorry.”
Derek felt his throat constrict and he tried to swallow. He couldn’t. His eyes started to water so he turned around and walked out of the building. He got into his car and drove. He headed for home, but as he passed the barricade around the road and saw the officers working the scene, he saw Erica standing there with Isaac’s arms around her.
He saw the Jeep, illuminated by floodlights. It was almost like a spotlight was on the Jeep, pointing out to Derek that he did this. That Derek caused the accident and Stiles was in the hospital because of him. That it was his fault.
Like everything else.
Tears spilled out of his eyes as it dawned upon him that he very well may have put Stiles in the hospital for the rest of his life, if he survived the night.
Derek drove past Erica and Isaac, the Jeep, the road, and his home. He kept driving.
That was the last time anyone from Beacon Hills saw or heard from him for years.