Chapter Text
Derek was in his loft, he hadn't had much reason to leave for the past few days. Only his betas ever came by and even them not so much. He knew they probably blamed him, sure they would never say it, but he knew, they had to didn't they? He already blamed himself. He killed his family, he killed Laura, he killed Peter and now he killed Stiles. It probably wouldn't be long before he got his beta's killed too. The Alpha pack had tried pretty hard, they almost killed Erica and Boyd. Derek considers himself lucky the Alpha's didn't even know about Stiles until it was too late for them, he was such a good planner. They didn't even see it coming. Figures that with all the monsters that had come crawling through Beacon Hills, all the unnameable creatures that Derek's pack and Scott's pack had thrown themselves at it would be humans that really hurt them.
***
They had been celebrating getting some hunters out of town with no more than some posturing and well thought out threats. Well, Derek's betas, Stiles, Scott and Allison had been celebrating. Stiles managed to drag Derek out with them somehow, claiming it was all in the name of inter-pack bonding, that always got Derek a glare from Scott. Scott still refused to be a part of Derek's pack, not from a lack of Stiles trying. He constantly shoved the two packs together given the chance and yet Scott still glared at Derek like he was the one forcing them to be together. Everyone knew Stiles didn't do something he didn't want to do, Derek didn't know why Scott conveniently forgot that when Stiles suggested both packs got together.
Really Scott should be so lucky that Derek even considers Scott's little group of Stiles, Lydia, that Danny kid, Allison and himself a pack. One wolf hardly made a pack, especially when he wasn't even an Alpha. Derek didn't even bother anymore, he knew one day Scott would have to join him, or he would have to kill an Alpha, but the latter seemed very unlikely in the near future. He was often tempted to remind Scott that he was technically an omega, but he wouldn't if only because that would upset Stiles.
Derek didn't have to tell his betas why he cared so much about what Stiles thought, he had trained them well enough, they could smell his interest and knew him well enough by now to tell that he let Stiles get away with a lot more than anyone else in his pack. They did often remind him that he should probably tell Stiles he considered him to be a part of his pack though. But Derek didn't want to make Stiles feel like he had to choose, he was content to let Stiles have his "Alpha" as Scott as long as Derek knew himself that when Stiles needed protecting he would be there.
So he let Stiles drag him to the Jungle, the ridiculous gay club where all the drag queens hogged Stiles attention. It wasn't easy to act like just a friend when he wanted nothing more than to make sure no one got to close to Stiles and his instincts screamed that he needed to make sure everyone knew who Stiles belonged too, but Derek wasn't just his instincts. He wasn't an animal, despite what the hunters may believe, he knew that Stiles wasn't his or anybody's to claim, he was his own person and he didn't even like Derek that way. He liked Derek as an older brother figure, it may have made Derek feel more like a pervert than ever, but he was willing to be there for Stiles in anyway he would have him and if he secretly hoped that one day Stiles would see that Derek could be so much more then so what.
Everyone seemed to know what he really wanted though, everyone but Stiles. Derek figured he probably wasn't that oblivious, so it must be that Stiles simply wasn't interested in anything more than being acquaintances as he'd heard Stiles describe their relationship to,"Helen" a rather burly looking man in a red dress that was two sizes too small. So they weren't friends apparently. That hurt Derek more than he thought it would. He wasn't going to let it ruin Stiles' night, though he didn't know why that low blow wasn't enough to convince him to move on. If he had to guess he hadn't learned his lesson about wanting the unobtainable since Kate burned him, he was doing it again: wanting something that wasn't there and holding on to it until it hurt.
Still, he wasn't about to listen to Stiles vehemently denying their friendship to any more strangers, so he decided to leave. He told Isaac because he had manners and he knew his other betas would hear, one of them could tell Stiles that his acquaintance had left. He made it halfway down the block to where the camaro was parked, Isaac said they would get rides with Scott and Stiles, when he heard a familiar heartbeat and gangly steps rushing towards him. Sighing and steeling himself, he turned around to face Stiles. Stiles was flushed, either from a brisk run to catch up with Derek or more likely due to the strong smell of alcohol that flooded Derek's nose as soon as Stiles got more than a few feet from him.
"Hey! Dude! Why are you dipping out? Did some of the hunters turn back around?"
"No."
Great, good job Derek, back to monosyllabic answers, way to not be mature, he berated himself, turns out Stiles can make him act like a child.
"...well why're you leaving then? C'mon, man, we were having a good time, pack-bonding and stuff, do it for your betas."
"My betas don't need me to dance. That club grates on my senses."
"Your little wolf pack handles it just fine, I know you're not that old, Derek, you need to show them that you can loosen up! Go shake it for you pups!"
"Stiles. No. Go back inside."
"Ugh, Derek C'mon! Don't leave! At least walk me back? What if I get mugged or something? You gonna live that down, lettin' muggers beat up a little human on your territory?"
"Stiles. Just go back, I think you can navigate a block on your own."
"Fiiiiine, see you later wolf man!"
Honestly it wasn't that far, he should have walked Stiles back, he should have heard them, he shouldn't have let him go. There was nothing he could do about it now. He found out the next morning. Isaac came to the loft at 8:04 am. Derek will never forget Isaac's blue shirt or the hole in his jeans on his left knee because that's what he was wearing when he told Derek to sit down.
Stiles hadn't even made it to the club, no one knows how close he was, but he was grabbed from behind according to the Deputy that talked to Isaac. Someone pulled a knife on him, stole his wallet, found that there wasn't anything in it because Scott had been buying all his drinks and decided that he was going to take something from Stiles anyways. The deputy said Stiles was raped and they could only hope that had been after his throat was slit. Some random thief decided that Stiles must have been struggling too much, must have fought back and killed him. Derek should have been there, he should have heard it. He should have heard Stiles heartbeat, but all he had done was turn tail and run from Stiles because what? Stiles had said they weren't friends to a stranger? That was all it took to make Derek slip-up so bad? He should be the one laying on a slab. Stiles didn't deserve that. The sick fucker's DNA wasn't in any system either. No prints because he took the wallet and knife with him. Stiles had a chunk of flesh in his mouth believed to be from the guys arm, but again there was no DNA in the system.
Derek waited till that night to go to the crime scene. He needed to find the fuck who hurt Stiles, Boyd didn't even ask where he was going, Erica said to make him suffer and Isaac was probably attempting to help an inconsolable Scott. The alley was small, dirty, reeked of garbage and vomit, but more than that it reeked of Stiles. Stiles blood was a scent that had filled Derek's nose too many times, but this would be the last time and he didn't know if he wanted to burn the smell into his memory or forget it immediately. There was the smell of an other, it smelled dirty and unwashed, someone who hadn't bathed in a long time. The scent was almost too easy to follow, it trailed from the alley down a few blocks to an abandoned warehouse. Where else would a lunatic live? Stiles would have had something to say about that, but Stiles was dead. Derek could hear a slow heartbeat that seemed too weak to be someone awake, but too fast for someone to be asleep. When he found the man he was lying on the ground in a drug fueled delirium. Peter volunteered to dispose of the body, claiming that although he wasn't as close to Stiles as the others he wasn't happy that all the undeveloped talent was snuffed out.
***
The knock on the door was expected after Derek had heard the sound of someone coming up the steps, but the heartbeat and the gait of the person in question were unfamiliar. It was a man in a suit, it didn't look terribly expensive, but it was presentable. Hardly a man really he only looked to be about a few years older than Derek. He said that he was contracted to deliver a letter.
"Excuse me, sir, I'm looking for Mr. Derek Hale?"
"What do you want."
"Are you Mr. Hale?"
He didn't smell like hunter, no tell-tale scent of gun oil or wolfsbane. He smelled fully human, like dust, plastic and papers. An office worker?
"Why?"
"The letter, sir, it has to be signed for and I need to see a photo ID."
"What is it?"
"That I don't know, sir, I assume it's personal, it's to be delivered in the event of the writer's demise."
"What?"
"Sir if you don't have photo proof that you're Derek Hale then I have to leave. You can come by our office downtown, you are Derek Hale, right?"
"Yeah, here."
Derek handed over his driver's license and signed for the letter when prompted. It was thick, a heavy card-stock envelope. It didn't say anything on the front and it didn't smell like Stiles, just like dust, plastic, ink and paper. Like that guys office probably. It was a letter from Stiles...in the event of his death. What the hell? It only hurt Derek more that Stiles had apparently thought himself so unsafe he should write a letter like that. Then again, he lost his mom suddenly and Derek vaguely remember's Stiles mentioning something about letters his mom wrote him on her deathbed. Letter's for various occasions that his father doled out when appropriate. Derek supposed there would be some that would never get opened now.
He didn't know what to do, these are Stiles words, words for him, just for him, what could he want to say? Shouldn't he only write something like this for his father? Scott maybe? Why would he write a letter for someone who was just an "acquaintance"? He put it on the coffee table in front of the couch and stared at it. It didn't even smell like Stiles. Why? Didn't he write it? Was it his will or something? It didn't make sense. Isaac unlocked the door, breaking Derek's staring contest with the seemingly innocent envelope. Derek turned to look at Isaac, silhouetted by the porch lights that came on at night. Night? How long had he been staring at that thing?
"You got one too?"
That was a surprise, or was it really?
"What?"
"A letter, from Stiles?"
"Yeah."
"Scott got one too...and the Sheriff."
Derek hummed an acknowledgement of that. He had rightly assumed they would, but why did he get one?
"Did you read it?..."
"..."
"Are you going to?"
"I-I don't know-I don't know what's in it."
"I don't know what Scott's said, he ran to the woods to go read it, I think it's pretty personal."
"I would imagine."
"Well I just wanted to see if you got one too, Erica and Boyd said their parent's told them to go pick their's up from the office downtown. It's some start-up thing, they will hold and deliver messages like this for people, you send them what you want online or bring it to them in person. That's why none of them smell like him."
That made sense, Stiles would probably find some way to do this even online. Make a way to talk to people from beyond the grave. What would be so important though? What would he want to say to Derek? Does he even want to know?
"Well...okay...I'll leave you to it okay?"
"..."
"Derek?"
"Yeah?"
"If you need anything, I'm here okay? You know that right?"
"Did you get one?"
"...yeah."
"..."
"Okay, I'll be back tomorrow."
Isaac came by every day for the next 5 days, even after the funeral. Derek still hadn't opened his letter. Derek didn't go to the service, didn't think he could look at the Sheriff without telling him that he let Stiles walk back alone, that he should have been there. That he was the reason his son was dead. Scott was avoiding him too. Never came by the house, only Isaac did, every day, asking if Derek had read it yet. He still hadn't. He told Isaac not to come by today, it had been long enough, he went that morning to Stiles' grave, found the flowers that smelled like the sheriff and whiskey, found the flowers that smelled like Scott and salty tears. He left his own, a white rose, beautiful and innocent, like Stiles. He kissed the headstone, told Stiles he loved him and walked back home. He was going to read that damned letter. Whatever it said, he didn't care, he needed to know.
It was still on the coffee table, untouched for so long, Derek was painfully aware of it every moment of every day since he'd put it there. He opened it. There was a cover page, it only read:
"My tales from the Crypt!"
Stiles humor was just as bad when he was dead as when he was alive. That got a bitter laugh out of Derek, too bad there was no Stiles to see and point it out. He always got a stupid grin every time he could make Derek laugh, said it should be, "cataloged for posterity, Derek!" He didn't grin anymore. He was dead. The letter:
***
DEREK
This was going to look suspicious if anybody found out that I had been writing these, so that’s why nobody knew, it’s nothing personal Big Guy, I just thought that in the event of my untimely demise you guys should know some things that living and breathing me may have neglected to say.
Derek, you’re a shit Alpha, but your Betas need you, they know you’re a shit Alpha and honestly they don’t care. They don’t need you to keep pretending like you have a clue what you’re doing, they need you to tell them that you care about them and that you’re going to do your best to keep them safe and be a part of their lives. They don’t need you to keep acting like you know what’s best, let them help you, we’re all just kids here. It’s not your fault that no one knows what they’re doing and no one blames you.
I know you think as the Alpha it’s your job to hold in all your emotions and suffer quietly in your own broody manpain, but it’s not. You need to let people be there for you, you need to open up to someone, at least one person, if I’m really gone then, Derek you need to tell someone else about what happened with you know who. You need to not keep everything bottled up inside. It’s not good for you and I don’t want you to keep pretending like its okay that no one knows how or why you’re hurting because you don’t need anyone or because you think it’ll cause them undue suffering or some other bullshit excuse you’ll keep telling yourself so just please, for me, I know I didn't mean much to you, but you mean a lot to me, so please, for me, don’t close off. Talk to someone, maybe Isaac, just someone.
I don’t know how I died, I only update these letters every two months, so, if you can you should totally avenge me. That was a joke, fyi, it’s hard to convey tone in text form. I know I should be more solemn in my letter to you, but if I can’t make you laugh then I’m not going to be happy. Laugh, Derek. Laugh for me, man I’m going to keep using that aren't I? Yeah, do these things for me, Derek. I need to know that when I’m gone you’ll find some reason to keep that little up-quirk of your lips that is what I dubbed the Classic Derek Hale Grin™. I swear to whatever rules over the afterlife that if you blame yourself for my death, whatever it was, I will never forgive you and sure yeah, tell yourself I can’t hold a grudge if I’m dead, Derek, tell yourself that, but so help me I will. I will hold that grudge. I will be glaring at you from the other side and I will curse you until you stop that shit because it’s not okay. It wasn't your fault. Not just my death, you know what else I’m talking about, it was her fault and her fault alone. Nothing you could have done would have stopped her and as much as it pains me to compare myself to a monster, nothing anyone could have done could have kept me from helping you and Scott anyway I could. That’s how I figured I’d go out anyways. Protecting the ones I love. And yes, Derek, I should be dead so I don’t feel bad as I should telling you that I do care about you. A lot. More than a lot, I may be hopelessly smitten, shut up, I can use whatever words I want, I’m dead. I know it’s not fair of me to tell you now, but I wanted you to know that you’re not some creature that is only useful for your red eyes or your abs, you are a good man Derek. One of the best men I have ever known, you’re right up there with my Dad. You have had the shitiest luck and the world just loves to keep throwing shit at you. I want you to know that people can see through your glares and I saw through your glares. Your scowling didn't hide the fact that you’re a big softy and that you love your pack like the family they are. I see you Derek Hale, I see you. I want you to know that someone loved you not for what you could do, but for who you were and that you should feel like you deserve love, Derek, because you do. I may not have been brave enough to tell you while I was alive, but that’s because I didn't want to make our friendship awkward. I know you cared for me like a brother and I was happy enough with that, I didn't want to make you feel worse for not reciprocating.
Wow, I forgot to keep making paragraphs there huh? Well I blame Scott. We’re going to watch a movie in less than an hour and I have to get this sent in without anybody finding out. I have never actually met the dude who is going to deliver this to you so don’t blame me if he’s creepy looking or rude. That’s probably what I deserve for using an online service. I should really have taken the time to proof this or edit it or something, but given the fact that you or your other little wolves love to pop into my room unannounced I guessed that I should just hammer this out quickly. In two months I guess I’ll edit it or something. You may have noticed that this is hardly a formal letter, but when have I ever been formal, I want you to feel like I’m talking to you so that’s how I wrote this, that’s also why my ideas are all over the place but that’s how I talk anyways.
I wrote a letter to Scott too. You can ask him to let you read it if you want, there’s nothing in any of these letter’s that I don’t want you to see. I wanted to tell you all this eventually, but seeing as I can’t anymore this is all we have. I’m so sorry I left you, I didn't want to. Whatever the circumstances were, Derek you have to know that, okay? I didn't want to go, I didn't want to leave, I don’t ever want to leave you, my dad, Scott or the rest of your pack. Yeah, I asked Scott to stop being an idiot and join you like he should have a long time ago. I know it’s mean to guilt trip him with my death, but if I haven’t convinced him since I wrote this then let this be one more good thing in your life, I want you to be happy and I want you to let Scott take care of you. It’s in his letter. I asked him to. You take care of a lot of people, Derek and that’s good, that’s very noble of you, but someone has to be there for you and you deserve that, so please, for now, let Scott be there for you. I know he doesn't like you that much and with good reason, you never exactly gave him many good reasons to like you in the first place, but my death can be good for something so, oh well. Now you can be wolf brothers like you should. Okay, Scott is going to be here soon and I can’t risk him jumping up here to see me bawling over my computer so this is the end of this letter. I need you to be happy, I need you to move on from my death and keep your pack strong.
I love you, please forgive me.
Stiles Stilinski.