Chapter Text
Derek had just gotten back from South America, having yet another family member leave was taking its toll on him. He just wanted to lay down, close his eyes and forget this day ever happened. He wished he could be more like the brother Cora deserved.
The fact that she considered those people in South America more family than her brother himself, hurt him more than Peter's betrayal ever could.
Derek couldn't blame her though. Everyone around him, everybody gets hurt.
Not for the first time in the last seven years, he wished he could've died with his family. He wanted to shut down, he wanted to just not be anymore.
At least that way, no one could hurt him anymore. More importantly, no one could get hurt because of him.
Not before he fixed everything that happened today though. Just wait Derek, as soon as he gets better we'll say goodbye properly then, Derek's wolf whispered.
None of them could've anticipated what happened, Stiles was the resident human researcher. He was the heart of the pack.
He was the only one who could stop Erica and Allison from getting in a fight. He was the only one who could get Isaac out of his head by teasing him. He was the only buffer, the only one brave enough, to stand between Scott's almost absurd self-righteousness and Derek's frustration.
He was their Spark. Their core, their warmth, their home and their anchor.
And now he's hanging between life and death by a string that seems to be rapidly tearing apart.
Oddly enough, something he read a long time ago during high school came back to him, a quote from Wuthering Heights:
“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.” Back then, after Paige happened, he thought he could understand Catherine.
But now, now when it feels like the only thing keeping him going was the rabbit-like thump thump thump of Stiles' heartbeat, he finally understands the absolute primal passion Catherine felt for Heathcliff.
Ever since he'd met the hyperactive teen, he had known why only he could hear Stiles' heartbeat from across the town. He had denied it, buried it beneath merciless scowls and cutthroat sarcasm. But his wolf had always known.
Just as it had known why Derek could never stop touching Stiles even if to shove him around, it had known why Derek's eyes always kept flicking back to the spastic mole-speckled boy.
If only his wolf could predict that Kali would come for his mate while he was dropping Cora.
Now his mate was most probably going to die. And unsurprisingly it was Derek's fault.
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It was odd. Normally, Derek would have a lot more creative words to describe the situation but somehow odd felt the most right currently. They were used to seeing Stiles in a perpetual flail. It was kind of a running joke in the pack, a Stiles in motion stays in motion.
Now, seeing him lie so still, made him look more lifeless than his paler-than-usual complexion ever could. The only reason why Deaton hadn't called it yet, was the sound of Stiles' heartbeat and the restless way his eyes moved beneath the thin eyelids.
Where Derek was feeling sick with worry, Derek's wolf was distressed, but surprisingly not as much after it had seen the spark-mate-pup with its own eyes.
Derek surmised this uncharacteristic behavior of his wolf to the scent of the boy. The pup had always smelled like a hormonal ball of anxiety, with the chemical odor of Adderall diluting most of his chemosignals.
Now, however his scent had finally settled, it was still stress-ridden yes, but an ephemeral musk was hued in there, along with the Stiles' usual smell of ozone and yarn.
He smelled more like a wolf but not quite, it was like something was making him different.
Just as Derek was about to lean closer to find out, Deaton stormed through the door of the clinic, with the anguished voice of Sheriff Stilinski at his heels. They both paused to give a nod to Derek in acknowledgement before continuing their conversation. Derek missed the way Sheriff's eyes lingered on their joined hands.
"I told you Sheriff, Stiles is not in danger. He doesn't need to be taken to the hospital." Deaton calmly argued.
"Oh yeah? Then why isn't he waking up? Just… please tell me what's happening to my son."
The absolute pain and fear in Sheriff's voice made Derek tighten his grip on Stiles' hand, wordlessly pleading him to wake up.
"I have my assumptions about why Stiles is taking so long, but I'll have to perform a test on him before deciding."
"What kind of test? This won't hurt him would it?"
"Of course not, Sheriff. I'm just going to make him smell this paste I've made."
"Why does your paste smell like chilli pepper and garlic?" Derek spoke for the first time since the other two arrived. Denton's lips twitched at his raised eyebrows and worried frown.
"Because that's what it is, Derek. I'm just making sure about something."
Deaton raised the abhorrent paste to Stiles' nose.
In his sleep, Stiles wrinkled his nose a little. He tried to turn his head away from the obnoxiously offending scent, but cold fingers gripped his chin, preventing him from getting away. As Stiles tried to swat the hand, he heard someone wheezing loudly. Trying to get some more sleep before Scott inevitably woke him up to gush about Allison again, Stiles mumbled in annoyance.
"Wha? Scotty, get ur foot away from ma face!" Upon hearing his voice, the three men in the room jumped. A watery smile graced across Sheriff's and Derek's face.
"Stiles, wake up!"
"I'm up Dad, why are you shouting at me so early in the morning?"
Ugh, his dad really needs to understand the inside voice thing, no wonder the deputies at the station are scared of him. But.. That still doesn't explain the three drums thumping near his bed. Drums near his head? After everything they've been through, this is what surprised Stiles enough to startle out of his sleep. He jumped up, fists raised in front of him, only to pause when he realized they were at the clinic.
"Dad, what's going on? Why am I here? Are you okay? Deaton, why are the dogs barking so loudly, go give them kibble or something!" He turned mid-rant towards Derek. "Sourwolf? You're the one making the dogs go crazy, aren't you? Ugh somebody please stop them, my ears are going to explode! Aaahh-"
Just like that, Stiles fainted. His hands still clutching the sides of his head as he crashed to the ground, the same way he had when Scott was getting a tattoo.
As both the wolf and the Sheriff rushed to pick up Stiles, Derek wondered. Shouting? But the Sheriff wasn't loud at all. Oh moon, Derek's mate wasn't just a human anymore. He sighed. I told you, he's our spark-mate-pup! His wolf's smug voice rang in his head.
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"So… What is he?"
"I think you and I both know he's not a wolf, Derek. It seems that Stiles' spark has been ignited from the bite. You can't place his scent, but you do have an inkling as to what our Stiles here has become, don't you?" Deaton prodded.
"The bite brings out everyone's nature, Stiles is clever, cunning, with inexplicable intuition and sassy up to the point of driving others crazy.. He's also weirdly tactile, I think he's a werefo-" Derek trailed off as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, of everyone Stiles had to be the thing Derek has no experience with.
"What? He's a what, Derek?" Sheriff questioned.
"Mr. Stilinski is a werefox, Sheriff. It appears his spark has flamed his primal nature." Deaton answered.
Their silence was once again interrupted by a sound, that could only be described as chattering. The three adults ran back to Stiles' room, only to find the lights flickering on their own and Stiles standing there with glowing purple eyes as he tried to hide something behind his back. Most of his face was covered by his hoodie as he desperately tried to hide himself, some innate instinct telling him to run for cover in front of predators.
"Whatever you do, Sheriff. Do not raise your voice. Keep your volume down to this level." Deaton whispered quietly.
"Stiles, focus on the Sheriff's heartbeat. Listen to the way it covers every other sound." Deaton spoke to Stiles.
Stiles listened to the vet, letting Sheriff's heartbeat drown out all the overwhelming sounds he could hear till the end of the street. Only then, the lights seemed to calm down enough for them to see Stiles in all his spark-werefox glory.
Stiles sighed in relief and finally decided to shed the hoodie, knowing he could trust his father and Derek to make everything okay again.
As soon as the hoodie came down, the three adults in the room tensed. Reddish-brown ears with white tips poked out of Stiles' hair and an undeniably adorable thick fluffy tail with the same fur sat curled subconsciously around his waist.
Derek had to try really really hard to keep his expression the usual scowl, his wolf was rumbling. Already dreaming up visions of Stiles and him running around the preserve in the full shift. As soon as Stiles looked up with those velvet purple eyes, Derek felt as if a part of his battered soul, one that he didn't know he missed, had finally made its way back to him.
Stiles eyes lingered on Derek more than usual, his own spark-fox purring and wagging its tail at the sight of the grumpy Alpha. He reluctantly shifted his eyes to the Sheriff who looked like he was barely stopping himself from hugging his kid.
"Dad? What's happening to me?" Stiles muttered in a shaky voice.
His Dad was on him before he even finished speaking, for a long time both the Stilinski men hugged each other, reassuring themselves that they were both okay now. Stiles was instinctively scenting his father, his fox demanding to secure their anchor. Stiles' eyes met Derek's over him dad's shoulders, the alpha looked uncomfortable but he was worried enough to stay there to make sure Stiles was alright himself.
His Dad finally pulled back, eyeing his son's ears and tail like he wanted to pet them. Inexplicably, Stiles' ears kept flicking in Derek's direction. His dad sighed and began.
"Three days ago, you went missing. You were out getting groceries and we found your jeep abandoned at the gas station. When we tried to track your phone, it lead us to the preserve. Just a mile away from Derek's territory. Peter found you unconscious and lying on a giant tree stump. You've been sleeping since yesterday, you woke up this morning yelled at us and passed out again. Oh and Son?"
"Yeah, dad?"
"You're a spark-werefox now."
"Wait, what!?"