A blog just for roleplaying

The moment Jesse said that Vocal Adrenaline feared her, she laughed a bit. “They do not fear me, that’s highly impossible. You and your team are outstanding performers, above all Glee clubs in the country.” She said, fighting to look at Jesse. When she listened to the mans words in front of her about her own glee club, she couldn’t help but completely agree. Her fellow teammates of New Directions really didn’t give a crap for her, all they did care was that she helped them win, or really win for them.

“She’d be delighted! She wants to be with you, wants to be the mom you never had. Shelby knows that by giving you up she gave up every right to parent you, but you’re a grown woman now, so it’s your decision whether you want to have her in your life or not. She, for one, would be more than happy to catch up. Not to mention the additional talent her team would gain.”

@kurtelizhummel

After Shelby had given him his assignment, things had gone well. The moment they’d sung Lionel Richie’s Hello together she’d turn to clay in his hands. Ready and more than eager to be moulded. Jesse hadn’t done a whole lot of digging into Rachel, but everyone with a healthy set of eyes knew about her pathetic little crush on that Quarterback. As well as how helplessly unrequited it was.

Well, another man’s loss was Jesse’s gain. Things started to go downhill for the first time when Jesse attempted to have sex with Rachel and the girl refused him. It wasn’t as much the fact that he’d been denied that made him angry – although it certainly stung a little that anyone, let alone Rachel would resist him – but how it made him feel in in the first place.

He’d stormed out on her, angry and uncontrolled. It hadn’t been part of his plan to feel like that and for the first time, Jesse had been a little afraid. Afraid of those feelings he’d never quite experienced before. Afraid of the fact that he wasn’t as in control of himself as he’d like others and himself to belief. Afraid what his teammates would do upon finding out.

Little did he know, things were to become even worse. He’d transferred to McKinley to quicken the process of both seducing Rachel and getting her to listen to the tapes. Life had a way of messing with Jesse, as it seemed, since it wasn’t Rachel who ended up being seduced by him, but the other way around. Somehow, he’d fallen for her and that was a problem.

When the whole Run Joey Run debacle happened, it was both a wake-up-call as well as the perfect opportunity for an out. Jesse had, in fact, felt insulted and hurt by Rachel’s actions. So much so, that when he told her as much, there was no acting involved. His heart had been hurt – a little, at least – and he’d use the spring break to get away from her and compose himself.

Of course Shelby didn’t agree with his plan, let alone that he wasn’t willing to continue and finish it. She wanted her daughter to find her and his feelings on the matter didn’t matter. So Jesse returned and he fulfilled his duty, swallowing hard when he left Rachel in her room, the taste of her lips burned into his in a way he knew he’d have to pay for sooner or later.

Pay day arrives sooner than expected, when his friends gang up on Rachel in the Parking Lot. Watching those eggs fly and hit her, coating that shining her and innocent face, Jesse feels horrible. Feels horrible about her quivering lip. Feels horrible about the betrayal in her eyes. Feels horrible about the fact that she’s vegetarian and those eggs would probably hunt her for a while.

When his team members tell him to do it, crack the last egg, Jesse steps forward. He’s holding the egg above her forehead, eyes locked with hers when she whispers for him to do it. He freezes and against his better judgement, his lowers his head with a pained sigh. “I can’t”, he whispers for only Rachel to hear. “I won’t”, he adds louder for his friends, his voice a little more confident.

His teammates weren’t happy. At all. But Jesse didn’t waver. He turned to them, silencing them with a single glare. “I said I won’t. Now get out of here. I’ll finish this off.” Jesse stood proud, knowing full well that if he showed how unstable he felt on the inside, they wouldn’t hesitate to use his weakness to their advantage. Luckily, they budged, and Jesse was left alone with Rachel.

The moment they were alone in her obnoxiously pink bedroom, Rachel knew what Jesse wanted from her but she also knew herself and that she wanted to wait for the right time and the right person. At the time, she felt that Finn was that right person but when Jesse stormed out of her room after she had rejected him, something in her stomach turned. That feeling in her stomach grew stronger when she found out that Jesse had transferred to McKinley and told the New Directions that he did it for her. What was this all about? Did he really like her that much? Rachel had so many questions and so little answers.

Run Joey Run was an instant regret for Rachel. She knew she hurt not only Finn, but Jesse’s feelings as well. She was so confused with her head and heart as it was pulling towards both of the boys. Something needed to be figured out and that was her feelings and where they truly lied. When she finally sorted out all her feelings and realized what she was feeling and who she was feeling them for, Jesse had gone off to a spring break with his old friends from Carmel High. Rachel was left in the cold.

Rachel was left in her room with a dropped jaw when Jesse had returned. Why did he run off then return a few weeks later to her house of all places? Before she could even say a word, Jesse put the tape that he had found in her baby boxes into her boombox and left without a word. What came out of those speakers turned Rachel’s life upside down and she knew what Jesse was really doing all along.

When Jesse had asked Rachel to meet her in the parking lot, he heart grew a bit and excitement rose in her body as she ran out and saw him. Once she was face to face with the guy who was starting to take her heart, she realized they weren’t the only ones in the lot, but the rest of Vocal Adrenaline had appeared from behind the cars with eggs in their hands. She couldn’t even get a word out before she knew what was happening, eggs being flung all over her body, head and face. Tears, words, nothing could get out of Rachel as it all happened in a flash.

Sure, he was heartless when it came to his career, Jesse would never deny that. His dreams came first, no matter what. If he had to take out the competition by, let’s say, accidentally tripping the guy that could have taken his solo’s and accidentally breaking his leg in the process he would without thinking twice. In that regard, Jesse was a merciless machine.

With Rachel, however, things were different. She wasn’t his competition or at least she didn’t want to be. From the first time they’d met, they’d harmonized, not competed and no matter how hard Jesse had tried to fight and deny it, he’d somewhat fallen for the little Jewish diva. They’d have to work on their relationship, possibly start it from a more honest place, but he was willing to.

“They did this, because they fear you, you know”, he added. “They see you for the talent that you are, the competition. Which, as crude as their methods might be, is more than you can say from your ‘friends’ at McKinley high. They have no respect for you whatsoever when they don’t have the fraction of the talent you possess.”

It was that moment, the second those words had left his lips, that Jessen had an epiphany. He too understood that Rachel was a threat. However, while she challenges him vocally, she did so morally as well. She kept him on his toes, made him better. With her by his side, he couldn’t lose. Neither in life, nor in the upcoming competitions.

Stiles followed the other into the room, concern growing when he got a better look of Lydia. She was so pale and sweaty, the frown on her face signalling that she was in pain. It seemed like she was fighting, much like Stiles would expect from someone like Lydia. Frankly, even if her body had been to weak to accept the bite, he was quite sure she would have fought through that as well. There was nothing Lydia couldn’t do, not even in the uncharted territory of the supernatural world and it gave Stiles hope that he could figure it out too.

He still would have loved to sit down beside her bed and hold her hand until she woke up, just to make sure that she was alright and well to help her adjust to the new being she would soon turn into. Especially when Derek began to explain that her change was basically taking to long and despite him saying that she wasn’t dying, the teen could still sense a certain confusion coming from the other. Still, as long as he was sure that Lydia wasn’t dying, their mission had been a success and Stiles could rest peacefully.

“Good, that’s all we needed to know. Now let’s get out of here before a nurse comes to check on her”, Stiles said. “There’s nothing we can do until she wakes up anyway, right?”

Derek nodded reluctantly, letting his hand drop from the girl’s forehead and falling a step back. Part of him wanted to stay here, confirm what was happening with her. She felt off in a way that grated on his instincts and pulled at him at the same time.

But Stiles was right, waiting wouldn’t do anything at this point. She was going to turn on her own time, and staying here would only raise questions. And the kind of questions that a recent murder suspect would get from standing over an injured teenage girl’s bed? Were the last things Derek needed right now.

Lydia’s room wasn’t hard to find, at least not for Stiles who could probably navigate through those cursed halls with his eyes blindfolded. It was a little harder not to be seen, but by using the stairs Stiles managed to avoid the majority of the employee’s and made it to her room unrecognized. Once there, Stiles didn’t dare go in, instead looking at Lydia through the little window into the room. She looked pale, sickly so, and so strangely fragile. He’d never seen the girl look that vulnerable before and frankly, it scared the crap out of Stiles.

She had dark circles under her eyes and her strawberry blonde hair – the very one Stiles had admired a million times over – was full of dirt and glued to her face with sweat. Despite it all, she still managed to look beautiful and Stiles seriously began to wonder where his genetics had gone wrong and theirs (being Derek and Lydia, namely) had gone so very, very right. Luckily, Derek distracted him from said thoughts by appearing right behind him. “I see you freed yourself from the clutches of the cougar”, Stiles teased. “So…is she turning?”

Derek padded softly past Stiles, peering through the window into the room. The girl looked vaguely familiar, and it took a few seconds to click where he’d seen her –– in front of the movie rental store after the Alpha attack (Peter’s attack). She’d been shaken then but too smart for her own good, and Derek wondered if that had something to do with why Peter had targeted her now. The same way he’d spared Jackson that night.

Something else was still going on with Peter, some bigger play he couldn’t put his finger on yet, and that, like everything else these days it seemed like, made his gut twist sickly. This girl being attacked, that was his fault for letting Peter keep running unchecked. If she died here, that was on him too.

He shook his head.

“No way to know from out here.” And he pushed open the door and went in, not looking to see if Stiles followed. All his attention was fixated on this pale girl. Like another pale girl, seven years ago with knowing dark eyes and pained whimpers.

He swallowed, and forced himself to circle closer.

The room smelled of medicine and sweat, chemicals threatening to burn his nostrils on each inhale. But she didn’t smell like Paige had. There was no black blood choking up.

“She’s not dying.” He felt sure of that. With Paige, it’d been almost immediate, and Lydia had been bitten last night. If the bite were killing her, she’d be dead by now. Or close to it.

But she didn’t look like she was turning either.

Derek reached out and felt her forehead. Feverish, clammy. Her pulse thrummed quick and thready in her veins, and her body was definitely fighting something. Or fighting towards something, maybe.

“The change…” He faltered, brows pinching. “It takes longer with some people. Sixteen hours is longest I’ve ever heard of.” Most people were closer to four or five hours, but… “That must be what this is.”

He wished he could sound surer, but as much as he’d studied and knew the lore and grown up around werewolves, he’d only ever actually seen four people take the bite. An aunt when he was young, an outsider who’d petitioned his mom for the bite when he was in middle school, Paige, and now Stiles.

He still would have loved to sit down beside her bed and hold her hand until she woke up, just to make sure that she was alright and well to help her adjust to the new being she would soon turn into. Especially when Derek began to explain that her change was basically taking to long and despite him saying that she wasn’t dying, the teen could still sense a certain confusion coming from the other. Still, as long as he was sure that Lydia wasn’t dying, their mission had been a success and Stiles could rest peacefully.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he watched the whole scene play out. Frankly, he was quite sure that Derek hadn’t needed to come up with such an elaborate plan to distract her. From the looks of it – and the drool the teen you practically see running down the woman’s chin – a nice smile would have done the trick just as well. It’s not like Stiles was jealous or something, he had no reason to be. It was just…damn those genetics, man.

After examining the stain for a moment longer the woman came around the counter and signalled for Derek to follow her. Stiles was quite sure that she’d be taking him to the tiny room in the basement where the janitor kept his things, among a couple washing machines. Usually people who weren’t staff were strictly denied access, but then again Derek Hale wasn’t people, was he now? He was a little hottie the woman probably hoped would be so grateful for his help that he’d take her on said washing machine. Stiles gagged.

Once the two were out of sight he snuck behind the counter and unlocked the PC. Luckily, he’d watched Melissa do it a thousand times, so the program wasn’t hard to navigate for the teen. It took him all but two minutes to find in which room Lydia was staying and what the file said had happened to her. He printed said document – for good measurements – and snuck out before anyone could see him. Stiles then got out his phone and texted Derek his progress, hoping to free the other from the thirsty woman’s clutches.

“Thanks again for this.” Derek fell a step backward, easing the hem of his shirt out of the nurse’s grip. “You really didn’t have to show me. I know you must be busy.”

She shrugged, reaching back out to smooth the shirt down, damp and stain-free.

“It was no problem. That’s what we’re here for. So.” She shrugged, tilting her head. “Anything else I can do to help?”

The buzz of Derek’s phone was a welcome save. He fell another step back, and pulled the phone out.

“That’s my cousin. I should get back to him.”

“Oh.” The nurse’s lips pursed in a pout. Then she narrowed her eyes, questioning. “I thought it was your friend?”

Shit. Derek pasted a bright smile back on.

“Good memory. I’m here with my friend and my cousin. My cousin drove us.”

“That’s so sweet of––” she started, but Derek was pushing the door open.

“Thanks again so much for your help. I’d better get back to them.”

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed to be part of this, I’m saying I don’t want you to be”, Stiles snapped back, adding in a softer tone, “at least not the hunter part of it. Not after what they did to you and your family. Not after what Kate did to you just a couple of hours ago. You didn’t see yourself hanging there, tortured and closer to death than to life. I did. And I never want to risk seeing that again.”

Stiles wasn’t a particularly sensitive kid, not really. He’d grown up watching horror movies more gruesome than any child his age should have been able to stomach, but the boy hadn’t minded one bit. He’d always been so sure, that he could face reality just as well, seeing as he also snuck around crimes scenes and such, which were technically real life. Yet, nothing had prepared him for seeing Derek there and nothing ever would.

“But we can fight about that later. For now, you’re right. We should go and check on Lydia and handle the rest after. How about you go in and distract the nurse, so I can try and sneak a peak at the computer and see if I can find a room number. Maybe even ask about Lydia, say you’re a friend or an uncle or something.”

It would be so easy to snap back at Stiles. His family being dead was exactly why he had to be part of this. But then Stiles’ eyes went soft and his voice edged raw, and it punched the righteous anger right out of him.

Because… oh.

He cared.

Derek froze, throat strangely tight, scanning over Stiles’ face for a sign of something he could latch onto, shove against. He knew how to do that. This, though?

It was a relief when Stiles agreed to let it go for now. Focus on the problem at hand. Derek nodded, starting toward the hospital. As he walked, he let a claw come out and casually sliced open his palm, smearing the blood across the hem of his shirt. His hand was healed by the time he found the nurse’s station, and he stopped at the far end of it, pasting on an easy smile.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me?”

The nurse, a bored looking thirty-something, glanced up from her computer. He needed to get her away from it.

“Hm?”

“It’s nothing important.” His eyes flicked to the computer. “If you’re busy…”

“No, no.” She pushed herself to her feet and came toward him, her customer service instincts kicking in. “It’s no problem at all.”

“Well, it’s just this.” He tugged up the hem of his shirt, damp with blood. Her eyes flicked down to his abs and lingered, brows pulling up slowly. “I just brought my friend in, he’s getting looked at right now. Just a few stitches, he’s fine. But I got his blood on my shirt and, well, I’ve got no clue how to get it out. Figured I should come to an expert.”

After examining the stain for a moment longer the woman came around the counter and signalled for Derek to follow her. Stiles was quite sure that she’d be taking him to the tiny room in the basement where the janitor kept his things, among a couple washing machines. Usually people who weren’t staff were strictly denied access, but then again Derek Hale wasn’t people, was he now? He was a little hottie the woman probably hoped would be so grateful for his help that he’d take her on said washing machine. Stiles gagged.

“Yeah, she is”, Stiles replied matter of factly. “So she can’t hurt you anymore. And trust me, the fact that I killed her…I know it will have consequences and I’m very aware of the fact that I’ll be the one to pay the price in the end, but for now you’re safe. You didn’t do anything wrong and she can’t hurt you anymore, so you’re all set. As for Peter and me…that’s for them to decide.”

Stiles wasn’t delusional. He knew what he’d done. Even in the human world, where people played by a certain set of rules, he’d be trialed for murder. This wasn’t the usual set of rules, however. Not even the humans played by them in this world. There was no trial and possible prison sentence. This was a game of life and death and Stiles was losing it. 

“They’ll kill me either way, probably. But if I’m the one who comes to them, who hands himself over willingly and offers them something they want…I’m not saying they might spare me, but they might be more inclined to listen. Especially if it means keeping their own safe. Maybe, if I hand myself over, they’ll agree to keep you out of it. This isn’t your fault and it shouldn’t be your fight.”

Derek’s palm stung, shaky and slick where his claws had dug in. He loosened his grip with an effort, and scowled down at the blood beading up on his skin.

“Stiles.” His voice snarled out, low and strained. “If you say I’m not part of this one more time, I’ll make sure you don’t have a throat to say it with.”

He wanted to punch Stiles, or drag him off somewhere safe maybe. He wanted to kill the rest of the Argents right now, before they had a chance to come after Stiles. And Stiles had just been so goddamn pissed at Derek for trying to keep him out of danger, out of a fight that had nothing to do with him. To keep him safe. And now here he was trying to block Derek out of a fight he’d been a part of for six years.

And Derek was pissed at him right back.

He shook his head, watched his palm slowly start to scab over.

“Maybe we need to accept that we’re both part of this. Neither of us are walking away.” Even though Stiles should. Even though he still could. Even though he had no emotional investment, nothing tying him to this fight, and––

Derek dug his nails back into his palm, cutting the spinning thoughts off.

Stiles wasn’t a particularly sensitive kid, not really. He’d grown up watching horror movies more gruesome than any child his age should have been able to stomach, but the boy hadn’t minded one bit. He’d always been so sure, that he could face reality just as well, seeing as he also snuck around crimes scenes and such, which were technically real life. Yet, nothing had prepared him for seeing Derek there and nothing ever would.

“I killed Kate”, Stiles replied, face completely void of any emotion. He didn’t want to give away how much the events of that day had shaken him up. “Well, I slashed her throat and clawed her up and Peter finished the job. So technically I didn’t kill her, but I would have if he hadn’t stopped me. Of course I would have, after what she did to you.”

Stiles shrugged, trying his hardest not to shiver at the memory of all the blood. “Finding you wasn’t easy. I had to hack Allison’s phone after threatening some people for intel. I thought the drive would prepare me for the situation, but it didn’t. When I saw you hanging there I went completely ballistic. There was so much blood…”, he trailed off.

The teen shook his head, trying to push away the memories as best as he could. Not that he remembered all of it all to vividly. It felt more like a very lucid dream. “I’ve also planned to talk to Allison and Chris, him being my priority. Allison’s been a little brainwashed by her aunt, but after what happened with you, she’ll come around. Otherwise she wouldn’t have told me about Lydia.”

The world went numb in the aftershock of those words.

I killed Kate. I killed Kate reverberating through him, filling up his head, buzzing through his whole body until his legs lost all feeling under him.

He barely heard the rest of it. Ears ringing, body buzzing, words echoing, because.

…Kate was dead?

Tortured him. Shot him. Killed his family. Made him fall in love with her. She’d been his boogeyman for six years, a weight on his chest he didn’t deserve to lift off. He’d imagined killing her, clawing her throat open, punching a hand through her chest and seeing if she had a heart to tear out. Setting her on fire and watching her burn to ash. Sometimes those dreams had been all that kept him going. And now…

It didn’t feel real.

He forced air into his lungs, too-wide eyes fighting to focus back on Stiles. There was an ache in his chest and it hurt, like a knife being torn out of a scabbed over wound. Relief and guilt, and… fuck, panic.

“They’re gonna come after you now.” Stiles had blood on his hands. Hunter blood. For Derek, because of Derek. Even the ones who played by their rules would have an excuse to hunt him. “You can’t let them know it was you. We have to…” He couldn’t focus. His knee wobbled under him and he locked it with an effort. His thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning.

Stiles wasn’t delusional. He knew what he’d done. Even in the human world, where people played by a certain set of rules, he’d be trialed for murder. This wasn’t the usual set of rules, however. Not even the humans played by them in this world. There was no trial and possible prison sentence. This was a game of life and death and Stiles was losing it. 

Stiles glared up at Derek, eyes flickering between his natural amber an the gold of the wolf within him. Still, the fall had somehow gotten Stiles out of the haze he’d been in, enough to wipe the tears off his face, get up, brush the dirt off his clothes and get himself together enough not to attack Derek again. He didn’t even know why he’d done it.

Well, if he’d been honest with himself, he would have known. Would have known that Derek leaving him behind hurt so much more than h would have liked to admit. That going back into the hospital would bring back memories of Peter attacking Derek and stiles wouldn’t be able to handle them, not even if it was to check up on Lydia.

But stiles wasn’t honest with himself. He couldn’t be, when Derek was clearly eager to get rid of him as fast as humanly possible. Stiles huffed, focusing on the anger so he could ignore the pain that threatens to overwhelm him. “You’re an asshole, Derek Hale”, he said, sounding a lot more defeated than he would have liked to.

“Go on, take responsibility for things you haven’t done and clean up messes you haven’t caused to protect people who neither appreciate it nor feel any shame for having done any of the horrible things. Go on blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault and continue down the rabbit hole of misguided decision to redeem yourself for something you aren’t responsible for.”

Stiles jaw tightened as he forced his lip not to quiver. “I trusted you. Not to be my mentor or saviour, but to be my friend. Poor judgement on my part. Now leave. You have no business being here. Lydia might not know who I am, but she’s my classmate, not yours. I’ll take care of her. As for the hunters, there is nothing to be taken care of. Peter and I did that. Take care of yourself.”

Derek felt his jaw tightening through Stiles’ speech, that self-important spiel rewriting history as though he had any idea what Derek was dealing with. As though Stiles had been some shining beacon of friendship all this time, hadn’t constantly contradicted Derek and trusted Allison over him from the day they’d met.

Stiles had strolled into Derek’s life and immediately thought Derek should drop the world for him. Should trust his instincts even when he didn’t know anything. Should choose him over everything, over family, without a second thought. When Stiles wouldn’t even choose him over his friend’s goddamn new girlfriend. 

And the fucking worst part was that Derek almost had. Knowing this stupid kid for less than a month, knowing how dangerous it was to trust, he’d let himself start counting on him. He’d made Stiles the one that he ran to, the one that he leaned on. He’d felt his anchor shifting. He’d chosen Stiles over Peter in the only way he knew how, even if Stiles was too much of a stubborn child to see it. Sending him away, getting him out of Peter’s warpath, when he’d known that Peter had wanted Stiles strengthening his pack. He’d ignored Peter’s wishes, chosen to keep Stiles safe.

But even that wasn’t good enough for Stiles, who needed everything done his way, on his timeline. Wanting Derek to come running whenever he called, and not giving an inch when Derek needed trust back.

He was close to snarling this all in Stiles’ face, or maybe just slamming his fist into it, until Stiles’ last words stalled him out and derailed him.

Peter and I did that.

Stiles shrugged, trying his hardest not to shiver at the memory of all the blood. “Finding you wasn’t easy. I had to hack Allison’s phone after threatening some people for intel. I thought the drive would prepare me for the situation, but it didn’t. When I saw you hanging there I went completely ballistic. There was so much blood...”, he trailed off.

For the briefest moment, Stiles froze. Completely. The world was silent and still, his mind going completely blank. His body felt weightless and yet at the same time as it wasn’t his, like he was just looking at it from outside, soul floating above it. The moment passed, and it all came crushing back in at the same time.

The screams in the hospital, the sirens of the ambulances, the weight of his body that felt so much heavier then it was. Something inside of Stiles snapped, making him vulnerable. There was something within that teenager – something he couldn’t control – that used his moment of vulnerability and broke free.

Without a shred of control Stiles moved forwards, a lot faster than any normal human could have. He followed the other and once he’d reached Derek, he pushed the man from behind with almost brutal force. His eyes were glowing bright yellow and the next words that slipped from his lips were spoken in a voice that wasn’t entirely human either. “Why do you always have to be such a fucking asshole”, Stiles growled at the other, breathing heavily.

There was something primal to his behaviour, feral almost, but Stiles couldn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t really aware of doing it either. It was like he’d controlled himself all this time, almost excelling at being a werewolf until this moment, where everything just got to much. A part of Stiles just hoped that he wouldn’t turn out like his maker.

“Can’t you be nice for once in your life? Your uncle attacks and turns me against my will, tries to kill me, murders innocent people including your sister, almost kills you and you choose him over me?! You leave me to fend for myself, newly turned, afraid and broken, so you can aid a murderer”, Stiles adds, anger burning bright within him. That’s when the first tear rolled from his eye, something Stiles didn’t even notice in his blind fury. Something he wouldn’t have admitted to himself; how much he needed Derek and how capable the other was to cause him pain. “You insult me, hurt and betray me and I still come to safe you, when your beloved uncle didn’t even care!” Another tear followed, his breath going ragged, heart beating almost dangerously fast. “I give up my morals for you, face my fears and risk my life for you and you can’t muster up a single shred of understanding? Can’t even say a single nice thing to me? You fucking asshole”, Stiles shouted, shoving the other again.

The shove sent Derek stumbling and he snarled, spinning back and drawing claws on instinct. He was craving a fight so badly, wanted to lash out. Wanted to hit something, claw something open, run blind into the woods and howl ‘til his throat bled.

The broken edge of Stiles’ voice stalled him, though. Softened the wounded beast inside him just long enough for Stiles to shove him again. And then he was reacting on instinct. He twisted past the shove, tripping Stiles onto the cold asphalt and following him down, pinning him.

“What the hell did you want from me?” Why did his voice sound strained, with his arm pressed to Stiles’ throat? Why did he feel so wounded, choked for air? “He’s my uncle, my blood. My only blood. If you found out your dad had attacked people because he was sick, because of something you––” Derek’s vision blurred and he leaned back before a tear fell, pressing his palm to Stiles’ chest and lifting his chin toward the dusk sky.

Peter had been sick. Confused and sick. Or had he? He hadn’t been sick for Lydia. And if he hadn’t been, if he’d hurt Stiles on purpose… If he’d killed Laura on purpose…

He pulled in a shaky breath and pushed back to his feet. Recentering, grappling his fractured anchor. Redirecting it to the person who deserved all that anger. His claws dug into his own palm.

“You never wanted to be involved in this, Stiles. Not at the start, not tonight. So don’t be.”

The fire because of Kate. Peter because of the fire. Laura, Stiles, Lydia, all because of Peter. It all stemmed back from Derek.

Well, if he’d been honest with himself, he would have known. Would have known that Derek leaving him behind hurt so much more than h would have liked to admit. That going back into the hospital would bring back memories of Peter attacking Derek and stiles wouldn’t be able to handle them, not even if it was to check up on Lydia.

But stiles wasn’t honest with himself. He couldn’t be, when Derek was clearly eager to get rid of him as fast as humanly possible. Stiles huffed, focusing on the anger so he could ignore the pain that threatens to overwhelm him. “You’re an asshole, Derek Hale”, he said, sounding a lot more defeated than he would have liked to.

“Go on, take responsibility for things you haven’t done and clean up messes you haven’t caused to protect people who neither appreciate it nor feel any shame for having done any of the horrible things. Go on blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault and continue down the rabbit hole of misguided decision to redeem yourself for something you aren’t responsible for.”