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“My dear,
Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it's much better to be killed by a lover.
Falsely yours, Henry Charles Bukowski”
Alone.
That's how Derek has always imagined himself dying.
No family, no pack, no mate, just alone.
It's what he deserves after all, to die alone.
He killed his family, his pack.
Then turned around and made another one, in the vain attempt to fill the void and gap that sits in his chest, unfillable, just to loose it too, because he wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough… Wasn't good enough.
He tried to fit into Scott's pack, but that didn't work out so well, they hate him, and he doesn't blame them. How could he blame them? He hates himself too.
He's never good enough.
Not smart enough to have known that Paige was better off human.
Not strong enough to have fought off Kate's advances.
Not fast enough to get to his family, except to hear their screams when it was already too late.
Not aware enough to have stopped Laura's return to Beacon Hills which led to her death.
Not enough for Scott to have listened to when he first arrived in Beacon Hills and was only trying to protect the teen.
Not enough to figure out who the alpha was before it was too late.
Not enough to not be selfish and take the alpha power for himself in a vain attempt to avenge his sister.
It didn't bring her back, he still felt hollow, his family would always be gone, it was useless and only led to him not being good enough for a bunch more people and making a whole lot of mistakes.
Derek remembers himself before the fire, before Paige, so open and naive, so joyful and full of life, always being the first to laugh, the first to hug and touch, the first to offer comfort.
Now, he can't remember the last time he laughed, can't remember the last person he hugged, the last person he brought comfort to.
That’s actually a lie, he does remember, just doesn't like to admit it.
All of them are for the same person.
The one with the whiskey brown eyes that Derek could get drunk on, with moles that map out pale skin and fragile bones, with an upturned nose, and Cupid-bow lips.
The one who's loyal to a fault, brave with every ounce of his being, stubborn like a bull, and strong as a raging storm.
He can remember the last time he laughed, Stiles had made a bad innuendo that wasn't funny at all but the waggle of his eyebrows and the way he threw his head back in laughter made Derek join in.
He remembers the last to he touched someone, Stiles had ordered the pack all together and when Derek hadn't shown up, thinking he wasn't pack, Stiles had shown up at his apartment and manhandled him into the Jeep. At the end of the night Derek had thanked him and placed a gentle had on the back of the boy's neck.
He remembers the last time he comforted someone, Stiles was having a nightmare and Derek had been out on his usual night patrol, that he indulges in instead of sleeping, he'd woken the boy and let him cry into his chest while murmuring nothing into the boy's ear until he fell asleep again.
Derek's not sure if Stiles even remembers any of these times, he's never mentioned them, and didn't complain when he woke up in bed alone the next morning.
Derek's always known that he was going to die, even embraced the thought more than once, ready to be with his family, to try and beg for their forgiveness, ready for life to quit torturing him with taking away the things he loves and either take him or let him have something.
He's known that dying is inevitable, no matter how hard you fight, when your name’s up, you're going, but he always wondered if he would know when his time was up, if he'd feel a deep sense of knowledge that ‘this is the day I die’ or if it would be raining outside, or whether or not his life would flash before his eyes.
__
It's perfectly sunny outside, he feels light, happy, for the first time in a long time, and the only thoughts running through his mind are ‘yes’ and ‘finally’ and ‘more’.
__
When the incubus showed up at his door, he hadn't know what it was, it wore the face of the man he loved, he’d hadn't needed anymore than that to let the thing into his house.
He'd invited it in, sat it on the couch and asked what was wrong, why it was at his place and if there was a supernatural crises.
The thing had sounded like Stiles when it had answered, “nothings wrong, I can't just come and see a friend?”
Derek had been instantly suspicious after that though.
Stiles wouldn't say friend, he'd say buddy, or compadre, or amigo, and Stiles would have called Derek some weird name or sourwolf somewhere in that sentence.
It had Derek's hackles raised as he'd asked if Stiles was alright because he wasn't acting like himself.
It replied, with a head tilt just like Stiles does, that he was perfectly himself.
Derek had believed it until it tried to crawl into his lap.
Stiles was never so blatant and open about wanting in Derek's pants, even though Derek could smell his arousal even without the boys subtle, playful, flirting.
He'd thrown it onto the couch and demanded to know what the hell it was, and why it was impersonating Stiles.
“I'm an incubus,” it had explained, “I take the form of the object of your affections and then I sleep with you and feed off your lust,”
“You forgot the part where you kill me,” Derek had growled through clenched teeth, seething at the imposter sitting on his couch.
How dare it! Think it could be Stiles and Derek not figure it out.
“Technicality,” it had said, waving it off like it didn't matter. “And you can't tell me that you're not tempted, to take me, to take what you can't have in the only way that you can have it.” It had taunted.
Derek could've said that it wasn't true, that he had more dignity than to stoop that low just to get what he wanted, but a part of him, a rather large part, wanted to take it. Take what the Incubus was offering. Take what he knew would be his only chance at ever having what he's wanted for… Who knows how long.
“So what if I am?” Derek had boldly asked, opening the floodgates for the incubus to flow through.
It got up from its sprawled position on the couch with more grace than Stiles could ever manage, and stalked up to him like a lion watching his prey.
“Then I’d say you should quit the worrying and just take me. What else do you have to live for? I'm offering you the only thing in this world that you're living for, you can die happily and I'll even wait until after your orgasm.” It had said, crawling into his lap where he was seated in his armchair.
Derek contemplated it in his head, in a sick and twisted way, what the Incubus was offering was more than he deserved and everything he'd wanted.
To have Stiles, to be with his family again, and to be rid of his god forsaken life that was filled with nothing but misery.
He'd waged a war inside himself because there were some things that he would miss, like Stiles’s smile, or the way the boy's eyes lit up when he laughed, or the crinkle in his nose when Derek made a joke.
He'd miss Stiles, the light of his life in a grey and lonely world.
He’d been pulled out if his thoughts by a single, gentle, kiss by the ‘Stiles’ in his lap and that had decided everything for him as he attached the mouth back rather hungrily.
__
He can feel the telltale tingling in the base of his spine that he's close.
He looks up into ‘Stiles’s’ face, memorizing the crinkle in his brow and look in his eyes as he pants above him, taking Derek's cock so well, riding him so well.
Derek just lays there, along for the rid, content to let ‘Stiles’ have his pleasure as he watches and enjoys his own.
Derek has found what he loves.
And he’s happy to let it kill him.
*****
Stiles is in a panic.
He doesn't know why but he knows that it has something to do with Derek.
__
He’d been sitting at home, watching T.V. and enjoying being a college graduate with no course work, or assignments, that needed to be done A.S.A.P. when he felt a panic in his chest.
It had died down after a couple of minutes, making him think that it wasn't his own, but he didn't know who's it could be.
He’d just had a weird since that Derek needed him and had ran upstairs, grabbed his baseball bat and ran to his car, heading to Derek's apartment.
__
He’s pulling up outside of the apartment complex and he feels panicky, like something is about to happen that he desperately needs to avoid.
He tries buzzing Derek’s floor but no one answers and he knows that the wolf is home, so he just uses his key. He’d made the key in case of emergencies, and refrains from using it a lot of the time to just barge in Derek's apartment, and feels that now is as good a time as any to use it.
Letting himself into the building he doesn't bother waiting on the elevator to get to Derek's floor and just books it to the stairs taking them two at a time until he gets to the fourth floor.
Using his key to Derek's front door, he barges in and finds the main room empty, sprinting to the bedroom the sight that he sees has him stopping in mid-stride, freezing like a deer caught in headlights.
Derek is on his back, hands on the person's hips and toes curling, it's all Stiles can see because the person is cutting off the rest of his view of Derek.
He’s frozen in place but snaps out of it because he just crashed Derek's date.
He slowly creeps backward, but stops when the person on top turns to look at him a shit eating grin on…
Stiles's face.
His own face is staring back at him from on top of Derek and he feels like he's dreaming, but rage builds within him knowing that it's not actually ‘him’ sitting on top of Derek, making the man make noises like the one that just feel out of his mouth.
He rushes forward as Derek comes, judging by the noises.
The thing sitting on Derek turns away from him to do something but Stiles’s bat connects with it's head before it can finish.
It flies off of Derek, onto the ground and starts convulsing wildly.
Derek shoots up staring at Stiles with wide eyes.
“What the hell?” He questions, he lays back down for a second, holding his head, probably dizzy from the orgasm.
If this were any other situation Stiles would have laughed but seeing as it's not he just focuses on the thing on the floor.
It flips and thrashes on the floor before Stiles's face and body are replaced by a large mass with horns and tusk, dark, dirty looking skin and a foul stench.
“Stiles?” Derek questions finally coming back to himself, Stiles guesses.
“That wasn't me,” is all he can say.
“I know,” Derek admits quietly.
That's snaps Stiles out of his stupor.
“You know? You knew it wasn't me and yet you let it… Defoul you? What the hell were you thinking!” He yells, dropping his bat and flailing his hands around.
“I was thinking that this is none of your business. What are you even doing here?” Derek says getting up to put on some clothes.
He looks sad, looks defeated and Stiles's heart jerks in his chest, realization dawning on him.
“You… You wanted it to kill you,” He says, barely above a whisper but knows that Derek heard it when the man tenses in his search for a shirt.
“Why?” He whispers brokenly when he doesn't get an answer.
“Because I'm tired of being the world's punching bag! I'm tired of the world taking things from me! I'm tired of the world's relentless poundings! One thing after the next, after the next, never a break, never a reprieve, never giving after what they take. I'm tired of waking up everyday feeling like I'm alone. I'm tired of the guilt. I'm tired of the longing. Longing for my pack, longing for a family, longing for my mate,” Derek says. He started off yelling but by the end it was barely a whisper, sounding defeated and heartbroken.
Stiles is stuck in place, not knowing what to say, mind spinning through emotions faster than lightning.
Finally one emotion wins out.
Anger.
“Does life mean nothing to you!” He yells causing Derek to look at him. “Does love mean nothing to you? Loyalty? Family? Pack?”
“Didn't you hear me? It's all that matters to me!” Derek yells back.
“No, it's not apparently. I'm right here Derek! I've always been right here, waiting. Waiting for you to be ready, for you to wake up and pull your head out of your ass and see that I've always been right here.
“I wanna be your pack, I wanna give you a family, I wanna be your mate! Always have. But you were always keeping me at arm's length, pushing me away whenever I got too close, so I decide to wait for you to come to me. You never did and I accepted the fact that you didn't think of me like that but jeez Derek, if there is one thing on this planet that you should know? It's that I love you, always have, always will. So don't… please don't ever do anything like this again,” Stiles begs.
Derek is standing stock still, Henley dangling from his hand limply, eyes wide.
Stiles, having said his piece, turns to leave.
His heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as he looks at the demon, no longer wearing his face but a mocking taunt that something like that got Derek before he could.
He’s prepping to call Scott and the pack to get it out of Derek's apartment, trying to remember everything that he knows about incubi, he thinks they have to burn it on blessed land and the ashes put in an urn with oil and water, he'll have to research more later, when he's spun around by his elbow.
“Don't… Don't leave,” Derek pleads, and Stiles has never been able to deny Derek anything.
“I'm not going anywhere, sourwolf, but we do need to get it out of your apartment.” He tells Derek, holding the man's hand in a bold move and leading him down stairs, away from the horrible creature that taunts them both.
“I need to get home and get my laptop though, you should really get…” Stiles is saying before Derek cuts him off by walking to the end table and opening a drawer and pulling out a sleek apple computer and handing it to him.
“This is great and all but do you have wifi?” Stiles asks staring at the machine in his hands, it's about time that Derek got with the times.
Derek walks over to him and flips the laptop over in his hands to reveal a sticky note with the name of the wifi and the password.
“Awesome! And it's kinda a genius place to put the password. I would've never guessed. When’d you get all this?” Stiles asks as he boots up the computer and realizes that it hasn’t been customized yet, it's pretty much brand new.
“Couple months ago,” Derek says stilted. “Why?”
“Because it's pretty much brand new,” Stiles answers, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he sets everything up for Derek.
“I'm not much for computers,” Derek answers, sitting on the couch, far away from his armchair, Stiles notes.
“Then why'd you buy it?” Stiles questions, choosing to leave the armchair thing alone.
“For you,” Derek answers, making Stiles look at him.
Derek ducks his head, but raises it again to look Stiles is the eyes.
“All of it, the new apartment, the wifi, the computer, half the groceries in the the kitchen… It's all been for you,” Derek says, earnestly.
Stiles smiles, and can't help the giddy laugh that bubbles out of him. And smiles even brighter when Derek smiles back at him.
He wants to kiss Derek, wants to wine and dine him and then bed him like never before.
But Derek's not ready for that at this moment, he's still broken, still coming down from a high that could have killed him, still a bit unsure and Stiles knows that Derek isn't automatically fixed, that he's going to have to tell Derek a million times that this is real, that he can let himself have this.
The Incubus is still upstairs, waiting to be burned and locked away, Stiles has yet to call the pack for assistance, and he hasn't started on the research on how to properly kill it but right now? Staring at Derek's smiling face, he'll kill a thousand Incubi, he'll research for years, and he'll tell Derek every second of every day how much he cares just to see that smile constantly.
The End