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Just a Little Hocus Pocus

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On All Hallow’s Eve when the moon is round,
a virgin will summon us from under the ground.

Spellwork is not something to be taken lightly. Words are a powerful thing, can change life itself within the blink of an eye. Words mean power, whether they be spoken or unspoken. Spells can be read aloud from a book, conjured on the tip of the tongue, can persuade others and bend their will. Magic comes from within, a spark that can be lit; all you need is a match.

As legend has it, the Sanderson Sisters were three of the most powerful witches of their time. They managed to live for over one hundred and fifty years by sucking the souls out of children, and effectively remaining both young and beautiful all while coming as close to being immortal as humanly possible.

After the deaths of ten children in the village of Beacon Hills, they were hanged without trial by the village mob. But before the short drop and sudden stop, the three sisters conjured their final spell. They foretold of their return, of the havoc they would wreak. On an All Hallow’s Eve when a full moon would be bright in the sky, they would return to Beacon Hills by way of a virgin lighting a candle. Before the mob had the chance to finish their wicked deed, the wind picked up around them and laughter filled the air. Torches burnt out as the wind howled and the sisters swung, their feet dangled, the gallows quieted as the spell hung heavy in the air.

As with most stories that turn into legends, eventually its importance dwindles. With time, the witches’ power fades, the fear of the villagers is no longer palpable, the death of the children no longer holds meaning. The spell is forgotten.

Until the black flame candle is lit.


Superstitions were a crock of shit. At least, that is what Stiles Stilinski believed. To him there was nothing special about Friday the 13th, he never thought twice about opening his umbrella inside, and if there was a ladder in his way he sure as hell would walk underneath it without a second thought. So he definitely didn’t give a rat’s ass if there was an urban legend behind the old Sanderson House. If anything, it drew him to it more, to show everyone just how ridiculous the legend really was.

“I don’t want to,” Scott whined as they both trudged through the thicket in the woods surrounding Beacon Hills. Stiles knew where the Sanderson House was, in theory. He had stumbled upon it a few times in the past, but that was when he was younger, when he was too afraid to go near it.

“Too bad,” Stiles huffed as he walked out ahead, watching out for low lying branches and overgrown brush.

“But it’s Halloween,” Scott said as he stumbled over the root of a tree. “I have to hand out candy soon.”

“It won’t take long,” Stiles surmised as they climbed over a decaying log that had moss growing all over it. “I just want to look.”

“Fine,” Scott said in answer. “Because Allison wants to hang out later, too. Her parents are having this big Halloween party so we should totally crash it.”

“Alcohol will persuade me to not stay long,” Stiles said with a smile as he looked back at his best friend.

“Exactly!” Scott said as he bumped into Stiles, who had stopped dead in his tracks when the Sanderson House came into view. It was tucked back deep in the woods, long forgotten. It’s foundation was crumbling, the stone covered in vines and moss. The windows were boarded up, but decaying, and the roof looked as though it had caved in some time ago. A stream ran alongside it, with a water wheel, still turning somehow despite its age, that was attached to the house. It looked eerie as cool sunlight came down through the trees. The wind whipped around them, leaves lifted into the air as Stiles looked around, his eyes falling on one tree in particular with a thick branch protruding in a way that suggested its purpose. It was a hanging tree. Stiles tried not to think about the fact that the legend said that the sisters were hanged right in front of their house by the village. If the stories were true, that was the tree.

“Dude, look at this tree,” Stiles said as he pointed at it. “I dare you to climb it.” He started walking towards it, pushing back further thought of the witches.

“No way, that isn’t happening,” Scott said as Stiles began climbing it. “We just walked liked, two miles into the woods. I am sitting.”

“You do that,” Stiles said, his voice strained as he continued climbing upward, sitting on the branch, his feet dangling. Stiles heard rustling off to the side, his head snapping to look but he saw nothing. “Bro, did you hear that?” He asked. Scott glanced around, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t freak me out,” Scott called out, throwing a twig up at Stiles. “And come down so we can explore the house, the sun will be going down soon.”

“By soon you mean in a couple of hours,” Stiles said as he practically jumped out of the tree. It wasn’t graceful, but he didn’t care. He dusted off his pants then eyed the abandoned house.

“It looks like it could fall down if we went inside,” Scott mumbled from behind Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You can stay out here then, with the woodland creatures.” Scott nudged at Stiles’ shoulder, pushing him forward and up the stairs. It was only a few steps, but Stiles stumbled up them, his hands landing on the door. It creaked open, the sound echoing off of the stone walls. Stiles got out his phone, using his flashlight app in order to see. The floorboards were all overgrown with vines and roots that had burst through from the ground beneath. It creaked as he stepped inside. For some reason, he held his breath. The air held a pungent smell of mildew and rot. Stiles covered his mouth and nose with his arm. Somewhere outside, something growled and Scott followed Stiles inside, his hand grasping the back of Stiles’ hoodie.

“Stiles...” Scott whispered. He was standing close, close enough that he was practically shoving Stiles further into the house.

“Dude, calm down,” Stiles said as he moved his phone around, looking around the room. “It’s probably nothing.”

“It sounded like a wolf.”

“Well that is fucking ridiculous, Scotty boy, because there are no wolves in California, so-”

A howl cut Stiles off. He jumped as another howl rang out, this time closer. Goosebumps covered Stiles’ flesh and he shivered.

“Well, okay,” Stiles said, elongating the end. “That’s fucking weird.”

“Stiles, let’s go.”

“No way, we came all this way. And besides, you want to go back outside now? When there is definitely something out there?” Stiles asked with raised eyebrows as he walked further into the room, his eyes falling on what he was looking for: the so-called black flame candle.

It was easy to distinguish from the other candles around it. They were all made from plain wax, all of them covered in dust and almost burnt all the way down. The black flame candle, though, was higher up on a cast iron holder, never lit. Stiles scoffed because of course the candle was also black.

“Too easy,” he murmured to himself.

“What is?” Scott asked as he fumbled in the dark, knocking something over. “Shit!” Stiles laughed, his flashlight aimed at Scott who squinted at him, covering his face.

“The candle is black,” Stiles said with the shake of his head. Stiles reached into his pocket, pulling out a lighter.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Scott asked, his voice breaking in the middle. With a flick of Stiles’ thumb, a flame appeared in Stiles’ hand. “No, no. Don’t you think that is a horrible idea, dude?!”

“No,” Stiles said, laughing as he gave Scott a look like he thought Scott was the weird one. “It’s just a bunch of hocus-pocus.”

“But it’s a full moon tonight,” Scott said as Stiles hovered the lighter over the candle. “Stiles-”

Many things happened all at once. The candle lit up, then went out almost immediately. A black wolf appeared at the door, its teeth bared as it growled. Then all of the candles in the house lit up, along with the black flame candle. A whooshing sound followed, much like the wind, circled around Stiles as Scott backed up into him, trembling as the wolf stepped inside.

“What the fuck,” Stiles shouted. “What kind of fucking joke is this?”

“Dude, I don’t know, but that is a real wolf and it isn’t happy,” Scott stammered. Stiles craned his neck, looking at the wolf whose fur was standing on edge. It was poised to attack, but remained unmoving.

“We’re fucked,” Stiles whispered just as laughter filled the air. Stiles’ eyes widened as all of the breath in his lungs felt like it was being punched out of him. He grasped at his neck, desperately trying to breathe. He dropped his phone and lighter to the ground as Scott turned towards him, panicking.

“Stiles... Stiles, are you okay?” Scott asked, shaking his arms. Stiles gasped just as all of the candles flickered around them, the air returning to his lungs.

“Yeah,” Stiles croaked. His eyes went wide when he saw the wolf change shape before him, turning into a man. A naked man. “Shit.”

Scott turned to look at what Stiles was gaping at, his own eyes going wide at the sight.

“What the fuck did you do?” He asked them, his voice booming.

“Nothing,” Scott said. The wolf-turned-man pointed at the candle. Stiles and Scott both looked at it, with its eerie black flame and halo of green. Stiles gulped.

“What do you call that, then?” He seethed. “Did it just light itself?”

“Hey, fuck off, creep,” Stiles said as he stepped forward. “What are you, like twenty? Flashing minors is illegal.” He lunged at Stiles, growling as he grabbed hold of Stiles’ hoodie, hoisting him into the air.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” He asked, his face dangerously close to Stiles’. Stiles could feel the hot breath on his face as his hands shook. “We don’t have time, they are coming.”

“Who is coming?” Stiles asked.

“The witches.” Stiles scoffed unbelievingly, pushing back on naked skin. Wind rattled the windows, the front door slammed as laughter filled the air once more. Stiles stepped back as the man before him shifted back into a wolf, his body aimed towards the door as his hackles rose. Stiles barely had time to register what was happening before three forms entered the house. The fireplace lit up behind them, warming up the room immediately. Scott’s grip on Stiles’ hoodie was tight and all that Stiles could do was try to remember to breathe.

“Shit,” Stiles murmured as he looked them over. They were dressed in old fashioned clothes, dresses that he thought he would see at a Renaissance Faire or something weird like that. They didn’t look like the witch from Wizard of Oz, though. They weren’t green, didn’t have warts, and weren’t wearing black. They were beautiful in a way that was downright scary. Stiles gulped as one of them looked straight at him with a smirk across her lips. Another, a redhead, walked straight towards the candle.

“Perfect,” she said, looking to the other two. “The spell worked.” Stiles shivered because spells weren’t real, magic wasn’t real. And yet, standing before him, were three witches back from the dead and a man who turned into a wolf. He felt sick, because it was his fault. The blonde witch, the one who had been staring at him the entire time, stepped forward. The wolf growled, snapping its teeth at her. She hissed at him, unafraid.

“Make your wolf heel,” she demanded.

“He’s not mine,” Stiles admitted. The three sisters surrounded them, eyeing them. “Well I think we should be going now,” he joked.

“Oh, but we just arrived,” the blonde said calmly. Stiles’ eyelids felt heavy, his body relaxing from the sound of her voice. “I think you should stay.”

“We should,” Stiles said as he nodded his head. Scott shook him, jarring him from his stupor.

“Dude, what the fuck-”

“Which of you can we thank for our return?” The redhead asked as she reached forward, stroking Scott’s cheek. He attempted to smack it away but she grabbed hold of his chin. “It wasn’t you,” she said with narrowed eyes. “You’ve been soiled.”

“Excuse me?!” Scott yelped. Stiles’ mouth went dry. He knew exactly what she meant by that. Soiled, his innocence lost. Goosebumps covered his body at the indication. He was untouched by anyone other than himself. If Scott had lit the candle, nothing would have happened. Stiles squirmed as she took hold of his arm, pulling him from Scott.

“You’re mine, now,” she said as she pulled Stiles against her body. The wolf lunged forward, but she held onto Stiles’ neck, her nails digging into his skin. “Stop now, guardian, or he dies.” The wolf stilled, surprisingly. Stiles didn’t know why he would care if Stiles died or not. “Now shift back.”

He changed back immediately, his glare focused on Stiles while Stiles tried not to shit himself because this was not what he signed up for.

“A Hale, I presume?” The witch who had Stiles by his neck asked.

“Yes,” Hale spat back. “Winifred, is it?”

“So you know who we are, then?” Stiles didn’t want to be killed by Winifred, he didn’t want to be slashed by Hale. He wanted to go eat candy and get drunk at Allison’s house. Hale nodded once, his fists clenched. “Good. Sarah, Mary, bind the other two while I deal with our virgin.”

“Deal with?” Stiles’ voice cracked, not liking the sound of that. Winifred smiled at him, her finger trailing down his cheek. He shuddered.

“Sister?” The blonde witch asked, getting Winifred’s attention.

“What?” Winifred snapped.

“We have nothing to bind the wolf with, no wolfsbane.” Winifred rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. Stiles tried to step away from Winifred, but she held on tight, keeping him against her. Stiles squirmed as he watched Scott bend over, picking something off the ground: Stiles’ phone and lighter. Stiles held his breath as Scott gave him a small wink. Stiles furrowed his brow in confusion, but didn’t say anything as Scott pocketed the phone and kept the lighter in his hand.

“Kill him, then, and the spare. We don’t need them.” Scott’s eyes widened then, as did Hale’s.

“I want to keep them,” Sarah said as she ran a finger down Hale’s bare chest. “Let me hang him on a hook, play with him for a little while.” She grabbed Hale’s cock, giving it a tug. Stiles closed his eyes as Hale growled at the intrusion.

“Very well, you may keep him,” Winifred said flippantly. “But we do not need the spare.” Stiles almost protested, but he knew if he did, Scott would die quicker.

“Hey!” Scott shouted, grabbing their attention. All three witches, along with Hale looked to Scott. “Who said I was a spare?”

“You didn’t light the candle,” Mary pointed out. “You aren’t necessary.”

“I am always necessary,” Scott rebuffed. “I have magic.” Stiles bit his lip to keep from laughing. “And I suggest you to let both of them go before I get angry.” Winifred pulled Stiles closer to her. Stiles’ nose scrunched up, she did not smell good at all.

“Young warlock?” Mary asked, stepping forward and sniffing him. “I do not smell the spark on you.” Stiles really wished that Scott hadn’t lied to three undead witches. Scott didn’t flinch though, as a flame appeared in his hand. Stiles hid his smirk as the three witches jumped back.

“Who needs a spark when I already have a flame?” Scott asked. “Give me my friend back.” Stiles felt a nudge as Winifred pushed him towards Scott. As Stiles practically ran for the door, Sarah hissed at him. Stiles grabbed hold of Hale’s arm, dragging him with them.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Scott said as he backed up towards the door. “Or you’ll regret it.”

As soon as he stepped outside, Stiles started to run. Hale was right beside him and he could hear Scott behind.

“Follow me,” Hale said, then he transformed before Stiles’ eyes. As a wolf, he ran faster. Stiles knew that Scott had asthma, so he slowed down just enough to grab hold of his best friend’s hand. They ran together, all the way to a house almost a mile away from the Sanderson House.

Scott collapsed on the stairs leading up to it, his chest heaving as he took out his inhaler. Stiles’ chest was tight, constricting but not from an asthma attack; he was panicking. There were witches, and he just followed a wolf-turned-man-turned-wolf-again and he lit a candle, and now the witches wanted him because he never fucked anyone before. He was in some sort of nightmare. The wolf walked right into the house, leaving Stiles and Scott to deal with everything that happened on their own. Stiles clutched at his chest as he tried to remember how to breathe. He could hear Scott wheezing beside him, trying to catch his breath himself.

“Fuck, bro, I can’t-” Scott tried to say. He ended up shaking his head instead. Stiles shrugged his shoulders.

“Fuck if I know,” Stiles mumbled as he shut his eyes. He heard footsteps approaching and knew that it was Hale. He looked up to find him dressed, with his arms crossed, looking down at them.

“Come inside,” he said, his voice clipped, before heading back in himself. Stiles exchanged a look with Scott before they got up. The house looked deserted, with sheets draped over furniture, the air stagnant. Stiles frowned. It felt like it had been abandoned, not lived in for a long time.

“Doing some redecorating?” Stiles asked as he shoved his hands into his back pockets. Hale glared at him, so Stiles glared back.

“This is all your fault,” Hale spat. “You lit the black flame candle.”

“Okay, wolfie,” Stiles said defensively as he held his hands up. “Calm down.”

“Do you realize what you have done?” Stiles took a step back as Hale lunged at him again.

“I am beginning to understand a bit, yeah!” Stiles shouted as he pushed Hale away from him. “Can you not? For like five seconds could you just talk instead of just, I don’t know, fucking attacking me. I don’t know what the fuck is going on here.”

“You lit a cursed candle, bringing three of the most powerful witches back to life.”

“And how do you know all of this?” Scott asked, stepping forward to stand beside Stiles.

“My family has guarded the Sanderson House since their deaths. We’ve lived on this land and were one of the family’s that hanged them.”

“This house is practically deserted,” Stiles pointed out.

“We moved away. I am only here today since there is a full moon tonight and it’s Halloween.”

“Makes sense,” Stiles said as he nodded his head. “But hey, what the fuck was that wolf bullshit?”

“Bullshit?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “It isn’t bullshit. I’m a guardian.”

“Okay, you need to explain better than you are a shitty guardian because I totally got by you-”

“My family can shift into a wolf on full moons.”

“Werewolf! Awesome!” Stiles said, completely forgetting how much danger they were in. Hale rolled his eyes. “I am calling you wolfie, now.”

“No, you aren’t. My name is Derek.”

“Okay, wolfie-”


“Okay, Derek. I’m Stiles and this is Scott.”

“Nice pull you did with the lighter, Scott,” Derek acknowledged. “But you,” Derek said pointing at Stiles. “You are going to get us all killed.”

“Way to be optimistic,” Stiles snarked. “They didn’t seem too powerful to me.”

“That’s because they don’t have their book, yet.”

“Book?” Stiles asked. Derek rolled his eyes at him. In retaliation, Stiles stuck his tongue out like a five year old.

“Yes,” Derek said with a sigh as he crossed his arms, showing off his biceps. Stiles gulped. “They have a spellbook they use to conjure with. Without it, I doubt they’d be able to do much, let alone what they need to stay alive.”

“What do you mean, stay alive?” Stiles asked, taking a step towards Derek.

“Well, in theory, the spell they used to bring themselves back only lasts through tonight.”

“Awesome!” Scott said, clapping his hands. “Then we can just hide until tomorrow.”

“No,” Derek stated grimly. “You can’t because they have your scent.” Stiles smelled his hoodie, not really sure what he should be trying to find. Derek scoffed at him again and Stiles began to think this would become a pattern. “You can’t smell yourself,” Derek pointed out.

“Sometimes I can,” Stiles mumbled, which made Scott snort beside him. “After lacrosse practice.”

“Well you two need to mask your scent,” Derek said as he looked around the room. “I didn’t bring a lot of clothes with me, but-”

“Hey, whoa, slow down there wolfie-”


“Derek, I am not wearing your clothes.”

“Do you want to die?” Derek asked point blank. Stiles blanched as he shook his head. No, he most certainly didn’t want to die. He wanted the opposite of that, actually. He wanted to live many, many moons.

“Fine,” Stiles snapped, folding his own arms to mirror Derek. Derek dropped his arms, then made his way into a side room where there was a duffel bag, sleeping bag, and a lantern that was sometimes used for camping. “Nice digs,” Stiles supplied cheekily. Derek shot him a look. He clearly had no sense of humor whatsoever. He threw a shirt at Stiles, then another at Scott.

“I don’t have any jeans you can wear, but maybe this will hide your scent at least long enough to hold them off.” Stiles stripped down, changing his shirt for Derek’s. He started putting his hoodie back on, but Derek stopped him. “You can’t wear that,” Derek told him. Stiles held onto it as Derek tried to take it away from him.


“They can find you, Stiles,” he said, his voice grave. “I have something you can wear instead.” Stiles acquiesced, handing the hoodie over in exchange for a long sleeved, well worn shirt that engulfed him. At least it would keep him warm. Derek put Stiles and Scott’s clothes in a pile by his sleeping bag, then nodded his head like he approved of the placement. “Alright.”

“Now what?” Scott asked. Stiles shrugged.

“Tell me more about this spellbook, and why do they need me?” Stiles asked.

“The book is in safekeeping with another Beacon Hills family that was there for the hanging,” Derek supplied. “And as for you,” Derek pointed at Stiles, “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Stiles shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re their virgin sacrifice.” Stiles made a face. “You are a virgin, right?” Derek asked, looking at Scott, who nodded. Stiles punched Scott in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Scott yelped as he rubbed his arm. “What was that for?”

“What the fuck, man?” Stiles hissed. “It isn’t my fault no one has wanted all up in this awesomeness, alright?” Derek tried not to smirk at him. “What? Look at you all pretty with the dark hair and stubble and greenish-blue eyes. What the fuck color are your eyes anyway? Whatever, that’s beside the point. I bet you got all the girls in high school.” Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles, which only added fuel to his fire. “And guys. I bet everyone fell at your feet, or their knees, multiple times a day-”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted. “You’re losing the plot.” Stiles’ jaw dropped. “My point was, that’s how they remained immortal in their past life, they used virgin sacrifices. They sucked the souls out of them, their innocence. In order for them to remain alive past dawn tomorrow, they have to steal your soul.”

“Why me? There are tons of virgins in Beacon Hills.”

“Oh, they can have others,” Derek said seriously. “But since you lit the candle, they have to have you. It doesn’t have to be first, or last, but your soul has to be consumed before sunrise.”

“Bleak,” Scott muttered. Stiles punched him again.

“Well, can’t I just-”

“No,” Derek said, without hearing Stiles’ plan. Stiles grumbled as he ran his fingers through his short, buzzed hair. Frustrated didn’t seem to cover his range of emotions.

“So, what now?” Stiles asked.

“I protect you,” Derek said with a shrug. Stiles rolled his eyes this time. “And we go see the Argents.”

“Argent?” Scott asked, his entire body changed its stance. “Allison is an Argent.”

“Wait, so you are telling me that Allison Argent’s family is part of this, too?” Stiles asked. “What the fuck kind of conspiracy shit is this anyway?!.”

“It isn’t a conspiracy,” Derek stated. “It’s history.”

“Witchcraft isn’t supposed to be real. Spells aren’t supposed to be real, werewolves aren’t supposed to be real, Derek!” Stiles shouted, his chest heaving. He could feel his panic building once more, the ridiculousness of the situation grating on his sanity. Derek’s hand began to reach out for him, but it dropped as Scott’s soothingly rubbed his back.

“It’s okay, dude. Derek’s got our backs.” Stiles shut his eyes as he nodded his head.

“Argent will help,” Derek mumbled. “Even if he doesn’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t he want to?” Scott asked.

“Because the Argents and the Hales don’t exactly get along.”

“What? But you guys are in this conspiracy together,” Scott said, confused. Derek bit back a sarcastic remark. Stiles could tell by the way his face contorted, looking like he really needed to take a shit. Stiles snorted, releasing the tension he felt. Derek’s face relaxed as well, his shoulders lowering. He seemed to take Stiles’ emotions into account by how he held himself, which Stiles found interesting.

“Our families go way back to the same time. If you think about it, my family are werewolves, and they are what we call hunters.”

“Ah,” Stiles said, not meaning to interrupt Derek. He could put two and two together. “They hunt both witches and werewolves.”

“Right, which is why they have the book. They didn’t trust us with it.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Stiles said. Derek bristled. “I mean, in the way that they don’t trust supernatural beings? I mean, please, guard away. I need guarding apparently. First time in my life someone wants me and I’m really, really not interested. The opposite of interested, in fact-”

“I got it,” Derek snapped, apparently he had heard enough of Stiles’ rambling. “No girl has had an interest-”

“Or guy,” Stiles pointed out. “I am an equal opportunity kind of guy. I could basically, you know, reach between anyone’s legs and be perfectly conten-”

“Okay, Stiles,” Derek said, this time he did reach a hand out to grab Stiles. Stiles felt the warmth radiating off of Derek, could smell him he was so close. Stiles shut his mouth, licked his lips, then waited. “I get it. Now let’s go see the Argents.”

“I need to tell my dad,” Stiles blurted out as the three of them began to make their way back out of the house.

“What?” Derek asked as he grabbed his car keys from his pocket. Scott whistled at Derek’s car, a Camaro. Derek smirked at him.

“My dad, the Sheriff? He should know that witches are-”

“Listen to yourself,” Derek pointed out as they got into the car. “Will be believe you?”

“He has to,” Stiles said, hoping that he would. Stiles made Derek drive to the Sheriff’s Department, then wait outside as he ran in. Standing at the front desk was Tara, a deputy that Stiles knew since he was little.

“Hey, Tara, is my dad here?” He asked as he drummed on the desk.

“He just went out on a call, Stiles. It’s Halloween, we’re busy.” Her tone was that of annoyance. Stiles groaned as his foot tapped on the ground.

“Tara, this is important.”

“Oh, really?” Tara asked. “Tell me, Stiles, what is it now?” Tara asked. Stiles weighed his options, about what he should say. Someone needed to know that he could die, that it was his fault that he brought back the Sanderson Sisters from the dead. Someone had to help them.

“Fuck, okay. Here it goes,” Stiles said as he bit his lip. “You know how there is that legend about the Sanderson Sisters and how when they were hanged they did this spell and if a virgin lit their fucking candle on a Halloween with a full moon that they would come back?” Stiles explained, hoping she knew the story. She lifted an eyebrow, nodding her head slowly. “Okay well, I was a dumbass and I went out there and lit it, and now there are three women chasing me and they have magic. And now I am fucked.”

“Stiles...” Tara said as she shook her head. “That is the biggest line of bullshit I have ever heard.”

“No, Tara, I am being serious here!”

“Get out, Stiles. Go home. Go to a party, I don’t care. Don’t drink and drive or I swear to god I will lock you up.”

“Oh, god! Yes! Do that, lock me up! That is a great idea maybe they can’t get to me in jail.”

“Stiles, go,” Tara said as she pointed at the door. “Don’t-”

“Tell my dad, okay? Promise you’ll tell him?” Stiles said as he walked to the door.

“Tell him you lit a candle and now witches are after you?” Tara asked. Stiles nodded his head. “Oh, I’ll tell him alright. He is going to come pick you up for doing ‘shrooms.”

“I haven’t done any!” Stiles called out as he ran out of the building and back into Derek’s car.

“Well?” Derek and Scott asked at the same time. Stiles sighed as he shook his head.

“Dad wasn’t there and Tara thought I was high,” he admitted solemnly as he picked at Derek’s long sleeved t-shirt, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “I am going to die a virgin and my dad is going to think I am out in the woods doing ‘shrooms.” Scott laughed but Derek didn’t. He took Stiles’ hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You aren’t going to die, Stiles. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that. I did this to myself, I lit the candle.”

“You didn’t know,” Derek whispered as he drove off towards the Argent’s house.

Their house was more like a mansion, decorated in fake cobwebs and a row of jack-o-lanterns all lit up for the party, with cars lining the street as dusk fell. The party already started, which meant they had to walk into the house, without costumes, and deal with everything. Mrs. Argent answered the door, her face sour when her gaze fell on not only Scott but also Derek.

“Ah,” she said, knowing what it meant. “Someone actually lit it?” She asked. Derek shot Stiles a look, which he then elbowed Derek for. Mrs. Argent looked Stiles up and down, sighed audibly, then opened the door further so that they could enter. “Go straight upstairs and into the study. Chris will meet you there shortly.” Stiles swallowed as he followed Scott up the stairs. Once in the study, Scott fidgeted.

“I am going to go find Allison-”

“Bro,” Stiles chided. “You are not ditching me right now.”

“I’m not!” Scott hissed, keeping his voice down. “I am going to find her so she can help.”

“Allison will not be joining you,” Chris Argent said at the door of his study. He looked perturbed, which Stiles supposed he understood. I mean, he lit a candle that brought back three of the most dangerous witches in existence on a whim.

“Oh,” Scott mumbled, his face falling.

“Which of you did it?” Chris asked. “Was it you, Scott?” Stiles tried, in vain, not to react. He covered his mouth with his hand, which made Chris angrier.

“No, sir,” Scott said, barely audible.

“It was me,” Stiles admitted aloud. “I’m the virgin here.”

“Good for you,” Chris deadpanned. He then looked to Derek. “And where were you when this was happening? How could you let this happen?” Stiles winced, realizing that Chris was blaming Derek for this, for failing to protect the candle. Derek was about to answer, but Stiles cut in.

“It wasn’t his fault,” he stated. “It was mine. He probably didn’t think he had to worry until after sundown, you know? Until the moon was full.”

“Is this true, Derek?” Chris asked. Derek’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“Yeah, I mean I lit it way before the moon was in the sky, but that is beside the point. I fucking lit it, and now they are back. Three psychos are running around Beacon Hills right now, and will you please hand over the book so we can leave if you aren’t going to actually help us?” Stiles took a deep breath, holding out his hand as he waited. Chris eyed him as if contemplating telling him no.

“Wait here,” he said, his voice clipped and obviously displeased. He left the three of them alone in the study, where they remained silent until Stiles found it unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” He said, looking down at his hands where they were messing with the hem of Derek’s shirt once more. Derek was looking at him, but he couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“You know, about ruining everything.”

“You didn’t...” Derek began to say.

“I did, though. I was stupid, and if I hadn’t done it, probably no one would have and we’d be safe. But we’re not. We’re pretty much the opposite-”

“Stiles, I forgive you,” Derek said, once more putting a hand on Stiles. Stiles shivered, taking a step towards Derek, towards the warmth. “We’ll figure this out.” Stiles nodded as he tried not to be disappointed when Derek’s hand dropped from his shoulder as Chris reentered the study, an old leather bound book in hand.

“This is to be returned at dawn,” Chris said as he handed it to Derek. “Do not use it.”

“Why else would we need it, then?” Stiles asked, perplexed. Chris didn’t even deem him worthy of an answer.

“Hale,” Chris said as he stuck out his hand. Derek took it, shaking his hand. “Our truce will be ended after tonight.”

“I understand,” Derek said through gritted teeth. With that, they left. Stiles saw Allison out of the corner of his eye, and Scott trying to mouth something to her. Derek’s hand on the small of Stiles’ back held his attention, though, as they walked towards the car.

“What now?” Stiles asked. “Where can we go?”

“Graveyard,” Derek said tersely. “It is the safest place we could be right now.”

“What the fuck?” Stiles asked as he put on his seatbelt.

“You guys, don’t leave yet,” Scott said. “Allison is coming.”

“What?” Stiles said, turning around to face Scott who was seated in the back seat. “Why would you bring her into this?”

“Because she is an Argent and my girlfriend?” Scott said, unsure of himself. “Just wait for her.” Derek said nothing as they waited. After what felt like ages, as Stiles’ leg jumped up and down impatiently, Allison got in the car.
“Sorry, I had to sneak out,” she whispered with a smile. “That and all you told me was ‘we’ll be in the black one’, do you realize there are five black cars on the street right now?” Allison asked. Stiles held back a snort as Scott apologized. Derek took off, peeling out as he headed towards the cemetery. Scott introduced them and Derek grunted. Stiles grinned to himself as he slouched down in the seat further. Allison handed Scott a hoodie, giving Stiles one of her hats. “Scott said you guys needed to smell different.”

Stiles put the beanie on, wishing he had something a bit thicker to wear for his arms.

“Thanks,” Stiles said, feeling weird since Allison probably knew what was going on, knew that he was the reason that all this was happening. He wanted to curl up in a ball and forget about this entire night, and it wasn’t even eight yet.

When they got to the cemetery, the gates were locked.

“Well fuck,” Stiles said as he shook the bars. “What now?” He asked, looking at Derek.

“We climb,” Derek said as he began scaling the stone wall that surrounded the cemetery. Allison followed next, then Scott. Stiles looked around, just to see if anyone was watching them. They weren’t, so he grabbed hold of a stone, hoisting himself up the wall. Once he was situated on top of the stone wall, he heard laughter echo around him, riding on the wind. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end because he knew it was the witches. They had found them.

“Stiles, get down here!” Derek shouted. Stiles shook, frozen with fear. What the fuck was the cemetery going to do for him? Bring his body closer to its resting place?

“Oh, Stiles,” said one of the witches, the blonde one named Sarah, “don’t move.” He wanted to move, he really did. But when he tried, he wasn’t able to.

“Stiles, fuck,” Derek said, then began climbing back up the wall. Stiles could see them, flying on broomsticks. If this were a movie, Stiles would laugh at how ridiculous it all was, but this wasn’t a movie. This was his life, and they were terrifying. He felt an arm wrap around his waist, Derek’s arm, and then suddenly he was being pulled off the wall and set on the ground. Stiles could move immediately, but he remained close to Derek, clutching at his shirt.

“Hiding like the cowards you are, I see,” Winifred said as they hovered overhead. “Trying to mask our boy’s scent.”

“I have a name you know,” Stiles shouted, regaining some of his courage by standing next to Derek. “And I don’t smell.”

“Oh, you smell good,” Mary cooed. “Believe me, Stiles, I couldn’t lose track of you if I wanted to.” Stiles scooted closer to Derek, who put his arm around Stiles for comfort. He felt silly, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be a sacrifice, and Derek was his guardian.

“Hand over the boy,” Winifred said as she hovered lower, “and give me my book.”

“Fat chance!” Scott shouted, standing in front of Stiles. Winifred’s face fell into a sneer as she raised her hand, pointing a finger at Scott.

“You are in my way, spare. I have had enough of you.” Stiles reached for Scott, yanking on his hoodie to pull him back, standing in front of him. Winifred’s hand dropped immediately as if she had been about to cast a spell but wouldn’t harm him. They needed him.

“If you want me so bad, why don’t you come down here and get me?” Stiles called out.

“I have a better plan,” Winifred said, then began chanting under her breath. Stiles felt Derek grab his hand, then start running. Allison and Scott followed as Stiles heard their cackling fill the air once more.

“What are they doing?” Stiles asked as Derek led them further into the cemetery, past mausoleums and statues, until they reached one that said the name HALE on it. Derek pulled out his keys, dropping Stiles’ hand in order to open the doors.

Once they were all inside, he shut the door. Stiles could hear himself breathe, it echoed off of the marble as he leaned against it.

“They can’t step foot on hallowed ground,” Derek said as he walked towards Stiles. “But I have a feeling that Winifred remembers some of her spells.”

“Such as?” Allison asked, grabbing hold of Scott’s hand. Stiles looked away from them, instead concentrating on Derek. He was looking straight at Stiles.

“I think she can wake the dead.” Stiles had been afraid of that.

“Then what are we doing trapped in here?” Scott asked with wide eyes. Derek smirked, his mouth turning upwards as he pointed to the ground.

“There is a tunnel that leads down into the sewers, my family made sure that there was a way out of the cemetery, in case.”

“Whoa,” Stiles said as he watched Derek pick up the Hale family seal that had been on the ground, cast in iron, to reveal that it was actually a manhole that lead down. “This can’t be real. Shit like secret passages aren’t real.”

“This one is,” Derek mused as Scott made his way down followed by Allison. Derek motioned for Stiles to go down before him, so Stiles complied. Once he was down in the sewer, he got out his phone once more to use its flashlight.

“How do we know how to get... where are we even going?” Stiles asked.

“All I know about the graveyard is that witches can’t step foot on the hallowed ground,” Derek said with a shrug. He was standing to Stiles’ back, his chest pressing against him as they all stood close together in a huddle.

“I think we should take a look at the book,” Allison said. “Maybe there is some information in it.”

“How much of this stuff do you know about?” Stiles asked.

“Next to nothing, my parents never really told me anything about it. All I know is that my family was one of the founding families of Beacon Hills, along with the Hales.” Her gaze was on Derek, who suddenly found the ground to be very intriguing. Stiles could feel the tension between the two of them rising.

“Okay, so, we need to get somewhere... where there won’t be undead after us and the witches won’t be able to get me.”

“What we should do is try to trick them,” Allison stated. The three of them looked to her, waiting for her to continue. “We should go to Stiles’, all of us should put his clothes on, then split up. He should keep wearing Derek’s clothes, though.”

“That is a shit idea,” Stiles pointed out. “Because I don’t want you guys to die.”

“They can’t use us for their sacrifice, Stiles,” Scott pointed out. Stiles didn’t need reminding, he really didn’t. Not when Derek was still pressed up against him. He cleared his throat, taking a step away from him.

“Alright, my house then. Do you think there is an app for sewer directions?” He joked.

They ended up climbing out at a random place, only to find that they were near Stiles’ street. Stiles’ dad was still on duty, it seemed, when they arrived to a dark house with an already empty bowl of candy that sat out on the porch.

“My mom is going to kill me, I was supposed to hand out candy!” Scott said as he grabbed at his face.

“Dude, I think saving me is a little more important don’t you think?” Stiles asked.

“Well, yeah, but Mom isn’t going to believe me if I tell her that witches want you because of your v-card.”

“Thanks, bro,” Stiles mumbled, his cheeks reddening as they made their way inside and up to his room. They locked the front door and kept the lights off, just in case that helped. Stiles knew it wouldn’t, but it made him feel better. His room faced the backyard, so his lit window couldn’t be seen from the street. His room, of course, was a mess.

“Uh, just give me two seconds,” Stiles said as he shut his door in all three of their faces. He rushed around his room, picking up dirty clothes, used kleenex, and hiding any signs of just how many times a day he jacked off. As he opened the door, he worried for a moment about Derek’s sense of smell. He knew immediately by the look on Derek’s face that he hadn’t hidden anything. Derek was looking at him as Scott and Allison entered, and Stiles’ cheeks flushed once more. He turned away from Derek, walking over to his dresser to find Allison and Scott clothes.

He gave them both a t-shirt and hoodie. Allison picked out a pair of sleep pants that were comfortable as Scott grabbed a pair of jeans.

“I don’t think I have anything that would fit you,” Stiles admitted as he played with the hem of Derek’s oversized long-sleeve shirt.

“That’s okay, because I am not splitting up.”

“But that was the plan,” Stiles said as Allison left the room to change in the bathroom. “That we split up.”

“Allison and Scott can go together, but I’m your guardian. I’m not leaving you alone.” Stiles looked to Scott for help, but he was decidedly not paying attention as he changed clothes in front of them.

“Okay,” Stiles let out with a breath. “I’d feel safer that way, anyway.” Derek gave him a small smile, then watched as Stiles sat down at his desk, opening the book. “Well this isn’t going to help us at all.”

“What?” Derek asked, hovering over his shoulder. Scott, too, peeked at the book’s contents.

“It’s in another language,” Stiles blurted, grabbing his phone. “Shit,” he mumbled as he started typing a sentence into his translator app. “It’s Latin. Awesome, this is great, anyone know how to speak Latin?”

“Lydia does,” Allison said as she reentered the bedroom. Stiles thought she looked weird in his hoodie and pajama bottoms, but he didn’t say anything. His bed sounded really good right now. He was exhausted yet wired at the same time. He supposed it was the adrenaline. “How about Scott and I take the book to Lydia’s, that way Stiles and the book aren’t in the same place either.”

“That is a good idea,” Derek agreed. “You and Scott go, Stiles and I will stay here.”

“Is here safe, though?” Stiles asked.

“Safe as anywhere,” Derek admitted.

“Why not go to my house?” Scott asked. “My mom should be going to work soon, won’t be home until the morning.”

“That sounds even better,” Stiles said as he grabbed his backpack, emptying it out on the floor so that Allison could carry the book in it.”You guys call if you learn anything. Or if you see them.”

“You do the same,” Scott said as the four of them made their way downstairs. They walked outside, then realized that they had no form of transportation. Derek’s car was back at the cemetery while Stiles’ was all the way at the edge of the woods. They had to walk on foot. “Good luck,” Scott said as he took Allison’s hand and started running towards Lydia’s house.

“How close does Scott live?” Derek asked.

“A few blocks away, not too far. They have farther to walk, about a mile.”

“Let’s get going then,” Derek said as he took Stiles’ hand in his. Stiles looked down at it, gulped, then began walking, leading the way. They walked by kids still trick-or-treating, teenagers who thought it was cool to destroy jack-o-lanterns, and kids exchanging candy as they sat on the curbside. Stiles wished he was doing the same. His plans for the day had been simple. Fuck around an abandoned house in the woods, help Scott hand out candy while also eating it, then getting drunk at Allison’s parents party by sneaking alcohol into her room where he would then become the third wheel.

Stiles really wished his plan had worked out, although he didn’t mind the fact that Derek hadn’t yet dropped his hand. In fact, he had squeezed it reassuringly as they approached the darkened McCall household. The front porch light was left on, along with another empty bowl that had once held candy. Stiles took out his key, which he had made some time ago, then let them in. Once again, he locked the door behind them and left the lights off. Blindly, he led Derek upstairs to Scott’s room which was considerably cleaner than his own.

Also unlike Stiles’ room, Scott’s faced the street. Stiles thought about keeping the light off, but Derek flipped the switch. They stood there in silence and Stiles didn’t know what to say.

“So this is Scott’s room,” he said with a shrug.

“Smells like Scott,” Derek said in answer, obviously also at a loss as to what to say.

“So, what? We just wait here until dawn?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded. “Boring.”

“Would you rather be out there running for your life?” Derek asked.

“Fuck no, I just.. it’s Halloween. I had plans.”

“Like what? Watch horror movies and binge on candy?”

“Exactly!” Stiles exclaimed. “And get drunk, but Mrs. McCall doesn’t keep anything in the house except wine and that is disgusting.” Derek snorted, shaking his head.

“Wine is good, but I can see why you wouldn’t think so.”

“If that is a jab at my age, I won’t stand for it,” Stiles teased.

“I can tease you about your age,” Derek said with a smirk. It made Stiles’ cheeks redden, so he turned away from Derek in order to look around Scott’s room.

“How about we watch a movie?” Stiles suggested. “See what’s on TV.”

“Sure,” Derek said, amused at Stiles’ change in subject. “But first do me a favor and put on a pair of Scott’s pants.”

“What?” Stiles asked.

“You’re still wearing your own jeans, your scent.”

“Oh,” Stiles said with a furrowed brow. “What are you going to do with my jeans?” He asked.

“I’m going to wash them with their detergent,” Derek said as he crossed his arms, waiting. Stiles flushed even more when he realized Derek was going to watch him change. No big deal, he did it all the time in the locker room. Only in the locker room all the guys didn’t look like Derek. They weren’t as built, didn’t have the scruff, and didn’t really make Stiles wish he had more control over his dick. Stiles attempted to think about other things as he pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms. He thought about that one time his dad walked in on him while he was masturbating, he thought about the time in middle school that he got a boner in History class and the teacher noticed, he thought about gym class when they swam and Stiles stayed in the locker room because everyone was practically naked and he couldn’t handle that kind of stress. “Stiles, you need to calm down,” Derek said, ripping Stiles out of his internal spiral of embarrassing moments.

“What?” Stiles squawked.

“Your heartbeat, are you panicking about Scott’s pants?” Derek asked with one eyebrow raised. Stiles shook his head. Derek was standing really fucking close to him, and that wasn’t helping him calm down.

“No, I just, you know. Witches,” he said lamely. Derek nodded in understanding, his thumb brushing across Stiles’ cheek.

“Get changed, you are safe for now.” Stiles gulped as he nodded his head once. He discarded his jeans, trying not to think about the fact that Derek was staring at him in his briefs. His Spider-Man briefs. Awesome. Stiles quickly pulled up the plaid pajama bottoms, then cleared his throat, handing his jeans over to Derek.

He went downstairs as Derek started the laundry, shoving in random McCall household clothing in with the jeans to mask the scent even more. He made himself comfortable on the couch, flipping through the channels until he came across the original Halloween. He didn’t even notice when Derek joined him, leaning against him with their arms touching. It wasn’t until Derek put his arm on the back of the couch that Stiles realized that they could be cuddling, if they just-

Stiles felt Derek’s gaze on him as he watched the movie. The room was dark, shadows danced around the room from the light of the TV and Stiles could feel Derek looking at him. Stiles turned his head, locking eyes with him.

“You still smell like you,” Derek said, his voice gruff.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles blurted out, leaning away from Derek slowly. Derek’s hand on Stiles’ shoulder stopped him. “Maybe if I like, showered? And I used Mrs. McCall’s shower gel, and her deodorant maybe…”

“No,” Derek said. “I mean, that could work.”

“Do you have another idea?” Stiles asked, his eyes falling to Derek’s lips as he licked them. Stiles’ own were parted as he tried to remember to breathe.

“I do, but I don’t think it is a good idea.”

“I am all for bad ideas,” Stiles rambled. “I mean, come on, who was the one that lit the candle in the first place? Does that sound like a brilliant idea to-”

Derek kissed Stiles, on the lips, his hand on the back of Stiles’ head. Stiles’ eyes widened with surprise, but then closed as he relaxed into it, breathing Derek in as their mouths opened to deepen it. It was a good first kiss, Stiles thought as it ended. Derek’s stubble rubbed against Stiles’ neck as he got nuzzled. Derek was nuzzling him, his tongue licking up Stiles’ neck. He let out a whimper, unable to hold it in. He reached out, grabbing hold of Derek’s shirt, then pulled him down on top of Stiles. They lay out on the couch, Stiles with his legs spread so that Derek could fit between them, his mouth on Stiles’ skin, hand on Stiles’ hip as his thumb rubbed against the bare skin at the band of the pajama bottoms. Stiles gasped, his chest already heaving at the contact.

“D-Derek,” Stiles stumbled as his fingers carded through Derek’s hair. “Not that I am disagreeing that this is awesome, but how does this help how I smell?” Stiles asked him. Derek grazed his stubble across Stiles’ sensitive neck, making Stiles squirm beneath him.

“Scenting you,” Derek supplied, his voice catching in his throat. “Covering you in my scent, marking you.”

“Marking?” Stiles said, mid-moan as Derek’s hips rolled. Stiles was pretty sure he just lost control of all his brain functions as all of the blood in his body flowed south. Derek stilled over Stiles, his lips swollen and wet. Stiles ran a finger over them without thinking.

“Fuck,” Derek said as he backed up into a sitting position, his fingers raking through his own hair. Stiles lay there unmoving, both his and Derek’s arousals were clearly apparent and that had him reeling.

“What?” Stiles asked, his voice barely audible.

“I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t do that,” Stiles said as he pushed himself up by his elbows. “Derek-”

“You’re a child.”

“No!” Stiles said a little too vehemently. “I am sixteen. I have my driver’s license,” he pointed out. Derek shook his head as he got off the bed. “Scott and Allison have had sex. I know because I hear about it in detail. I jack off like, four times a day...”

“Stiles,” Derek growled.

“What if, what if you and I just, you know, a little…?”

“You can’t even say it,” Derek seethed. “If you can’t say have sex then-”

“But if we do, then the witches can’t use me as their sacrifice.” Stiles sucked in a breath as Derek sat back down on the couch. “What if I wanted you to keep marking me?” Stiles asked, gulping and licking his lips. “What if-”

“I am not, I want to keep you safe.”

“I think this is the safest I could be, actually,” Stiles said as he sat up fully. “You know, not virginal, which hey, technically if I did stuff to myself why am I still considered a virgin?”

“Like what?” Derek asked, his smirk returning as if he didn’t think masturbating counted.

“Like, fingers, you know, and stuff.”


“Are we going to fix this situation?” Stiles asked, deflecting. “Because I’d like to not die. My soul is something I’d like to keep.”


“You were on board for a bit there,” Stiles said, pointing at Derek’s crotch. “I know you were, because I felt it.”

“I’m your guardian,” Derek said, like that was a reason not to.

“Who should be scenting me, to save me.” Stiles sat there, his arms crossed. “Unless you didn’t actually want me, which, low blow dude. Way to kick a guy who’s already down because three ancient hags are the only ones who want a piece-”

“Stiles, stop,” Derek said, his hand reaching out and covering Stiles’ mouth to shut him up. “I want you, okay? But I don’t want you to think it’s just to save you.” Stiles’ gut clenched, his dick even more at attention than it already was. “I can smell it on you, you know, your arousal.” Stiles pushed Derek’s hand away from his face. It fell to Stiles’ thigh. Stiles looked down at it as he felt his heart beating heavily in his chest. This wasn’t a game, wasn’t a joke. None of it was.

“So then you know that it isn’t like that for me, either,” Stiles mumbled as he picked at the hem of Derek’s shirt, which he was still wearing. “I mean, I wasn’t complaining when you kissed me.” Derek laughed as he ran a hand over his face, tilting his head back. Stiles couldn’t help but smile. He only knew Derek a handful of hours, but it felt good, felt right being this close to him.

“We could continue down that path,” Derek said as his hand slid up and down Stiles’ thigh. “But you have to tell me you are okay with it.” Stiles nodded his head vigorously as he leaned in, capturing Derek’s lips with his. This time, it was Derek who breathed into the kiss, his hands gripping Stiles by the hips, pulling Stiles onto his lap so that he straddled Derek as the kiss deepened. Stiles rolled his hips, brushing his aching erection against Derek’s, making them both moan. It felt undeniably good. Stiles panted as the kiss broke, as Derek’s hands roamed over his body and his tongue lapped at the bare skin exposed at his collar. Stiles felt teeth nip at his skin and he gasped, biting down on his bottom lip as Derek continued marking and scenting him. He shuddered as Derek’s stubble brushed against his neck, rubbing it raw.

It was Stiles who went for Derek’s pants, his fingers slipping and fumbling, not used to ridding someone else of their clothes.

“Shit,” he grumbled as he rubbed at Derek’s length through the fabric of his jeans instead, making Derek buck his hips and let out a low groan.

“Fuck,” Derek said against Stiles’ skin. “Okay, Stiles.” Stiles, impatiently began shoving his own pants down instead. He wrapped his hand around his erection, jacking himself off. Derek’s hand pushed his shirt up, yanking it over Stiles’ head. Stiles didn’t like that he had to let go of himself, but as his hand reached himself again, he moaned. Derek’s mouth found a nipple, his tongue laving over it, his teeth raking lightly. Stiles whimpered, his eyes closing as his mouth remained open. He already felt like he could come, just with Derek’s mouth on him.

“Derek,” Stiles rasped as his gut clenched, his balls tightened. “I’m gonna-”

Derek’s hand replaced Stiles’, his index and thumb making a ring around the base of Stiles’ cock, making him groan as it held off his climax. Stiles shook, his head falling forward to rest on Derek’s shoulder as his chest heaved. “Derek,” Stiles whispered, pleading. Derek kissed him and Stiles felt a warmth spread throughout his entire body. The feel of Derek’s fingers wrapped around him, holding back his climax, had him reeling. Stiles rolled his hips, wanting more friction, needing to come.

“Hmm...” Derek hummed against Stiles’ lips, his hand sliding up and down Stiles’ erection, finally easing the pressure, allowing Stiles to come. Stiles shuddered as he came in Derek’s hand, covering it with a sticky, hot mess. “There you go,” Derek reassured him as he released his hold around Stiles’ oversensitized cock. Stiles licked his lips as he watched Derek look down at Stiles’ come on his hand. Stiles gasped as he watched Derek clean his hand with his own tongue.

“Jesus Christ that was hot,” Stiles managed to say, his fingers tugging gently at Derek’s hair. Derek grunted, his now clean hand reaching out and cupping behind Stiles’ neck, bringing him forward into another kiss. “What about yo-”

Stiles was cut off by his phone ringing. He growled against Derek’s mouth, angry at the interruption. Derek laughed against Stiles’ lips.

“You should answer that.”

“Fucking hell,” Stiles hissed as he scrambled off of Derek in order to answer his phone. It was Scott. “Hey, yo, uh, what’s up man?” Stiles asked as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his short hair.

“Hey, you okay? You sound weird...”

“Yep,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’. “Totally awesome, dude. Whatcha got, anything?”

“Yeah, man. Lydia can totally read this book. She said that you should put salt around you? Like in a circle or something.”

“What? That sounds like she is kidding. That can’t be anything real.”

“She said it is, and that we are wasting her night.” Stiles sat back down on the couch, leaning against Derek. Derek let him, putting an arm around Stiles, leaning his head closer so he could hear. Stiles put his phone on speaker to make it easier.

“You’re on speaker,” Stiles let Scott know.

“Okay, sweet. So Lydia says that this book is full of spells, which, she doesn’t believe there are witches around, but also thinks that if someone were to raise people from the dead on accident it would be you that could do it.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her,” Stiles groaned. He looked at Derek, who was biting his lip in order to keep from laughing out loud. Stiles shoved him. “So salt, for real?”


“That’s all?” Stiles asked. “Anything about a spell to end them faster?”

“She said almost everything she has read so far hasn’t been for anything good.”

“Be careful with that book, you should bring it over, come to your house. We should regroup,” Derek said into the receiver.

“We’ll be there soon,” Scott assured them both before hanging up. Stiles let silence fill the room, the smell of his release apparent between the two of them. His cheeks flushed as he looked down at his phone.

“Let’s see if they have salt,” Derek said, clearing his throat as he stood up. Stiles nodded dumbly as he followed Derek into the kitchen. Derek found a large container of it, not even opened yet. He tossed it to Stiles, who turned it around in his hands.

“I don’t see how salt will help, they aren’t slugs.” Derek laughed, his hand sliding easily across Stiles’ back. Stiles leaned into the touch, remembering that Derek hadn’t gotten off. “Hey, about-”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea with Scott coming back,” Derek pointed out. Stiles bit his lip, but then let it go almost immediately as Derek came forward, his eyes closing before his lips reached Stiles’. The kiss deepened quickly, Derek’s hands roaming over Stiles’ body slowly as their tongues mapped out each other’s mouths. Stiles moaned against the kiss as Derek’s hands cupped his ass. He could get used to Derek’s touch. He didn’t want this to end.

Eventually, though, it did. The kiss slowed down, and Derek’s hands wrapped around Stiles’ torso instead. They kissed lazily as Stiles leaned into Derek’s body, still holding tight to the salt. They broke apart quickly, Derek taking a step back, cutting off all physical contact. Stiles looked at him a little hurt, but then the door opened and in walked Scott, Allison, and Lydia. Derek had heard them coming and had distanced himself from Stiles, but both of their mouths were reddened, swollen from kissing. Derek’s hair was a mess and Stiles was pretty sure his smell still lingered in the air. If anyone noticed they didn’t say anything, though.

“Oh, good!” Scott said as he walked into the kitchen. “We had some. I was about to think we should stop at the store for some, just in case.”

“Should we like, put it around the house, in a giant circle?” Stiles asked.

“Or line the windows with it?” Allison asked. Scott scrunched up his nose as he shook his head.

“My mom would kill me if she came home and salt was everywhere.”

“Then what? Just... hold it?” Stiles asked, perplexed as he looked down at it.

“I mean what are the chances tthey will find you here?” Scott asked. “Let’s just chill and watch movies.”

“It’s like, midnight,” Stiles said as he checked the clock on the oven timer. “Let’s crash, dude.” He yawned, stretching upwards toward the ceiling. Derek was eyeing his bare midriff, so he dropped his arms back down. “Maybe when we wake up it will be dawn, and they will have lost. Easy peasy.” Everyone exchanged glances, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy. Stiles looked to Derek, tugging on his shirt lightly. “Do I still smell like me?” He asked.

“Only faintly,” Derek admitted with a wry smile. Stiles reddened, but smiled, glad that his scent was masked.

“Then I am safe, and I have salt to slug them to death.”

“The best offense is a good defense?” Scott said with a shrug. “Maybe sleep will do us some good.”

“Do we all sleep in your room?” Allison asked with a lifted eyebrow. “I mean, you have a full bed but...”

“I am not sharing,” Lydia said as she crossed her arms. “Plus, I only came here so I can look at that book more.” Scott handed her the book without a word. She sat at the table,
opened it, then began reading. Stiles watched her for a moment before looking at Scott.

“So you and Allison get your bed...”

“Yeah,” Scott said, almost resigned. “I mean, my floor?” Derek grunted at that, obviously opposed. Stiles didn’t like the sound of the floor either. “There’s the spare bedroom, but it only has one bed-”

“Okay!” Stiles cut in a little too fast. Scott gave him an odd look, but Stiles waved him off. “I don’t have cooties. I’m sure Derek won’t mind.”

“I’ll put a pillow between us,” Derek deadpanned. Stiles wanted to stick his tongue out, but he refrained. “To keep your virtue intact.” Scott snorted, not realizing that Stiles had basically just been defiled by Derek in the living room.

“My virtue is in need of some deflowering,” Stiles mumbled loud enough for Derek to hear. Derek stilled, though, instead of laughing.

“Are you sure you are okay down here, Lydia?” Allison asked. “I can stay up with you, if you want.”

“Do you know Latin?” Lydia asked as she turned a page of the book.

“No,” Allison said slowly. Lydia looked up, her eyes bright.

“Then no thanks,” she said with a smile. “Besides, I want to try some of these.”

“I don’t think that is a very good idea,” Derek stated. “Nothing good can come from that book.”

“Then what, exactly, would be the point of Allison’s dad handing it over if it wasn’t able to help?” Lydia asked. Stiles thought she had a point. Derek sighed, conceding her point.

“Fine, but be careful.”

“Okay,” Lydia said, eyeing Derek as if she hadn’t really looked at him until right then. “You can stay down here though, if you want.” Stiles’ jaw dropped at her brazenness. Derek said nothing, but his gaze fell to Stiles.

“I’m Stiles’ guard. Where I go, he goes.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around there, big guy?” Stiles asked, poking his bicep. “Where I go, you go.”

“Same thing,” Derek said with a shrug.

“No, it isn’t,” Stiles pouted. “You’re my guard, so you follow me.”

“Sure,” Derek placated. “How about I follow you right up to that spare bedroom, then?” He put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs. Stiles made his way upstairs, Derek’s hand remaining on him as they ascended. Once in the small bedroom, Stiles pushed Derek away.

“Okay, you’ve asserted your dominance. That’s enough.”

“Me? You were about to pounce on Lydia after she looked at me.”

“What? No I wasn-” A look from Derek silenced him. “I mean, she is the prettiest girl in school. So, if you want her...”

“Stiles,” Derek said, his eyebrows becoming more animated by the second. “Did I mark her with my scent?”

“No,” Stiles mumbled.


“You did that to save me, though,” Stiles pointed out as Derek took a step toward him. He gulped.

“Did I?” Derek asked as he leaned forward, his lips hovering close to Stiles’. Stiles was the one to close the distance, kissing Derek as his arms wrapped around him. “I thought I did it so you’d smell like me.”

“Ugh, don’t say shit like that,” Stiles moaned as they made their way towards the bed. “Besides, I really am tired.”

“And we are going to sleep,” Derek said.

“But now I’m all... awake,” Stiles gasped as Derek pushed him down onto the bed. “And you didn’t come before.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“Blue balls is no way to live.” Derek laughed as he pulled Stiles close to him, draping a leg over Stiles’. “I didn’t think you’d be a cuddler,” Stiles admitted aloud.

“Oh, I am,” Derek murmured against Stiles’ neck, his stubble scratching his skin. Stiles squirmed. “I can keep a better eye on you if I can feel you move.”

“You are so weird,” Stiles teased, his eyelids drooping, becoming heavy with each passing second. He drifted to sleep to the sound and feel of Derek’s breathing, and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Stiles was jerked awake by a hand gripping his arm, pulling him out of the bed as another wrapped around his mouth. It was the witches, they found him. Derek was laying on the bed as if paralyzed as Winifred stood over him, her lips moving. He was being spelled, or had something cast over him. Stiles wasn’t sure what to call it but he knew it was bad. Stiles panicked, struggling to get out of Mary’s grip as Sarah came into view before him.

“Aren’t you a brave little boy,” Sarah whispered as a finger trailed down Stiles’ front. “Such a good hider, too, getting the wolf to mark you as his.” Stiles wanted to scream, but Sarah’s voice was calming, entrancing. He felt his body going limp, his eyelids growing heavy. “He didn’t claim you fully, and now you’re ours,” She said, leaning in. She licked up Stiles’ face, wetting his cheek. Stiles grimaced. “Not a sound is to pass through your lips, and there will be no more struggling.” Stiles felt all the fight go out of him as Mary’s grip on him loosened, her hand slipping away from his mouth. He didn’t even try to speak, even though he wanted to. Sarah and Mary both took his hands, Mary leading, and walked out with him. Stiles turned one last time, looking at Derek’s still form over his shoulder. He wanted to scream for help, for Scott.

Stiles shook with animosity and terror as they walked down the stairs. In the kitchen, Lydia stood, surrounded by a circle of salt on the floor. She looked terrified, but resolute and proud of herself for thinking fast enough to make the circle.

“What a clever little witch,” Winifred cooed as she took a step towards Lydia. “But you didn’t think that through.” Winifred picked up the discarded spellbook, grinning at Lydia. “Thank you for opening the book for us, it brought us right to our Stiles.”

“He isn’t yours,” Lydia hissed.

“Oh, I think so,” Winifred said, turning towards Stiles. “He is our lifeline, the one who will keep us alive.” She cupped his chin with her hand, making him look into her eyes. “We will have his soul.” Stiles shut his eyes, wishing he could wake up from the nightmare he himself brought about. He wished it was dawn.

They left Lydia, surrounded by the circle of salt, and made their way outside. It was chilly, too chilly for pajama bottoms and bare feet, but that didn’t matter if he was going to die. He was forced to share a broom with Mary, an arm wrapped around his middle as he uncomfortably straddled the handle. He wanted to scream as they began flying, but Sarah took his voice from him. Unable to speak, he shook as he held on for dear life. As the Sanderson house came into view, Stiles panicked. He had to do something, anything, but Sarah’s spell had a hold over him. He couldn’t fight.

Once they got him into the house, they sat him down in a chair, strapping his wrists so he couldn’t move. He watched as they set about lighting candles with a flick of their fingers, righting their cauldron, lighting a fire beneath it. Stiles watched with wide eyes as Winifred opened her spell book. Its pages turned on their own to the page she needed.

“Bring to a full roiling bubble,” Winifred read aloud. “Sister Mary!”

“Yes, sister,” Mary called out. She had been staring at Stiles. Now, only Sarah remained by Stiles’ side, petting him lightly. Stiles found it repulsive but was still unable to say or do anything about it.

“Add two drops oil of boil.” Stiles made a disgusted face, wondering how the fuck they would get that. “Sarah!” Sarah’s fingers left Stiles’ skin, which made him relax some, in order to dig through their 300 year store of ingredients. Stiles hoped it was dried out, that nothing would be usable. “Mix blood of owl, and herb that’s red. Turn three times, pluck a hair from my head.” Stiles watched as Mary added the ingredients, Sarah stirred, and Winifred added her own hair to the brew. “Add a dash of pox and a dead man’s toe-”

“We don’t have a dead man’s toe,” Mary said. “There is nothing-”

“Go get one, then!” Winifred hissed. “We need it to complete the spell.”

“There isn’t enough time-”

“Do it or I will kill you and use your own,” Winifred told her sister. Mary grabbed her broom, then fled the house. “Now we will have to wait,” Winifred said to no one in particular.

“No problem, sister,” Sarah practically cooed against Stiles’ ear. “I will just play with him for a little bit.”

“Sister, must I remind you that he is to remain unsoiled?” Winifred asked. Stiles bristled, wondering what exactly Sarah meant by the world ‘play’.

“He and the wolf-” Sarah pouted. Winifred silenced her with a glare.

“Do not ruin this,” Winifred hissed. Sarah’s sharp nails dragged across Stiles’ cheek. Stiles hissed, but no sound came out.

“Speak to me,” Sarah whispered and suddenly Stiles could hear his own breathing again. He was panting harshly, which he hadn’t realized before.

“You are monsters,” he spat. “Sick, sadistic hags-”

“Sister! Did you hear what he called you?” Winifred said as she stepped forward. Stiles back up as far as he could against the back of the chair. Sarah’s hand slipped down Stiles’ front, rubbing against him.

“A shame,” Sarah pouted. “I have missed the feel of a man between my legs.” Stiles closed his eyes as he felt Sarah’s lips brush against his. “And you smell strongly of sex.”

“That’s because the wolf made him release himself, he is still virginal,” Winifred said from behind Sarah. “And he will remain that way until we have his soul.”

Stiles was going to die a virgin and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t like that this is what had become of his life. Mary burst through the door, holding a bloodied toe in her hand, fresh blood dripping down her arm.

“I killed a man, then cut off his toe,” She said with glee as she dropped it into the boiling cauldron. Stiles grimaced, gagging at the smell of the concoction as its stench filled the air. Winifred rushed back to the spellbook, her finger sliding across the page as she read.

“Green newt saliva,” she called out, looking to Sarah. She sighed, her fingers trailing across Stiles’ arm as she went to search for what was needed. Winifred waited impatiently, while Stiles hoped to stall some more as Sarah grabbed the bottle that was needed. Why the fuck would Derek’s family keep these so called ingredients around? Stiles would have gotten rid of all of them once the witches were dead. But no, the Hale’s kept everything intact. This was bullshit. “Sisters, gather ‘round,” Winifred said, lifting her arms into the air as she moved to stand in front of the cauldron. Her sisters joined her. “One more thing and all is done.” Stiles held his breath as they held hands. “Add a bit of thine own tongue.”

After a second, all three of the witches spat into the brew. It bubbled and boiled, then began to glow. Stiles’ stomach sank as the three of them shrieked, then began dancing around the cauldron. “We did it, sisters! The potion is complete. We will be able to live forever once more, sucking the lives out of the innocent, and drinking them dry!”

Stiles wanted to cry, wanted to fight, but he still wasn’t able to move.

“You won’t get away with this,” he hissed. “My father is Sheriff of this town. If you kill me, you’ll be hanged once again. This is all in vain, he won’t let you do this.”

“He won’t be able to stop us,” Winifred said as she dipped a spoon into the potion, “And he won’t be able to save you, either.” Stiles gulped as Winifred brought the spoon over to Stiles, who clamped his mouth shut. Sarah’s hand gripped his face tight, trying to get him to open his mouth as Mary pinched his nose shut to block airflow. Stiles held his breath for as long as he could before he had to open his mouth to breathe.

He felt the potion hit the tip of his tongue when the front door to their house burst open. Scott, Lydia, and Allison burst in, armed with water guns.

“Step away from him,” Scott called out. Mary and Sarah did as he asked, but Winifred shoved the spoon into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles choked on the horrible tasting brew. He tried to spit it out, but the spoon was still shoved in his mouth. He felt it trickle down his throat and he knew he was done for.

“I am the all-powerful Scott, and if you don’t step away from him you will regret it.”

“What will you do this time, Scott?” Mary asked as she stepped toward him. “Show us your fire hand again?” She teased.

“No,” Scott said with a smile. “This time, my power is water.” With that, they shot their water guns, which were laced with salt. Sarah and Mary’s skin sizzled, with smoke coming off of them as the water burned them. Stiles, though, was screaming as Winifred sucked in air around him. He felt his energy draining immediately. It hurt, it burned deep within him. His life was being sucked away and he couldn’t stop it. “Get away from him!” Scott yelled. Winifred howled in pain as Scott shot her in the back of the head, her hair smoking from the hit. She turned on him, her nails barred as she lunged at him. They kept shooting, distracting the witches who began to cower in pain on the floor, as Derek snuck into the house. He untied Stiles’ wrists, but he was still unable to move.

“I can’t walk,” Stiles whispered, petrified and drained.

“I got you,” Derek assured him as he lifted him up into his arms. “I won’t let you go.” Stiles’ head rested against Derek’s chest as his eyes closed. He was so, so fatigued. He felt weak and all he wanted was to sleep.

“Derek,” Stiles mumbled as Derek’s body jerked. Stiles opened his eyes to see that Derek had kicked over the cauldron, spilling the potion everywhere.

“My potion!” Winifred screamed in both agony and frustration.

“Get him out of here!” Scott called out. Derek didn’t waste time in getting Stiles into his car. The Camaro had been retrieved, it seemed. Stiles was grateful for that because he didn’t want to walk anywhere. Stiles was surprised when Derek didn’t just set Stiles in the backseat, but that he got in himself, keeping Stiles in his lap. Lydia got in next, sitting next to them while Scott and Allison got in the front.

“Drive, Scott, drive!” Allison called out as she watched for the witches. Scott peeled out as he got the car in gear, speeding his way through the forest.

“If you wreck my car I swear to fucking god,” Derek hissed. Stiles wanted to laugh, he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to be able to do it. Beside him, Lydia put her hand on his arm.

“The time is now,” she said in a calm, soothing tone, “to break the spell of binding, reach into your soul, for it needs reminding, you are yourself once more.” Stiles felt warmth spread over his body, his fingers moving of their own accord, then his head. He reached up, grabbing hold of Derek.

“How the fuck did you learn that?” Stiles murmured as his teeth tattered from the cold. He was freezing.

“Derek was paralyzed too, and I have a photographic memory. I read the spell needed to break his, so I did the same for you,” she said as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

“Ugh,” Stiles moaned. “What now? The sun still isn’t up.”

“We’re going back to the graveyard,” Scott said over his shoulder. “We have a plan.”

“Zombies, though,” Stiles pointed out with a groan. “I need my brain.”

“You’ll be safe,” Derek said, which made Stiles feel better, despite the fact he almost died. “Your heartbeat is slow and weak,” Derek told him. Stiles nodded his head as he closed his eyes once more. He slept until they got to the cemetery.

He had intended to walk, he really had, but when he opened his eyes once more, they were in the cemetery already, and he was in a grave.

“What the fuck?” He shouted as he stood. Lightheaded, he gripped the side of the dirt wall. Surrounding him was a salt ring. “Oh,” he said to himself as Scott, Derek, Lydia, and Allison all looked at him. “What about the zombies?” Stiles asked.

“Haven’t seen any,” Scott said as he shrugged.

“Let me guess: I stay here.”

“Yep,” Scott said, mimicking how Stiles usually said it. “We have our water guns.”

“Which was brilliant, by the way,” Stiles felt the need to say.

“It was my idea,” Lydia said with a smile.

“Makes sense,” Stiles supplied with a sigh. “So what now? Water guns aside, tell me there is a plan here.”

“Not really,” Scott said. Stiles grunted as he sat down in the shallow grave. He was still freezing even though he now had Derek’s leather jacket on. His feet were still bare and he could see his breath in the air. Derek hopped down into the grave beside him, turning into the wolf before his eyes. Stiles smiled, his hand reaching out to pet him. Derek nosed at his discarded shoes, and Stiles understood immediately. Derek changed so Stiles could have shoes. Once they were on, Derek curled around Stiles to warm him up. Stiles leaned back against him, about to relax when he heard the witches approaching. He’d know their laughter anywhere, would probably hear it echoing in the back of his mind for the rest of his life. Stiles crouched down more into the grave as Derek growled, his teeth bared as they hovered overhead.

“You fools, only surrounding Stiles with salt!” Mary shouted down at them. Lydia squirted Mary with her water gun, making her climb higher into the sky as she screamed in agony. Stiles stifled a laugh. The sky was pink, a sign that the sun wasn’t far from the horizon. The witches wouldn’t win, there was no way that they could.

“Whichever of you breaks the seal, your life will be spared,” Sarah said in a calm voice. Stiles’ gut sank. Her spellwork was through the sound of her voice and now-

“Cover your ears!” Stiles screamed, but it was too late. Allison broke the seal. Stiles tried to make himself smaller, curling into a ball on the hard, dirt-packed ground. Derek, as the wolf, stepped over him, guarding him, but that was no match for a witch. He was flung against the wall of the shallow grave. Stiles felt himself being lifted into the air, dread filled his thoughts as his nails dug into the dirt, seeking purchase. He couldn’t grab on and instead found himself floating towards Winifred.

“Scott, please, shoot! For the love of fuck just-” Scott took aim, and got Winifred in the face. Stiles started falling, but was caught by Sarah, her arm wrapping around him and holding him close to her.

“You’re mine, now,” she whispered into his ear. He squirmed, his fingers prying hers off of him. Her nails dug deep into his side, breaking the skin. Stiles hissed as she flew him closer to Winifred. “Sister, toss me the vial. I will feed it to him.”

“Vial?” Stiles stammered. It was then that he saw that Winifred had what little was left of the spilt potion in a small vial. It still glowed, reminding him of how close he had been to dying before. He doubted he would survive this time. Stiles looked at the sky once more. He needed more time. He kicked out as Winifred grabbed hold of his face. Sarah lost her grip on him, and he slipped. Stiles almost fell, but grabbed hold of the handle of Winifred’s broom. If he jumped he’d break bones, but it would be worth it, he thought, if it meant that they wouldn’t survive sunrise. Winifred grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him up towards her. In a feat of dexterity, she stayed atop her broom while holding onto Stiles’ shirt as well as gripping his face, forcing his mouth open.

“Sister!” Winifred ordered, and Sarah came forward, pouring the potion down Stiles’ throat. Stiles coughed as he tried to force it back up. It was too late, though. Stiles let go of the broom so all that was holding him up was Winifred’s hold on his shirt.

Both Winifred and Sarah breathed in his essence, sucking in deeply. Stiles’ head fell back, his eyes rolling as Mary joined in. He wasn’t expecting to be conscious much longer, but his shirt ripping surprised him.

He fell into a pair of arms, his body limp and heavy. It was Derek, Stiles could tell by the fact that he was leaning against a bare chest. Derek was naked.

“Now isn’t the time,” Stiles slurred. “No sex right now.”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned. “Shut up.” Stiles did.

“Sister! The sun!” Sarah cried out. Stiles opened an eye to see Winifred flying towards him, leaving Sarah and Mary floating in the sky as the sun broke the horizon. Winifred practically ran into him and Derek, knocking them both over onto the ground. She pulled Stiles to his feet, but his knees buckled beneath him. With a flick of her wrist she kept Derek on the ground and flung Scott, Lydia, and Allison away from them. “Sister,” Sarah said one last time before the sun rose. As soon as its rays touched her, she burst into ash. Mary followed almost immediately after. Where they were on the ground, the sun hadn’t reached yet. Stiles tried to push at her, to get away, but he was too weak. She breathed him in quickly, draining him.

Stiles’ head fell forward, his chin resting on his chest. That was when he noticed the smoke coming from the ground, from Winifred’s feet. She couldn’t be on hallowed ground. Stiles smiled to himself as his eyes closed.

Winifred screamed, and then all was silent and still. For a moment, Stiles thought he was dead, but he was pretty sure that if he was, then he would no longer be thinking. He reached a hand out and felt stone where there should be fabric. He managed to open an eye. Winifred was a statue, frozen in a silent scream as she held onto him. Stiles pushed against her until his shirt ripped completely away from where she had hold of him. He fell to the ground, his elbows holding him up as he looked her over.

Sarah and Mary were gone, and Winifred was now stone. With wide eyes, everyone surrounded Stiles, Scott helping him to his feet.

“Is it over?” Scott asked.

“I guess so,” Stiles croaked, his voice barely there. Then, the sun reached the cemetery, its rays touching the statue, making it explode before their eyes into a pile of dust.

“It wasn’t quite over,” Lydia pointed out wryly.

“But it is now,” Allison said. “We did it.” She was holding tight to the spellbook. Stiles wanted to burn it.

“What now?” Stiles asked as he looked at Derek, then at the ash and dust at his feet. He felt Derek’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Now, we live.”


It wasn’t every day Stiles gained a boyfriend by bringing back three witches from the dead just by being a virgin. Looking back on that night, Stiles would say that he hadn’t been scared, not really, because he had a guardian to look out for him. The fact that his guardian also happened to be able to turn into a wolf was a plus, though. Stiles learned a lot of things that night, such as his best friend being a badass, that Allison’s family and the Hales had some major issues that needed sorting out, and that magic actually exists.

If Stiles never saw a spellbook again he would be happy. That being said, Lydia Martin seemed to have taken quite an interest in it, which Stiles thought was slightly creepy but he wasn’t about to tell her that. Back to the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing, yeah, Stiles definitely had one. Derek, who originally just came to Beacon Hills for Halloween, decided to stick around for awhile. He even got himself an apartment, a loft, where Stiles spent a lot of time.

His father wasn’t keen on the idea of an older boyfriend, but after meeting him, he warmed up to the idea. Stiles was pretty sure it was Derek’s smile that won his father over, that, or the fact that Derek bought him a bottle of his favorite whiskey to sweeten the pot.

“You won’t be feeding any of this to Stiles,” his dad had said as he turned the bottle around, eyeing it up and down.

“No, sir.”

“And I don’t want you two sneaking around the house.”

“No, sir.”

Stiles, new to the entire ‘bring someone over to meet your dad’ situation, felt like he was dying all over again. All that was missing was his father’s guns all laid out on the coffee table. It had been Stiles’ idea to be boyfriends, but it was Derek who had been marking him for weeks leading up to it. Leaving hickeys on Stiles’ neck that were visible unless he started wearing turtlenecks, which he flat-out refused to do. Stiles had tried, in vain, to do the same to Derek, but apparently werewolves had super fast healing so the plan was moot to begin with.

“If you are going to mark me, you should claim me too,” Stiles told Derek one night in his loft. “I mean, you moved here, right?”

“Right,” Derek said with a furrowed brow.

“So, are we boyfriends?” Stiles asked. Instead of looking him in the eye, Derek’s gaze fell to the mark on Stiles’ neck. “And mostly: can you claim me?”

“Do you want me to?” Derek said in one breath. His fingers trailed across Stiles’ collarbone as he licked his lips. “To claim you as mine?” Stiles nodded his head as he closed his eyes, knowing that Derek was about to kiss him. The kiss was hungry, deep, and left Stiles breathless as Derek pushed him against the couch where they had been sitting. Derek’s hands were all over him as if he had been waiting for Stiles to give him the go ahead, the permission to claim. Stiles wouldn’t have waited over a month for this to happen if he had known that Derek was waiting for him.

“Fuck,” Stiles said as he tugged on Derek’s hair, Derek’s stubble scraping against Stiles’ skin making him writhe beneath him. “Bed. I want this to happen on a bed.”

Stiles did not expect to be picked up or to be thrown over Derek’s shoulder like a bag of flour and then plopped down on the bed like he weighed nothing. With his legs spread and his elbows holding him up into a semi-sitting position, Stiles glared up at Derek.

“I could have walked,” Stiles pointed out. Derek stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at Stiles as if deciding something. He stripped off his shirt without a word, which made Stiles smirk. He laughed as Derek lunged forward, grabbing hold of his hips as he began to rid Stiles of his pants. “You wanted to show how strong you were, didn’t you?” Stiles teased. “You’re ridiculous.”
Derek threw Stiles’ pants across the room as a hand palmed at Stiles through his boxer briefs. Stiles gasped, his mouth falling open wordlessly.

“I wanted to carry you,” Derek said as he leaned over in order to mouth at Stiles’ growing erection through the fabric. Stiles’ fingers raked through Derek’s hair as he bit his lip, watching Derek tease him. They had done this, many times, but now it was not going to end with Derek’s mouth wrapped around his cock, but with Derek inside of him, claiming him. Stiles moaned loudly as Derek slipped his hand beneath the fabric of the boxer briefs, his fingers wrapping around Stiles’ length in order to jack him off slowly. Derek nosed at the hair that ran along Stiles’ stomach, breathing him in before nipping at the tender flesh of Stiles’ thigh. Before continuing on, he rid Stiles of his boxer briefs.

Derek didn’t take Stiles into his mouth, though. Instead, his tongue and teeth teased at the inside of his thigh as his free hand pushed Stiles’ legs further apart. He pulled him towards the edge of the bed so that his knees hung over, but instead of letting them fall, Stiles grabbed onto the back of them, to expose himself for Derek. Letting his head fall to one side, Stiles closed his eyes as he felt a wet warmth press against his opening. Derek continued jacking Stiles off as he lapped at him, eventually pressing a finger against him. Stiles squirmed, knowing that he needed lube but he wanted Derek to keep doing what he was doing, eating him out.

“Keep going,” Stiles urged him. Derek did, releasing his grip around Stiles’ leaking cock in order to grab hold of Stiles’ thighs, pulling him forward once more. Stiles let one leg go in order to move his balls out of the way, so Derek had more room. Derek moaned in appreciation as his tongue plunged into Stiles. Stiles let out small, breathy noises that he couldn’t seem to stop as Derek took his time opening him up. Eventually, Stiles started jacking himself off, loving the feeling of Derek’s tongue inside him. “Need more,” Stiles heard himself beg. “Want more, Derek.”

“I need... I’ll be right back,” Derek said as he got up from where he had been kneeling on the floor. Stiles sat up as he watched Derek walk into the bathroom and then back again. As Derek approached the bed, Stiles reached out for Derek, his fingers snagging Derek by his belt loops in order to bring him closer. Stiles tilted his head upwards as Derek cupped his head in his hands. Their lips brushed together and Stiles felt Derek smile against him.

“On your stomach,” Derek said, and Stiles complied. He got on his knees first, then bent over. He pressed his cheek against the bed, watching Derek as he rid himself of his jeans. Derek grabbed lube, slicking his fingers up, leaving his own erection alone as he circled his index finger around Stiles’ opening. Stiles groaned at the intrusion, as it slid inward. Derek spread him apart with one hand as the other slowly worked him open with one finger and then eventually a second. Stiles began moving against it, readying himself. “You’re so tight,” Derek rasped.

“God, I just-” Stiles had no idea what he was going to say, so he stopped. He couldn’t think, let alone say a coherent sentence as Derek fucked him open with three fingers. “Fuck.

When Derek pulled away, Stiles twisted his body so that he could look at Derek, who was pouring a few drops of lube onto his hand, then jacking himself off. Stiles flipped onto his back, wanting to face Derek as they fucked. Derek didn’t seem to have an issue with it, because he smiled down at Stiles as he kneeled up on the bed. Stiles wrapped a hand around his cock once more as Derek pushed one of Stiles’ legs up and to the side as the other pressed against him. Stiles moaned at the fullness he felt at only having the head of Derek’s cock inside him. Derek rocked his hips slowly, taking his time forcing himself inside of Stiles. Once he was in, he moved back out again and Stiles grunted at the loss. “Come on,” Stiles said, his voice shakier than he had intended it to be. He closed his eyes as Derek entered him once more, then began rocking against him in a steady rhythm.

“God, fuck,” Derek said as he leaned over, holding himself up on his elbows as he fucked into Stiles slowly. He mouthed at Stiles’ neck and shoulder, his teeth raking across his skin as Stiles linked his ankles together behind Derek’s ass, beginning to move against him to add to the friction. Stiles let out a litany of filthy sounds, unable to hold them back. Derek growled above him, picking up the pace as his hands pinned Stiles’ above his head on the mattress, their fingers linking together. Stiles screamed out as Derek’s teeth grazed over a nipple, then his tongue licked up the underside of Stiles’ arm, his nose burying itself there, breathing Stiles in just to do it again. Stiles shuddered, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from screaming outright with each thrust as Derek scent marked him.

“Derek,” Stiles begged. “I’m... I can’t...”

“Come for me, Stiles,” Derek said as his teeth nipped at his skin.

“You first,” Stiles said. “Claim me, make me yours.” Derek rumbled with happiness as he nosed at Stiles’ neck, his teeth biting down, making Stiles’ back arch. Derek stilled within him, but then slowly began fucking into him after a few seconds, his tongue laving over the bite marks he had just left. Stiles felt the wet, warm, stickiness that was Derek’s climax slip out of him with each thrust, the thought of Derek filling him sending him over the edge. He came between them, making a mess of both of their stomachs. Derek pulled out of him, then licked at Stiles’ stomach, cleaning his mess. Stiles hummed contentedly, as Derek curled up around him, draping an arm and a leg over him.

“I think we should do that again,” Stiles mumbled as his eyes closed.

“I agree,” Derek said as he breathed Stiles in. “You might be too sore, though.”

“Pfft,” Stiles managed to say as he drifted off to sleep. “I can do it.” Sex was something Stiles wanted to do multiple times, in different positions, but always with Derek. One good thing that came from lighting the black flame candle, from almost losing his soul, was that Stiles gained a mate. And he was okay with that.