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Under the possibly false assumption that Stiles had asked and been given the okay, Derek turned up the next evening at six, dressed in jeans and a button shirt for once.

He could at least try to look like someone you could have over for dinner. He hoped Sheriff Stilinski wasn't going to hold any of the 'problems' they'd had against him. Not when they'd all been paralysed in the station together for that particular horror.

He parked the Camaro around the corner and walked to the door, knocking slowly.
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They had all split up after Jackson got back up from being dead.

It struck Derek as immensely unfair that Peter and Jackson had both come back form the dead, but Laura hadn't been given the same chance. He did love Peter, but he was sort of evil and probably biding his time to try and kill Derek for the Alpha power again.

Derek might've considered handing it over, frankly. He'd been an awful Alpha. He'd been a lousy packmate, never mind Alpha.

Derek stayed in the warehouse long after Scott left with Allison, Chris, Lydia and Jackson. Peter drifted off on his own and Isaac said he wanted time alone and set off after the Argent car.

Which left him and Stiles. Stiles who stank of injuries and fear and horror.

Derek said nothing, just hunkered himself down in a corner and tried to remember how to breathe.

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November 2015

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