His body shakes violently with fear as he takes a step back from the black powder. Behind him something in the house caves in and sends a burst of heat against his back. Some part of his mind flashes back to winters with his mother spent sitting by the fire place roasting marshmallows while his father was at work. Another larger part, registers the danger of it, of the growing fire behind him heating his body up to that level of uncomfortable. His heart is beating quickly and his vision goes blurred, chest limiting the amount of air allowed in his lungs. Smoke pours into him with each breath, suffocating him. He's going to die. It's not a question, it's a fact. He is going to burn alive on his porch in front of Derek. Out of instinct, he pushes forward against towards the ash, towards Derek. There's nothing either one of them can do. The fire is bound to reach the gas line in the house any moment now, no time to wait to be rescued. All this time he felt he'd been drowning, sinking deeper into a bottomless sea, it's only now he realizes burning to death is worse. He understands, now, how Peter could have become the traitorous asshole he is, why Derek never lit a candle in the poorly lit Hale house and the subway. It wasn't his ability to see in the dark—though that might have had something to do with it—but the fear of having another home stink of smoke.

The crackling wood behind him snaps him out of his thoughts. Against better judgment, he decides to look Derek in the eyes again. But the werewolf won't look at him, eyes still glued to the dried blood on Stiles' shirt. His face is so raw with emotion. Anger, sadness, fear, and, worst of all, guilt. Without a thought, Stiles moves to put a hand on the Alpha's shoulder. It slams against the invisible wall separating them and, though he knows it makes no actual noise, the collision rings in Stiles ears. Derek looks at him then, crestfallen and destroyed.

"It's going to be alright," Stiles tries, voice cracking.

Derek remains silent, the life seeping slowly out of his eyes.

"Allison and them are on the way right?" he swallows, a useless attempt to rid himself of the ball in his throat. Derek's shoulders drop. The second floor chooses then to collapse. A gas pipe is punctured and before he can turn around to see the destruction of his home, he's thrown forward and down into the dirt. He doesn't know how long he's out for but when he wakes up he's in pain, the remaining bit of the house is still on fire and he can see Derek slowly getting up from where he was thrown on the lawn across the street. The searing pain in his shoulder and the scent of death clouds his senses, driving him over the edge. He feels his nails extending into claws, hears the snapping of bones and the movement of flesh. He's burning from the inside out and though some small part of him begs himself to fight the change, the larger, more comprehensive side of him welcomes the power of it.

The rest comes in a blur. He senses Gerard somewhere off in the distance before he sees him. When the old man reveals himself, he's holding a gun in his hand. Derek turns towards Gerard. The pain throbs through his body, scent of blood and smoke mixing unpleasantly. Danny and Peter's scents reach him. He doesn't entirely understand how they got there or if they'd been there the whole time but then he's distracted by his current situation. He pushes towards the ash, pain driving his actions. Gerard starts talking but Stiles isn't really listening, still focused on pushing his way out of the elaborate trap. Seconds later, the gun goes off and Derek and Gerard start fighting. Danny sprints off, leaving a trail of fear. Peter joins in the fight, though who he's helping, Stiles can't tell. There's a howl. Derek's, his brain supplies. More gun shots.

Something in him clicks and he growls pushing past the mountain ash. The line breaks and he takes a moment to rejoice in that fact before he turns to fight before him. For some reason, Peter steps towards him. The action triggers something deep in the pit of his stomach. In the blink of an eye, Stiles' claws are digging into the older man's shirt and throwing him some distance away. Gerard and Derek stop their fussing for a moment and Stiles' takes that opportunity to grab Gerard's hand—the one holding the gun—and snaps it back, the sound of bone breaking fills his ears. As he twists it his claws sink in and tear at the flesh. The hand slices off at the wrist with such little effort, and god does it feel good. The screams coming from Gerard only seem to fuel the need to kill more. The space beneath his claws starts to itch and his fingers begin to tingle as the scent of blood flows into his nostrils. Somewhere someone is yelling something at him but Stiles doesn't take the time to stop and listen. There's fear in Gerard's eyes and he put it there, a sweet sweet victory considering the hell Stiles has been through. He swipes his hand across the old man's chest and pushes him down to the ground. His other hand finds its way to the man's neck and slides up to push his face down. He sinks his teeth into the neck and shakes his head to tear at the flesh, his claws working to shred the surrounding skin until there is none. He tears the head off and stands proudly holding his trophy out for Derek to see. No longer afraid, a joyous laugh escapes his lips. And he wonders for a second why Derek looks so fucking scared. His claws sink into Gerard's eyes until the bone gives in and snaps, and Stiles laughs, again.

He's safe, he's finally safe.

So why isn't Derek smiling too?

Everything seems slow and fast at the same time. There's blood everywhere. But Stiles is smiling this wide bright smile. His red eyes are like a punch to Derek's gut; guilt pools there and churns his insides. Stiles drops what's left of Gerard's body and Derek can't help but watch as it slumps into the ground. Bile rises in his throat and Derek has to fight the need to puke. Against his will, his body begins to shake. Stiles must notice, of course he does, because suddenly, his muscles visibly tense, as if preparing for Derek to attack him. He couldn't, he'll be the first to admit that.

But Stiles is an alpha and his wolf doesn't know that, so he crouches over the lifeless corpse and growls threatening. At first it's a warning, but it grows into a challenge and with it, Stiles' body transforms into a larger beast. Peter huffs a breath somewhere behind Derek, amused with the entire situation. There's a crack and Derek's eyes turn towards the woods momentarily as Allison runs out towards them, her crossbow unleashing several arrows at an unprepared Stiles. Derek moves forward but he's not nearly fast enough, Stiles gets to Allison first. Her scream gets cut short when her head hits the car, tearing off the side-view mirror of his car with a loud crack. Her body falls on the ground and all Derek can think of is how Kate looked, lying on the ground dead. There was no emotion then but now, now he wishes Stiles had attacked him, wishes he had answered the challenge and prevented this. Blood pools around her head and moments later, the soft thumping of her heart stops. Derek pauses there, mid stride, and stares at her. Her death is enough to knock Stiles out of his predatory haze. The broken look on his face is one Derek can't stand to see, so he looks away. Only there's nowhere to look. He's surrounded by the burned out house, Gerard, Allison and Peter. This is the aftermath of his mistakes. Stiles falls down to his knees, stretches out a shaky hand towards Allison and putts his hand over her eyelids to close them. It takes a moment, but Derek realizes that he's crying. He wipes tears off his face and moves forward towards Stiles only to find the teen sobbing.

"I," he shakes his head, at a loss for words. Derek wants to grab him and shield him from this, from what he's done. But he can't, so he settles for falling down next to Stiles and pulling his head down onto his chest. Stiles doesn't push him away, instead he wraps his arms around Derek and breaks down crying. It's the first time Derek's seen him like this. He holds him tighter and buries his face into Stiles' shoulder. He doesn't cry or sob, just sits there breathing in Stiles.

A car comes down the street and Derek lets himself breathe in Stiles one last time before pushing him back towards where Peter is slowly recovering. He stands, eyes meeting with his uncle's. He glances over at a surprised Stiles then back at Peter. Their communication is telepathic; they don't nod at each other, but agree on the plan nonetheless. He turns to face the approaching car, body shifting as he crouches over Allison's body and growls.

"Allison!" Scott's voice screeches as he limps out of the car. Derek growls barring his teeth, behind him he hears Stiles release a shaky breath and he knows it's worth it. Chris runs out of the car and Derek steps back enough for him to see his daughter is dead. Chris pulls out his gun and fires. His aim is off, vision blurred by tears. It's no surprise he misses. And Derek runs off, not looking back, too afraid he'll stop running away and crowd Stiles into his arms again. The silent "thank you" Stiles sobs echoes in his head, louder than the cries Chris and Scott release over Allison.

The house is nothing but ashes when the fire department finally shows up. His dad yells his lungs out at them, releasing the stress of knowing there are three dead people on his property and no legal way to explain it without bringing werewolves into the spotlight. The bodies are taken away in black bags, Chris riding with Allison. Scott stumbles over to Stiles' side, they look at each other and speak mentally. Stiles is an alpha. It's okay. He killed Allison and Gerard. Don't want to think about that. Derek made it seem like it was his fault. He didn't ask him to. Stiles broke the code. It was an accident. Chris doesn't see it that way. He thinks Derek did it. He's going to kill me. He won't. He will. He can't. Why? I don't want to talk anymore.

Stiles doesn't miss the fact that Scott sits as far away from him as possible, the way he leans away instead of towards him. The deputy questions Stiles about the blood stain on his shirt, Stiles hands it over to them. Tells them they can test it, it's his own blood, he got a bloody nose. As for the blood on his hands, he found Alison, didn't he?

When the cops are gone and there's no one left but him, his dad and Scott, they head over to Melissa's house. She offers them the guest room. Stiles walks Scott to his room, nodding goodnight before heading down the hall to join his father. Scott doesn't protest, just shuts the door. Sleepovers seem more like figments of his imagination now. When he reaches the guest room, his father's on the bed, head in his hands. Stiles hovers by the door until his dad turns to look at him. He expects him to shake his head, yell, something, anything but what he actually does. They hug and Stiles cries for what seems like hours. When he calms down enough to speak, Stiles tells him everything.

At Allison's funeral, Scott sits next to Stiles. They hold hands the whole time. Lydia cries against Stiles' shoulder, cursing Derek with each incoherent sob. It takes everything in him not to scream.

Somewhere in the woods behind them, Peter leans against one of the trees trying desperately not to care.

Chris is the first to leave, Isaac beside him; then Melissa and Scott, Lydia holding on to him. His father leaves next, knowing Stiles needs a moment alone. He feels selfish, Chris should be here mourning for Allison alone but, instead here he is holding on to the sound of her heartbeat stopping and the smell of her blood on his hands.

The wind picks up and Peter takes a moment to move closer to Stiles. They stand side by side for a long time, saying nothing.

"He wanted to be here," Peter says finally breaking the silence.

"He should have come." Stiles picks at the skin next to his nails, trying to calm himself.

"We figured Chris needed time to cope." Stiles scoffs at that and turns to Peter.

"Is that why you've been shadowing him?" Peter keeps his gaze on Allison's grave. "Making sure he doesn't snap and kill you the way his father, sister, and wife did?"

"We we're friends once," Peter turns to him, "how do you think Derek met Kate?"

Silence falls over them again.

"What is he going to do?" Peter laughs at the question.

"You should know by now," his smile fades, "Derek never plans that far ahead."

"I didn't ask him to," he whispers, knowing there's little he can do about it now.

"You didn't have to." Peter sighs and turns to him, frustrated, "He did it for you. So you could have a life."

"How am I supposed to live knowing I killed one of my best friends?" He's angry now. He can feel the blood pumping through his veins faster, muscles tensing. Peter cowers away, hands up in surrender. It takes a moment, but Stiles calms himself down.

"I'd happily put you out of your misery," a growl escapes Stiles' lips, Peter smiles, "But I promised Derek I'd look after you."

Their conversation ends there. Peter stalks away eventually and Stiles waits a little longer. The sun's bright, not the way it should be. There's no rain or clouds and it feels wrong. Allison is dead. He didn't even know her favorite color or movie, nothing. And she's gone. He flirts with the idea of leaving, imagines how it would be easier. In the end, he walks to his dad's car, sits in the passenger seat and goes home.

The entire time, his wolf claws and howls to be free.

Leave me alone, he begs.

It growls, Never.

A/N: Im sorry if it's terrible. I am out of practice. I might just end it here, but I felt bad not posting this since I had it written up. It took me forever cause I wanted Stiles to break the ash line but I didn't know if that was okay and then they did it in the show and I didn't want to look like I was copying them. In the end, I don't give a fuck...

Thanks for dealing with my shit, let me know if I should just not post anything ever again….