Title: So Long My Friend
Author: jujukittychick
Fandom: Teen Wolf (series)
Cast: Derek
Warnings: Major Character Death
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf and am making no money; I am doing this for my own fun and entertainment. The fandom belongs to its respective creators and owners who *are* making money off them.
Beta: NONE! Any mistakes are my own
Spoilers: first and second season due to mentioned characters?
A/N: So, I haven't written anything in ages and the first thing I come back with is not the next chapter on one of my many WIPs, it's a stupidly sad oneshot. I'm sorry. I blame sad songs on the radio.

Summary: Derek gets a phone call… he's not quite sure how to deal with the news

"…Derek? Derek, you there?"

Derek ended the call, thumb pressing the red button by habit more than by conscious thought as he tuned out Scott's teary words, feeling himself go into some kind of shock. An accident? After all the things they'd gone against… No.

He couldn't think about it. He wouldn't think about it. Not another one. Not again. Not… No.

His feet carried him out of the rebuilt Hale house, so different from the home he'd grown up in, but carrying its own charm from the new pack members, the way each of them had contributed their own personalities – Lydia's decorating skills, Scott's animal books from his vet classes, the Star Wars posters that… No.

He didn't know how long he'd wandered through the Preserve, his mind in some kind of fog. If there had been any kind of enemy in the forest, a stray supernatural or rogue hunter, he would've been easily taken out. He couldn't bring himself to care. It had been so peaceful the past couple years; nothing to worry about, most of the teens away at college now. Part of him knew he should be used to the feeling, be used to losing… No.

Derek stopped once his feet hit water, finally tuning back into the present as he realized where he was. A pained laugh slipped from him. It figured. It was the pond where the pack gathered for celebrations, large and small, a private place only they really knew about, deep in the woods. He could still hear the ghost of laughter in the air from all the good times they'd shared, the whispers of quiet conversations late in the night as the requisite bonfire burned down and stars filled the sky. The sky was annoyingly blue with fluffy white clouds and the sun shining brightly. It should be raining.

He sat on the bank of the pond, letting the quiet sounds of the forest surround him, uncaring of the dirt and water near him, muddying his clothes. Lying back, he closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, and felt the tears start, just one at first, trickling down the side of his face…then another…and another, hearing Scott's sobbing voice once more.

"Derek? It's..uh…it's Stiles. He's uh…he's gone…not kidnapped, just gone. D-dead, I mean. He's dead. There was a drunk driver? A kid…kid playing on the sidewalk when the car swerved, jumped the curb. Stiles saw, grabbed the kid, covered…covered her with his body. The kid was completely fine, not a scratch. They said it was a miracle. Stiles…they said he was killed on impact. That it was quick. No pain. Deaton…Deaton thinks he used up all of his Spark to protect her, there was…there was none left for him. Stiles is gone, Derek. What do I do now? Derek? Derek, you there?"

Stiles…mouthy and obnoxious, brave and loyal, fearless…human, so painfully, breakably human. He'd lived through psychotic Alphas, rogue hunters, murderous creatures of all types, possession by an evil spirit…and a stupid human accident is what gets him. Logically, he should have been the first of them all to die; instead it had been Peter, Erica and Boyd, Allison. Ideally, he should have been the last of them to die, after a long happy life, too stubborn to let anything take him out. Instead, he gave his life to protect an innocent; a real hero until the very end.

They'd sat there, in that same spot and talked about loss, he and Stiles, the loss of Derek's family, the loss of Stiles' mom, Erica and Boyd and Peter and Allison, about the different loss of Isaac and Jackson, about how you move on afterwards. Stiles had told Derek to let himself grieve, to acknowledge their loss and stop closing off all those feelings. Stiles had told him a lot of things over the years. Stiles… he'd never tell Derek anything else.

The funeral was, well, a funeral; there's really no other way to describe one. Stiles' dad, looking like he'd aged years in just a couple days, thanked everyone for coming, new friends and old. He and Scott had shared anecdotes, stories of Stiles growing up, the trouble he'd gotten into, making everyone smile in remembrance. It was after the funeral, after the last of the grave had been filled in, after the rest of the crowd had left, when it was only Pack and family left, that they made their way to the pond in the middle of the forest and had their true memorial to the boy that ran with wolves, telling the stories that couldn't be mentioned around others, of his bravery and cunning and loyalty.

Derek thought it was fitting that it had rained the entire day. He was pretty sure the others felt the same as none of them complained about not being inside, simply huddled together, the humans passing around several bottles of alcohol between themselves.

And as the rain fell steadily on a dark, rainy, moonless night, the town of Beacon Hills echoed with the mournful cries of a pack of wolves.

A/N: Go listen to the song that inspired this mass of tears disguised as words "Drink a Beer" by Luke Bryan