A/N: As promised, here is the beginning of my Derek gets turned into a 16-year-old fic, which I believe will be about 7 chapters in all. There will be smut of more than one kind, which is all I'll say for now. The fic also assumes that everything that happened in Season 2 still happened, except Peter is leading the Alpha pack on a wild goose chase, because…I don't want to try and deal with that, or him, but I wanted to be able to include wolf Jackson, so...mildly AU post Season 2, with slash.

Enjoy!

This Time With Feeling

Stiles could pinpoint the exact moment when his life was no longer under his control, and it wasn't that night when he had inadvertently changed his and Scott's lives forever by sharing the knowledge of half a body found in the woods—much as that may, on the surface, seem like the right answer.

No, somehow—and Stiles wasn't even sure how, he just knew this to be true—the moment everything changed was when Derek Hale tossed Scott his inhaler in those same woods, and for one brief moment, Derek's and Stiles' eyes met. That was when Stiles was pulled into the fray, not simply because of Scott, but because of Derek.

So, considering they hadn't spent too much time lately in the woods behind the Hale House, Stiles found it exceedingly funny that just when it seemed like he had his life under control again, that was where he found himself. In the woods, heading toward Derek's burnt and forgotten old house.

Perfect.

The hunters no longer camped out there. Gerard was gone—presumed dead. Chris Argent was on their side, much as Stiles barely believed that could be possible. And Alison…well, she and Scott were on a very awkward 'break', but at least she wasn't shooting arrows into any more of Stiles' wolf friends. The house should be empty.

And it was, only whatever creature they were currently chasing down—a hag/witch thing?—had decided to head there, of all places, when trying to run away from them. Only there was no way she was running away, because leading them to the Hale House was way too telling; something else was going on. And it really pissed Stiles off that Derek had told the wolves to split up, which left Stiles stumbling through the woods on his own, and no one was answering their cell phones so Stiles could tell them what idiots they were being.

This was a trap. For what, Stiles didn't know. He just hoped his more direct route to the Hale House got him there before the trap was sprung.

Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and…Jackson…were all supposed to surround the Hale House with a wide radius, to make sure the witch didn't get away, while Derek tailed her more closely. Stiles was still a little weirded out by Jackson being a normal born-again part of the pack, but he had been acting surprisingly humble since his transformation into wolf from kanima, especially since he and Lydia seemed closer than ever, and he actually appreciated that Scott had gone out of his way to make sure they saved rather than killed him.

Stiles didn't completely trust that Jackson would follow Derek as unquestioningly as all the others, but so far he hadn't been a complete dick. Besides…he made Lydia happy, happier than Stiles had seen her in a long time, so Stiles couldn't completely hate the guy. Much as he often tried.

At last, Stiles could see the form of the Hale House taking shape ahead of him. Occasionally, he could hear howls in the distance, the wolves telling each other that they were in position. Derek had to be inside the house by now, and even though Stiles had been told to stay by his jeep and the other cars, he couldn't rationally do that when he knew Derek was possibly about to get ganked.

Peter might have helped if he was still there—and wow did every part of that sentence nauseate Stiles, mainly the part where Peter was even involved, since he was creepily alive again. But Peter, with vengeance had and the hunters no longer a threat, had volunteered to take on the pack of Alphas lurking nearby and lead them off the others' scent.

Stiles didn't really understand what was going on with all that, but as much as he feared Peter was secretly planning to kill all the Alphas to become some sort of Super Alpha and take over the world, he liked that things had started returning to a sort of normal for Beacon Hills.

Derek was in charge. The pack was safe and united. And hey, Stiles was an honorary human member who Derek didn't tell to get the hell out when he caught him attending pack meetings. Even things with Stiles and his dad were really good.

And then the witch had appeared. No one had died. Yet. But Derek had smelled the hag as soon as she arrived in town. Deaton and the Counselor from school had both suddenly gone missing, and strange things had started happening, like rolling blackouts and all the plants in town overgrowing and blossoming like it was Spring, which Stiles guessed was better than all of them dying, but still. Small things normal people would dismiss happened all at once, in the span of a week. Derek had been certain the witch was up to no good and that they had to confront her before the first body showed up.

So there they were, confronting her, only Stiles had a really bad feeling about all this, so he breathed at least a small sigh of relief when he reached the porch of the Hale House and he could hear Derek's voice inside. He couldn't understand what was being said, but as he pushed on the slightly ajar door to step into the entryway, he made out these words plainly:

"Derek Hale, if you refuse to learn from your past…then you will be doomed to repeat it."

The next thing Stiles knew, he was on his ass, on the ground just in front of the porch, having been thrown backwards by some unexpected force before he could even see what was going on inside. He groaned at the sting of impact, but a little discomfort was hardly going to stop him from continuing his trek into the house to—once again—save Derek Hale's life.

Stiles was up the steps again in moments, throwing open the door and rushing into the entryway. There was no one by the stairs, so he made a quick pan of the immediate areas. At last, he spotted Derek in what was once the living room, in the center on the floor, hunched over like he was in pain. Stiles could barely make out all of him with how he was curled in on himself, but he was definitely not okay.

"Derek?" Stiles said, though he carefully glanced around for the witch. He couldn't hear or see any sign of her.

Derek's shoulders flinched at Stiles' voice and, before Stiles could say anything else or fully cross the room to reach him, a blur of movement too fast for Stiles to follow rushed toward him and then past him out the front door.

What the hell? Stiles thought, quickly moving to follow after him. Was Derek hurt? Did he have the witch's scent and was just giving chase? Why couldn't that guy ever just talk and explain himself before dashing off into the fray?

Stiles stumbled back out of the house. He didn't know which of the other wolves were where around the perimeter, and he had no idea how to tell which direction Derek might have gone, since he—unlike almost everyone else he knew—did not have freakish smelling abilities.

So, Stiles did the only sensible thing he could think of and went straight forward. He ran into the woods directly from the Hale House door, looking for signs of Derek, or any of the other wolves, even of the witch, if only to figure out what was going on. It didn't take long before he was completely turned around and unsure of where he was, let alone where anyone else was.

Stiles was about to give up and yell Derek's name when he suddenly found himself tackled to the ground. One moment, he was standing there, the next, he was on his back, completely winded, with someone on top of him pinning him to the ground.

Blinking up at his attacker and taking in a few labored breaths, Stiles tried to stay calm...only to realize he was staring up into familiar red eyes.

"Derek?" Stiles gasped. "What are you doing? It's me!" He blinked again to clear his vision, but all he could see was red, and fangs, and a bit of pale skin too close to his face.

"Who are you?" Derek shot back, as if the more than obvious 'it's me!' meant nothing to him. Only...it didn't quite sound like Derek. It did, but his voice sounded slightly...higher-pitched, even with his wolfy growl to it.

Stiles focused on...focusing, but then Derek was smashing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck without any sort of warning, which tickled, and was really kind of awkward, and then Derek was sniffing him. "Dude...personal space."

"You're not a hunter...you smell like pack," Derek said, the growl gone from his voice, which made him sound even...younger.

Younger. That's what the difference was.

Stiles was finally able to sit up and take a good look at the Alpha once Derek moved off of him, finally realizing that no, Stiles was not one of the bad guys. But then Stiles really looked at Derek, and it hit him all at once why Derek sounded young and why he didn't seem to know who Stiles was.

Derek was young. He was standing over Stiles clear as day, looking like he was no older than...well, Stiles, and yet he was still so obviously Derek, even in the same clothes, which were too big for him now and made him look drowned, especially in the large leather jacket.

"Who are you?" Derek said again, hazel eyes wide and questioning, not with the narrowed demanding Stiles was used to. "I know all the humans in my pack. What's going on? What happened to my house? Where is everyone?"

Just how bad a suddenly 16-year-old Derek really was hit Stiles just as hard as the first realization. He only managed a muttered, "Shit," before they were abruptly interrupted by a cascade of wolves from the surrounding trees.

Stiles saw all of them—Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson—take in the scene as they tightened their once wide perimeter. But Derek didn't seem to recognize them any more than he recognized Stiles, and he immediately dropped low to the ground in a defensive stance, fangs bared again and red eyes blazing as he shuffled closer to Stiles to…protect him.

He didn't remember who Stiles was, but he was still instinctively protecting him. Stiles couldn't help but feel a rush of pride at that.

But, oh yeah, he was supposed to be being helpful.

"Derek, wait!" he called, struggling to sit up further and scramble to his feet, even with wolfed-out Derek practically on top of him. "Take a good whiff, buddy; they're all pack too."

With expressions to rival Stiles' own stunned look at discovering this younger Derek, the other wolves all kept their distance and remained still, eyes yellow—well, plus Jackson's born-again blue—with their forms still in full beta mode, but not aggressive.

Slowly, Derek approached the wolf closest to him, Isaac, seeming to sense the truth even before he got up close and personal enough to sniff along the curve of Isaac's neck. Stiles had a perfect view of Derek's profile as his eyes fluttered at the scent he found there and then turned hazel again.

Derek stepped back and stared at Isaac with a strange sort of reverence. "You smell like…mine," he said.

Isaac smiled.

"Stiles, what happened?" Scott asked, morphing back into human form, while the others did the same. "Did the witch do this to Derek?"

"Duh, though I didn't actually see it happen," Stiles admitted. "I heard her say something to him in the house, but when I got in there, he was…like this."

Derek turned to look at Stiles. "Like what? What happened to me?" He looked back to Isaac and then around at the others with the same fascination and frustration. "How can you all be mine? I'm not an Alpha. My dad's the Alpha."

Stiles saw how the others grimaced at the mention, many of them having experienced the same loss of family—especially a loss of fathers—that Derek no longer remembered.

"You are our Alpha," said Erica. "And you still are, even now. It feels the same, being near you. And your eyes are still red when you change."

The others nodded in agreement, moving in even closer to Derek, like they were all trying to gauge his new and yet not so different scent.

"Maybe the witch couldn't break that bond, even though she was able to turn you younger," Boyd offered.

Jackson made a displeased face but kept sniffing the air as he approached Derek. "Weird."

Derek didn't seem at all bothered by how the others were crowding in around him, leaving Stiles sort of left out, just outside the circle of wolves. "How old am I supposed to be?" he asked.

"Twenty-three, I think," said Isaac. "How old are you now?"

Despite taking obvious comfort in the proximity of the others, Derek paled. "Sixteen."

Stiles felt another swell of pride that he had guessed right, but he was really annoyed by the huddle of wolves forgetting about him. He happily pushed Jackson aside so he could join in, which awarded him a half-hearted growl. "Let me give you the rundown. You are Alpha now, and this is your pack. Not sure how smart it would be to tell you the gritty details, but…what's been going on lately is we were hunting down a witch. You were with her last, and now you're…well, like this. At least we don't have to worry about hunters anymore, but we need to find the witch and figure this out fast. You don't even…remember the fire?"

"Fire?" Derek blinked. "That's what happened to my house? What about my family?"

The others all looked at each other, not sure how to respond. Stiles didn't know how to say it either. He knew what it was like to lose family, but not everyone.

Derek read their expressions too easily. He swallowed heavily and Stiles saw his fists clench at his sides. "All of them?" he asked in what was a strangely small voice for the Derek that Stiles was used to.

Stiles nodded. "Your uncle, Peter, he's…he's okay. But he's not here right now. It's sort of…complicated, but…the two of you are the only ones left."

Derek nodded, like it was okay, like he hadn't just been told his entire family had been wiped out, even though, for him, they had all been fine a few minutes ago. He must have been regressed to just before the fire happened, which Stiles supposed was a good thing, but not when they still had to tell him it happened.

It was Isaac who moved in first, like he knew it was coming, just before Derek started shaking, and suddenly, Isaac had Derek wrapped in a tight embrace from behind, arms clumsily holding him. The others moved in then, too, like it was perfectly normal for a bunch of teenagers to engage in mass hugs out in the woods.

Stiles got pushed up against Derek simply from the force of the others moving in, but there wasn't anywhere for him to hold on to, or any right position to be in, so he ended up pressed up against Derek's side with his hands trapped against his chest.

From within the center of the huddle, Stiles heard a sob break free, like a choke, like Derek was trying to hold it back, but he couldn't. Then it was silent, the sobs still coming, Stiles knew, if only because he could feel Derek's body shaking, but he cried quietly, safe amidst the mass of bodies.

This was not a typical wolf meeting activity. Despite everything that had happened to all of them, openly crying and engaging in group hugs wasn't something they did. Mostly, Stiles assumed, because Derek would never allow it. He was all about being strong, and holding the anger and grief in, until it exploded in a fury of claws and fangs. Sharing and caring time just…wasn't him.

But this was a young Derek who had just learned that his entire family had been dead for years, having to mourn for them all over again like it was the first time.

Stiles kind of wanted to cry too.

The pack huddle broke apart like an exhale, the wolves seeming to know when it was okay to give Derek room again, which meant that Stiles was the last one left pressed up against him, feeling awkward again until he managed to slink back.

Derek smiled at him, and although his eyes were a little red around the edges, his face was dry. He turned to look at Scott. "I can smell that you're pack too…but not from me. Peter?"

Scott hesitated, but rather than try and explain—which Stiles was SO grateful for, he couldn't even express his joy—he simply nodded.

"But you follow me," Derek said, not really as a question. "You're my second, so you must be important if I trust you to lead the pack in my absence. I think this counts as an…" he looked at his shrunken form in older Derek's now oversized clothing, "…absence."

Scott smiled wide and blinding at being openly called Derek's 'second in command', even though it was sort of a given lately. "Yeah, of course," Scott said, like he was perfectly okay with—and capable of—leading. Which, Stiles could admit, he sometimes was, but that didn't mean they didn't all stand there staring at Scott for a few minutes, waiting for him to actually do something.

Eventually, Stiles pointedly cleared his throat.

"Oh, right!" Scott said. "Well…I know we need to find the witch, but…I don't think it's a good idea to take Derek along looking for her when he doesn't know everything that's going on, and after she already, umm…hexed him. In case she knows about the den, we probably shouldn't take him back there either." He bit his lip like he was really trying to think and use as much of his normal brain power as possible.

Then his eyes drifted to Stiles.

"Hang on…"

"Come on, Stiles, he can't go home. Where else would he be safe? The rest of us need to look for the witch."

Stiles licked his lips, trying to avoid looking directly at Derek. It wasn't that he didn't want to help. Of course he did! Especially with Derek all vulnerable and almost kind of…nice. But Stiles' father was the Sheriff again and, unlike Scott's mom, he knew nothing about the wolves.

"Just sneak him in for the night," Scott said.

"Better yet," said Erica, "introduce him to your dad as a new friend who's spending the night. He won't think it's Derek. Who in their right mind would think someone could be turned younger? He'll totally rationalize the whole thing like people always do, and you'll be fine."

Stiles glared at her if only because that was far too descent logic. Then his gaze moved to rest on Derek.

On 16-year-old Derek, looking smaller and less muscular, with a clean-shaven face, his hair still styled in that perfectly spikey, gelled way, his eyes all droopy and hopeful, and damn, even the slight crookedness of his teeth as he genuinely smiled was adorable.

Stiles tried to look apologetic. "Okay. But, eventually, we really need some additional contingency plans other than lying low at the Sheriff's house."

"You're the Sheriff's son?" Derek balked. "But he's so old. He'd be ancient by now." He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Stiles remembered that his dad first became Sheriff…after the Hale House fire. "My dad was just Officer Stillinski in your time. Sheriff Perkins retired and my dad took over. He's awesome, but…I haven't quite figured out how to explain the 'hey, Dad, I run with a pack of wolves most nights' thing."

Derek snorted—like actually looked and sounded amused rather than just annoyed with him. It was a nice change.

"Cool, so it's settled," Scott said. "You take Derek home, and the rest of us will keep looking for the witch. We'll check in later and hopefully get this fixed before morning."

Scott's assuredness did not actually reassure Stiles in the least. They'd been tracking the witch for days.

For a while, everyone simply stood there, no one moving to do what Scott had said they were going to do. Admittedly, Stiles didn't remember how to get back to his jeep, but the others could at least start heading back into the trees.

Then Stiles realized that Derek was looking a little forlorn again, and not just from the knowledge of his lost family. He was looking around at the wolves like he didn't want to part from them, and they were all wearing similar expressions—even Jackson.

"It's just so different…being an Alpha. All of you...it's like you're part of me." Derek smiled and, as the others looked back at him, they couldn't help smiling in reply. If the older Derek felt the same way, he certainly never said anything about it.

Isaac beamed. "Yeah."

While Stiles tried not to feel excluded—again—considering the silent pack bonding occurring around him, he was relieved when Scott finally led the others off, and Boyd made a point of whispering in his ear which direction the cars were parked.

Finally headed in the right direction, with a young Derek in tow, Stiles tried to pretend like he was with someone new, someone he had never met before, which in many ways was true. Stiles was usually pretty good at first impressions, or irretrievably terrible, but always one of the two.

The weird thing was, the slight silence that spread between them at first was actually kind of companionable, which Stiles had never felt being alone with older Derek.

"So..." he couldn't help asking after they had a gone on like that for a few minutes. "I'm pack too? Like…not just that I smell like I'm around the others all the time, which I am, but…I'm really pack, pack?"

"Don't you know that?" Derek asked.

"Well, it's sort of a given, I know, but…I guess the older you isn't very vocal about that sort of stuff. I mean, I regularly attend pack meetings and get roped into witch hunts, but…you've never actually said the words."

"But you're so important."

Stiles stumbled and turned to stare at Derek like he had grown another head, or maybe de-aged another 7 years.

Derek smiled. "Human members of the pack are always important. And I've marked you as the lead human, meaning if another wolf even considered hurting you, they'd be going against serious law and tradition. It's a true sign of trust, like with my second being, umm…" He trailed.

"Scott," Stiles explained, and then realized they hadn't actually done any sort of introductions, the wolves being able to smell everything important, apparently, other than given names. "The girl is Erica. The clingy one is Isaac. The surly one with blue wolf eyes is Jackson. And the big guy is Boyd. I'm Stiles."

"But you said your dad was Sheriff Stillinski," Derek said with a slight frown. Then one of his eyebrows rose in a very normal Derek expression. "Your name is Stiles Stillinski?"

"And proud!" Stiles exclaimed. He added, "It's a nickname," but quickly continued before Derek could ask what his real name was. "We'll get settled at my house and try and relax. I'm sure the others will track the witch fairly fast. Scott can be a surprisingly good leader. Sometimes."

They walked a little further, and Stiles' mind inevitably drifted back to what Derek had said. Since Alison and Lydia—and somewhat Danny—were more or less part of the pack too, the thought of being 'lead human' had Stiles preening. He'd always figured he'd get unfairly beaten out for that role due to the girls also each being a wolf's significant other. He liked knowing that Derek regarded him as more than just a third wheel—ninth wheel?—even if he never said so.

Stiles was relieved when they finally stumbled upon the jeep and the other cars without him having to ask Derek to sniff them out. He turned to Derek after leading him to the passenger door but wasn't quite sure what he planned to say. Instead, he ended up just staring at Derek, because…well, teenager.

Teenage Derek was not what Stiles would have expected. Sure, the fire and loss of most of his family probably explained Derek's general personality and outlook on life better than him simply being that way, but Stiles had a hard time imagining Derek as anything but the broody and supremely good at lurking wolf boy he had come to know.

Now he didn't have to imagine. A more or less normal, open, friendly Derek, who knew about the fire, but hadn't lived through the horror of it, and was therefore managing to maintain a smile and optimism purely because he had a pack of his own, was standing right in front of Stiles.

He was also standing…about an inch shorter than him.

"What?" Derek said, flitting his eyes to the side when Stiles continued to stare.

Stiles shook his head. "Sorry. It's just…so weird, being taller than the big bad Alpha," he said with a grin.

Derek laughed—free and young and honest—and let his smile overtake his face in a way that older Derek never did. "You're weird," he said fondly.

"Eh, you get used to it, Big Guy—" Stiles stopped himself just as he was using the term. "Huh. Guess I'll have to come up with some new nicknames for you, eh, Youngblood."

Derek immediately made a sour face, which was much more like his usual sourwolf self. "Urg, I hate those comics," he said with a grimace.

Stiles could have died right then—Derek actually got his reference! "Me too," he said, patting Derek on the shoulder, for the first time with a confidence that his hand wouldn't be snapped at by fangs. Then he opened the door for Derek and continued smiling as the younger boy climbed into his jeep. "Everybody does."

tbc...

You can Google the Youngblood comic series, if you like. I have the idea of Derek and Stiles having alot in common. Be on the lookout for Batman underwear! It has apparently decided to become a theme with my Teen Wolf fics. Also, if you want to picture 16-year-old Derek, simply use the cover for this series as reference, because it's a real shot of Tyler about that age, and how I'm imagining him for this.

Thanks for reading!