Chapter Text
Stiles opens his eyes to the blue sky above. The wind brushing against his skin. Sitting up, he rubs his hand against his head. Looking around, he finds himself once more in the field of poppies. Standing to his feet, he dusts himself off. He picks a direction, and walks. Finally, he comes to a tree, where he finds Morpheus resting against the trunk.
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"
"You are," Morpheus replies without looking up. "You are, as of right now, in a type of coma…because of that…have stumbled back into my realm."
"Sorry," Stiles shrugs, moving to sit beside the god. For a moment, neither speak, until finally, Stiles can take the silence no longer.
"Do gods…dream?"
A beat of silence passes between them again, and then Morpheus sighs. "We do," he replies. "And yes, your mother does as well."
Stiles falters but nods, not entirely surprised that the god guessed what would have been his next question. After a moment, he finally speaks again. "I killed a man."
Morpheus is quiet, the silence blanketing them.
"Divine justice is rarely comforting or what we expect," he murmurs after a moment. "Sometimes it is just as cruel as those we are giving it to."
Glancing over at the god, Stiles pursues his lips before looking down at his hands. "I was just so… I don't even know, I wasn't angry, but I could feel…his anger, and then I saw…this…darkness around him, like a cloud that surrounded him," he explains. "And then I just…lashed out."
"What you saw was his soul."
Stiles tenses at his mother's voice. Looking up, he finds her standing in the field of poppies, her eyes carrying a mix of worry and tender understanding. Looking to his side, he frowns when he sees that Morpheus is missing from his place against the tree.
"I didn't mean to kill him," Stiles murmurs.
"I know you didn't," his mother says, moving towards him. "But what's done is done, and now he can no longer harm his son. Isaac is now safe, and that credit is owed to you."
"What…what happened to his soul," Stiles whispers. "After I…"
"It is no more," Styx replies. "You burned it away…to nothing…and that is more than what he deserved."
Stiles looks up into his mother's eyes, and suddenly he feels a sliver of worry in the back of his mind. "Do you think… Dad will be mad?" he asks.
At this, Styx frowns. "I don't think so," she says. "Is that…what troubles you?"
Stiles nods, the idea that his father could be angry with him, could look at him differently, has Stiles' heart beating rapidly, filled with concern and worry.
Smiling fondly, Styx moves forward, reaching out her hand to cup her son's jaw.
"Sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about, your father still loves you, and he knows what you did was deserved…and you were not in full control of your powers."
Stiles ducks his head and nods.
"I need to wake up," he finally murmurs. "I need...I need to see him, see Derek...I have to."
"Then wake up," his mother whispers.
---
Derek's leg bounces as he sits in Stiles' room at the other boy's desk. He watches Stiles' breathing and does his best to match it, but it's not use, his wolf is far too wound up to think of anything other than the fact that Stiles is in a coma.
"Derek."
The wolf jolts as he looks up to find the sheriff standing in the doorway, a look of concern on his face as he holds Derek's gaze.
"I was just..." Derek begins, but trails off.
"I know, son," Noah nods as he enters the room, glancing at Stiles as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to rest on the younger Stilinski's calf. "I'm worried too."
Silence passes between them before Noah chuckles. "When I first saw him…when he was just a baby… I could only think about what the hell I was going to do with a baby…how was I going to raise him all by myself." He pauses for a moment before continuing. "But then I brought him home, I realized that I wouldn't want it any other way."
Derek watches as Noah smiles at his son before getting up to get them a drink. However, just as he is about to move through the door, he pauses at the sound of a light groan from Stiles. Spinning on his heel, Derek instantly moves to kneel beside the bed as Noah leans forward from where he sits on the bed, his hands reaching out to cup Stiles' wrist.
"Son?" Noah asks.
"D-dad?" Stiles murmurs, his speech slurred and slow.
"I'm here son," Noah smiles, extending his hand to brush a strand of hair out of Stiles' face. "Derek is too."
The wolf falters but offers a smile to the teen as Stiles tilts his head, his glassy and unfocused eyes finding Derek's.
"Hey, Sourwolf," he grins.
Smirking, Derek shakes his head fondly. "Hi, Stiles."
"How are you feeling?" Noah asks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Sore," Stiles admits after a moment. "Like I got hit by a truck." He sighs before sitting up before pausing. "Where is Isaac?"
"Downstairs," Derek answers. "He's still a bit shaken up from the whole…you burning out the soul of his father, but that's to be expected."
Stiles nods, a small smile slipping across his lips before drawing his knees up to his chest.
"Stiles," Noah murmurs, "I'm not mad."
Stiffening, Stiles looks over at his father, a look of shock.
Smiling, Noah nods. "Your mother came to me…"
Derek stiffens, looking between the father and son. Slowly, he stands to his feet and heads for the door. "I'm going to check on Isaac," he says before turning and. Leaving the room, allowing the Stilinski men to have their moment together in private.
As the door shuts, Noah turns back to face his son. "Why would you ever think that I would be angry with you?"
Stiles shrugs, averting his gaze away from his dad. "Because I killed somebody!" Stiles suddenly shouts. "I burned his soul out of his body!"
Noah doesn't even flinch at the outburst, he simply nods, reaching out to rest his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Only because he hurt one of your friends…he was abusive, and a monster…he got what he deserved."
Stiles glances back at the older man in shock before throwing himself into his father's arms, letting the warm embrace of his dad soothe him.
"You're welcome, son," Noah whispers.
---
Derek finds Isaac down in the living room, the young man staring at the claws that have sprouted from his nails.
"Focus," Derek says calmly, his eyes momentarily flashing red as he takes in the sight of his beta. "Don't force it, let it come to you."
Isaac sucks in a breath but nods. He closes his eyes and takes a calming breath. A moment later, his claws shorten back into nails, and he relaxes into the cushion of the couch.
"Good," Derek murmurs as he moves to sit beside the younger man. "Over time it will be easier for you to control it."
Isaac nods and looks at Derek. "How long did it take for you to control it?"
Shrugging, Derek lets out a sigh. "I was born a werewolf, so I was taught and trained on it since I was a kid, but admittedly…I still struggle with my control at times."
Isaac nods at the understanding before glancing up, no doubt hearing Stiles' heartbeat.
"What did he do to my dad?" he young beta asks after a moment.
Derek's lips form a firm line as he contemplates how much he should reveal, before finally settling on his internal answer. "Stiles, like us, isn't entirely human, what he is…is for him to tell you himself though."
Isaac stares at Derek for a second longer and then nods. "Alright."
Letting out a small breath of relief. Standing to his feet, Derek pauses to listen as Stiles and Noah finish talking. Heading back to the stairs, he makes his way up to the second floor, his inner wolf eager to see his mate again.