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"Derek, look at me." Stiles said, fingers clenched into the folds of Derek's shirt. "You have to stop."
Derek looked at him but stayed quiet, his mind still running with thoughts about his family.
Raising his hand, Stiles pushed Derek's hair back, thumb rubbing slow circles on his temple. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was."
Derek swallowed, eyes brimming with tears. He shook his head and started to step away, but Stiles slid his hand down to the back of his neck, holding him there.
"It wasn't. They don't blame you.”
A humorless laugh escaped Derek’s mouth, eyes angry as he bit out, “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’ve… They died, Stiles. They’re dead because of me, and there’s nothing you can say that will change that.”
He broke Stiles’ grip on his neck and stalked towards the windows, staring at the sun setting. The orange glow fell directly on him and if he closed his eyes, he could imagine it, imagine the flames that should have consumed him. Instead, all he heard were the cries of his family.
“Derek…”
He flinched as he felt Stiles’ hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.”
“You’re wrong.” He heard Stiles say quietly behind him.
Derek turned his head, angling his body towards him. “Just stop. Please.” He turned back towards the windows, chest heaving as he swallowed painfully against the onslaught of memories coming back to him.
The dreams had started a few days after his return to Beacon Hills. At first, he had thought it was just being back in the town, his guilt coming back to haunt him just like it did any time he stepped foot on the territory. It wasn’t anything unusual, he was used to it. What he wasn’t used to was the vivacity of those dreams. In the past, he would see the house burning, hear the screams and every time he would try to run towards it to save them, he’d be stuck behind a wall of mountain ash, Kate’s laugh ringing in his ears until he’d wake up in a cold sweat.
Now the dreams consisted of his parents, his little brother and his aunt, their burnt faces and bodies staring at him, pointing at him. No matter how hard he tried to wake up, he wasn’t able to, stuck with their pleas and accusations until someone came to wake him up.
Deaton had told him that the Nemeton was responsible for his dreams. Because of his connection to it, the tree was channeling his energy, making him unable to wake up.
The first time Stiles had woken him up, Derek had nearly bitten his head off, claws at the ready as he tried to free himself from his family’s attack. The next night, Derek didn’t sleep. He’d gone back to Stiles’ house and had stood outside, listening as the young man cried in his sleep.
Ever since then, Stiles would stay a few nights a week, waking Derek up as he would cuddle up close to him to try and shake off the tremors of his own nightmares.
“I talked to your mother.”
Derek snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Stiles’ words. He frowned, turning back around towards him completely. “What?”
“I talked to your mom.”
Glaring at him, Derek grit out through his teeth, “Do you think this is funny?”
Stiles rolled his eyes and stepped closer, his hands resting on Derek’s chest. “Listen to me. Listen to my heartbeat. I talked to your mother.” He repeated slowly, eyes staring straight at him.
Derek frowned as he listened to the human’s steady heartbeat. “Stiles, what–”
“Remember that time Deaton gave us that tea to help us sleep?” He waited for Derek’s nod before he kept talking. “He warned me that there might be some side-effects… because of my spark.”
“What’s that got to do with…”
“Shhh…” He said, his finger resting on Derek’s lips. “Let me finish.”
Derek pursed his lips but nodded.
“He told me that sometimes, because the ingredients used are supposed to make your mind slow down enough for you to fall asleep, they have a different effect on people like me. I know this sounds crazy but… okay, you know how we did that whole sacrifice-and-dying thing with the ice?”
Derek nodded once more, his frown more prominent at the thought.
“Well, it’s like that. The tea had the same effect on me. It slowed down my heart rate and, because I’ve already done it before, the… veil? I guess you could call it a veil, I don’t know, it sounds strange to me, too, like that one time with Miss Bingham’s dog–“
“Stiles!”
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Stiles said sheepishly, pressing his thumb over Derek’s bottom lip in apology. “Anyway, it kind of made it so that I could talk to her. Because you were sleeping beside me, our minds kind of… connected? And I–well, I got to talk to her.”
“What…”
Stiles stepped a little closer still, closing the space between their chests. His smile slipped off his face as he said seriously, “She knows and she doesn’t blame you. None of them do.”
Derek shook his head, his eyes glowing as he tried to get a hold of his emotions.
Stiles grabbed Derek’s fingers with his free hand, letting the werewolf hold onto him.
“She loves you.” He said softly, his eyes bright as they looked into Derek’s blue, red-rimmed ones. “She doesn’t want you to waste your life any more than you have. None of it was your fault. It was Kate’s. Not yours.”
Resting his forehead on Derek’s, Stiles whispers, “She wants you to be happy, Derek. Sonríe a la Luna, ángel mío.”
Derek inhaled sharply at the words. His mother used to say it every morning to wake him up. There was no way that Stiles could have known that, not unless he–
“You… she really… Stiles.”
“Yeah… She knew you wouldn’t believe me, so she told me. She also told me about a certain teddy bear named Mr Big Tee–“
Derek’s lips swallowed the rest of Stiles’ words as he kissed him, hands resting on Stiles’ waist.
“Don’t you dare tell Scott.”
Stiles laughed loudly, his mouth open and his eyes crinkling, and Derek just had to smile back at him.
“You finally kiss me and it’s to shut me up. I should have figured.” He chuckled, leaning forward to press his lips onto Derek’s. “She’s not the only one, you know.” Stiles said once he’d leaned back, his fingers playing with Derek’s hand.
“Mmm?”
“I want you to be happy, too.”
“I’ll try.”