The rain pelted the large window in a never-ending downpour as the black sky seemed to unleash is contents. The horizon was now blurred by the droplets, and the temperature dropped a few degrees inside the loft. But none of that mattered. Derek sat in front of the window, gazing out at the storm. His eyes were completely void of light and life alike, and inside he felt absolutely numb. Every year it happened. Every year he felt lifeless and hopeless on this date. Every year it rained as though nature was crying for him in his sorrow.

It was the anniversary of the fire.

Derek angled his head upward, staring skyward as the rain continued to pour. As much as it hurt, as much as he wanted them back, he knew that it was a futile hope. It was pointless to put thought into something that wasn’t even possible. The sobering thoughts drove Derek deeper into thought. It was all his fault. He could have saved them if he had been there.

Tears came to his eyes. They started slowly, but Derek cried, nonetheless. The hot tears streamed down his cheeks, each one falling to the floor as though it were mimicking the rain. He swatted at the first few, but he gave up and let the tears fall. They felt good for him, whether he wanted them or not. Each tear let out a little of the emotions boiling up inside him over the years, taking the pressure away little by little. But his longing was great.

Derek let out a howl. It started out low, but it grew into a long and sorrowful cry out for his loved ones. He called out to the pack that he once belonged to. But the Hale family would not return the call. He paused for a moment, and then started up another howl. The cycle continued until he howled his throat dry and hoarse. He howled until he could no longer do so. The Hale family would not return the call. But, someone would.

“Derek?”

The small, familiar voice snapped Derek back to reality. He turned to locate the source of the sound to find none other than Stiles. Derek knew he had tears in his eyes, but he didn’t try to hide them. He knew that Stiles had lost his mother, so he somewhat knew the pain himself. He somehow knew instinctively that he could trust Stiles.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, slowly stepping towards Derek.

Derek turned back towards the window, and looked back up at the sky. His back was to Stiles, and yet he knew that the teenager would not leave. Derek was never okay, but he didn’t want to let Stiles know that. He was always hurting inside with the burden of keeping the teenagers alive, and the weight of his family’s death on his shoulders. He tried to change the topic.

“How did you find me, Stiles?”

“I heard you howling,” Stiles quickly replied.

“How did you know it was me?” Derek shot back, curious as to if it was just by luck that Stiles had found him.

“Your howl is different from everyone else’s,” Stiles explained. “Theirs are harsh and ferocious, as if they’re trying to prove something.”

Derek glared hard, half out of curiosity, and half out of anger over whether or not he’d been insulted. “And my howl?”

“Yours is a strong howl, but it’s hurt. It’s louder than the rest, as if you’re trying to reach someone else.” Stiles sat down next to Derek, and cautiously put his arm around Derek’s waist, pulling him in for a reassuring hug. “I know it’s today. I saw the police record.”

“I just…” Derek’s voice broke, and the tears started up again. He could no longer hold it in. He turned to Stiles and returned the hug, buying his face into Stiles’ chest as the tears came out.

“I know,” Stiles reassured patting his back and stroking Derek’s head. “Just let it out. I’m here for you.”

And there they sat for the remainder of the day. When Derek had stopped crying, he rested his head in Stiles’ lap, and Stiles continued to stroke Derek’s head, brushing some hair behind his ears, and rubbing his thumb across Derek’s temples to keep him calm.

When asked to stay the night, Stiles agreed. He held onto Derek through the night, keeping away the nightmares, and keeping his sourwolf safe from harm.