S͟T͟E͟R͟E͟K͟ I͟M͟A͟G͟I͟N͟E͟S͟

Love that shall not die

⚠️
sad, angst, death,
happy ending
⚠️

It's not right, not at all. Not one goddamn bit. It was unfair. Wrong, so very-very wrong.
They were meant to grow old together. Him and Stiles, together, forever. They were meant to be, they were bound to be. Stiles and he were meant to stay together, side by side to the end of times and beyond it, that was what the plan.
This, this was not the plan. Not this. 
Stiles was supposed to beat the cancer, to kick its ass, to beat it like the champion of surprises he was, and Stiles did just that once. Derek threw a massive party to celebrate the victory, their whole family gather together rejoice and friends from across the country came to toast to Stiles' health.
Stiles was meant to survive the battle against the horrific monster that was cancer again, and they were supposed to travel the world for a year or two once Stiles felt well-enough to do so, they had a list of places to visit and sights to see, people to visit. 
They had so many plans, so many dreams, some simple others grand and even a few very ridiculous.
The plan had been to travel for a few years, no set time for their return to Beacon Hills, but once they did they would settle down like the married couple they were. The plan was to finish renovating their house, then have a proper wedding that wasn't overshadowed by cancer, and later they would adopt a couple pets and later a couple of kids.
They had plans, big and small, simple and grand.
There had been dreams of growing old together, watching their kids grow older and marry, they had plans to become the most awesome grandparents ever to their future grandchildren. tTey had so many plans and so many dreams.
Not once was the plan for Stiles to die, not once was the plan for Stiles to leave him. The plan wasn't for Stiles to die before they were old and grey, feeble and ready to depart after living long and making memories, for Stiles to die before the age of thirty was never the plan.
The nurses and doctors leave the room like silent ghosts, giving him room and time to say his goodbyes to his best friend, his husband, the only man he'd ever loved. Melissa doesn't say a word as she goes to make the calls Derek simply couldn't do, would never be able to do, didn't want to do.
On shaky legs that threatened to fail him, Derek slowly approaches the bed on which Stiles had occupied for the past two days, the wires and tubes that had been attached to his pale and thin body now removed, all the machines silent and unmoving now just like Stiles.
Gently Derek's takes the pale hand of his husband in his own, there's still some warmth left for him to feel, only the ring Derek had slipped Stiles' long and slender finger was cold to the touch. There's no holding back the tears once he sits there, on the edge of the bed next to the lifeless body of his husband.
This was not the plan.

~*~

Two years of mourning the loss of his husband passes, Derek still lives regardless of how hard he wishes his body would just stop functioning, he hardly ever eats or drinks which is why he's ended-up in the hospital more times than he can count.
His family and friends, Stiles' parents refuse to let him go, all of them saying that's not what Stiles would want, but Stiles isn't there and so Derek doesn't care.
It's been two years since he had to let go of his husband, two years of visiting a gravesite, and crying oneself to sleep when suddenly the loft he'd shared with Stiles becomes overly crowded with family and friends.
Derek doesn't like it, doesn't want these people around the last remnants of Stiles' scent and things, but he's too worn-down to successfully kick them all out.
Not a thing has changed within the loft, Stiles' medication still sits in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, Stiles' dirty laundry still sits in the laundry basket and even on the floor of their bedroom, Stiles favorite mug sits waiting by the coffee maker Derek never uses. 
Derek hasn't moved on, not an inch. He hasn't even cancelled the various magazines Stiles had loved to read, there's a pile of comics stacked on Stiles' messy desk. It's pathetic, he knows, but he can't let Stiles go, at least not what he has left of him.
He shouldn't be surprised really when his mother and rest of their pack and family decide to flood the loft, having them all there doesn't bode well for what is left of Stiles' scent, and that is one of the reasons he's growling and telling people not to sit, not to touch anything.  He goes as far as to push Stiles' mother away when she moves to pick-up one of Stiles' socks.
Derek knows he should've been prepared for the intervention, after all his life had dwindled into nothing, he was simply waiting for his own death to come be it by his own hand or not. He knows his last attempt to end it was probably the reason why suddenly there were too many people in the loft, one of which was Stiles' dad who had spent five-months drinking none-stop after the death of his only son. 
Breathing in a slow breath Derek readies himself for a length talk from his mother about the life and all it had to offer, he mentally prepares himself for Laura's tears and words of "Stiles wouldn't want this, he'd want you to be happy and love again" and he is ready for Cora's anger. He expects the Sheriff to make some lie about how the grief becomes easier, manageable, but they both and everyone in the room will know that it would just be a massive lie. Derek is also prepared for whatever shit Peter will try and pull on him, like dragging him kicking and screaming to some club.
However, Derek isn't ready for what his mother does say.
'There's a way for you to be reunited with Stiles. '
Suddenly he can't breathe, and his heart nearly stutters to a hopefully permanent stop.
'W-w-what?  ' he asks, voice incredibly weak, and he feels lightheaded.
' However, ' the emissary says from where he is standing by the great display of windows overlooking the miserable street bellow, 'it will not be the Stiles you've known in this time, in this universe. It will not happen in this time, in this universe.  '
'But it will be Stiles, ' his mother goes on to say, ' it will be his body and his mind, it will be Stiles and his soul, but one without the history you two have shared. '
'You'll have to charm him all-over again. ' Peter says, there's a clear tinge of amusement in his voice at the thought of Derek having to actually work for Stiles' affection, he'd always complained about how easy Derek had it with finding love in his best friend.
Derek feels bewildered by what he is being told.
'It will simply be a Stiles in another universe, ' Deaton goes on to say, voice steady and calm.
'I – I can...' Derek starts voice quivering with such painful hope, just the thought of seeing Stiles alive is just such an incredible thought.
'If you chose to leave, ' Peter starts, clearly searching for the right words to use, glancing over at his mate who reached out to give his hand a gentle squeeze, which seemed to be just what was needed to sort out Peter's thoughts.
'I feel it is my duty as your uncle, and your friend to warn you that if you chose to reunite with Stiles, ' Peter starts but Derek interjects a small declaration.
'My mate. He was my mate, Peter. ' Derek can't fight the tears that start to fall once more, there were no words to accurately describe the sorrow that sat in his heart, there wasn't a single word that seemed to hold enough power to correctly describe how much he missed his mate.
'He – he was my heart. My heart. ' Derek barely manages to say the last few words, and as he breaks down crying Laura rushes in to comfort him, but she could never save him from his grief.
'I know.  ' Peter says softly while his hand comes to rest against the back of Derek's neck.
'I know he was all of that, and more. The amount of love the rest of us had for Stiles will never compare, or compete with what you felt for him. ' there's a gentleness to Peter's voice, one which was reserved for Stiles and Chris and their two daughters. Peter had never made any attempt to hide how much he cared for Stiles, and at times his uncle had called Stiles the son he never had.
'Derek, ' he hears the emissary say, voice steady and void of any emotions, 'you need to make your decision carefully, there is no going back once you've made it. If you chose to return to Stiles' side, a side that might not be willing to be your mate, you can't come back. There's no coming back.  '
'Are you truly willing to leave your family for Stiles? ' is the question Peter's mate ask, the hunter leaning against one of the few walls that wasn't occupied by shelves and shelves full of books.
'You need to be sure of this Derek, absolutely sure. ' his mother says as she comes to kneel before him, one of her hands grasping on tightly to his hand, while the other goes to gently stroke his cheek.
'Derek, I need you to pick the one option that will help you, that will keep you alive. As your mother, I want you to not wither away like this, Derek. ' his mother and alpha says, her voice soft and loving, comforting even, but there is a sadness in her eyes that he's never seen before.
'And if the price of you surviving is you leaving us, then I'll rather have happy and healthy somewhere far-far from me, I'd rather have you alive and happy than watch you waste-away. ' and there is no lie there.