Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Grand and Mighty || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf

Title: Grand and Mighty – The Spark of Beacon County

TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Tags: m/m, established relationship, True Mates, alternate season 3A, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Good Alpha Pack, Magic Council, Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, hurt/comfort, Untrustworthy Deaton, m/f

Side Pairings: Deucalion/Noah, Ethan/Danny, Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Scott/Allison

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Cora Hale, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Danny Mahealani, Sheriff Noah Stilinski, Deucalion Blackwood, Ethan Steiner, Aiden Steiner, Kali, Ennis, Marin Morrell, Alan Deaton

Writer's Month Prompts: tree + high school

Summary: After virgin sacrifices, a new victim-circle starts and it becomes apparent that they have a serious problem at their hands. The pack has to deal with the Darach, with the help of the Alpha Pack. They also have a lot of work ahead of themselves on the pack-front; new bonds, new pack-mates, old wounds that need to heal.

Grand and Mighty

The Spark of Beacon County

Part 1: Dad, Darach and Death

Noah knew something was going on with his son. He was the sheriff. But that was also why he didn't speak up about it first. Because he was the sheriff… and he never wanted his kid to feel like Noah only looked at Stiles with the sheriff's eyes. He didn't want to have to interrogate his son. He wanted Stiles to trust him, to come to him. But that came with a sense of helplessness.

So when Stiles finally asked Noah to sit down and talk – really talk – Noah braced himself for many things. None of them were two middle-aged men flanking Stiles from either side. He recognized Peter Hale, though he was surprised that there was no scarring to be seen on the man's face. That plastic surgeon must have been incredibly expensive.

"Why do you need a lawyer to talk to me, kiddo," Noah regarded Stiles hard. "Please tell me you didn't get into actual trouble. Your injuries weren't like… gang related…?"

"Gang related," Stiles echoed, staring dumbfounded at his dad.

"There are all these teenagers in leather jackets sneaking out of your room all the time."

Stiles gaped a him, opening and closing his mouth a couple times before shaking his head, while Peter next to him snorted. Noah shot him a look that immediately shut the man up. He'd had his fair share of confrontations with Peter Hale before the fire, at the station. Damn defense attorney.

"I… That's not… Mh…" Stiles squinted. "I can see why you would think that. Damn it."

"Stiles," Noah met his son's eyes. "Tell me what's going on. What kinda trouble are you in?"

"So…" Stiles pursed his lips and leaned into Peter, which caused Noah to narrow his eyes. "I'm a witch, kinda. Technically, witches are something different and not as cool as I am, but in layman's terms, I'm a witch. I have magic. I can do magic. I am magic."

Noah furrowed his brows, trying to comprehend. "Is that like that Wiccan phase Heather had…?"

Sorrow passed over Stiles' face at the reminder of his dead friend and Christ, his son was too young to have attended as many funerals as he did. His grandpa, his mom, now his childhood friend, not to mention half the station that had died during the hostage situation. Noah rubbed his face, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. The other man next to Stiles leaned forward, seeming to fixate Noah with a sightless stare. Deucalion Blackwood, was who he had introduced himself as. There was something incredibly imposing about him.

"Your son is a very powerful magic user, Sheriff Stilinski," Deucalion said. "It's not a phase, it's not play-pretend. He has real, actual magic. Please stay calm."

Noah was about to argue when his son started fucking glowing. His eyes – the beautiful, big brown eyes he had inherited from Claudia – glowed an intense, bright shade of blue-green. Suddenly, there was a breeze in the house, even though the doors were closed. A tiny cloud started forming in front of Stiles, rumbling with miniature thunder, crackling with lightning.

"W… What… You… What," Noah reached a shaky hand out to the cloud.

"So, the half a dead body of Laura Hale, that was kind of the event that kick-started a whole lot of…" Stiles waved a vague hand. "Supernatural drama. There is a lot I have to tell you."

Noah touched the cloud, startled by the mild electricity going through him. It felt moist, but not like a prop or anything. It seemed… real. Stiles' eyes stopped glowing and the cloud dissolved. Heaving a very tired sigh, Noah leaned back on the couch, fixating Stiles.

"Lay it on me, kiddo," Noah prompted. "This better make sense by the end of it."

/break\

Deucalion found the sheriff quite interesting. The man, though his initial skepticism, listened for three hours as Stiles relayed everything that had happened in the past months, from his friend Scott being turned to a werewolf, all the way to the virgin sacrifices that had cost Stiles his friend Heather (though he did leave out the ritual sex magic him and Peter performed on the Nemeton. A wise choice, most certainly). Deucalion was mostly there to fill in the gaps of background knowledge.

Sparks, as the protectors of a land, the history of Nemetons and their rarity. The Magic Council of North America, overseeing the supernatural society, enforcing their laws and protecting their secret. Him and his pack, coming here to help the Hale Pack and staying to help the Spark of Beacon County. Which included helping Stiles explain all of this to his father. Historically speaking, the human parents of minors involved with the supernatural posed a much greater risk to their secret if they weren't put in the know, because they'd push and investigate on their own and draw the wrong conclusions – often times villainizing the very thing they didn't understand. Patiently explaining and showing to them that the supernatural wasn't inherently evil helped much more.

Once the sheriff moved past the skepticism – the glowing eyes, fangs and claws that Deucalion and Peter could provide helped there – he was all business. He wanted to know more about the Alpha Pack and their role as enforcers, in particular. That Peter, had he gone on his killing spree intentionally and in full mental capacity, would have been taken in by them and brought before the council to be judged. His feral state and altered mind, as well as the death he had paid as a price already, changed things. So did his current improved state of mind and the pack he was building. Also, and Deucalion could not stress this enough, the protection of the Spark.

"My son's really that big of a deal?" Noah asked wondrously.

"Sparks… Sparks have become painfully rare in our world," Deucalion replied with a solemn nod. "Not only is he incredibly powerful, he is also highly respected in our world. To anger him would not just be unwise, it is also not what the Magic Council wants."

"He's just a kid," Noah argued, near desperate.

"He's seventeen," Deucalion corrected. "In werewolf society, you are old enough to consent to the bite, to this life, at sixteen, like the Hales' turned betas. Not to mention, from everything I have learned in recent weeks about your son, he is… quite remarkable and more mature than his peers. He suffered a lot and he grew with it all."

There was a sour, grief-filled note to Noah's scent at that and Deucalion pursed his lips. The topic of the boy's mother, her death and the way his father had coped with it had come up too, when Deucalion had an intense one-on-one conversation with the Spark.

"Grief is… the most vicious beast any of us can face," Deucalion whispered after a moment. "How we slay it is a struggle for everyone. When I… When I lost my sight, and my pack, I was a broken man. Peter… Peter left everything but his revenge behind. We let our grief sharpen and harden us. You… may have lost yourself for a while, but you also dragged yourself back from the edge. That is admirable, sheriff. And Stiles, he doesn't hold it against you."

"That just makes it worse," Noah muttered, his voice muffled like he was hiding his face. "It would be so much easier if he blamed me for the neglect, if he…"

"If he held you accountable instead of forgiving you?" Deucalion smiled amused. "Yes. Being forgiven when you can't forgive yourself yet is… You'll get there, sheriff."

"Noah," Noah corrected after a moment and heaved a sigh. "You indulged me in my ten thousand questions about your job and your society, you can drop the 'sheriff'."

"Deucalion, then," Deucalion countered the offer, a pleased smile on his lips. "Now, what else can I do to help ease you into all of this. I'm trying to take some of Stiles' burden here. He's been struggling with wanting to tell you for months, but he was… afraid to disappoint you. I suggested that an outsider's perspective, and added context, may help."

"That mate stuff," Noah grunted, sounding displeased. "Run that by me again. Because I still find the middle-aged lawyer very shady and his shtick about soulmates…"

Deucalion pursed his lips as he imagined the indignant look on Peter's face at being called 'middle-aged'. Considering the Hale genes, Deucalion assumed that Peter had aged very gracefully.

"Not every werewolf is lucky enough to have a True Mate, or to find them," Deucalion spoke very carefully. "Personally, I never… Well, I suppose, I have done many things in my life…"

"You aren't unworthy of love," Noah interrupted him. "I don't believe in that sentiment. Even bad people, and from all I have heard about you so far and all you have been willing to do for my son and to explain to me, you are far from the worst of the worst."

Deucalion regarded the sheriff wondrously. He wasn't used to this. To being interrupted so firmly – most people outside his pack feared the Demon Wolf – or to be disagreed with like that. So fiercely, even though Noah didn't even know Deucalion.

"Either way," Deucalion cleared his throat. "I am not among those who have found their True Mate, the way Peter has in Stiles. It's an intense, overwhelming bond. A werewolf is incapable of harming their mate, the wolf inside of us wouldn't allow it. A True Mate is… someone perfectly compatible to one's wolf. And from everything I have witnessed between Peter and Stiles, I do think that describes them very well. They challenge each other, they work off each other, help each other and they lead together. There is a significant age-difference between them, yes, but by our laws, Stiles is old enough to consent. And Peter would never, could never, do anything Stiles doesn't want."

"That's… somewhat reassuring," Noah sighed, sounding exhausted. "Doesn't make this much easier though. I want my son to be happy. I just…"

"You'd prefer if he found happiness with one of his high school peers, instead of a man with a body-count and fangs," Deucalion nodded his understanding. "Peter will use said fangs to defend and protect your son at all cost. And Peter isn't the only one to whom Stiles is precious. You should meet their pack, properly, and witness for yourself how cared for and loved your son is."

Noah's heart stuttered at that, because Deucalion had said the right thing. That was all Noah wanted, all anyone could want for those they love. He offered a small smile to the sheriff.

/break\

"Pe—eter, it's for you," Isaac called loudly, making Peter in his office wince and nearly break the pencil in his hand. "It's your father-in-law."

The pencil snapped in half and he cursed beneath his breath. He was going to disown his newly adopted son. Putting the broken pencil down, Peter took a deep breath and left his office to head to the penthouse's entrance, where Isaac was still standing in front of the sheriff. Smiling forced and overly sweet, Peter put a hand on Isaac's shoulder.

"You do realize that makes him your grandfather, yes?" Peter asked pleasantly.

He was met by matching disturbed looks on both Isaac's and the sheriff's face. Vengeance was so sweet, even when it didn't come at the cost of blood. Isaac glowered at him and then squirmed out of Peter's hold to head back to his bedroom. The boy had finally and fully personalized Laura's childhood bedroom, it was all Isaac's now and Peter felt… both sad and pleased by that. It was good, to see the rooms in use. But to have Derek and Cora live in their childhood bedrooms and Laura's empty of Laura because of Peter, that was an ache he would never be able to shake.

A guilt and shame that he was battling with every day, even as a part of him would always feel justified in his actions. On the one hand, there was his niece Laura, the little girl who'd come running to Peter first with everything. On the other hand, there was the Alpha who had abandoned Peter and their territory. It was incomprehensible to him that these were the same person. Peter would forever have conflicting feelings about this and feel a hole where his niece used to be.

But now the room found use again, in his… son. He had legally adopted Isaac, the boy had even accepted the Hale name. Isaac Lahey Hale. Peter was not just his Alpha, he was his guardian. And that was, quite frankly, terrifying. He wasn't father material. He was the fun uncle with the horrible ideas who'd enable underage drinking and give bad advise that would get his niblings in trouble. Things he could absolutely not do with his own charge (partially because Stiles was a fiercely protective Pack Mom and might actually set him on fire again for it. By the moon, he adored his ruthless little mate, Stiles truly was perfect for him).

"Sheriff, what a pleasant surprise," Peter lied through his teeth, smiling. "What can I do for you?"

He led the man inside and, just to busy himself, went to the kitchen to make them both tea. Noah's eyes were sharp and judgmental as he looked around the kitchen. Derek, who had been sitting at the kitchen table reading, looked extremely uncomfortable and like he wanted to flee.

"Sorry, kid," Noah said and it took both Hales a moment to realize he was talking to Derek. "About the arrests. Deuc's filled me in on all the details."

Deuc? Peter raised his eyebrows and regarded the sheriff briefly. Well then, it seemed Deucalion had put in some extra work even after Peter and Stiles had left. How reassuring. Quite frankly, Peter had feared a huge blow-out over the reveal. The supernatural as well as the mate-bond, but where Peter's defense was snark and Stiles' panic-reaction was endless, overwhelming rambling, Deucalion had presented the calm, neutral outsider perspective that had really helped make the whole thing go much smoother than Peter would have expected.

"It's okay," Derek nodded gruffly. "I know I… looked guilty. Especially with Scott and Stiles continuously claiming I did it."

The sheriff winced at that. "Yeah, also sorry about that. I wish I had an excuse about that, but the boy is trouble incarnate. Listen. I don't… get… this whole pack-thing yet. Not really. But Stiles insists that it means family. And if you're family to my son, you're family. Period."

He clasped a heaved hand on Derek's shoulder and Derek stared up at him in wide-eyed surprise before nodding awkwardly. Clearly uncomfortable with how emotional the conversation had turned, Derek retreated. Noah looked after him with an amused sparkle in his eyes.

"Stiles is right, he really is emotionally constipated, eh," Noah muttered.

"He also heard you. Werewolf hearing," Peter pointed out as he heard Derek huff.

"Oh, yeah, I know. I remember that," Noah smirked.

There was mischief in his expression that reminded Peter startlingly much of Stiles. Clearing his throat, Peter put the tea down in front of the man and sat down opposite him. Waiting. Noah took his time, sipping his tea slowly, with no care in the world. The sheriff knew how to make a suspect squirm in the interrogation room. Peter was too composed to physically squirm, but he did start to feel the pressure. He refused to budge or show fear though. He was an Alpha werewolf, damn it.

"Now," Peter smiled pleasantly. "What can I do for you, sheriff?"

"My son has… gone through so much more than I could ever begin to grasp," Noah looked tired and old in that moment, like he remembered every horrid detail that Stiles had shared during their conversation. "He suffered a lot. I remember you, Peter. You've always been a manipulative bastard after your own gain. If you ever use my son for your own gain, I will find a way to end you for good. If you ever intentionally hurt him, I'll make you regret your very existence."

For a mere human, Noah Stilinski could be incredibly terrifying. Peter sat tensely and nodded.

"I never would. I never could," Peter offered softly. "Stiles is my mate. He's… my everything. My wolf would never allow to hurt him. Yes, I have hurt him in the past, by hurting those he cares about. But I am working hard to make up for that. I love your son, more than you can imagine. I will do everything I can to make him happy and to keep him safe."

"Good luck on that last part," Noah snorted. "That boy's got a compass pointing 'danger' guiding him through life and he is blindly following it."

Peter opened and closed his mouth, before he admitted defeat and nodded with a heavy sigh. "I am painfully aware of that, yes. Still, the pack and I are doing our best to keep him safe. To keep one another safe. Pack does mean family for a werewolf, especially for a born wolf. And we will do anything to protect our pack. Your son, though not a wolf, has incredible pack-instincts."

Noah pursed his lips fondly, his eyes soft. "He does. He always has been fiercely protective of those he considers his. You lot can be grateful that he seems to consider you his."

"I am," Peter said, with as much sincerity as possible.

It seemed to convey even to the sheriff, because Noah gave it a pleased nod and got up. Peter only allowed his shoulders to relax when the sheriff was out of the penthouse though.

"That went better than expected," Cora commented from the couch. "He didn't even threaten you with his gun, uncle Peter. That's a big win."

Peter glared at his smirking niece and for a second he missed when he'd lived alone here. No. No, he didn't, not really. It was too nice to have his family in his home. To come home to their scents, voices and warmth. To have this chance of rekindling with Cora and Derek.

"Don't you have homework to do or something?" Peter asked with a scowl.

/break\

The pack was growing more stable and it was also growing in size and Stiles was honestly so damn relieved about that. Integrating Scott and Jackson into the pack had been tricky and careful work, but in the end, their wolves, once they could feel the pack-bonds, settled. Things weren't perfect, far from it. The relationship between Scott, Peter and Derek was still testy and fragile and Stiles knew that Scott didn't see either of them as his Alpha… but Scott accepted Stiles as his Alpha and for now, that worked, since he was the Alpha Mate.

With Scott came Allison and with Jackson came Lydia and both were also complicated.

Lydia's relationship to Peter was, and Stiles couldn't believe that was even possible, worse than that between Scott and Peter. The truly frustrating part was where Stiles understood it. Even though Peter had been feral when he'd done it, what he had done to Lydia had still been deeply traumatizing and just like he had a right to his trauma, Lydia had a right to hers. Plus, she wasn't a wolf, so she didn't necessarily need pack, the same way the wolves did.

Marin helped. Marin worked with Lydia through her trauma and once Lydia realized that their counselor actually knew about the supernatural and about what Lydia had been through, she found it easier to open up to the woman. Or so Lydia had told Stiles, anyway. And damn was Stiles grateful for the friendship they had cultivated. For so long, Stiles had chased after her and it took him accepting that he would never have her romantically for him to have her in his life as one of the most important people in it. Budding friendships with Cora and Erica also helped Lydia establish a somewhat spot in the pack, even if she still refused to be alone in a room with Peter.

Allison was a harder sell, especially for Boyd, Erica and Isaac, after everything in the woods and the warehouse. Isaac had been the first one to forgive her after she'd apologized to him. Erica chose to hold a grudge and Stiles respected that. But Allison was Scott's True Mate and Chris, now that the two Argents decided to stay in Beacon Hills, had had a proper treaty sit-down with Derek and Peter, negotiated by Deucalion. The Argents were now officially allies of the Hale Pack. Bizarre.

"I think we should tell Danny the truth."

Stiles blinked doe-eyed over at Lydia. They were sitting outside together, comparing research on virgin sacrifices once again. After looking at Lydia, Stiles followed her gaze and found Danny very clearly flirting with Ethan. Right. Because that member of the Alpha Pack was very interested in Danny. Stiles grinned a little when Jackson got between the two, wrapped an arm around Danny and steered his best friend slowly over toward where they were sitting.

"You sure about that?" Stiles asked softly. "He actually is human. You and me, we… aren't. Neither is Allison, not really, even if physically. She's a hunter. We're all… entangled in this. He doesn't have to be. He could have a normal life."

Allison on Lydia's other side snorted softly. "I doubt there is such a thing as normal life in Beacon Hills, Stiles. Lydia is right. Danny is… He's Jackson's best friend, he's kind of dating a werewolf right now and he has been targeted in the past. I get what you mean, with him being human, but… did it do me and Lydia any good, when you and Scott lied to us and kept things from us because you thought we were just human and didn't need to be involved? The danger was still there."

Stiles sucked his lower lip into it and, just before Jackson and Danny reached them, heaved a defeated sigh. "Okay, fine, I'll talk with Peter about."

Lydia smiled pleased at him and then waved Jackson over. Her mate complied and bumped Stiles out of the way so he could sit right next to her. Stiles flipped him off and continued reading while side-eyeing Danny who took the spot on Stiles' other side.

"...Is this another one of your weird econ papers?" Danny asked doubtfully.

He was glancing over Stiles' shoulder. Stiles blinked and shrugged. Sure, that'd work. Never thought his ADHD fueled rabbit-holes would ever work out in his favor that way. But yeah, Stiles Stilinski researching virgin sacrifices at school? Sure, why not. On brand, no questions asked.

/break\

So their villain of the year was apparently done with virgins. Stiles wrapped his arms a little tighter around Boyd, resting his cheek on the other boy's broad chest so he could look at Erica on Boyd's other side. Boyd's friend Kyle was dead. Definitely not a virgin – which, yeah, great things to blurt out and ask immediately, but at least Boyd knew why Stiles was asking. Apparently, Boyd had walked in on Kyle and Kyle's girlfriend before after a ROTC meeting.

This… wasn't ideal. Because not only did they now not know who the new victims were, multiple victim circles also implied much greater plans from the bad guy. Stiles could feel his skin vibrate with the need to figure it out, but there was no pattern in one victim. All they could do was sit and wait for someone else to die. Which was an absolutely sucktastic feeling.

So Stiles channeled his restless energy into comforting Boyd about his loss. He got it, after all. He'd only recently buried Heather. They were too young for all the loss they'd seen. But at least Boyd had come to him to seek out comfort and now Boyd was in a safe, soothing sandwich between his Pack Mom and his mate, aka the two people best suited to comfort him.

It had taken Stiles some getting used to this role, but he couldn't deny the instincts. He did want to protect his betas and though he wasn't the best at the whole mushy feelings thing, he was also brimming with emotions. He just still needed to figure out how to convey them and deal with them.

"Anything you need, big guy?" Stiles asked softly.

Boyd just shook his head and pulled both Stiles and Erica closer to him. Cuddling, Stiles could do.

/break\

Danny wasn't stupid, even though it felt like the people around him seemed to think so. Stilinski and McCall kept talking openly about werewolves. During class, in the hallways, all the time. At first, he'd scoffed at it and dismissed it. But Scott's strange sudden improvement in lacrosse, his miracle cure of his asthma? Erica Reyes suddenly cured from her epilepsy? The way people who had never even looked at before were now buddy-buddy? Jackson's weird behavior? It only took a certain amount of weirdness before Danny started considering that the answer may be werewolves.

Danny also refused to be the first one to speak up. If they didn't trust him, well, he wasn't going to force his way in. Which hurt, because Jackson and Lydia were his best friends. But he would wait.

"Hey, Lydia," Danny smiled as he sat down next to her. "You know, you should join art class."

Lydia blinked at him, looking right through him for a moment before she focused again. "What?"

Danny pointed at the drawing on her lap. A tree. It was pretty good, really detailed. He hadn't even known she was into art. Was this a werewolf thing too? Or just a 'new hobby acquired during the last break-up phase with Jackson' thing? She'd learned Archaic Latin during their last break-up to pass the time until Jackson wised up and begged to be taken back, after all.

"I'm not…" Lydia blinked and flipped through her notebook.

There were… concerningly many trees drawn in that notebook. Maybe not a break-up thing then. Danny shot her a worried look. Was this the same thing that was going on with Jackson at the end of last year? When he'd started spacing out, being more distant…?

"You know, music class got canceled anyway," Danny pointed out slowly. "Teacher's a no show."

"I need to call Stiles," Lydia declared, looking worried herself, and then getting up. "I'm sorry."

Right. Because somehow, for some reason, Stilinski was always involved. Danny wondered how.

/break\

"Do you think we will ever get time to go on like… a date?" Stiles asked frustrated.

He stood in Harris' classroom, Lydia and Marin on one side of him and Derek and Peter on his other. Lydia had called him, worried, saying she had a bad feeling. That she'd been drawing the Nemeton in music class, even though she wasn't even in that class. The teacher hadn't shown up but she found his cellphone with a recording of druidic chanting. Stiles had instructed her to go find Marin, who was still at work, until Stiles and the Alphas could make it to school.

"I'm sure we will, darling," Peter smiled bemused and slipped his hand into Stiles'.

The music teacher was missing. Harris was missing. And Harris' graded papers spelled out the word DARACH, which, according to Marin, was the answer to all their questions. But not the answer they were hoping for. This was Bad News, like, capital letters kind of bad news. Stiles heaved a sigh and leaned back against his mate's chest, drawing strength from Peter. This was only the beginning.