Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Gift of Death

Scott didn't come. Stiles spent more than two hours in the pool, treading water to hold up 180+ pounds of paralyzed werewolf (along with his own weight, and their soaked clothes, which made things even harder, not just for the added weight, but the loss of maneuverability on his part). He can still remember Derek's face when Stiles let him go, let him sink while the human swam like crazy to get his phone, to call his friend, the one he believed to be their only hope… and Scott didn't come… Stiles wanted to believe that the whole 'hanging up on him' was a mistake, or maybe it was just that Scott couldn't talk in that moment (maybe there were Argents around, or something). So he forced himself to keep moving, swam to the bottom of the pool and with a huge effort managed to pull Derek back to the surface, just in time for the wolf not to drown on him. Then they waited. And nothing. Scott Didn't Come…

That was when Stiles knew he had to make a choice: he could keep trying to hold Derek up, though sooner or later his exhaustion would be too much and if the paralysis hadn't worn off by then they'd both drown, or… or he could stop hiding and save the two of them himself.

Stiles knows Derek is his potential mate, his ideal match; they're so compatible he could look the world over and would never be able to find someone who fits him as well as the sourwolf does. He thinks Derek probably knows it too. It's also quite clear the wolf just isn't ready for any of it. And it's not surprising, considering not just everything that's going on right now (in between the new betas, the lizard monster, the Argents, and Scott still refusing to join the pack…) but also his past. Nothing might have been said explicitly but Stiles is not stupid, he can read between the lines well enough to understand what Kate-freaking-Argent must have done to Derek, at a time when he was a minor and she was not. Much as Stiles might dislike it, he's still a minor, a relationship at this time might not be the best idea.

Still, the fact remains that they are potential mates, and Stiles wasn't going to throw that potential away just so he could hide a bit longer. His secrets weren't worth a life, especially not Derek's. And once the choice was made… it was almost easy. They'd realized already that the creature was afraid of water, and there was a lot of it around them. So Stiles used that, pushing the water at him. The creature let out a horrible screech that carried an undercurrent of absolute terror, and sounded almost like nails on a chalkboard (Stiles cannot imagine how much worse that must have sounded to a wolf's ears), before fleeing.

Stiles then used a bit more power to get the water to basically push them out of the pool; there's no way he'd have ever been able to carry Derek out of that pool. He caught the cellphone that floated up to him, almost as an afterthought, before letting himself fall beside the wolf.

"I know… you must… have questions…" he panted. "And I… I promise I'll answer them… later… when I'm not quite so wrung out."

Derek recovered shortly afterwards, woke up Erica before sending her away, only to then insist on seeing Stiles back home himself.

Which is how Stiles finds himself standing in his shower, letting the hot spray warm him over. He also takes that time to process everything that's happened tonight, all the ways things have changed. Because Scott didn't come, and Stiles couldn't just let Derek die, and now… now he needs to face the music.

It's not even just about Derek, about the explanations he deserves, but also… it's become clear that he cannot count on Scott. When was the last time he could? To be honest Stiles cannot recall a single time Scott has chosen him, not since he was turned (not since before that). Stiles needs to take a step back, stop making plans for 'StilesandScott' and instead make plans for just himself. Or rather, not for Stiles, he needs to plan for Mieczyslaw, because that's who he'll need to be if he's going to find a way to make things right. To deal with the Argents, and the lizard monster, and ensure Derek and his pack will be alright (if the alpha will allow it, which Stiles really hopes he will… and even if Derek chooses to turn him away, to ignore their potential, Stiles is still going to do all he can to help him, because that's just who he is…).

Minutes later Stiles is stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips; he's towel-drying his hair (it's still pretty short, but not a buzzcut anymore), and then he hears the front door opening. His reaction is automatic, he lets go of the towel, leaving it hanging around his neck, and takes off down the hall and down the stairs, taking them practically two at a time; he's going fast enough, and with his feet bare, he cannot help but end up hitting the wall at the end of stairs, almost hard enough that he bounces off of it. He winces, less due to the pain, and more because Derek will have heard that, and while his intervention would have been much appreciated when Stiles honestly believed that someone was breaking into his house, the run downstairs has sharpened his senses enough for him to identify the 'uninvited guest': Scott.

"Hey man," Scott is, in fact, standing just inside the Stilinski house, a hand in the small bowl where he and his dad usually leave their keys upon arriving. "You didn't answer your phone!"

Stiles open his mouth at that because, really? Scott is criticizing him for not answering his phone? When he's always ignoring Stiles's own calls, or hanging up on him?! WTF?!

"I went looking for you at the school and you weren't there, I need Mr. Argent's keys back." He doesn't actually give Stiles time to get a word in, and he's already fishing a set of keys Stiles didn't even realize he left in that bowl. "Allison thinks the bestiary is on these…"

Again Stiles tries to say something to that, but Scott doesn't give him a chance.

"Look I gotta go," he states, already at the door. "I need to get these back to Allison before Mr. Argent notices they're gone…"

He's out the door before Stiles can ask any questions, demand explanations, anything at all. He doesn't ask after Stiles, if anything happened, or why Stiles called him, like he doesn't remember it. And well, that might be the case, Scott never seems to remember anything that doesn't concern Allison-freaking-Argent!

"Stiles…?"

Derek's voice pulls him out of… whatever black-hole his brain just sank into. He only realizes he's on the floor, with his back against a wall and legs folded and pressed against his chest, when he notices Derek crouched in front of him, hand held gingerly an inch or so from his face, almost but not quite touching him. The sharp inhale almost makes his chest ache, apparently he wasn't breathing either…

"Shit…" He mutters, closing his eyes just for a moment and pressing his forehead against his knees. He just had a panic attack.

"Ready to get up?" Derek eventually asks him.

He doesn't ask the teen how he is, or what caused the panic attack, and Stiles is so, so grateful for that. He lets the wolf pull him to his feet, and even follows as he's led back to his room, and all the way to his bed. Derek goes as far as tucking him in, like some kind of human burrito, and while Stiles would normally say something mocking or flirty or something, in that moment all he can think about is how right it feels, how safe he feels… It's probably not surprising then, that when Derek makes to leave, a whine escapes him, such a needy sound, Stiles has a feeling that if it were anyone else there with him he'd feel ashamed of it, but Derek's not just anyone, and Stiles doesn't want him to leave…

"Okay, okay, I'll stay…" The wolf whispers into his ear, settling behind Stiles, cuddling him.

Stiles falls asleep like that.

xXx

In the morning Stiles meets his dad in the kitchen for breakfast. Noah has coffee (made the Polish way, strong, by putting two spoonfuls of ground beans in a cup and then filling it with boiling water); there's enough water left for a mug or two of tea, which Stiles knows is intentional. The teen slips a hand into the box with the teabags, pulling one at random and slipping it into a mug before adding the water. It's plum and cinnamon, one of his favorite (though truth is he likes all the herbal teas he has so much he's made a point to take a bag at random, since it'd take forever for him to actually choose one).

Before either of them can say a word they can both hear the slightest creaking, Stiles's bed, which means Derek's up.

"Come down and have breakfast with us Derek," Noah says, not bothering to raise his voice in the slightest.

They both hear the loud thud, and Stiles guesses that the surprise must have made Derek either stumble or drop something.

"Come on sourwolf, my dad won't bite." Stiles calls in the same tone.

He on the other hand… but no, he cannot say that right now, and not just because his dad is standing right there before him (and by the expression on his face he clearly has some idea of what's going through his son's mind), but because he knows Derek would be uncomfortable. Not only due to his dad, or the fact that said dad's the sheriff, but because Stiles is still a minor (once he's eighteen all bets are off!). After Kate-freaking-Argent… Derek would never do that, and Stiles has already promised himself to respect that.

It takes almost a full minute, but eventually Derek makes it down. Slow, hesitant, he's wearing the same clothes from the day before, not the ones he borrowed from Stiles the night prior (and the teen makes a mental note to find those and use them as sleep-clothes).

"Sheriff… Good morning…" he murmurs, somewhat shy.

"Call me Noah, Derek, I hope it's alright that I call you Derek?" Noah smiles gently at him.

"I… yeah, sure," Derek is tense, as if ready to flee.

Stiles wants so much to put him at ease, but he just has no idea how… His dad's a godsend, he pulls down a mug, setting it before Derek, then places the jar with grounded coffee beans and the box with herbal tea bags in front of him so he can choose. Derek of course turns to the tea, choosing the forest one. Noah pours the water for him.

"Thank you Sh… Noah," the wolf murmurs quietly, his body relaxing ever so slowly, seemingly a muscle at a time.

The Sheriff does them both the courtesy of waiting until they've finished their teas, Stiles rising from his seat, going around the counter and into the kitchen.

"I'm making apple pancakes." He announces as he starts taking ingredients out.

"Great," Noah agrees wholeheartedly with the idea. "Derek, you're going to love this."

"I… how are you so at ease?" the wolf blurts out. "I… you knew I was here, you know I slept here, in your son's room, in your son's bed! How can you be so calm about that?!"

"Because I know you didn't do anything." Noah tells him calmly. "You'd never hurt my son Derek, I know that. And whatever might have happened yesterday… and I know most definitely that something did… you know what I saw when I looked in on my son when I arrived from my shift less than an hour ago? I saw the two of you in that bed, I saw you holding him, offering comfort, and protection. Why would I ever have a problem with that?"

"I…" Derek has no idea what to say about that.

It takes about half an hour for the apple pancakes to be ready, but when Derek takes the first bite he realizes it was so worth it! They taste amazing.

"This is really good," He tells Stiles when he gets a third serving.

And clearly Stiles knew what to expect, judging by just how many pancakes he made, and the fact that both he and his dad went for seconds.

"Thanks… it was my mom's recipe." Stiles admits, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Truth is the things I can cook can be divided in two categories: healthy recipes I've found online and use to ensure my dad stays in good health as long as he possibly can… and Gajos family recipes, my mom was Polish. They're mostly breakfast recipes actually…"

"Because breakfast was the only meal Claudia could cook…" Noah mutters, pretending like he's telling Derek some big secret.

"Hey!" Stiles cries out in fake affront, before giving it up and shrugging. "Yeah well, I've tried to do some of the other recipes… doesn't always work out.

And there's also the fact that those recipes aren't meant for just two people, and rarely does he have the occasion to cook for more than just the two of them. He did it for Scott and Melissa once or twice, but Scott would complain that the dishes were rare and he wasn't sure he liked them (before even trying them and not even knowing what was in them, simply because it was something he wasn't familiar with).

"My mother was a terrible cook, uncle Peter was the one gifted in the kitchen." Derek states as he takes another bite, only afterwards realizing what he just said, blanching.

"Hey…" Stiles lets go of his knife and extends a hand to place it over Derek's in a comforting touch. "It's okay to miss them, you know? Even Peter."

Derek nods, swallowing slowly. He takes a deep breath before slowly taking the last bite of pancake on his plate. It's only as he's finishing that his brain seems to fully catch up with what was just said, as his head whips in the Sheriff's direction so fast his neck cracks slightly.

"Perhaps we should begin this conversation by saying I'm completely aware of the existence of the supernatural," Noah declares. "I suppose, technically, I'm a part of it even."

"Wha…?" Derek's completely at a loss.

"I'm a spark," Noah clarifies. "That's a term used for a magic user who doesn't fit any of the usual classifications. In my case it's because my power levels are really low. Truly, all I can do is very simple things, a burst of speed or strength or reflexes when needed, and I can tell when someone is lying to me. Which I have to say, is extremely useful, in and out of the job…"

"Never let me get away with anything…" Stiles mutters, mostly under his breath, then he adds: "I'm a spark too, though in my case that's less about levels of power, and more because I'm not the kind to be satisfied with just one type of magic."

"Yeah, sounds like you," Derek snorts, then shakes his head. "One thing I don't understand, if you know about all this she… Noah. Why is Scott so obsessed with me not telling you?"

"What do you mean?" Both Stilinskis look confused by that.

"Right after I became the Alpha, I went looking for Scott, told him I wanted both of you in my pack, he refused, at volume," Derek explains. "I also suggested reading the Sheriff in," he focuses on Stiles. "Thought it would be useful, not just for us, but so you wouldn't have to lie to your dad anymore. He rejected that plan, said you didn't want your dad involved. Even threatened to tell everyone that I killed my uncle if I tried."

"Yes because that worked so well the first two times…" Stiles groans.

"Talking about that, wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking when you boys made those accusations?" Noah wants to know.

"That's the problem, we weren't thinking," Stiles admits, then he ponders a bit and revises. "Scratch that, I've no idea what the hell Scott was thinking. I just know I wasn't." He takes a deep breath before elaborating. "The first time… when we first found the body, and then first saw Derek… I'll admit I did think he might be responsible." He doesn't even dare look at the wolf as he says all this. "And by the time I realized just who the dead body belonged to, and that there was no way it could be him, it was too late to change things officially. There's a reason why I agreed to hide him…"

"Don't… don't say anything else." Noah cuts him off.

"Right daddio," He glances at Derek briefly. "Plausible deniability. Anyway, the second time…" he exhales roughly, running a hand through hair barely long enough for him to mess it at all. I have no idea what the hell Scott was even thinking that night! I was trying so hard to keep all of us safe, and then the rogue, and you… I thought you were dead…" He says the last part in barely a whisper, then starts babbling. "I thought you were dead and it was our fault, because you were just trying to help us and… and…"

He cuts off as a heavy hand lands on the back of his neck, applying gentle, reassuring pressure. Stiles feels like he could go completely boneless right that second. Nothing before had ever been able to pull him out of one of his spirals so fast, or so well… he even managed to stop the coming panic attack in its tracks, something Stiles didn't even know was possible!

"I forgive you…" the Alpha whispers in the teen's ear.

That… that's more that he can feasibly take in that moment, and the boy bursts into tears.

xXx

Thankfully, it's Saturday, so Stiles doesn't need to worry about school. With Principal Argent there, calling sick would have never been an option (the last thing they need is the man looking too closely at any of them), and he doesn't know which one he's least prepared for in that moment: classes, the Argents (all of them!), or facing Scott after the events of the day before.

Eventually Stiles relaxes enough and they get to talking once again. As their very first order of business Stiles requests entry into the Hale pack, for both himself and his dad.

"Are you… are you sure?" Derek asks quietly. "I'm not the best alpha…"

"You don't need to be perfect sourwolf, all you need to do is try, and you're already doing that," Stiles assures him.

Derek turns to the sheriff, silently asking the same question.

"Where my son goes so do I," Noah answers calmly. "And… I believe as he does. You might not be perfect, but no one is, son. Also, remember you're not alone anymore."

"I'll try," it was the best Derek could promise.

While Derek cannot quite remember all that was usually included in having someone join the pack, especially someone who wasn't a wolf and wouldn't be turned, Stiles knows enough to guide him through the motions as each Stilinski stands before the wolf in turn, tilting their heads to bare the side of their throats, allowing Derek to place his teeth against their fragile skin, enough to leave the lightest of marks, but not enough to break the skin. It's not about the blood, not this time, it's about the trust. They can all feel the moment the pack-bonds snap in place. Derek in particular cannot help but gasp, as not only does he gain bonds to the two Stilinski men (both which are already so very strong, even just seconds after forming), but the bond he has to his first beta (the only one he's had a full-moon with thus far) strengthens considerably.

"Wow… that's a rush…" Stiles murmurs in awe.

With his own magic he's able to sense the bonds, and not just that, he has a feeling that once he has enough familiarity with them he'll be able to use them to track anyone else in his pack. It's fascinating! Also, he can feel the difference in the bonds: the simple pack-bond he shares with Isaac, and to a lesser degree with Erica and Boyd; the stronger bond he has with his dad (which, duh!), the bond he has to Derek, which seems to almost shine silver (like some kind of silver cord…). There's also two or three… like ghost-of-bonds he has no idea who they belong to, or why they're so different. He can also tell there's no bond with Scott, not through Derek, and not even to him directly. It doesn't surprise him. In a moment of either insight or clairvoyance Stiles is abruptly sure that whatever else might happen, he and Scott will never be pack…

Once the rush of the new bonds passes they go through a simple and concise retelling of the events from the day before, at the pool.

"Kanima," Derek clarifies when Stiles calls the thing 'lizard monster' for the third time. "It's called a kanima."

"You knew the whole time?" Stiles asks, incredulously.

"No," Derek shakes his head. "Only when it was confused by its own reflection."

"Confused, like it doesn't know what it is?" Noah asks, not having expected that.

"Or who," Derek completes.

"And yet, it recognized me…" Stiles points out.

He tells them about what happened in the mechanic's shop, some things he'd only told Scott.

"This is problematic," Noah admits ruefully. "What are the options? I mean, the most likely people to be the kanima?"

"It's either Lydia or Jackson," Derek states seriously. "Peter bit Lydia the night of the dance, and I bit Jackson, at his own insistence, shortly after becoming Alpha. Neither of them turned… or at least, that's what we believed."

"Didn't turn and didn't reject the bite, is that even possible?" Noah asks, confused.

"Far as I know, no," Stiles shakes his head. "Everything I read indicates that when you're bitten you either turn or die, there's no third option." Something suddenly occurs to him: "Unless…"

"Unless?" his dad echoes when Stiles fails to finish his line of thought.

"Well, if you're supernatural already." Stiles shrugs. "Like, a kitsune, or fae, you can either be one or the other, not both. Not sure how they'd react to being bitten exactly, but the fact remains that they wouldn't turn…"

"So chances are that between those two, one is already supernatural, and the other is the kanima," Derek assumes.

"Maybe…" Stiles isn't entirely convinced, what if they're both supernatural already? "I'll need to look into their family histories. Which I can tell you right now will not be easy."

No, it wouldn't, in between Lydia's parents' messy divorce, and Jackson being adopted, it would be anything but easy. Also, he's not stupid, with the threats being what they are Derek will quite probably see killing the kanima not just as the best option, but the only one; and while Stiles is well aware that sometimes death is necessary (is he aware of it!) if there's one thing he won't do, it's kill an innocent, and the kanima, whoever it might be, is quite probably an innocent. If they truly don't know what and who they are, then it's unlikely that the killing they're doing is their own choice so: innocent, not a murderer but the weapon someone else is wielding… and that reminds him of something he might have come across in his readings at some point but cannot remember clearly…

"We need help, we need help so, so badly…" The teen mutters, more to himself than to any of the other two in the room.

"And where do you think we can possibly get help Stiles?" Derek asks, gruffly.

For a moment Stiles is surprised by the wolf's attitude, until he realizes what he did wrong:

"No, Derek, I…" The teen forces himself to focus, to choose the right words for what he needs to say. "I'm not trying to go over you, or to say I believe you weak, or anything else. It's not that I think you cannot handle things, and more that I don't believe you should, not alone. We… we need help sourwolf, but more than that, you Deserve to have help…"

Derek is clearly taken aback by Stiles's words, by his vehemence.

"Do you truly believe that anyone would choose to help… us?" Derek asks after a long silence.

"First of all, I take offense, because I'm here, and I'm choosing to help you!" Stiles points out. "This is no longer about Scott. I… I've realized that I made a mistake, when this all began. I was so fixated on Scott I failed to see everything else, everyone else. No more. I'm going to help you, sourwolf. I give you my word, I'm on your side. We're pack. I'm not taking that back, not now, not ever. I also promise you that the people I have in mind will be on your side too."

Derek wasn't entirely sure what prompted his answer… or rather, he knew, it was his wolf. His wolf that believed wholeheartedly that Stiles was telling the truth. That he was there for Derek, would be there, would get people to help them. Stiles promised he was on Derek's side, and it had to be true, didn't it? He was meant to be Derek's mate, so how could he possibly be anywhere but at his side…? Of course that was a topic they hadn't broached just yet. They would, eventually, just not now, Derek wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

"Call your people," The wolf blurts out abruptly, not wanting to think on it too long and give himself time to regret it.

Stiles smiles so bright at him Derek tells himself that whatever might happen, he will never regret agreeing with the human this time. It's just… if the teen could keep smiling at him like that, for the rest of his life, Derek would be ecstatic…

"Sofiya…" Stiles speaks as someone answers his call. "Listen, the situation has changed dramatically. Things are happening right now and we're going to need help in order to right as many wrongs as we can. So I'm gonna need you in Beacon Hills."

"I see. And who exactly do you need Mieszko?" Derek can hear the female voice on the other end of the line.

Stiles's response is given with absolute seriousness, and the same gravitas as the falling of a gavel at the end of a trial: "Everyone."

xXx

They're all left wondering how Scott could possibly make such an absolute mess of things in such a short amount of time. First there was the thing at Jungle where a number of people ended temporarily paralyzed (including Danny! Who ever goes after someone like Danny?), then the fight at the school (they hurt Erica, his Catwoman! Stiles wants to destroy any and all who can be considered to have been involved in that in any way, shape or form!); then there was Scott demanding Stiles help him and Allison protect Lydia, because Derek and his pack were going to try and kill her (which, what the hell?!), and when it was revealed that Jackson was the kanima Scott and Allison then proceeded to kidnap him, using a police-transport van! The latter which of course meant that fingers were being pointed at Stiles, despite him having been nowhere near that shitstorm; and his dad got suspended (why? No idea! People are absolutely crazy!).

"Oh goddess…" Sophia murmurs when they finish relaying everything that happened since Stiles made the call to 'rally the troops' (as he calls it).

"I know," Stiles nods. "I mean, I knew Scottie wasn't the sharpest tool in the box but…"

"How stupid do you have to be…" Erica mutters.

"He seems to be working under… well, a lot of assumptions," Stiles points out.

"What, like any of us give a damn about his opinions?" Isaac drawls.

"Or his holier-than-thou attitude?" Erica adds for good measure.

"He acts like he's some kind of alpha," Derek points out seriously. "Like giving orders somehow makes him some sort of alpha… that's not how it works."

That's something he well knows; not from personal experience, exactly (and not for anything he's willing to talk about just yet), but still.

"No, it's not," Noah agrees. "But as problematic as Scott's attitude might be, he's not actually the biggest problem right now."

He's stressed, has been since Tara called to inform him the latest news: 2 more dead; and while one was most definitely killed by the kanima, the other one… the other one was killed by a human; probably the kanima's master. As for why this happened… the woman was pregnant, the kanima's a creature of justice as much as of vengeance, a baby… they're innocence personified, there's no way a kanima would ever attack one, born or unborn. And the fact that the master, whoever he might be, did not care about that… They need to stop the kanima, but more importantly, they need to stop its master.

"Arek's already working on a spin so you can close the cases without mentioning the supernatural daddio," Stiles informs him.

That does help with Noah's stress. They've managed to work out the connection between the victims: BHHS's swim-team from eight or so years back; the mechanic and the couple all were part of the team, while Isaac's father used to be their coach. They've been trying to find whoever else might have been part of the team, as they're all potential victims. Some of them don't seem to be living in Beacon Hills anymore, one actually died in an accident a few years back, another one was a Hale (a cousin), and the last one… the last one is a DJ who's expected to be at the 'secret rave' taking place tonight…

"And don't forget the Argents and their minions," Isaac points out. "They'll take whatever excuse they can to kill us all."

It's such a mess… they cannot keep fighting a battle on so many fronts, they'll only end up getting killed if they try. So they need to prioritize.

"So, what's the plan then?" Boyd's the one who asks the all-important question.

"The kanima first," Stiles decides. "It's a wildcard, whoever might be the current master is bad enough, but we cannot let the hunters find a way to take over. That'd be all sorts of bad. Also, Jackson is innocent, at least where all these murders are concerned and does not deserve to keep being used as a murder-puppet."

"The kanima first," Derek agrees. "And then we'll find a way to get all hunters out of our territory, once and for all."

"The Order stands with you," Sophia declares, followed by Stiles's emphatic nod.

The Order… wasn't that a fun conversation? (not!) But at least by now everyone in the pack knows the truth about the Servants of Death, about Stiles, his family, his legacy… and that one day, when he's ready to step up, he'll be the next Seneschal of Death.

Everyone's in agreement. So it's time they get to work.

xXx

Of course because they all know that everything that can go wrong will at some point, it all turns into an absolute shit-show. Derek's wolves are mixed in with those members of the Orders young enough not to stand out in the rave, trying to keep the hunters at bay; while Noah's with Arek and other older Order members, keeping watch from nearby rooftops; Stiles manages to lay a fine mountain ash circle around the building, hoping and believing it will keep both the kanima and its master trapped inside, Sophia standing guard by it after it's been laid, just in case. Then Stiles comes across Derek, who's arguing with Isaac because the young beta left his post at Scott's behest. Derek really doesn't like one of his betas taking orders from someone who isn't even pack, who doesn't want to be pack! Perhaps the only saving grace is that it allowed him to use the ketamine Scott was carrying to sedate the kanima. Jackson isn't completely out, but they still take advantage of his state to pull him into a different area of the warehouse, away from the partying people (away from the DJ).

"So, let's just hope that whoever's controlling him just decided to show up tonight." Stiles mutters when it's just him and Derek left with Jackson (Isaac being sent back to his post).

"I'm here." The voice that comes out of Jackson's mouth right then doesn't sound right, at all. "I'm right here with you."

It takes several seconds for both Stiles and Derek to get over it, but eventually the teenager decides to just go with it:

"Why are you killing people?" He questions.

"We are killing murderers," The master replies through Jackson.

"So, all the people you've killed so far…" Derek murmurs in the back.

"Deserved it," Jackson/The master finishes for him.

"See, we got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers…" Stiles points out.

There's no way a baby can be a murderer, even if the mother died giving birth for whatever the reason; a baby's innocent.

"Anything can break if enough pressure's applied," the other hisses.

Yeah, maybe, but that's not how it works. You do not get to choose what rules you follow and which you don't where the supernatural is involved. He knows this…

"All right," Derek speaks up when it's made clear Stiles is lost in his own head. "The people you're killing are all murderers."

"All. Each. Every one."

"Who did they murder?" Derek presses.

"Me."

That pulls Stiles out of his spiraling thoughts: "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

"They murdered me… They murdered me."

Before Stiles has the chance to ask (demand!) what the hell that's supposed to mean, the echoes of shots fired reaches them. They're at enough of a distance from the actual rave (while still in the same block of warehouses that's been circled in the mountain ash) that Stiles believes (hopes) the party-goers won't have heard the shots; the last thing they need is people panicking and accidents happening (or worse).

From one moment to the next Stiles get a strange sensation, phantom-like, almost like a slight burning under his skin… he realizes what it is when Derek snarls quietly beside him.

"Can you handle… this?" The alpha asks around a mouthful of fangs.

"Yes!" Stiles assures him right away. "Go!"

The pack is hurt. They need their alpha.

Derek leaves the room. The kanima's master tries to take advantage of Stiles's brief distraction to force the transformation and have the creature attack. They clearly don't expect Stiles's reflexes to be what they are, as the teen drops to his knees, bending backwards sharply to avoid the tail that swishes in his direction, a moment before he's slipping a hand into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulling out a fistful of mountain ash and throwing it into the air. He doesn't even need to focus too hard on it, as the powder instantly settles into a circle around the kanima. The creature hisses sharply, clearly disliking being trapped. Stiles can almost imagine what the Master would be saying through it if they could; so it's probably a good thing he's not Harry Potter and understanding snakes and the like is not one of his magical abilities.

"Time to deal with this," Stiles declares as he straightens up abruptly. "I honestly don't know what all happened to you. Whatever it was I'm sure must have been terrible, and I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry that you had to go through whatever it was. Sorry for the person you used to be and could have been. But that's as far as my compassion goes. Because having suffered doesn't give you the right to make innocents hurt. You killed an unborn baby, a being that was completely innocent. You've broken the covenant you made when you became the kanima's master." A snarl echoes all around, but he ignores it entirely. "This, your actions, are clearly not about justice, they never were. They might have started as righteous vengeance but now? Now you've become as bad as those you claim killed you. And it ends here…"

xXx

In the parking area behind the warehouse the stand-off between the pack and the hunters seems to be about to reach the point of no-return. The Order are mostly sticking to the shadows for the time being, they're good at that, but Derek has no doubt that if (when) it comes down to it, they'll be on their side.

"Derek…" Chris Argent says in a warning tone. "Back off."

"Back off?" the Alpha echoes, dismissive. "That's really all you've got? I gotta be honest, Chris, I was really expecting more from the big-bad veteran Werewolf Hunter…"

"Okay, then," Chris shrugs, hints of a smirk on his face. "How about: 'Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring claws to a gunfight?'"

On cue, all the hunters at his back cock their weapons, pointing them at the alpha and the two betas at his sides.

"…That one sounded pretty good." Boyd admits quietly.

"And how about this one: You all put down your weapons, or I'm taking you in, right now." A new voice calls out from a side.

The hunters are the ones shocked then as none other than Sheriff Noah Stilinski steps around from a corner, hand on the gun on his belt, a shotgun slung over his back. And he's not alone, several of the hunters suddenly notice a number of figures half in the shadows, standing guard. They know they're not their own.

"Sheriff…?" Chris starts, clearly taken aback, if only for a moment. "Oh, but wait, you're not sheriff anymore, are you? Which means you cannot take anyone in…"

"It's called citizen's arrest, but if you rather we settle this right here, right now, be my guest." Noah retorts, not intimidated in the slightest as he pulls out not one but two guns, pointing with one at Chris, and with the other at one of the hunters who's clearly been lining his own shot, not at Noah or Derek, but Erica (probably seeing her as the weak link). "Don't even think about it son. You might call yourself a hunter, but I bet you I can put you down long before you have time to pull that trigger."

"Oh…" Erica murmurs under her breath. "Papa Sheriff is badass…"

Thankfully, only the wolves (and maybe some from the Order) can really hear her, though the betas' snorts and Derek's scoff is enough to let the hunters know that something's going on, even if they don't know what it is.

Tensions keep escalating for several seconds, until Derek's convinced that the smallest hint of movement will kick off a disaster, when something totally unexpected happens.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?! Put your weapons down, all of you. NOW!"

The voice that rings across the parking-lot is strong, powerful and full of authority. Enough that even the hunters seem to hesitate at it. Derek for his part relaxes, just slightly, but enough for his betas to reflect his position; he at least knows exactly who that voice belongs to (so does Noah, for that matter). It doesn't surprise him at all when the teenager goes to stand at his right, level with him rather than keeping a step or two behind (like his betas), what definitely surprises him (and everyone else) is when they see the kanima crouched at his side, tail loosely curled around the teenager's feet.

The hunters' reaction is automatic as they all raise their guns, pointing them at either the kanima, or the teen.

"Easy, easy…" Stiles murmurs to the kanima, running the tips of his fingers on its head, making it settle, before turning to the hunters. "Didn't I tell you to put down those guns?"

"You're the kanima's Master?" Chris gasps in disbelief.

"I'm the new master," Stiles clarifies. "Emphasis on 'new'."

"How…?" It's clear no one was expecting that.

"The old master broke the covenant," Stiles replies, as if it were truly that simple. "A kanima is a creature of vengeance, of justice… those two aren't that different where magic's concerned, you know?" He shakes his head, this isn't the time to go on a tangent. "A kanima is a tool for killing murderers, not innocents. And there's no being more innocent than a baby, an unborn babe even more so. When the previous master ordered the kanima to kill Meghan Moonan, despite her being pregnant, he broke the covenant of only killing murderers. Essentially, this was an opportunity, and I took it."

"This is an opportunity indeed, and now we can take it," Chris declares. "Step away Stiles."

Stiles blinks, as if he cannot believe what he just heard.

"What is it with you hunters wanting to kill everyone?" He asks, rolling his eyes.

"It's a monster!" Chris snaps. "It's killed at least four people!"

"The kanima is a tool, nothing more, and the human behind the shift is an innocent," Stiles states strongly. "He didn't choose to become this. Didn't choose to be used like a murder puppet!"

"Are you saying the alpha bit someone against their will?" Another of the hunters demands, pointing his own gun at Derek.

That ends up being more than Stiles is ready, or willing, to take.

"I said Put Your Guns Down," he states, emphasizing each word. "NOW!"

"Who do you think you are to give orders here kid?" Another hunter scoffs.

"I should be the one asking that question," Stiles replies. "Taylor Matthews, this is Hale territory. Not yours, not Argent's. You're the one with no rights here."

The hunter is taken aback, clearly not having expected Stiles to know his full name. But then again, Stiles likes being prepared.

"We're the ones that protect the humans," Chris begins.

"Oh, you mean like your sister did, when she destroyed a peaceful pack?" Stiles retorts, discreetly rubbing Derek's arm in apology. "When she murdered wolves, humans, even children in cold blood? The Hales aren't the only ones she's done that to, did you know that?"

"Kate was wrong but…" Chris begins.

"But?!" Stiles snaps. "There's no 'but' Chris. Your sister was a psycho. She was the monster. And it wasn't just her. Do you think she alone took out six packs? And those are the ones I've been able to prove thus far. I suspect her of at least another three, but haven't been able to prove those ones. And it wouldn't surprise me if there were even more. Also, there's at least one that, while having a similar enough MO, there's no way it could have been her, she was too young at the time." Then again, this was Kate, so… "So tell me, Christopher. Are you truly that blind? That you didn't see the kind of monster your sister was, or are you just a coward? Or maybe, maybe you're as bad as her, you're just not willing to admit it!"

"You don't know what you're talking about, wolf-whore!" One of the hunters cries out. "Kate was doing her duty! Hunting the beasts! They're monsters who deserve nothing but death!"

All eyes turn to him, and even some of the other hunters look a bit taken aback. Like not all of them agree. Stiles supposes there's the chance they're not all as far gone as the Argents… doesn't matter. It's all ending, tonight.

Stiles seems to undergo some kind of transformation, as he straightens up from his usual slouch, suddenly making it obvious he's almost as tall as the alpha. He's still wearing the same plain clothes, but there's something in the way he carries himself. Also, it's until that moment that Chris realizes that the boy is armed, there's some kind of wooden knife in a sheathe strapped to his left thigh, what looks like a pair of escrima sticks on his right, and there's a bulge on the right front pocket of his jacket… he has no doubt there's a gun in there. Since when does Stiles go around armed? Since when does he know how to use a gun? Didn't Allison say he was just human, a plain teenager with ADHD and no special abilities whatsoever?

"It's funny you should say that…" Even his voice sounds different as he speaks, lower, deeper, dangerous… "See, Death is my Gift…"

That rings a bell in the back of Chris's head, but he cannot put a finger on what it is, why that sound so familiar… He's still trying to understand when things change abruptly, and in the last way he could have ever expected:

"That's enough of that boy." Gerard steps out of the shadows, gun raised and ready. "You either do as you're told, or your sheriff father dies."

Chris blanches. That's the last thing they need! Killing a sheriff, even if he might be suspended for the time being, is not a way for them to go unnoticed. They don't need he FBI to come to town and investigate. It's been hard enough to keep the mess with Kate and the arsonists quiet! And yet, he doesn't say a thing… he wonders if maybe the Stilinski boy is right, maybe he truly is both blind and a coward…

"And what is it you want me to do, exactly?" Stiles asks, arching a brow in defiance.

"You will surrender that creature to our control, as the head of the Argent Hunting Clan I'm the right person…" Gerard starts speechifying.

"I thought Hunting Clans were supposed to be matriarchal?" Noah says, seemingly completely unaffected by the gun pointed at his head.

"They are," Stiles agrees. "Which means that either he's completely delusional, or his entire family is even more nuts than we already believed them to be."

"Silent!" Gerard snarls. "You will do as you're told!"

To all the hunters' surprise, Stiles actually laughs at that.

"Dude, I barely even do what my father tells me to!" he snaps. "What makes you think I'll follow your orders? I'm not one of your little toy soldiers!"

"Are you that eager to see your father dead?" Gerard presses. "Do you believe I won't pull the trigger? Why? Because he's the sheriff? Except, he's not, not anymore, is he? And just like I got him kicked out of a job, I can make sure the official report says whatever I want it to say!"

"Gods… this is gonna mean so much paperwork when I get back to the office…" Noah actually moans at the prospect.

"Full audit, daddio." Stiles agrees. "I guess it's time."

"That's enough!" Gerard practically roars.

"I couldn't agree more." Stiles states.

It all happens incredibly fast. In the time it takes Gerard to cock his gun Noah has already raised one of his, shooting straight at Gerard's hand, almost point-blank. The spasm has the gun firing, but Noah's moving even before that, the gun whistling less than an inch from his ear.

"Fuck!" Gerard snarls. "Kill them all!"

"Don't even think about it." Stiles's voice is once again low, serious. "The first of you that dares so much as raise your weapon, dies."

"Really, says you?" one of the hunters challenges.

"You and what army kid?" another taunts.

"Not an army, an Order," Stiles states, arms raised to his sides and a smirk on his lips that screams danger. "For Justice and Death…"

"For Justice and Death…" The words are echoed by over a dozen figures as they step out of the shadows, all dressed in plain clothes, with hoods/cowls or other such accoutrements shadowing their faces.

It's right then that Chris finally realizes why the whole 'gift of death' rang a bell. He also realizes they're completely screwed. He's right. In minutes all the hunters have been deprived of their weapons (all of them). Gerard is the only one still trying to resist, fighting and snarling insults to no avail. Eventually a man approaches him, he's wearing a three piece suit, and a hat that has the same magic woven into it than the hoods, cowls and veils of the other members of the Order (only Stiles and Noah are standing there with their heads uncovered), shadowing his features. He stares straight into Gerard's eyes for several seconds, everyone seemingly waiting on whatever it is he's doing; until he steps back with a hiss.

"Ananias…" he declares sharply.

That makes everyone else in the Order react, either snarling or hissing quietly.

"What the hell does that mean?" one of the older hunters asks.

"Ananias, it's just a fancy word for liar." Chris is a bit of a nerd, so what?

"It's not quite as simple as that," Noah points out.

"The word comes from the name of an early Christian who was supposedly struck dead for lying," Stiles elaborates. "We use the word to refer to someone who doesn't just tell lies, but he himself is a lie. All he claims, all he pretends to be…" He turns to Gerard. "So much hate you have for werewolves… why then do you want to be one of them?"

That brings absolute pandemonium from the hunters. Most of them repulsed by the mere idea; and while there are those who refuse to believe Stiles is saying the truth, enough of them know at least the basics of the Servants of Death, enough not to call them liars to their faces…

"He's sick," It's Derek who speaks up then. "Terminal, probably some kind of cancer."

"Wait, that's what we've been smelling?" Isaac asks. "Like… acetone, and… something earthy?"

"The first, yes, it's due to the changes in metabolism," Derek explains. "The closer a person is to death, the more intense that particular scent becomes, until it overtakes their natural scent entirely. With him, even the wolfsbane and gunpowder on him cannot disguise it."

There's something else, something else that qualifies as earthy, besides the wolfsbane, but Derek cannot put his finger on what it is, exactly.

"You know nothing!" Gerard snarls. "You monsters! Why should you live when I die?! That's not gonna happen. I'm gonna live. I'll destroy you all! Put you down like the mutts you are!"

"That's not gonna happen." Stiles states, adopting the same low, powerful tone as before. "I say that this is karma, divine justice at its best. Death is calling, and I'm not going to let you miss your date with her. She hates to be kept waiting, you see?"

Before anyone can even think of stopping him, Stiles is standing right in front of the elder hunter, a hand, palm splayed open, pressed against his sternum. Gerard's reaction is almost like someone who's been punched in the stomach, he coughs, and some might swear that some very fine dark gray powder comes out of his mouth. Though it doesn't last long.

"What did you do?" Chris demands.

"Nothing," Stiles shrugs. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you're wondering. As has been established, I don't need to. And truth is, Gerard Argent doesn't deserve to have an easy death. What I did though, was ensure that, no matter what he tries, he won't be missing that very important date." His smile is wide, full of teeth, dangerous. "Even if he, by some insane miracle, manages to find an alpha who will bite him, he won't turn; he won't reject the bite either. The same applies to each and every supernatural creature in existence." He finally turns to Chris. "The cancer is going to kill him, like it's supposed to."

He very pointedly turns around, and no one misses the significance of it, of him turning his back on all the Hunters. It's both a confirmation of his trust in the Order, and a dismissal of the ones who threatened him just minutes earlier.

"The kanima…" Chris begins, though he knows he's grasping at straws.

"We'll deal with that, the right way." Stiles states, finally turning to look over his shoulder. "Unlike some people I could name, I do know what my duties are."

He doesn't clarify if he means to the pack, to the Order, or the world… Chris supposes it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. He vaguely hears the sheriff as he starts reading them their rights. He takes a moment to wonder at where his daughter is, exactly, what she might think of everything that just went down. For so long he's tried to do right by her, yet it seems that in this, like in so many other things, he's failed… Just like he failed to stop his sister from becoming the kind of monster who would kill innocents for no reason other than them being supernatural; just like he failed to stop his father from pushing his views onto everyone around him; like he failed to keep his daughter away from this world of blood and death… and Victoria… where exactly is his wife anyway…?

xXx

Victoria Argent is dead.

And so is Scott McCall.

It's an absolute mess. Turns out that while Chris led most of his men in hunting down the kanima, with the intention of killing it (never giving the slightest thought to Jackson); while Gerard was doing his own hunt, only with the intention of taking control of the creature (again, no thought given to Jackson, or to the original master), Victoria chose that exact moment to go after Scott. She hit him with her car, dragged him into one of the buildings, where she set up an aerator with a mix of at least three different strands of wolfsbane. Her plan? To kill Scott and make it look like it was an asthma attack that killed him.

What Victoria could have never planned for was her daughter choosing to leave the rave early, going in search of her (supposedly secret) boyfriend; her hearing Scott calling out for help, or what Allison did then… It's clear that the moment she slipped into the warehouse Allison knew it was hunters trying to kill Scott, the room was filled with thick vapor, which made her throat itch somewhat, so she covered her nose and mouth with her yellow sweater as best she could. When she came across a table and saw a gun on it she took it, recognizing it as the kind Argent Arms sold, and which the hunters used. She managed to get to the back of the room, seeing Scott laid out on a table, the vapor covering him almost entirely, he was having trouble breathing. Theory goes that she saw a figure standing above him. Allison's reaction was immediate, she raised the gun she'd picked up before, aimed, and fired it. With how thick the wolfsbane vapor was, and the way it was making her nose and throat ache, and her eyes water, chances are she didn't know it was her mom, not until it was already too late.

It's her devastated scream, when she manages to open the doors to the warehouse and clear out the air for the most part, that calls everyone's attention to things. Including Stiles, the pack, the Order, and the hunters (most who are already in handcuffs and waiting on the deputies Noah called to pick them up). 911 is called, but by the time the ambulances arrive it's already too late. Attempts are made on the way to Beacon Hills Memorial to revive Scott McCall, and while at first they seem to be working, in the end he's reported DOA. Victoria for her part was dead before her body ever hit the ground, from a bullet straight to the head.

What follows is a three-ringed circus, and Stiles is quite sure that if Arek weren't a CBS Agent on loan with the FBI, and thus able to act in their name, Rafael McCall would have made it even worse when news of his son's death reached him. Especially when he hears the tidbit that he was murdered by none other than his own girlfriend's mother. Of course, because McCall's a bastard on even the best of days, he then turns on the sheriff, trying to make it all be his fault, somehow. Perhaps the only good thing that comes out of Noah being suspended. Especially when they're able to find proof that the suspension has no grounds and it only happened because Gerard Argent either bribed or blackmailed several people so they'd get it done. Just like he was also blocking the full reopening of not just the Hale Fire case, but several others, all which are soon being connected, not just to Kate, but to Gerard himself. Even being stage 4 cancer isn't enough for the judge to keep from sending him straight to prison after that one.

Chris is the only one who, by some miracle, manages to avoid prison time entirely. Though Stiles is half sure more than a few people (his dad included) took pity on him after everything else he already lost (including his business, his father, and his wife), and to ensure Allison would have at least someone left. That girl sure needs a hell of a lot of therapy after accidentally killing her mother, and knowing the last thing her mom did was murder her boyfriend.

One thing is certain though, the Argent Hunting Clan exists no more. That was a decision made by the Order as a whole, and there's no changing it. It's been made clear that the Argents cannot be trusted. All those who were at the Industrial District that night are in prison, a few simply for carrying illegal weapons, but more than half actually had priors, or if they didn't have them, the moment their prints and other data was entered in the system, they were connected to other crimes. So, yeah, there are no Argent hunters left. And there never will be again.

Which leaves them with only one issue on the list: the kanima. Which, it turns out, is a tad more complicated than any of them ever expected.

The betas suggestion is that they read Lydia in and get her to bring Jackson back. An idea that is shot down immediately when Sophia points out how bad an idea it is for them to try to put the weight of a teen-aged boy's whole identity on a teen-aged girl. They do still decide to read her in though, at Jackson's own insistence. Which is how Helmut (German, psychic, as well as a psychiatrist) discovers two things: that the girl isn't human (a Banshee, as they discover when Stiles looks through her family lines), and she isn't alone in her head…

"Peter…" Derek mutters between clenched teeth. "How do we kill him?"

"I don't think it's gonna be that simple, sourwolf." Stiles admits grimly.

He's not quite sure how to explain to his Alpha that Death wants Peter Hale to live for some reason. His face must have done something, because Derek exhales, closing his eyes and even going as far as pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sourwolf…" Stiles begins, not having the slightest idea what to say.

"Don't, I know this isn't your fault Stiles." Derek assures him. "Just… can we focus on one problem at a time? Jackson first, then Peter."

"Sure." The teen knows it's not going to work long-term, but for the time being he's willing to let it be. So he switches tracks. "Jackson. This is about his adoption. I'm not sure if it's the fact that he's adopted, that he wasn't told about it but found out accidentally when we were like, ten, that his parents refuse to talk about it at all…"

"Maybe it's all of it." His dad offers.

Which is how they end up reading David and Elizabeth Whittemore in. Turns out David already knows about the supernatural, Peter Hale was his protege; the two even having made plans at some point to leave the DA office and open their own firm (until the fire brought all those plans crashing); David can still remember listening to the younger man ranting about his older sister's control-issues, overbearing-attitude and other things. David isn't even sure if Peter realized that sometimes he'd use words that would have made no sense in an entirely human context…

After they're all in the same page most of the pack leaves to give them some privacy. Stiles is the only one who stays, though he makes sure to stay in a corner of the room and tries to ignore as much of what's going on around him, just ensuring Jackson doesn't loose control of his kanima-side, with how charged the conversation is (he's still the master, after all).

The Whittemores aren't bad parents, not really. They might not be around as much as they might prefer sometimes, but as a son of a public servant himself, Stiles understands that. In the end it turns out that the reason they refused to talk about adoption wasn't because of there being anything issues, or regrets, or any of the dark things that have been going through Jackson's mind. But rather…

"I was afraid, that if you were to know more about them, about the Millers… that you'd prefer them." Elizabeth explains in the end. "That you'd choose them as your 'real parents' instead of us. I thought that, if we didn't talk about it… it could be like before. You could be just our son. Ours and nobody else's…"

"Oh mom…" Jackson gasps.

Stiles couldn't have known how… huge, even that single word, coming from Jackson's mouth, truly was. Or everything that followed. As the Whittemores became a family, for real, for the first time since a too-curious ten-year-old got into his father's office and discovered he was adopted.

Things get even more interesting when, on the night of the full-moon just a few days later Jackson's eyes suddenly go from reptile-yellow to wolf-blue, and then he shifts, not into a kanima but into a wolf!

"How is this possible?" Noah asks.

"No idea," His son answers, just as baffled.

"Maybe it has something to do with his biological father?" Elizabeth suggests.

That calls everyone's attention. With Jackson's permission, she tells them the same story she told her son before. How she knew Maggie Miller, the two of them were sort of friends. How the other woman wanted so much to be a mother (as much as Elizabeth, really), but it wasn't easy, because Gordon couldn't have children. But where Elizabeth was willing to accept the hand life dealt her and turned her attention to other possible ways of becoming a mother, like adoption. Maggie wasn't so willing to give up on having a child herself. Going as far as going to a bar and picking up some unknown man (or rather, letting a man pick her up), and having unprotected sex with him. It worked, and in the end Gordon loved her enough to be willing to stay with her even after her infidelity, be a father to the baby… and then the accident happened.

"Who's the bio-dad?" Stiles asks, though he already suspects the answer.

And really, with Jackson's attitude, his mannerisms, even some of his expressions; chances are that the only reason Stiles didn't see the similarity before was because he didn't know it was even possible for the two to be related!

"Peter Hale."

xXx

Sometimes Stiles wonders if somewhere the gods might be laughing at him. The way things just seem to fall into place is nothing short of extraordinary, even if there are times when Stiles feels like he might go insane. Peter's resurrection goes off mostly without a hitch. And just like that, in a matter of days, the Hale Pack goes from four people (one born wolf and three bitten-betas) to thrice as many (with the addition of a resurrected wolf, a wolf-kanima hybrid, a banshee, two sparks, a teenage hacker, the Whittemore-parents), and that's without counting all the members of the Order who are considered at the very least pack-adjacent.

Stiles knows it won't always be easy. One day he'll have his coming off-age, he'll become the new Seneschal of Death and he'll have a duty to the Shadow World. But that's alright, because he knows he won't be alone, he'll have people at his back, not just an Order, but also a pack: His Pack. Led by his mate, the love of his life: Alpha Derek Hale…