Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been over a month. Stiles was not going to school. There was too much between them all for him to feel okay right now.

Gerard was gone, supposedly, but Stiles still had nightmare after nightmare about the geriatric monster.

Stiles was ever so grateful Gerard hadn’t learned his secret. There was no need to risk Gerard being like his daughter and abusing Stiles like Kate abused Derek. Stiles shivered just thinking about it.

Sighing at himself, Stiles got out of bed. It was early, but that wouldn’t matter. His Dad had already long since left for work. Murders were kicking up again already. Who saw that coming?

Stiles. That’s who.

Even though he knew he could help, it was terrifying. Stiles wasn’t sure he could do this anymore. His best friend kissed the girl Stiles’d sought since grade school. Whose business was it that he actually wanted to be her best friend, not date her?

No one’s. That’s who.

Maybe if he’d felt braver he could’ve just told her that much. Maybe it would cut down on Jackson’s bullying of him, but there were no promises there. That would only bring up the question of who he really wanted, who he was attracted to.

Sighing again, Stiles headed for the bathroom. He pulled off his t-shirt and began bandageing his chest. While he did not have huge breasts, they were big enough to be noticeable if he didn’t bind them. He really wanted to get a corset or other binder of some kind; he’d have to talk to his Dad about that. Such things were expensive.

No, not his Dad.

Mel. He could ask Mel. After all, she was who was helping him get set up with testosterone injections biweekly. Stiles could scrounge up the money for at least a cheap corset or binder, but he would need help to attain it without being caught.

As it was, his Dad hadn’t yet put together that Stiles was different, that Stiles picked his name not just because he couldn’t say his birth name but because he was different. His birth name—Mecislava, a female form of his grandfather’s name meaning famous man or man bear—was for his physical body, not the boy stuck inside it.

With Scott betraying Derek by forcing him to bite Gerard, Stiles also knew he couldn’t talk to Scott about it either. He didn’t keep other’s secrets nor was he understanding of other’s struggles.

To think, Stiles had been hoping that with Scott going through this change could lead to them being able to talk about Stiles’ change.

In some ways, that talk could be so easy—Scott already thought Stiles was a boy. A shy boy who changed in the stalls, but a boy no less. The feelings Stiles had been bearing for Scott would be harder, especially with Scott dating Allison even though she hurt the others, turned into a violent hunter for a time by her aunt.

But maybe that too would be easier? As it was, Stiles was starting to think his feelings for Scott were a punishment that thankfully was easing. How could you continue to care for someone who couldn’t even care for you as a friend let alone even consider anything else.

Stiles was pretty sure Allison and Scott were still dating and doubted Allison had shared with Scott what she’d done. Why would she? She already had Scott. He chose her over and over already. Why rock that boat?

God, Stiles hated that thought. Shaking his head at himself, Stiles finished bandaging his breasts to hide them better and pulled his shirt back on. He brushed his teeth and washed his face before going to his bedroom and getting dressed.

He never could get over how easy getting dressed as a boy was. Matching things was easier, in part, due to things not really having to match. Stiles could wear flannel with anything he wanted. He could wear his favorite comics, movie, and fiction heros blazing on his shirts. No pink. No flowers. No little ponies or dolls.

Those things weren’t bad, but they weren’t for him. He didn’t like those things.

Stiles Mom had understood and easily accepted it. She never questioned or tried to persuade. She just accepted him. At least until her health began to take her away. Then he was demon sent to kill her. It had nothing to do with sex or gender just a heart clenching terror that Stiles was murdering her, making her sick.

It was hard. Stiles still had the scars, but he was okay. He didn’t really have any other choices on the matter. Even with his Dad seemingly having crawled out of the bottle, Stiles still had to take care of him, watch his diet for his heart health. Stiles still did dishes, cooking, laundry, and more.

It’s part of what made the supernatural an even heavier burden. He had to help his best friend through the change and all the life-threatening things involved but still have dinner on the table for his Dad. Still say prayers to a God that some said didn’t include or even like him before said dinner with his Dad.

A lot was being asked of Stiles. It was part of why he easily backed down from having Scott tell his Mom what’s going on. It wasn’t like Stiles was rushing to tell his Dad. He’d rather tell him about the supernatural than his gender, but either truth ran the risk of Stiles being kicked out.

Add on having no where to go? Not ideal.

With Scott’s actions, Stiles knew there was no guarantee there. Derek wasn’t their friend, per say, but he was a victim who by far didn’t deserve to be re-traumatized by being used by another Argent through Scott. Now, adding on ending up with Stiles on his doorstep? Nope. There was no place to go.

Shaking his head at himself, Stiles threw on some socks and his shoes. He then headed downstairs. He needed to be able to pick up the phone when school called—again—about his missing another class day. So far, Stiles was getting by through answering and coughing and dry heaving, trying to explain that he’s really sick. He has to go hard as minor illnesses don’t work when it comes to him anymore. Too many lies, his father would probably say.

Finstock practically expects a testicle to be falling off before Stiles misses lacrosse despite Stiles only being put in the game when enough players were hurt/absent. Thank goodness his physical sex was not known on that front! There was no telling what would happen on that from from Coahc let alone the other players.

Stiles had managed to change his sex in his paperwork through school on the downlow when his Mom was still mostly okay. She and him considered it their special mission like spies or secret agents or something. It made it fun rather than stressful. His Mom always did have a way of making things fun before her illness got bad.

Then there was a knock at his bedroom window. Today was not Stiles’ day it would seem. The teen ran to his room to see what new menace or other that may be seeking his help had come along.

Stiles stopped cold as he stepped into the doorway of his bedroom in time to see one Peter Hale sliding into the bedroom.

Even though he knew now was the time to run, Stiles could not help himself from saying, “Aren’t you dead?”

Turning to face the teen, Peter grinned, “Hmmm… you are the one to light me on fire in all of that…”

Stiles blushed in shame at that. The irony had not been missed on him. While Peter’s been bad news, Scott nor Derek were fully innocent on everything going on that led up to Peter’s death. “And your nephew ripped out your throat.”

Under his breath, Stiles added, “Lucky he didn’t do it with his teeth... like he’s threatened me with.”

The later part being mutter, Stiles flushed when Peter’s eyes went electric red at seemingly hearing.

The apparently still Alpha said, “Now, now… no need to worry. He wasn’t going to ever rip out your throat. My dear nephew is all bark and no bite.”

“Says the man whose throat he ripped out,” Stiles retorted.

“Touche,” Peter said with a shrug.

Rolling with the supernatural punches, Stiles then asked, ‘So, why are you here Zombiewolf?”

Peter grinned ferally. “Well, since you’re asking, I was wondering why you’re steering clear of school. Questions are being asked, like if the Alpha pack is staking you.”

“Alpha pack?” Stiles asked, gulping.

Peter nodded, “Hmmm… that’s not it. What has you hiding away from everyone? Can’t be fear of me—I was dead in your eyes until I came to visit.”

Stiles sighed. He moved to sit on his bed. This was not happening, was it? He’s been a ghost and no one seeks him out, gives him a call—not even his ‘best’ friend, Scott has tried to reach out. No, it’s someone Stiles had believed to be dead who had to come calling.

Shrugging, Stiles just said, “Look, it’s all just a bit overwhelming okay. I’m taking a break. I’ve got enough bruises, thank you very much. Now, go. I’m in no mood to do the monster mash right now.”

Peter skulked closer, saying, “You know, you don’t have to bruise… you don’t have to be the human pawn of hunters to get at your friends. You could be strong; you could be a gorgeous wolf.”

Kneeling before Stiles, Peter took the teen’s hand to turn it over and expose his inner wrist. “Just one bite and you could be so much more… I could show a world well beyond anything you’ve ever known… one with no more need for secrets and having any and everything you could ever need.”

Unsure quite what to do with that, Stiles dodged, asking, “What do you even mean? Why are you here? What are you wanting from me?!”

Smiling, Peter stared his cool blue eyes into Stiles’ honey eyes as he said, “Because I messed it up when I offered before… now, I want to offer you a better life in a different way since I have a second chance. I want that second chance to be with you.”

Chapter Text

Kneeling before Stiles, Peter took the teen’s hand to turn it over and expose his inner wrist. “Just one bite and you could be so much more… I could show a world well beyond anything you’ve ever known… one with no more need for secrets and having any and everything you could ever need.”

Unsure quite what to do with that, Stiles dodged, asking, “What do you even mean? Why are you here? What are you wanting from me?!”

Smiling, Peter stared his cool blue eyes into Stiles’ honey eyes as he said, “Because I messed it up when I offered before… now, I want to offer you a better life in a different way since I have a second chance. I want that second chance to be with you.”

Stiles swallowed hard. He didn’t break eye contact, aware what such a choice would mean. Instead he said, “I’m not you think. Even… even if I accepted your offer of a better life, if you knew the truth, you’d know I couldn’t take the bite yet. And, even more, you may not still want me. I’m not what you may be expecting.”

Peter didn’t move. “I accept all of you, even what I do not yet know.”

Stiles felt a wetness gathering in his eyes. He felt this was going to hurt more than he’d originally gaged. Peter’s bite was something he’d even wanted at the beginning, just not for the reasons Peter may have inferred.

Happily, Stiles could’ve helped with avenging Peter’s family, but Scott’d already proven how useless Stiles could be human. But Stiles couldn’t risk everything he’d been working towards being taken aware by supernatural healing. As it was, he was getting close to saving up enough for top surgery. He even had Mel onboard to help him do it without including his father.

Tears starting to streak down his cheeks, Stiles said, “I can’t accept the bite… or I can’t transition. I’ve almost got enough for top surgery… I can’t risk healing that away once I get it! I’m so-so s-sorry…”

Choking some on his sobs, Stiles bent ot his knees in front of Peter, still not breaking eye contact or ripping his arm away. Everything had been so heavy for so long, Stiles couldn’t hold it in anymore—“I… I wanted the bite before… to help you avenge your family! I even yelled your name when we threw the Molotov cocktails at you with the hope that maybe you’d make it… you didn’t deserve to die! You deserved help! Even crazy you could’ve come back… with a strong pack, support, and help… things could’ve been so different!’

“I wanted to help so-so badly… I just… Scott…Lydia. I had my own secrets to hide. Too many and couldn’t hold them all at the same time. I was crumbling and no one saw… still, no one sees, but you. You’re not perfect, but you saw me, see me at all. No one else really does. The closest is Mel, and I think I’m really a sub for Scott since he’s stubborn and dense and too much like his father.’

“I-I can’t take the bite… I want to. I want to have the life you describe, but I can’t. I have to take care of my Dad, cause he won’t. I have ot protect Mel and stop Scott from getting everyone killed, and Gerard Argent… and just so much! I can’t… I just… I want it but I can’t.”

Not hiding or looking away, Stiles just could not stop confessing. It was like a crack leading to a flood. Finally unable to handle it. Hence his staying home so much, hiding away. He knew he was breaking, so he hide, tried to shore up his defenses so he could go back out and play pretend like he was indestructible, strong. Yet, Stiles just couldn’t do it yet. “I can’t do this… I would never hurt myself, but it’s so hard to not try to make this all just be quiet! I just want to be okay, to be safe. It’s bad enough Gerard caught and tortured me, but no one even noticed something was wrong except my Dad who I had to lie to for his own safety. I’m so tired.’

“I just wanted, want things ot be okay and take care of the people I love while finally getting to be myself for real! I just… I can’t do this all anymore. I want to keep fighting and am even staying home to recover and restrengthen myself to go back out there and face the masses, face the threats and danger and lies. But I’m not there yet, and you’re here, you give at least some fragment of a shit about me, and I want to bask in it because it’s been so, so long since that last happened from anyone but Mel when she can, and even that’s wrapped in secrets! Scott doesn’t know. No one does but a few people at the hospital. I’m so alone and scared all the time and I just don’t know what I’m doing.’

“I thought at seventeen I’d know more, have more answers, but it’s all just so much bigger than I could’ve imagined. How could I have predicted the entirety of existence was far vaster than even my wildest dream… I don’t even know half of what I’m saying because I’m just so tired and worn out. I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m—”

Peter cut Stiles off by cupping his cheeks with his hands and drawing Stiles into a soft, simple kiss before the teen could hyperventilate or drop further into a panic toward a panic attack. Peter then stroked his fingers softly over Stiles’ cheeks as he withdrew, saying, “I accept you for everything you are. We’ll figure this out. You’re not alone anymore.”

Chapter Text

“I thought at seventeen I’d know more, have more answers, but it’s all just so much bigger than I could’ve imagined. How could I have predicted the entirety of existence was far vaster than even my wildest dream… I don’t even know half of what I’m saying because I’m just so tired and worn out. I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m—”

Peter cut Stiles off by cupping his cheeks with his hands and drawing Stiles into a soft, simple kiss before the teen could hyperventilate or drop further into a panic toward a panic attack. Peter then stroked his fingers softly over Stiles’ cheeks as he withdrew, saying, “I accept you for everything you are. We’ll figure this out. You’re not alone anymore.”

Tears running down his face, Stiles curled into Peter with a whimper of relief. Peter wasn’t going to shun him, shame him. The relief was so overwhelming, Stiles cried himself out against Peter.

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Once Stiles had cried himself to sleep, Peter gently lifted the teen and tucked him into bed. Although he had not expected exactly this, Peter had been aware that Stiles was keeping more than just supernatural secrets.

Contemplating how to address the issues Stiles confessed, Peter sat in the teen’s computer chair. While not to his taste, Peter did not want to disrupt the rest Stiles clearly needed by sitting on the bed. Some of this would be easy. Peter could pay for top surgery, even take him out of town for it, so even Mel would not need to be involved as it sounded like she may be using Stiles some herself to sate her mothering impulses since Scott was no longer receptive.

Peter would need to ask Stiles how far he wanted to go in transition. Did he want a full sex change surgery or just top surgery? Did he want to be on testosterone? The teen smelled like he was already on it, but would that be something he wanted to continue?

If he wanted to continue taking testosterone, Stiles would need an alternative form of it as the shift would make it practically useless as the healing factor would cause it to last but for seconds.

Thinking about it, Peter remembered something, or more aptly someone: Quinton. The teen had been Derek’s cousin, a born wolf who had body dysmorphia, but more pointedly Quinton was trans. He’s not been born into a body that fit his gender. Now, his transition had been mid-process when the fire happened and took the teen from their lives, but at least some of what the teen had been able to do could potentially help.

Unfortunately, the fire burned some of his memories from his mind; however, Peter did remember who Quinton went to for help. That would have to be a start. They would know at least a bit about what resources there may be.

Who knew? Maybe post top surgery, Stiles could be turned and do that rest as a wolf.

So, step one was pay for Stiles to get the top surgery and talk with him about how far he wanted to go. Depending on Stiles’ answers, desires, Peter would reach out to the person that’d helped Quinton.

Next issue, Stiles’ dad. The Sheriff? Now, that would be a challenge. The man seemed ot truly resent Stiles’ efforts to keep him healthy and around for the long haul. Hard to know for sure how the Sheriff felt without getting closer, but it would be an issue. Stiles wouldn’t leave unless he could trust that his dad would be okay.

Then again, would it hurt Stiles to not be needed by his dad anymore? Peter shrugged, noting that they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. As it was, Peter had some concerns about getting close to the sheriff. He knew the best way, but really didn’t want to join the Sheriff’s office.

Gerard would be easiest, most direct issue to deal with: kill him.

Protecting Mel? Stopping Scott from getting everyone killed?

Honestly, Mel would be safest if Scott just wasn’t involved anymore. Probably the same for everyone else, but it would leave a power vacuum and a bunch of kids without anyone to guide them.

Peter did not want to be that guide. He wanted to get Stiles set up and leave. However, for Stiles to leave, it was going to take some serious work. Maybe he could talk to Mel about stuff? It had to be better than talking to the Sheriff, right?

Shaking his head at himself, Peter forced himself to stand. Since Stiles was the only one home, Peter opted to investigate the house some when there would be no witnesses.

First stop was the Sheriff’s room. Just opening the door released an almost stomach-churning scent of whiskey, sadness, even hopelessness mixed with the lingering scents of someone who was not washing up thoroughly enough. Peter also noted that even with the present scents, it didn’t seem like the Sheriff was home much. Was he possibly sleeping at the station more often than in his bed here? That was concerning.

Looking about a bit with his eyes, Peter came across the good Sheriff had in his master bathroom connected to his bedroom: bottles of whiskey. More were empty than full, but it looked like the good Sheriff was pretty deep in the bottle but trying to hide it. Based on Stiles’ scent in there too, the Sheriff wasn’t hiding it too well.

Sniffing and looking around the master bath and the Sheriff’s room, Peter could also tell that the primary person clearing the place was Stiles. Peter growled a bit at that. Stiles was his son, not a maid. Peter noted the photographs of Claudia in the bedroom, but not really any of Stiles.

Leaving the master bedroom, Peter looked at the pictures on the walls documenting Stiles’ life with his parents from ultrasound images to about eight years old. Nothing of Stiles older. The photo frames were not dusty, but it all looked like they were placed by an adult but upkept by a child. Was Stiles holding things together by himself that long?

Following the hall, Peter passed the second bathroom, noting absently the standing shower and lack of a tub, to walk through the hall and into the livingroom. There were ghost whiffs of past fun, but it was old. Much older than Peter was expecting. Weren’t Scott and Stiles friends? Stiles had been a recluse for a while, but not so long that all signs of others being here with him to be nearly gone. Had Stiles been alone for even more than Peter or even Derek had assumed before?

Sniffing and looking around, Peter found himself walking past a hardly touched dining room with a dining table with chairs inside. He went through to the kitchen which smelled like frustration and determination, even love. Stiles’ love and determination as well as Noah’s frustration. It was clear Stiles did the cooking, and he probably also did the grocery shopping.

Following through, Peter noted the fridge was not exactly overflowing with food, btu there was still stuff in there. Even some pre-made green salad as well as a leftover casserole. No, two leftover casserole. One was a breakfast egg whites and low sodium ground sausage bake. The other smelled like an eggplant and spinach lasagna with a light amount of low-fat cheese on it. With both, in addition to their ingredients and spices, one could smell Stiles care in their making as well as the Sheriff’s disappointment when he got into them.

Peter continued through to the small laundry room between the kitchen and the backdoor. It was so small that the washer and dryer were smaller than the standard size to fit in the space across from one another. On top of each were a laundry basket. The basket on the washing machine was full of dirty uniforms for the Sheriff with some under shirts and socks. The basket on the dryer had a load of clean, folded towels, dishtowels, and washcloths. Outside the dirty clothes, there was no hint of the Sheriff ever really being in this room. It was Stiles space, meaning he was who did the laundry for the household.

Looking out the back door, Peter could see the wild grass of the back yard. It seemed no one was keeping up with it consistently; however, there was evidence that someone was at least trying to. It appeared someone was trying to use an edger to cut the grass. Peter noted that probably explained the inconsistency in the front yard too if Stiles was trying to do it all with an edger rather than a true lawnmover.

How was he managing to be in AP classes with Lydia when clearly being the person to care for the house as well as himself and his dad?

Frowning, Peter tried to consider this. Stiles was pretty much carrying the load. Thinking about it, did the Sheriff even make enough to afford someone else coming in to do everything that Stiles was currently doing? Unlikely.

Now, did Peter want to spend money to essentially pay someone else to be a Stiles stand in for the Sheriff? Not really. However, Peter needed to come up with something as Stiles was definitely right about the Sheriff needing him. This also brought to Peter’s mind the fridge.

Peter returned to the kitchen to open up the freezer and the cabinets. He was quiet about it, but went full-on invasive. Looking through it all, Peter realized that they were holding on by a thin margin. How much did the Sheriff actually make? Whiskey, even the cheap stuff the Sheriff had, cost a pretty penny. Was there money coming in from any other sources? Peter would have to ask Stiles about that too.

The Sheriff’s ‘secret’ drinking was by no means a secret kept from Stiles. The man was at best a functioning alcoholic, but the functionality looked more and more like Stiles was who made it possible to function. The Sheriff had checked out in terms of home life and his son. The man just seemed focused on work and drinking.

Even though he by no means wanted to do anything helpful to the Sheriff beyond kicking the man to the curb, Peter knew Stiles felt responsible for his dad.

Peter needed to figure this out. So, for Noah and his care situation, Peter needed to talk to Stiles about what all was really going on here, both functionally and financially.

Scott and Mel were next. Scott should really just be killed, btu the power vacuum would be counter productive to protecting people, which seemed the higher priority comparatively to Scott specifically. Maybe Peter could help Derek be a better Alpha? If his nephew could pull it together, Derek could fill the roll Scott was trying to meet. A stronger, more solid Derek could fill the existing vacuum better than he and Scott trying to both do so separately to make up for the absence of the larger Hale pack that was.

Once Derek was on the right path and shored up some, Peter could get rid of Scott and Deaton too, for good measure. Peter could even help to get the Alpha pack dealt with so that Derek could start on a good foot. It would help to track down Erica and Boyd, who’d left Derek, and help Derek build a stronger, more balanced pack. Maybe Peter could even scope out a few possible additions? Not necessarily people to bite, but people to bring into the pack that were already supernatural like Lydia Martin or simply humans that had a reason to be allies, like Danny Māhealani, Jackson’s friend.

Mel would be easier with Scott gone. Maybe she would be able to move on and have a more fulfilling life even when no longer having to support a self-righteous, idiot teenager that was Scott McCall.

Peter, still frowning at just how busy things were going to be while he worked to settle things here so he could take Stiles away, walked back into Stiles’ room to look at the young man of his dreams. Stiles may still be a teen, and Peter would not dare go beyond kisses while Stiles was still a minor, but Stiles had been forced ot grow up fast. Not even just by his exposure to the supernatural, as Peter had initially assumed in the very beginning, but also from being a neglected child with an alcoholic father in a town that was more than willing to look the other way.

Chapter Text

Stiles slowly woke, feeling strangely safe but he couldn’t remember quite why until he listed his head some to see Peter sitting on the computer chair, texting with a frown in his brows and growl on his lips. Seemed the wolf was not having a great time with whoever he was trying to communicate with.

Peter’s face then smoothed out as he looked to meet Stiles’ eyes. “Hello, darling.”

Unable to help himself, Stiles just sleepily said, “You stayed?”

Flashing a stunning grin, Peter said, “Of course, sweetheart. I wasn’t about to leave you unprotected.”

Stiles curled in a touch at himself, picking up on the undertone of what Peter meant but didn’t spell out in words. Forcing himself to shrug, Stiles tried explaining it away in such a way as to not lie: “Everyone’s really busy. Dad’s working doubles and triples—a lot of people at the station are sick and the dead bodies. Scott’s distracted… people are just really busy right now.”

Peter perked a brow. “So busy to not see you need help? To not be checking in on you with the Alpha pack in town? To be ignoring that clearly things are not right for you right now?”

Sighing and looking away, not sure how long he’d slept, but knowing that Peter likely snooped about the house. What could Stiles say? Lies were out. Platitudes were out too, probably. Topic change? “What do you mean by their being an Alpha pack in town? Isn’t it one Alpha per pack?”

Frowning, Peter shook his head. “We’ll get to that, but no changing the topic. At least not to that direction. I will change the topic though because I have a few questions for you.”

It was Stiles’ turn to frown. Stiles wasn’t quite sure where this would go, but he knew it was unlikely to be anything he wanted to talk about.

Smoothing out his expression again, Peter asked in a neutral tone, “Is your father’s paycheck the only money coming into this house?”

Not bothering to hide, Stiles just shook his head. “No. We can’t get by on just that.”

Peter nodded. “What are the other forms of income coming in?”

Stiles explained, less uncomfortable than he’d expected but not daring to relax too much. This could just be the first movement of a pawn or two. “I write papers and take notes for cash. It didn’t use to be worth much, but I’ve been able to build up my clientel to include more than Beacon High. I’m taking notes and writing papers for students at a few different high schools and community colleges here and there. Business is booming, and it keep my mind busy and from driving everyone else crazy.”

Although the wolf seemed to want to dissect that, Peter rolled with the conversation, asking, “Does your dad know?”
Shaking his head, Stiles added, “No. He doesn’t ask. I don’t tell. We don’t talk a lot about that kind of stuff.”

Peter nodded briefly, following up with, “How far are you wanting to transition? Gender-wise.”

Tilting his head faintly, but not in submission, Stiles asked, “Scheming are we?”

Chuckling, Peter said, “Well, if I’m going to turn you… we do need a plan. With the Alpha pack around, there’s a lot going on to distract others to give us a chance to address your needs as well as a few other things.”

“Other things?” Stiles asked.

Peter shook his head, “No more dodging… or are you uncomfortable talking to me about this? I would understand. I just want to help you to the best of my abilities.”

Stiles huffed. “Not dodging over comfort with you knowing, just… rejection phobic.”

Running a hand through his hair with a sigh, Stiles explained. “I just want top surgery and to be on testosterone. I’m okay with everything downstairs.”

Nodding, Peter got up from the computer chair to slide onto the bed beside Stiles and take his hand. “Would it be okay with you for me to pay for your top surgery? I can help carry the load here to make the recovery easier on you as well as cover for you with the pack if you would like this all to remain private.”

Stiles stared open-mouthed for a moment before pulling himself somewhat together. “What’s the catch?”

Smiling, Peter said, “The catch to me paying is that I get to help take care of you through recovery from the surgery. I want to take care of you, even if it means dirty laundry, cooking, and watching super hero movies until I can quote them like I know you already can.”

A bit flushed, Stiles leaned forward a touch to lean his head on Peter’s shoulder, whispering softly, “It would need to be secret. You and Mel are the only ones who know, and I’m not ready to change that.”

Chapter Text

Smiling, Peter said, “The catch to me paying is that I get to help take care of you through recovery from the surgery. I want to take care of you, even if it means dirty laundry, cooking, and watching super hero movies until I can quote them like I know you already can.”

A bit flushed, Stiles leaned forward a touch to lean his head on Peter’s shoulder, whispering softly, “It would need to be secret. You and Mel are the only ones who know, and I’m not ready to change that.”

Peter leaned into Stiles’ space to kiss the younger man’s forehead, saying, “That perfectly fine. In some ways, it’ll make this easier.”

Stiles perked a brow, looking at Peter. “How so?”

Shrugging, Peter admitted with a grin. “Me just doing things without explaining is normal. Me breaking it down for others would be quite suspicious, wouldn’t you, darling?”

Laughing at Peter’s words, Stiles responded, “So true!”

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Two weeks later…

Peter could not help but be grateful Stiles was already seventeen, old enough to not fall under the age minimum that most doctors have for performing top surgery. The entire situation was also helped by Mel’s infallible note and record keeping of Stiles’ gender issues and testosterone treatments over the years. Stiles’ documentation and research also helped a notable amount as well.

Although he had to cash in a couple of favors, Peter had managed to get Stiles in for surgery in a week and a half. A little forgery based on some notes from Mel and Stiles to appear as consistent therapist notes and even getting Stiles a legit therapist in the know were not really that much to ask in Peter’s mind to be closer to having Stiles all to himself.

In the grand scheme of things, it was fairly minor really. One of the harder steps was getting a doctor’s note set up to cover some of Stiles’ recovery time for the surgery. Peter was genuinely considering talking to Noah about taking Stiles out of school.

Sadly, that may be too much involvement of the sheriff so soon and would be a dead give away to some of the less brain dead people at the high school. Maybe there were other options? Fake a mental breakdown? No, Stiles would never agree to that. Also, that would bring in more testing and questions, fears even about if it were frontal temporal dementia like with Stiles’ mother. Peter couldn’t put Stiles through that.

All the while thinking through all of this, Peter finished up rinsing dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Once done with that, Peter moved the load in the Stilinski’s washer into the dryer after pulling out the dried clothes.

Peter made a mental note to ask Stiles some questions when he got up from his nap. Although getting the younger man to loosen up his commitment to his special pillow was hard work, getting him to use said pillow and the recovery pillow too was well worth the argument. Was certainly easier to argue that than deal with Stiles without his Adderall. Peter would never again need his sense of smell to know if the younger man was on his medication or not. The behaviors were etched in his memories.

Thankfully, even rough memories were memories with Stiles that Peter was grateful to have. He’d lost enough memories from them burning out in the fire to cherish even hard memories and painful ones. He remembered his sister’s rejections of him, of who he really was inside and what he really wanted. However, he would never let those go. They were memories of Talia. He would never feel like he had enough as he knew there were too many blank spots, too many lost moments to dare distance himself.

A soft yawning, sniffling sound was all the warning needed for Peter to set down the laundry he’d been folding, grab the sandwich already made in the fridge, then headed upstairs to a still waking Stiles. Moving to Stiles’ side, Peter set the plate with a thick sandwich on it onto Stiles’ nightstand.

Stepping back and sitting in Stiles’ awful computer chair, that seriously needed to be replaced, Peter watched Stiles whine as he moved. Unable to take that, Peter got back up to help Stiles sit up in bed and settled the plated sandwich on Stiles’ lap.

The younger man groaned and rolled his eyes. “When is it all supposed to not be so sore?”

Smiling, Peter said, “Could be a while still, dear. I’m going to reach out to a doctor I knew to see at what stage I can bite you without it undoing your hard work.”

Stiles perked a tired brow, “But what about the T?”

Peter grinned, “Already sorting that out. It’s coming from the same doctor who is going to come visit you about the bite and your surgery.”

Leaving out that said doctor was part of how he’d banged out that he needed to requested Stiles choose a surgery option that would not require drainage tubes, Peter just smiled at the young man. It was too soon, not safe enough yet, for Peter to start outright courting Stiles.

For one, Peter needed to work on Derek more. As it was, even getting the man to answer his texts was a battle. Who knew getting a person who borders on selective mutism to communicate without verbal words would be so hard?

Stiles yawned softly before digging into the sandwich he’d been given.

At least for the moment, Peter knew the conversation would be over. Not necessarily because Stiles didn’t speak with his mouthful sometimes, but because Peter used the moment to kiss the top of Stiles head before returning to the laundry while saying, “If you need anything, just call me.”

Once he was back at the dining room table that he had taken over, when doing laundry, as a folding station, Peter kept an ear out for if Stiles had need of him while he piece by piece folded the Sheriff’s clothes and put other pieces on hangers.

Even though Derek was a work in progress, Peter knew he needed to get started on more to get Stiles out of here. Just taking over the younger man’s chores covertly was not a long-term solution. Ideally, by the time Peter could bite Stiles to turn him, more of Peter’s moves would have been made.

Suddenly, Peter heard a loud squawk from Stiles’ room

Wasting no time, Peter dropped what he’d had in his hands and raced to Stiles’ room in time to see Derek finish coming through Stiles’ window.

Peter quickly put himself between the two even as he heard Stiles shuffling some in bed to better cover himself, possibly pulling on a shirt to cover his surgery dressings.

In jeans, a henley, and intensely frowning eyebrows like normal, Derek growled.

Rolling his eyes, Peter asked, “What are you wanting, Nephew?”

Chapter Text

Suddenly, Peter heard a loud squawk from Stiles’ room.

Wasting no time, Peter dropped what he’d had in his hands and raced to Stiles’ room in time to see Derek finish coming through Stiles’ window.

Peter quickly put himself between the two even as he heard Stiles shuffling some in bed to better cover himself, possibly pulling on a shirt to cover his surgery dressings.

In jeans, a henley, and intensely frowning eyebrows like normal, Derek growled.

Rolling his eyes, Peter asked, “What are you wanting, Nephew?”

Derek did not stop growling even as he demanded, “What are you doing here?!”

With a put upon sigh, Peter said, “Checking in on Stiles. Noticed no one else was checking to see if he was okay. He’s missed nearly a month of school since the showdown with Gerard and the Kanima, so I figured someone needed to step up.”

Derek had looked shocked at missing school, but he growled again at Peter’s comments on interceding.

Stiles sighed, genuinely put upon. “Derek, why are you here? You clearly didn’t know about the school, so what are you wanting?”

Having the good sense to look at least somewhat chastised despite his death glares at Peter, Derek said, “The Alpha pack’s in town. I need help locating them. I thought you may have some ideas of where they might be able to hide out.”

Clearly refraining from sighing yet again, Stiles swallowed hard before asking, “Do you have anywhere to start?”

Derek shook his head. “Not really though I do know what they want at least.”

Perking a brow, Stiles asked, “What are they wanting?”

“For me to kill all my betas for their power and then join the Alpha pack.”

Stiles choked for a moment at that.

Peter was quick to Stiles’ side to gently pat the younger man’s back to help.

Rolling his shoulders first, Stiles then said, “Okay, are you going to stick around to help?”

Derek screwed up his face like he smelled something foul.

Before Stiles could say more, Peter looked at Derek. “No worries, we’ve got this. Now, you get on with … well, what you do. However, your help would not be unwelcome.”

Brows frowning in full force, Derek said around his dropped fangs, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Peter sighed. “Nothing, nephew.”

Frowning brows and all, Derek gave Stiles a last glance before sliding back out the teen’s window.

Once Derek was out of hearing range, Peter sighed. “I swear, he is so detached.”

Stiles perked a brow. “Detached?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, from his wolf. I’m pretty sure his wolf wanted to check on you, likely even worried at the faded blood smells on you. Derek probably has been fighting it this whole time.”

Frowning, Stiles said, “I thought born wolves were better connected to their wolves.”

With a sigh, Peter said, “Usually, yes. However, ever since the fire, I’d bet my apartment he’s been shutting out his wolf for fear of getting people hurt again.”

Stiles looked to his own empty hands palm up in his lap. “I can’t imagine how much that might be hurting him. I wish I could help him.”

Peter smiled, watching Stiles. “To be honest, if you want, you can help me help him.”

Looking up at Peter, Stiles asked, “What do you mean? I’m not… I’m not ready to—”

Holding up a hand to stop Stiles, Peter interrupted with, “I’m not suggesting you out yourself. I’m suggesting you help me with what I want to do with Derek.”

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, suspiciously.

Grinning and proud of Stiles, Peter said, “I want to help Derek become a better Alpha. He wasn’t raised to be one, so he needs some guidance.”

“You weren’t raised to be one either though,” Stiles said; "and need I remind you of when you were Alpha?”

“Does feral mean nothing to you?”

Stiles flushed a little. “Feral does mean something, but it doesn’t change how Derek is going to react, and it doesn’t change the question of if you’re qualified to teach him in the first place.”

Shrugging, Peter sat on the bed toward Stiles’ feet. “I’m not intending to rely solely on what I know of being an Alpha. I’m going to use what I know from Talia being an Alpha, our parent’s being mated Alphas, and also reaching out to an Alpha closer than everyone may realize.”

“Another Alpha? Are you thinking of the Alpha pack?”

“No! I’m thinking of an entirely different pack that even has members that go to school in Beacon,” Peter said.

Stiles tilted his head faintly.

Peter couldn’t deny how much such a thing made him ache to bite Stiles, to let loose the wonderful wolf he was sure Stiles would be. Reigning in his lust, need for Stiles, Peter continued. “You see, my sister Talia had an alliance with the Ilto pack, but after the Hale house burned, everything went quiet.”

Opening his mouth as though to ask questions, Stiles was stopped by hearing something downstairs.

Becoming instantly alert, Peter tuned into what was happening around them. He must have been too honed into Stiles as Peter heard the front door be unlocked and opened. Peter moved silently off the bed to grab Stiles a flannel to pull on over the t-shirt he’d managed to pull on while Derek was there to hide the chest bandages.

Hearing Noah stumbling into the home and slamming the door shut behind himself, Peter moved to stand just behind Stiles’ open bedroom door.

The sheriff stumbled his way down the wall, pausing before he got to Stiles’ door, probably to straighten up, before walking to the doorway, saying, “I’m going straight to bed. Have to get up early, 2am, for a double tomorrow.”

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Stiles heard the front door being unlocked. That didn’t seem like a good sign. Checking the time as he accepted the flannel from Peter, Stiles barely refrained from groaning. This was early. That meant either that something was wrong at the station or maybe his Dad needed some sleep.

Sliding out of his bed with the flannel pulled on over his shirt, Stiles didn’t make his bed—why draw suspicion. He moved to sit at his computer, logging in so surf the internet as though he were doing homework. Stiles knew the drill.

Hearing his Dad pause just to the side of his door before making his appearance, Stiles felt himself deflate some: his Dad had probably been drinking on his way home and or before driving home. Although he spared a thought of gratitude for his father getting home safely, Stiles was still disappointed in him.

Not shockingly, the Sheriff stepped into the doorway just to say, “I’m going straight to bed. Have to get up early, 2am, for a double tomorrow.”

Stiles nodded, saying, “Good night, pops.”

With a brief nod, his dad left to go into his door, closing the door behind himself before laying down.

Closing his eyes for a moment, listening to his father, hoping he’d just go straight to bed, Stiles heard him go into his master bathroom and slam that door. Stiles flinched at what he knew was likely to happen.

Opening his eyes up, Stiles noticed that Peter had stepped closer.

Peter said, “Would you like me to go?”

Honestly, Stiles just wanted to burrow into blankets and pillows and just walk away for a bit. Just have a break from his life and situation for a while, but he knew better. Stiles knew he was needed. It was why he couldn’t give Peter what he wanted. Stiles had duties to others. He was depended upon even if no one wanted to admit it.

Despite not agreeing with what he said, Stiles whispered softly, “You should probably head out. He’ll freak if he realizes you’re here.”

Peter frowned, asking, “And you’re going to keep not doing heavy lifting?”

Stiles nodded. “Of course. I’m gonna do some research for Derek, eat something out of the fridge for dinner, and then just go to bed. I’m feeling pretty tired. Early to bed won’t be hard.”

Perking a brow, Peter didn’t seem to be completely sold. However, he said, “Well, I’m gonna sneak into the dining room to put all the folded laundry into a basket, so it looks like you finished up the laundry today.”

With a shy smile, Stiles nodded. “Thank you. I really appreciate all of this.”

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A couple hours later…

Peter did not like the Sheriff coming home smelling like drunken swill to interrupt Peter’s time with Stiles. Was Derek’s interruption not enough? At least with his nephew, it made sense. Derek’s wolf and Derek himself even wanted to check on Stiles even if they didn’t want to admit that was a huge chunk of why he showed up. But the Sheriff?

Thinking back on the issues he needed to resolve, Peter again found himself wishing to not even have to deal with Noah, but here he was worrying. Although he didn’t want to, Peter was starting to think he may have to apply to join the force even if only as a consultant. He had to do something to get deeper into what Noah was doing on the day to day.

At the same time, Peter just wanted to run the Sheriff off the road for an ‘accidental’ death. Honestly, if driving drunk was a regular thing, who was to say the Peter would have to engineer it? Maybe the Sheriff would take care of it all himself?

Shaking his head to get off the topic, Peter pulled up to the newly bought loft his nephew had moved to. Even if his nephew seemed to be running on grief and desperation, Peter had no time for pity parties. No, instead, he was going to metaphorically (for now) kick his nephew’s butt into gear.

After taking the key from the ignition on his Ferrari, Peter got out of his car. Aware his nephew likely heard him—both the car and his heart, Peter didn’t even pretend he wasn’t there or to sneak in any way. However, the temptation to go extra slow to get under his nephew’s skin was very much there. Peter refrained and just headed up to the loft, letting himself in—why not?

Once into the open concept livingroom, Peter found himself pinned ot a wall by his nephew.

Derek had his uncle pinned hard, bruising with purpose. “What did you do to Stiles?! Why did he smell like old blood?!”

Peter took the bruises and manhandling with a smirk. “Why nephew, worried about more than just the research you asked for?”

Derek let go of Peter while shoving him away. “No.”

Sighing, Peter said, “Then you’re a worse Alpha than I thought.”

Flinching as though he’d been hit, Derek grumbled. “Fine, I was worried. He didn’t… he hasn’t been around annoying everyone.”

Tilted his head very faintly, Peter pried a bit, “Do you mean he hasn’t been around telling you what to do? Sharing all of his opinions and plans with you?”

Derek grumbled before fleeing for the kitchen.

Peter followed, asking, “Have you looked for Boyd and Erica at all?”

Frowning as he slammed shut the fridge, Derek said, “No. They chose to leave. They’re on their own.”

Frowning himself now, Peter said, “Like hell they are. You turned them. You owe it to them to make sure they made it somewhere safe.”

Derek flared his red eyes. “You’re not the Alpha!”
Peter stepped closer like he might accept the challenge, but did not flash his eyes. “Do you want me to be?”

Derek deflated some. “Look away, Uncle.”

Doing as he was asked, Peter returned to the topic at hand from a different angle. “I know you were never meant to be an Alpha. I wasn’t either. But we cannot go back and change all that has happened.”

Derek roared at the implied mention of Laura.

Peter said quietly, “I miss her too. I miss Laura, Talia… all of them. I regret what I did to Laura. I also regret not protecting you and our pack from hunters when you were younger. However, we’re getting a do-over. I won’t let us squander this.’

“I know we have issues with one another, but you need help. I don’t mean just me, either. I don’t mean the Alpha pack. But you need help. I believe you have what it takes a be a good Alpha.”

Derek frowned, but didn’t interrupt on topic, but instead said, “Want something for dinner? I was thinking Chinese.”

Sighing as he sat in a stool the counter, Peter said, “Sure. You know we’re going to have to talk about this, right?”

In a small show of surrender, Derek sat down in a stool near Peter as he called in their dinner order.

Order in and call ended, Derek set his phone down on the counter. “Look, I know I’m not the best at this, but I am trying.”

Peter nodded. “I know you are, but you need more than just trying. For now, I am going to do everything I can to help guide you from what I saw from your mother and her teachings for Laura. Stiles has also agreed to help, and—”

Derek growled. “You still didn’t explain the old blood smell on Stiles!”

Telegraphing his movements, Peter set a hand on Derek’s forearm. “Stiles is okay. No, he wasn’t attacked. It wasn’t anything like that. He’s healing up some, but that’s to be expected after what he’s been through.”

“Been through?” Derek questioned.

“Did you notice what he smelled like back when he drove his jeep into Jackson and got Lydia to Jackson in time to save him?”

Derek furrowed his brow, looking away as he thought. “No, not really there was a lot going on. I lost track of a lot that night.”

Peter nodded. “Stiles smells like blood, pain, as well as Boyd and Erica’s blood with Wolf’s Bane and Gerard with other hunters.”

Eyes getting big, Derek asked, “Are you saying—”

“Yes,” Peter interjected. “When Stiles disappeared from the lacrosse field, it was Gerard. He’d abducted Stiles.”

Furrowing his brows again, Derek said, “Wait, if he soun—smelled like Erica and Boyd too… does that mean Gerard had them too?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I’m still working with Stiles on things. I haven’t broached the topic yet.”

Derek stood up suddenly.

Peter grabbed his arm, “No. We’re not going to crash into his house and demand answers.”

“He could know—”

“NO. His dad is home drunk and Stiles is traumatized. This won’t help him.”

Derek slowly sat back down. “That’s why you were there? Taking care of him?”

Peter nodded. “As best as he’ll allow me to.”

Looking down, Derek asked, “How bad is his home life, Peter?”

Sighing, Peter admitted, “Bad enough I might take steps to either join the force or become a consultant for the Sheriff’s office.”

With his eye brow all screwed together into their own frown, Derek asked, “What can I do?”

“Right now? Work on becoming a better Alpha. I’ve got Stiles’ chores mostly covered for the time being as well as getting him help both medically as well as am working on getting him into therapy if he’ll let me. But, everything has to be within what he will allow. Forcing or ordering him this way or that doesn’t work on Stiles.”

Derek sighed, “Tell me about it. Honestly, more often than not, he’s saved me by not listening or being cowed. Terrifies me that something, someone scared him enough he’s been staying home. Does anyone else know?”

Peter shrugged. “Not sure. Honestly, just asking could draw attention Stiles isn’t wanting. Before I approached him, I scoped out the situation for a week or two just to be sure of what I’d be walking into. So far, no one has come to visit that I’ve seen. No calls. If there’re texts, I didn’t hear them any of the times I was there.’

“I also noticed some scents around that could’ve been the Alpha pack. However, with me coming around on the daily I’ve not scented them being around again. They may have been hoping to nab an unprotected human. Hopefully, that’ll remain prevented. As it is, I worry that if Erica and Boyd made it out of where they’d been held with Stiles that the Alpha pack may have them. Hence my asking you.”

Derek looked hurt just by the thought of Erica and Boyd captured by the Alpha pack.

Peter nodded. “Agreed. Also, to get you more help as an Alpha, from another Alpha, we need to deal with the Alpha pack.”

Perking up, Derek asked, “Another Alpha?”

Peter nodded again, “Yes. We had allies before the fire. I’ve been starting to reach out and make contact, but the overall take on it from other werewolves is that no one wants to get close while the Alpha pack are in town. They don’t want to risk being the Alpha pack’s next stop.”

Going for broke, a bit, Peter continued, “Also, I would like to add to the pack.”

Derek growled. “I’ve done enough of that! I’m not biting anyone else, especially not if that Alpha pack are catching our people.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter said, “Adding to the pack does not automatically mean biting people. There are other supernatural people in town that we could reach out to.”

“Like who?” Derek asked, clearly curious.

“How about we start with Lydia and Jackson.”

“Lydia’s human,” Derek said. “And Jackson said he doesn’t want pack.”

With a sigh, Peter fought rolling his eyes again. “Lydia’s a Wailing Woman. Jackson wants belonging. She’ll want knowledge, especially based on her showing up at murder scenes. Jackson was support. We can provide for both. They are both full of potential. Why let that go to waste?”

Derek stayed quiet for a moment before asking, “Is this a powerplay?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not giving you the Alpha spark nor will I risk you trying to take it,” Derek stated firmly.

Unable to help himself, Peter rolled his eyes, “It’s a powerplay for the territory. This is Hale land, and I’ll be damned if I let it fall into someone else’s’ hands. As the pack stands, we can’t hold it if there is ever a real challenge from the outside. Look at the Alpha pack situation, and they want you not the territory so far.”

Derek agreed, saying, “Then how do we deal with the Alpha pack?”

Chapter Text

Derek asked, “How do we deal with the Alpha pack?”

Smiling with a little too much intent, Peter said, “Kill them. However, I leave room for changes with more information as well as Stiles’ thoughts.”

Despite himself, Derek asked, “You’re going to wait for Stiles’ opinion?”

“Of course. I’m not sure it you’ve noticed, but Stiles is quite insightful.”

Frowning, Derek responded: “I know he’s smart and good with plans. It’s likely the only reason McCall is still walking around. I just didn’t expect you to willing pause a slaughter opportunity for the thoughts of a teenager.”

Rolling his eyes but refraining from pointing out that Stiles had saved Derek before too, Peter corrected his nephew on another point. “No, I’m respecting a young man who has been through more than enough for anyone, let alone someone as young as he is.”

“Spying?”

Peter sighed and shook his head. “No, attentive. He is too calm with things at times when most wouldn’t be. I wanted to know why, even when I was feral, so I looked into it. He’s special. I won’t waste that.”

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The next day…

Wearing a loose t-shirt and sweats, Stiles walked into the laundry room with purpose.

Peter was emptying pockets on the sheriff’s slacks for work before putting them in the wash. “Not down here for work, I trust?”

Shrugging, Stiles said, “Not exactly?”

Stiles honestly wanted to ask about the kiss before to calm him, maybe shock him out of his panic attack, but like the times before, those are not the words that came out of him. “I was thinking that we need to look into abandoned building records as a good place to start for the Alpha pack. I doubt they’re staying in the woods. Do we know how big the pack is? The possible members in it?”

Peter nodded, finishing up what he was doing before tossing the shirt into the wash. “Hmm… good to have you back in better spirits, darling. Checking on abandoned buildings sounds like a good idea.”

Blushing faintly, Stiles said, “Thanks.”

After pouring in the scent and dye free laundry soap, Peter closed the lid on the washer and set it to running. “If my contacts are as on as I think, there are five in the Alpha pack. Deucalion is their leader. The Alpha of Alphas as he calls himself or perhaps the Demon Wolf as hunter’s refer to him.”

Moving to the dryer, Peter began pulling out the dry laundry inside to go into the basket resting in place for that already. “The Alpha pack members are all killers. To join the pack they killed their entire existing pack including their emissary for power. It’s part of why some believe their wolves are insane, poisoned. The pack has a couple people I have history with, but mostly people I’ve only known of through contacts and rumors.”

Stiles asked, “Which ones do you have history with? Is it anything we can use to help?”

Peter smiled without joy or even snark. “Deucalion was once a great man. He was an Alpha of a strong pack that was allied with several other packs including the Hale pack. He… Talia. They knew each other. Knew me, before. Talia’s last meeting with him was the last good times he likely had. Duke went to meet with the Argents to discuss peace. Deucalion was a peaceful man then. He believed in the higher things.’

“While I don’t know all the details of what occurred, I do know that the meeting for peace talks was a trap. Deucalion was blinded by Gerard in such a way that it could not be healed. After returning to his pack, something happened and he killed them all—women, children, human, and wolf alike. Within roughly twenty-four hours, Deucalion went from a man of peace and ideals to a ravenous monster cutting a swath through North America. He’s convinced other Alphas and wolves to his cause of power as well as has wiped out full packs for more power. Some of those in his pack were also direct or indirect victims of the Argents and other hunters, while some were possibly different. The two younger members of the pack are not as well known.”

Gently reaching out to touch Peter’s shoulder as he finished unloading the dryer, Stiles asked, “And the other you have history with?”

Peter sighed, standing with the basket full of dry clothes and moving to place them on the dining room table where he folded. “Ennis. That is a longer story. One I think… I think involves the secrets of someone who I think has a right to tell the story or keep it to himself.”

Frowning, Stiles took a moment to think. “Derek?”

Smiling just a hint at the young man putting it together quick, Peter said, “Yes.”

Understanding that the topic was likely tender, Stiles just stowed away the information for later, not intending to ask Peter or Derek about it for the time being. Sometimes things could wait. At least for now.

“Your thoughts on dinner tonight? Dad shouldn't be home.” Stiles asked instead, figuring a diversion might be appreciated.

Peter . “I don’t know on that front. How about I make some more of the knish I made the other day?”

Smiling, Stiles said, “Hmmm... sounds yummy to me.”

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Two days later…

Stiles sat at the dining room table with books open around him along with notes and his laptop. Even though he wanted to research the supernatural things going on in town and efforts to find Erica and Boyd if he could, the teen was stuck doing homework. He’d managed to convince a few of his teachers through email to send him some work to be doing to keep up with school while ‘sick.’

Peter had been by earlier and done a touch of cooking and all of the dishes.

Pretty sure that some of the truth of things with his dad Peter had figured out, Stiles still counted himself lucky that not everything had come out. Plus, with Peter’s help, Stiles was healing well from the top surgery.

Additionally, at least on the research front, Stiles had managed to narrow down some possible abandoned buildings the Alpha pack could be in as well as dug into some of the other things going on locally, including what he thought looked like could be sacrifices being killed. Stiles also dove deep since he couldn’t really do chores and cooking and baking in the way he usually had to deal with his never-ending brain running to find out there was once an internment camp in Beacon County though not directly in Beacon Hills.

Stiles kind of used his time, when not resting or doing homework, to research as much as he could, including trying to work on Danny to help him. Danny didn’t know Stiles was trans, but his fellow teen was a gay hottie who found Derek hot, so while it was no one’s business Stiles might’ve managed to start feeling the teen out.

Honestly, Stiles really, really wanted to bring Danny in on the supernatural for help. The fellow teen was a hacker and brilliant himself. He would be an excellent addition to the pack. Not necessarily someone to be bitten, at least that wasn’t where Stiles’ mind was going, but a great ally to have.

With a sigh, Stiles forced himself to try to get back on task: Finstock wanted a three-hundred-word proposal for a final paper topic in history. Still blew Stiles’ mind at times that Coach taught history of all things. Even worse? Coach was GOOD at it. For all of his giving the speech from the movie Independence Day in the locker room, Coach knew his history and had a shocking amount of it memorized. It certainly kept Stiles on his toes in a way he just wasn’t intellectually in other classes.

Just then, the front door slammed open. The honorable Sheriff of Beacon Hills, Noah Stilinski, staggered in. His shirt and hair were ruffled, contributing to the overall sloven look of the sheriff. Not even counting how even Stiles’ human nose could smell that it was as if Noah had been swimming in whiskey, the man looked drunk.

Stiles grabbed his phone to check the time: it was only just before two in the afternoon. His dad had to either notably early or notably late home. Stiles, based on how sloppy Noah appeared, was going to guess notably late. It took time to get this drunk.

Taking slow, deep breaths subtly as to not draw attention, Stiles stayed where he was at the table. Half the time his father would just go upstairs and into his master bathroom to drink more before passing out. Stiles hoped this would be one of those days.

The sheriff slammed the front door behind himself and staggered a bit into the living room. He seemed confused for a moment before he seemed to catch sight of Stiles. Noah lifted his right hand that had a previously unseen bottle of cheap whiskey in it to point at Stiles. “You killed her… you killed her!”

Hearing those words, Stiles moved to stand up. This wasn’t like at Lydia’s; the time when they were all poisoned with aconite (Wolf’s Bane). No, this was real, even as Stiles subtly pinched his own leg just to be sure. The pain was minor in comparison to the pain of this moment being real.

Noah stumbled another step before gripping the couch a moment to regain his balance. He then once more pointed at Stiles: “She knew it… I didn’t listen to her, but she knew you were killing her! She tried to save herself, but you just wouldn’t stop! Talking so much, being high energy all over the place wearing us down…. You killed her!”

Stiles felt the tears run down his face, but no sobs came. He couldn’t help it. He just stared at his dad, the man he took care of and covered for. Noah really did think this… really did think it was Stiles’ fault Mom died.

Grabbing his keys off the table while stuffing his phone into his pocket, Stiles didn’t know what else to do. He just tried to run out the backdoor.

However, Noah was hot on his tail despite his drunken state. Noah managed to grab Stiles by his shirt and force him face first into the back door he was trying to open.

Stiles let himself drop on impact to hopefully reduce damage down and causing Noah to stumble and fall too. Taking advantage of Noah being down and drunkenly trying to crawl back up to standing, Stiles rolled away a bit and shot to his feet before he ran like hell out of the house through the front door.

Not worrying about his physical well-being or anything else, Stiles threw himself into his jeep and jammed his keys in to start her up. He had to turn the engine over a couple times for it to catch, but once the engine roared to life, Stiles practically flew out of the driveway, not slowing down until he was a few blocks away and sure Noah wasn’t following.

Stiles had no idea where he was going until he ended up at the loft he knew Derek had bought. Although he knew Peter had an apartment, Stiles had no idea where that was. Seeing Peter’s Ferrari there at the loft, Stiles turned off the jeep and took out the keys to stuff into the pocket of his sweatpants. He then folded his arms over the steering wheel before bowing his head forward to rest against his arms as he began sobbing.

In his tears, it was only now that Stiles could take a better stock of his state. His face and chest hurt from being shoved into the door. His nose was bleeding and possibly his lip was busted. He was barefoot and shaking. The adrenaline high was still pumping through him, but Stiles knew it was going to be a hell of a crash when it came.

Stiles knew he needed to pull himself together whether he chose to drive off or even to stay here. His heart was racing, and the tears had yet to stop. He felt like there was just nothing to be done yet at the same time there was a push to DO something about the situation.

Those thoughts simply sent him into fresh tears and heavy sobs, causing him to lose track of things even as his phone got what felt absently like a series of texts.

-----------------------------------------------

Peter heard it first, then Derek: Stiles’ jeep.

Frowning while checking his phone quickly, Peter felt… no, knew, something was wrong. It was made an even more solid reality when Peter heard Stiles park his jeep and turn it off, but not get out of the vehicle. When he focused a touch more, Peter could hear Stiles sobbing in his jeep.

The sound made Peter growl. No matter the cause, Peter refused to allow Stiles to be driven to tears. Although he forced himself to give Stiles minute to collect himself and come up on his own, Peter quickly lost patience.

Ignoring Derek already getting up and asking him something, Peter was on his feet and making his way out. His instincts screamed to get to Stiles.

Peter made it out a few minutes later just in time to see someone standing beside Stiles’ jeep, talking to him too quietly for Peter to hear.

However, once whoever it was that was talking to Stiles heard or somehow sensed Peter’s presence and perhaps Derek’s coming up behind Peter, they took off, carefully never once looking back to give them a good look at their face.

Catching a scent of Stiles’ blood, Peter signaled Derek to go to Stiles while Peter went after whoever had been talking to Stiles. Even though he felt he was the best to help Stiles, Peter knew no threat could be permitted and that he would be the cruelest in addressing such a threat.

Peter ran but only made it a couple of blocks before he heard Derek’s Alpha order howl demanding Peter return. Growling to himself, Peter took a deeper inhale of the strangely familiar scent of who he was following before running back to where Derek was with Stiles.

Seconds turned into minutes, and when he was finally back to the jeep, Peter could smell the blood and heartbreak all over Stiles even though he’d not even gotten out of his jeep yet.

Coming up on the jeep, Peter could see Stiles still tearful but not outright sobbing.

Derek was shirtless, holding the shirt he’d been wearing to Stiles’ forearm.

Smelling fresh blood, Peter had to fight back the shift. It wasn’t every day he had to fight so hard, but this was Stiles. He was Peter’s even if the young man didn’t know that yet.

Derek looked at Peter as he approached. “They clawed him.”

Even though he still had tears running down his face, Stiles rolled his eyes. “Not quite. They gave me a map, or really, a clue.”

Peter growled, low like murder.

Stiles didn’t blow off Peter’s reaction; instead, Stiles pushed Derek’s shirt off his arm to show the bleeding carving clearly done with a claw. It was pretty rudimentary:

A vengeance spiral, then a strange possible angular glyph, and next the Hale sigil, the triskelion.

Growling harder, Peter pushed the shirt back on the still weeping wound.

Derek grunted as his hand that was holding the shirt was moved with the shirt.

Seemingly understanding where the wolves’ minds were at, Stiles said, “I consented to this. I was offered it, and I took it—blood and all. We need to find Erica and Boyd, and the person talking to me confirmed that the Alpha pack has them.”

Chapter Text

Up in Derek’s loft, Stiles sitting at the table with his arm out, uncovered. With a steady hand, Stiles used a pen and piece of paper to draw out a copy of what had been cut into his forearm. The others had wanted to bandage him up right away, but Stiles refused. He need to document what was drawn first.

Once he had a copy to his liking on the piece of paper Derek was able to scrounge up, Stiles said, “Okay, we can clean me up.”

Derek had been pacing in agitation, but was now quickly grabbing up the picture.

At the same time, Peter grabbed the items already gathered and took Stiles to the bathroom to clean up his wound and bandage him.

While he endured the cleaning and stitching, Stiles managed to remain quiet. He seemed to be thinking.

Peter slowly, but methodically cleaned up and bandaged Stiles’ arm. The cuts were not so deep as to require stitches, but certainly Stiles was a bleeder. Thank goodness there is plenty of gauze and patience.

Once he’s all bandaged up, Stiles moved back to the table to sit back down with the drawing.

Following the younger man, Peter had a damn cloth that he used to gently clean Stiles’ face.

Squawking in surprise at the cool clothe on his face, Stiles tried unsuccessfully to bat it away.

Derek sigh, “Don’t bother fighting. When Peter gets like this there is no winning.”

Stiles whined, ‘When was he ever like this?”

Looking away, Derek muttered, “Before the fire.”

Even though the words were quiet, Stiles heard them and stopped fighting. He let the words sink into him as well as let Peter clean Stiles’ face.

Peter very pointedly did not comment on Derek’s words.

When Peter was done wiping his face, Stiles spoke, “I think these symbols might mean what they have or maybe why they’re here? Could also be a mix. Or even it’s a form of directions?”

Sitting beside Stiles, Peter asked, “Are you okay?”

Stiles shrugged off the words as he said, “I think a little blood is worth finding Erica and Boyd!”

Setting his hand over Stiles’, Peter said, “One, that was not a ‘little’ blood. You’re a bleeder through and through.. but what I was referring to was both asking if you are in pain as well as working towards finding out why your jeep was parked at the loft while you sat in it sobbing.”

Frowning, Stiles sighed. “We’re going to have to talk about it, aren’t we?”

----------------------------------------------

Meanwhile…

A slender yet muscled middle age man walked into an old bank vault, tapping his white cane to help guide the way for his milky eyes. He wore a three-piece business suit, all in blood red but for the black tie, with black oxfords and matching black sunglasses.

Once to approximately the middle of the main area, the man stood still, folding his cane down and slid it under his arm. “Any new information?”

A younger man notably built man in roughly his thirties stood tall, seemingly ready to rip off heads and send them rolling. In just jeans, boots, and a too tight three quarter sleeve shirt, the man rolled his shoulders before motioning for something that was not immediately apparent.

Then, suddenly, a woman with long dark hair jumped down from some scaffolding above the two men to land in a crouch near the older man. She wore no shoes but yoga leggings and a tank top. She had her claws out on her feet and hands. “The human is consistently being visited by a Hale. The one that burned.”

The blind man nodded. “Ennis, what do you know of the human?”

The younger built man growled lowly. “Not attending school but appears of school age. Hale has been all over the place, doing what seem to be chores, caring for the human. Possibly courting. The father of the human is a drunk as well as the sheriff of the county. The human is watched, but not the father.”

The older man nodded, tapping his chin with his finger. “Is the drunkenness public knowledge? Kali?”

Kali chuckled cruelly. “I don’t know how it couldn’t be. Saw him driving home today. Shocked he’s not been caught driving drunk yet, Deucalion.”

“Hmmm…” Deucalion hummed. “Perhaps that is an avenue for us.”

Ennis moved to grab a chair that he placed for Deucalion.

Flashing his Alpha red eyes, Deucalion nodded before taking a seat.

Growling, Ennis said, “The pack is so small. This doesn’t seem worth it. There’re not enough members for the young Hale to be powerful enough to join us.”

Deucalion grinned with a feral edge. “Oh, but his Uncle… could he be tamed? He would be a worthy addition. Full shift or not. He has a cruelty even beyond yours. He could take the Hale spark and kill the pack without issue, I suspect. Except, possibly this human. Maybe a mated pair would be a good addition.”

“Better than a True Alpha?”

Chapter Text

Peter wanted to tap a beat out on his knee to feel like Stiles was with him plotting, planning.

In all reality, Stiles was sleeping on Derek’s couch. The young man had worn himself out explaining what had occurred at his house with his Dad, including how heart-breaking it had been in nearly matching the hallucination he’d had at Lydia’s party that had punch poisoned with aconite (Wolf’s Bane).

Peter wasn’t so thrilled learning that what he’d done to Lydia to bring himself back had hurt Stiles in the process. Peter did not have any delusion about being himself a good man. He knew that ship had been on the water before the fire. The fire just burned away the last of his innocence, kindness. Probably his morality too.

Then again, Stiles brought more out of Peter than the wolf wanted to dwell on too much. Such as Peter taking on care-taking qualities with a hurt Stiles, or Peter even feeling bad that Stiles was hurt in what it took to bring Peter back to life.

Refusing to dwell on any of that further, Peter forced his mind to his plan. Joining or any reall helping of the Sheriff was out of the picture now. Now came the question—whisk Stiles away or murder the Sheriff then whisk Stiles away? Well, admittedly, the whisk away would still take some time, but Peter would find a way.

Hearing Derek coming back into the main area from downstairs where he’d been checking Stiles’ jeep, Peter looked to his nephew. “Find anything?”

Derek shook his head. “No, nothing recognizable in the scent. Nothing at all really… beyond a touch of an almost ozone like scent?”

That perked Peter up, “Ozone? Shit.”

Frowning, Derek asked, “What?”

Having to refrain from rolling his eyes at how thoroughly Tala had so poorly taught her own children, Peter said, “That’s what magic smells like. It means, either the person talking to Stiles had magic, or and potentially more likely, the person had the help of someone with magic. Probably a spell cast by their emissary.”

Derek perked his brows, saying, “But I thought… you told me rumor was that Deucalion had gone mad with whatever cost him his eyes and caused him to kill his own pack?”

Peter nodded. “I did, but maybe I wasn’t completely right on that, which may mean things are more dangerous than I had realized.”

Taking a seat beside Peter at the table, Derek asked, “What do you mean?”

Sighing, Peter admitted. “I know that I’ve described him as a man of vision, but he was no idealist in the naïve, blind faith way people sometimes contrive people of vision to be. Deucalion was a very smart man. A practical man. If there is a chance he’s not gone mad, or worse, has only gone just mad enough to be bloodthirsty, there is no telling what he’ll do or why he’s here.”

Frowning, Derek asked, “But isn’t the Alpha packs normal thing gathering members and destroying packs?”

“Yes,” Peter said. “But it’s not blindly done even with Deucalion being said to have been blinded. They’ve been moving toward our territory pretty blatantly. We’ve been so occupied with the Argents and their violence that he didn’t notice someone else taking advantage of our focus elsewhere.”

Crossing his arm, Derek looked to the couch where Stiles was still sleeping. “Then why involve Stiles? I mean, he’s human. He’s not even—”

Peter suddenly had Derek on the ground by the throat with a hand over Derek’s mouth. At the same time, Peter whisper growled—“Don’t you dare say what you were about to.”

----------------------------------------------------

A while later…

Deaton waited in a Mountain Ash circle of his own making. He’d called Scott for help. Thankfully, Scott had been led along to figure out the ritual sacrifices were being done by an evil magic user. Who was to say it mattered if Scott knew the signs of a Darach or not? What mattered was getting Scott to where he needed to be.

It was Scott’s destiny to become a True Alpha. Deaton just wanted to make sure it was a pure transition. No need for theatrics or the risk of others messing up Deaton’s plan. As it was, Scott was mostly Deaton’s now.

Scott seemed to have alienated Stiles enough that the loud teen wasn’t running around ‘helping’ Scott out of trouble when the soon to be True Alpha should really be following and asking Deaton for help. Not some high schooler!

Allison had been an unexpected benefit. It pulled Scott away from anyone who helped him. It kept Scott away from the Hales as well, especially Peter. No need to let the failure of one pack mare the creation of something new, something beautiful and pure.

Now, Deaton need only wait for a while and Scott would come running to help his mentor and ascend as he was foreseen to do!

Deaton had thought this all through. He’d even told Scott where the druid was chained up. Deaton had been careful to make sure that the chains were just enough he could not break them, but an Alpha could shatter them. Nothing of Mountain Ash but the circle within which Deaton sat.

----------------------------------------------------

In a park two blocks from the Sheriff’s office…

The ‘honorable’ Sheriff of Beacon County’s body was splayed out like a sacrifice to a heathen god, naked with a spiral carved into his chest. His eyes were open are staring unseeingly in terror at where his killer must have been while carving into the Sheriff while he was still alive. Although his blood alcohol was well above the legal limit to operate a motor vehicle, it surely had not been enough to take away the pain of have both of his hands and feet severed and the spiral cared while he was alive to see and feel it all.

In all its horror, the body was in the grass near the pavement as though the body could’ve been transported by a vehicle since the blood present indicated the severing of hands and feet occurred elsewhere.

Deputy Parrish stayed outside the crime scene tape to remain out of the way of the forensic teen currently scouring the crime scene for possible evidence. They’d already worked around and outside the crime scene tape before the small btu growing crowd could sully the area fully.

Even though the Sheriff’s drinking problem wasn’t exactly a secret, it still did not justify whatever this was in the gawkers eyes it seemed.

Deputy Parrish walked away a bit to ask another Deputy, “Has anyone notified his son?”

Chapter Text

Crossing his arms, Derek looked to the couch where Stiles was still sleeping. “Then why involve Stiles? I mean, he’s human. He’s not even—”

Peter suddenly had Derek on the ground by the throat with a hand over Derek’s mouth. At the same time, Peter whisper growled—“Don’t you dare say what you were about to.’

“Your mother may not have taught you right, but I will not let you risk Stiles’ having to go through bite rejection over a careless comment on your part. He is pack.”

Derek’s eyes went huge, eyebrows up nearly into his hair line even as his eyes flash a deep, painfully guilty blue.

Not yet removing his hand from Derek’s mouth or the grip on the younger man’s throat, Peter said, “I’m going to need you to nod that you understand. But keep in mind, if you ever try to say what you were about to again, I will be forced to kill you.”

Now frowning, Derek nodded slowly.

Quickly, Peter was up off the younger man and sat back down at the table like he had been before.

Derek slowly got himself up, watching Peter questioningly even as he sat back down at the table. He took a moment to think about what just happened before asking, “Is he your mate?”

Sighing, Peter frowned himself. “I don’t know for sure.”

Crossing his arms again, Derek said, “Well, does this mean you’re wanting me to bite him?”

Forcing his eyes to only flash blue, Peter said, “No.”

Seemingly taking that as the end of that part of the discussion, Derek asked, “So, what are we going to do about the Sheriff?”

Barely refraining from crossing his own arms, Peter sat forward a bit, saying, “Well, I’m done waiting. I think one of us should escort Stiles home to get his things and move him out.”

----------------------------------------------------

A half hour later…

Stiles’ phone starting practically screaming the Bad Boy’s theme song used as the opening song of the show COPS. With each ring of the chorus, the volume grew, waking Stiles in a startled shock.

Quicker-ish to his feet, Stiles moved for his phone before remembering when he’d last seen his father. Then, remembering, Stiles paused. After swallowing everything he could say or maybe scream, Stiles answered his phone on speaker while also recording the call, expecting to need it for evidence if his father screamed abuse at him.

Before Stiles could speak a word, a cultured British voice came through his phone, “Why hello. I’m sure you were not expecting this call, Stiles. Is Peter with you? I’m sure he is.”

Looking up from the phone, Stiles saw that both Derek and Peter were already standing with him, looking at the phone and him.

Stiles swallowed, about to speak.

“Now, now, Stiles… I’m sure you’ve not heard the news just yet, but remember when you do that he begged for mercy, but he didn’t cry for you. No, he cried for her, for his Claudia to be returned to him.”

Even after the person on the other end of the line had ended the call, Stiles was still staring at his phone, tears streaming down his eyes already. He didn’t make words. Not at first.

Rolling his shoulders even though it pulled on his chest, Stiles didn’t bother asking if the voice was telling the truth or not. Once he had himself fake together, Stiles stopped his phone from recording. He then opened up his phone numbers list and dialed up the station.

Even with keeping his phone on speaker, Stiles felt like every ring was a stab into his stomach.

When someone finally picked up, it was a polite woman’s voice, “Hello, this is the Sheriff’s office, how can I help you?”

Stiles found his voice, saying, “I would like to speak with the Sheriff.”

Tara, whose voice he remembered from years at the sheriff’s office, messing around like any child might, hesitated before saying, “I’m sorry, he’s not in right now, would you like to leave a message for him?”

Clenching and unclenching the hand that did not hold the phone, Stiles said, “Tara, it’s me, Stiles… where’s my Dad?”

----------------------------------------------------

A while later…

Deaton was still waiting in a Mountain Ash circle of his own making. He’d called Scott for help, but it’d easily been an hour. Deaton tried to keep himself focused. Now was a good time to meditate if nothing else. But then again, maybe it wouldn’t look right to Scott if Deaton seemed calm?

However, would Scott even notice that detail? It was a hard call. The teen could be smart about things, but usually relied on others rather than even trying to rub two brain cells together. Deaton shook his own head. Now was no time to put Scott down. The teen was on the precipice of evolving into a True Alpha. He would be a chosen who Deaton would guide… Guide and feed on.

Deaton’s power would be endless. The high of killing Julia had been beautiful, but Deaton hungered for more. A True Alpha? He would attract more to devour, like the Nemeton did. Add on Scott letting enemies escape? Deaton would be full to bloating before he knew it. Scott just needed to hurry up and evolve.

While he’d proven himself to the Alpha Pack with Julia’s death, Deaton hungered. He hoped to devour the Alpha sparks Deucalion had taken in and those of his Alpha betas. Deaton felt like the whole of his being hungered, and he would be sated regardless of the price.

To the best of his memory, Deaton couldn’t remember when his hunger started, but such unconfirmed details really didn’t matter to him. He was hungry and would be sated. What more need be considered than his getting what he hungered for? Who knew, perhaps after imbibing the Alpha Pack’s power, Deaton would take Scott’s too if he didn’t lure in enough to satiate.

---------------------------------

Elsewhere…

With his hands folded on his lap, Deucalion sat with a smile like the cat the ate a whole hatchery.

Kali was pacing around but rather than ‘walking’ she was doing a series of lunges one way then turning and doing it in the opposite direction. All the while, she had her hands on her hips or raise high like a worshipper in prayer calling out to their God.

On the other hand, Ennis was crouched down beside Ethan and Aiden, explaining, “Now, when you are prone like this, you have a few options of the next move. Right now, this is just practice, but in real time you’ll have maybe a couple seconds, but likely less. You need to know your options as well as what others may do too.”

Ethan asked, “How can we know what others will do?”

Ennis grinned. “Smell it, watch muscle movements. Even the smallest tell can answer a whole lot more than a person may intend.”

Deucalion added, “One must be prepared for the unexpected. As it is, we may encounter a True Alpha while here, but more importantly, we may be dealing with a courting pair of mates.”

Aiden sat up, saying, “I thought this was about revenge? Won’t a courting make them weaker?”

Tilting his head faintly to the side as though considering Aiden’s words, Deucalion clicked his tongue. “Not necessarily. It will make the one courting more dangerous, viscous; however, it could make them more open to letting the rest of the pack burn to save the intended mate.”

Then, Deucalion rose to his feet, “Come along, Aiden, Kali. We need to go visit Deaton. I think his schemes need to be brought to a resolution he’s likely unprepared for… He really is just as reckless and cryptic as I remember. Good to know a little shift in understanding didn’t mislead my previous understanding of the once supposedly great Hale Emissary.”

Chapter Text

The only way of leaving is dead. That’s the state of my, state of my head.
–Shinedown, “State of my Head”

Six months before…

Sitting at a café in Indianapolis, Indiana, Deucalion sat with one leg crossed over the other and his walking stick folded up and resting in his lap as he sipped his earl grey tea with just a touch of vanilla soy milk.

Marin walked into the café, ordering herself a blueberry muffin before moving to sit across from Deucalion at the table he already sat at. She was aware he was expecting her. Once settled, she spoke. “Ready to start heading their way?”

Deucalion smiled broadly. “Perhaps. Are you ready to face your brother?”

Laughing without humor, Marin said, “What brother? He disowned me for who I loved. Murdered her too at the order of the alpha of his pack—the woman too power hungry and judgmental for her own good. That her son loved my daughter and was forced to forsake and kill her only added fuel to the fire. Almost makes me want to spare the boy. Too bad he inherited the Alpha spark. Perhaps he’ll part with it in exchange for his life being spared?"

Smiling with renewed malevolent glee, Deucalion asked, “Decided how to deal with your brother?”

Marin smiled cruelly, saying: “Ah, yes, I have. He’s stolen my happiness, killed my heart and soul. It’s time he felt empty too. He shall devour all he’s ever cared for that he hasn’t already before you even see him.”

Then, a waitress brought over Marin’s ordered blueberry muffin, flashing Marin a charming smile.

Marin smiled back and gave a nod of her head, but didn’t flirt as she might have once upon a time. Even thinking back to when she would’ve left a bad taste in her mouth.

Once the waitress was well away from them, Deucalion said, “Abstaining from those forms of delight?”

Marin didn’t bother responding to the prod. “I’ve spent some time reviewing my notes and records from my second teacher, and I have found something just right for Alan. It shall bring about that which we seek.”

Still smiling viciously, Deucalion said, “Ah, intending to use him to weaken them all before we get there?”

Shrugging, Marin merely said, “I’m holding up my end of our deal. Thankfully, Ennis should be bait enough once we’re further along to both lure and traumatize one Hale into performance issues. Now only to deal with the other.”

Deucalion kept smiling, “Ah, yes. Peter. I have ideas for him, should he be open to negotiation.”

Marin raised a brow at that.

Smile turning sharp, Duke explained and didn’t: “Perhaps he’ll trade his life for the sparing of his nephew. Or even perhaps kill the whole pack and take another spark in exchange for destroying the Hale spark. Let the betrayal die with it.”

-------------------------

Two days later…

Within a forest in Michigan, Marin stood in a circle of fire with Deucalion. She was carving into the Alpha of Alpha’s. She focused, speaking words of power and vengeance under her breath. She carved with a consecrated and blessed silver blade a triskelion as well as two trees: an oak and the Beacon Hills Nemeton before it was cut down.

Deucalion made not a sound, flashing his eyes on and off as he willingly sacrificed one of his many Alpha sparks to help empower the magic further.

As she carved details and lightening bolts shooting toward the oak tree as well as severing the link between the triskelion and the oak as well as the oak and the Nemeton, Marin grew louder and loud with her mumbled words until they were just short of a scream, demanding:

“Kwa moto wa hali ya hewa na haki ya ardhi,
Kwa mwangaza wa Alpha na mapenzi ya mchawi,
Kwa viapo vilivyovunjwa na ushirikiano ulioanguka,
Kwa damu ya zamani iliyowekwa na kudanganywa—
Mchukue kutoka kwake,
Mchukue yote—
Mwache akihitaji zaidi hata anapokula kila anachoweza!”

-------------------------

Present…

Stiles sat on the ground with his head between his knees and arms wrapped around his legs as he rocked back and forth, crying. Even if his sperm donor wasn’t the best in the world, Noah was still the very last of Stiles’ family. There was no one else. His grandparents were all long gone and his mom was dead. Now this? Even after leaving the house, even fleeing… that was still his father! That was still the man who’d picked him up and ‘flee’ him around the living room when Stiles was still little, well before Claudia got sick.

Peter was crouched down beside Stiles, rubbing his back softly, just trying to help in any little way he could. It wasn’t like Peter was sad the man was gone. That was one less to-do for Peter to deal with; however, he understood that no matter what Noah had put him through, Stiles still loved his dad.

It wasn’t exactly like Peter could shower Stiles in understanding words, placating platitudes he knew neither of them wanted or would tolerate. No, Stiles deserved the truth and only the truth whenever Peter could provide it. So, no, Peter would not be using his words. He hated the sheriff and everything he put Stiles through. Yet, Peter could at least sympathize a bit with Stiles on the pain of losing a father. Not anything he could put to words, but nonetheless, he rubbed Stiles’ back to keep him grounded and remind him that he was not alone.

Derek, on the other hand, was preparing food and drinks in the other room, putting some merit into the idea he was allergic to emotions when the reality was Derek was too familiar with loss and didn’t know how to help others through it when he remained trapped within those claws and sorrows himself.

-------------------------

Later…

Peter sighed, hearing Stiles’ phone going off with text pings. Frowning, Peter got up from where he’d been sitting at the table to go grab Stiles’ phone that was on the coffee table by the couch where Stiles was laid out, sleeping off his crying hangover.

Taking the phone, Peter sat back down at the dining room table where he could still keep an eye on Stiles. Opening Stiles’ phone, Peter clicked through to look at the texts that had arrived:

From Scott: Hey, do you have notes from Harris’ class last week?

From Scott: There was a big murder or something. Allison thinks it was supernatural. Can you look into it?

From Scott: Can I borrow some whiskey from your dad’s stash?

Rolling his eyes, Peter barely kept from scoffing. This was ridiculous.

Derek looked over to his uncle, asking, “What is it?”

“Scott finally getting ahold of Stiles after he’s been MIA for a month or so, but not to check in, but asking for stuff,” Peter explained. He kept his own growling opinion of what should be done with Scott to himself for the moment.

Chapter Text

“Break this chain of pain.”
—Tori Amos, “Addition of Light Divided”

Blinking his eyes open, Stiles felt groggy and worn out despite just waking up. Looking around slowly, Stiles realized he was in the loft. Everything that had led to this moment was catching up to him slowly. He didn’t start tearing up more—he’d cried plenty for the time being. No, maybe now was a time to do something?

Shaking his head at himself, Stiles forced himself to sit up. As he did, Stiles released a huge yawn.

Seemingly hearing Stiles, Peter was soon by the young man’s side, checking on him. “How’re you doing?”

Stiles took a deep breath. “Do we know why Deucalion is even here?”

Derek countered with, “What did that person tell you at the jeep?”

Stiles perked a brow. “You didn’t hear it?”

Not breaking eye contact, Derek’s brows furrowed nearly into his eyes.

Peter intervened, moving to between the two, “No, darling, we were not able to hear.”

Frowning, Stiles said. “It was some kid around my age. He didn’t give me a name, but he warned me that since I wasn’t the target of his pack, I should get out of town before I could be drawn into things.”

Derek growled low and deep, his eyes flashing red.

With a strange sense of pride that Stiles was asking what the Alpha pack wanted, not trying to run away, Peter said, “Do you think he was a member of the Alpha pack?”

Stiles shrugged. “Only other pack I know is in town outside of you guys and whatever Scott thinks he’s doing.”

Peter nodded. “I would agree it is likely the teen is from the Alpha pack. It is said there is a pair of young twins in the Alpha pack.”

Stiles nodded, asking, “Would you guys not hearing it mean that magic was involved?”

Derek’s eyebrows rose, surprised. “Maybe?”

Shaking his head, Peter said, “Definitely. The only question is if they still have the same Emissary: Marin Morrel.”

Taking his turn to frown, Stiles said, “Marin Morrel? She’s the new counselor at the High School. Guess that explains why we had the mid-year replacement in that sense.”

“When did she start at the school?” Peter said.

“A couple weeks after you bit Scott, but before we figured out that you were the Alpha or tried to fight you. Hell, before you and I met,” Stiles explained.

Peter growled.

Derek frowned, “Wait, how could that be? Laura had already lost to Hale Spark, but you were half mad. If they were here for you, your dying would undo that, right?”

Shaking his head, Peter said, “If they were after me for being mad, I’d never have been able to bite Scott. That was too close to the earlier killings. They didn’t come here for me. At least not due to my brief stint in madness.”

Stiles face screwed up some before he shook himself out. He then moved closer to Peter, gripping each of his shoulders: “Did you leave a vengeance spiral on a deer?”

Peter’s eyes got a touch bigger before he could school his face.

Stiles let him go and nodded.

Derek asked, “What’re you talking about?”

Waving a hand absently as he was clearly sorting things in his mind as he began to pace around without pattern, Stiles finally said, more to himself than to Derek or Peter, “It was the one mark that didn’t fully fit your rampage. Who would be looking for a deer with that mark? Not a hunter. You wanted vengeance on those who killed your family. No hunter would recognize the message. It’s part of what threw me a bit when we were hunting you without knowing it was you yet. No, that signal was sent to the local wolves, not hunters.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ shoulder to force the teen to stop and look at the flaring red eyes of the Alpha Spark. “Stop, are you saying tat the Alpha pack carved that symbol to notify us of them seeking vengeance against us?!”

Stiles paused at being grabbed and met Derek’s eyes. “It’s what makes the best sense.”

After another moment’s thought, Stiles looked at Derek, then Peter: “Do either of you have a computer I can use?”

Smiling, Peter nodded, “Of course. I keep one hidden here.”

Derek growled at that.

Peter rolled his eyes, “Seriously, nephew? We cannot all live in the dark ages.”

The older wolf left the room to go into one of the spare rooms in the loft to retrieve the laptop. Once he had it, Peter returned to the main area and step the computer up at the table. “What is it you’re needing?”

Stiles moved to the computer, saying, “Nothing the computer and my phone cannot do.”

Peter looked at the teen with open curiosity, wanting to see what the teen was up to.

Derek did not have that kind of patience. “What’re you doing?”

Stiles popped his neck and got the computer on and running while he set up his phone as a wifi hotspot. “I’m using my phone’s VPN as well as it’s ability to be a wifi hotspot to use the computer to access things the sheriff can. He’s not been gone long enough for them to cleanse the tech of his passwords and access, which means we have a window to look up what I need.”

“And that is, darling?” Peter inquired.

Smiling without humor, Stiles said, “Marin Morrel’s home address. Deaton’s too.”

Frowning, Derek asked, “Why Deaton’s home address?”

Peter answered first, “Because any vendetta that the Alpha pack could’ve come for with this timing must have to do with Talia or someone from our pack before the fire.”

Stiles nodded. “That or somehow it’s about one of you or Laura. Regardless, the thing that occurred to cause it happened before the fire in all likelihood. That means Deaton should at least have a clue whether he feels like sharing or not.”

“Not accusing me, darling?” Peter said slowly.

“Anything you did pre-fire would likely be pinned to being Talia’s fault directly or indirectly, but even without that. If they just wanted you, Laura took Derek and left you abandoned. If it was about you, they’d have come years ago to take you out quietly while no one knew any better,” Stiles explained as he kept typing and moving around his finger on the touch pad mouse.

Derek asked. “Who are we going after first?”

“Deaton.” Peter and Stiles said at the exact same time.

Stiles got a mischievous grin. “They’ll be looking for him too, so we need to grab him first if we can.”

Peter nodded in agreement, proud of Stiles.

Just then, Stiles’ phone began to ring again. This time with a basic ringtone.

Stiles frowned but answered his phone, putting it on speaker and recording just in case. “He—”

Scott interrupted, “How’re you? I just heard the news about the sheriff!”

Clearly barely holding back a sigh and choosing not to outright respond to Scott’s question, Stiles asked, “Have you heard from Deaton recently?”

Scott seemed caught wrongfooted. “Y-yeah. He called me for help a few hours or so ago. Why.. wh—”

“Did he give you an address?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, he did, but wh—”

Not feeling like he had all of the time in the world, Stiles said, “Can you forward me that text?”

“Yeah, I guess, but—”

“Please forward it now,” Stiles said. Then his phone beeped with receiving a text. While still on the phone with Scott, Stiles checked that it was the address. He nodded to the two wolves with him. “I got intel that the Alpha pack is trying to hunt him down. I’m close by so I’m going to go help him and will touch back with you once we have him safe, out of danger and all.”

Scott took a deep breath. “Wait, Deaton meant that he needed help as in he was in danger?!”

“Talk to you soon,” Stiles said as he ended the call. He then showed Peter the address. Closing the laptop and pocketing his phone, Stile asked, “Who’s coming with me?”

Peter nodded, “As long as you’re ready.”

Stiles looked at Derek. “You?”

Sighing, Derek crossed his arms but nodded.

Taking the silent answer, Stiles shook himself out and moved to grab his things to make sure he had everything he’d need that he brought, which was hardly anything with how he’d left his house earlier. Once he felt ready after less than a moment, Stiles led the group out to his jeep and hopped in to start up his girl.

Peter pulled down the passenger seat to let Derek in the back before sliding into the front passenger seat without a word.

Aware that cops would be focused elsewhere or honestly not the area, Stiles pressed hard on the gas pedal to rush the six or so blocks away to where Deaton had claimed to be. When it came time, Stiles hit the brakes and gave the steering wheel a hard turn that caused him to drift in a round, smacking against a half-shifted werewolf.

Not waiting one second, Stiles threw open his door to jump out, grabbing his bat as he did so and pulling down his seat for Derek to be able to get out.

Focusing on his target, Stiles moved to a visibly weakened Deaton who was barely holding up the protection of his Mountain Ash circle that he was within. Stiles didn’t bother to break the line since being human meant he didn’t need to. Instead, he grabbed Deaton by the arm and gave a tug, “Come on, we’re getting you out of here!”

Not paying attention to the mild protest Deaton put up, Stiles kept pulling even as he heard Derek howl in furry. The sounds of violence around them got Deaton cooperating at least.

Stiles kept moving and pushing Deaton toward and then into the back of his jeep. ‘Stay here, okay?”

The Druid seemed strangely cowed in the face of Stiles’ vibrating rage and challenging stare down.

Without bothering to wait to see if Deaton obeyed further, Stiles slammed his own vehicle door before rushing for the Mountain Ash circle, aware the violence was not necessarily aimed entirely at him just yet, but he was sure it was heading his way with Deaton in the jeep.

Grabbing two hand-fulls of Mountain Ash with his bat under his arm, Stiles threw one handful of Mountain Ash at his jeep to land, with his fully rage-infused belief that it would circle and protect his jeep and everything within it.

That done Stiles turned in time to see Peter thrown over his jeep and rolling aware with a groan. Screaming with rage, Stiles felt his rage narrow to at an adult man who appeared blind but not who had thrown Peter even as Derek was fighting against a teen identical to the one Stiles had spoken too but angrier looking and a tanned woman with long dark hair and no shoes on—claws out on her toes.

Stiles split the Mountain Ash he had in one hand into his two hands. One of the handfuls of Mountain Ash he ran up his bat while whispering over and over three by three forcing his anger and believe from the very cells of his body into his bat with the Mountain Ash—Przez krew, przez przysięgi, przez stado!

Satisfied for a brief second, once done, Stiles held Mountain Ash in one hand and his bat in the other as he yelled at and charged the man who dared to throw Peter, “Pieprzyć cię!”

Once closer to the man who was now grinning almost ferally at him for screaming, Stiles split stopped short, gripped more tightly the Mountain Ash he’d had in his hand. Stiles was so angry his eyes almost flashed like a wolf’s even though he had not been turned. With belief and quick thinking, Stiles threw the Mountain Ash straight up into the air before swiftly switching up to slam his bat into the face of the teen that thought they were trying to attack Derek from behind.

The Mountain Ash landed in a pattern of symbols around the wolf that had thrown Peter.

While he was not supernaturally strong, Stiles’ bat, now infused with Mountain Ash, nearly knocked out Aiden’s teeth. Stiles took advantage of the teen’s shock, Stiles dropped into a crouch to slam the bat into the teen’s left knee before skittering back in time for Peter to be back in the fight.

Derek was getting his booty handed to him before Peter kicked into the fight and grabbed the woman by her hair to sling her around into the teen who was growling and fighting to heal what Stiles had done, especially with the Mountain Ash leaving residue on the teen, slowing his healing noticeably.

Stiles’ anger was corrosive, and his will acted in kind. Taking advantage of being out of the fight as he kept an eye on the blind not blind man behind the barrier, Stiles rushed to his jeep and grabbed up some of the Mountain Ash from there. He then headed back to the fight, motioning to Peter to move.

In response, Peter tackled Derek to the side in time for Stiles to throw up the Mountain Ash to settle around the two other wolves. Even though he knew it wasn’t a forever fix, the Ash bought time.

Not waiting to see Peter and Derek following after him, Stiles ran to his jeep and opened the driver’s door before putting his seat back to rights and throwing himself into the still running vehicle. He heard the passenger door open even as he was switching off the parking brake and shifting gears by the time the passenger door was slammed shut.

Stiles then took off with squealing tires as he pressed down hard on the gas pedal.

Rather than heading to the loft, Stiles drove to a small grocer on the other side of town, parking behind the shop. He then finally turned to Peter and even Derek in the back, saying, “I’m going to go grab something to make it so our trail ends here. Please stay here and keep Deaton here too.”

Stiles then turned off the jeep, got out of the vehicle, and rushed around the building to go buy some supplies inside.

In just a few minutes, Stiles was back outside with a paper bag of things. After setting the bag on his still cooling jeep hood, Stiles took out three white tea candles, two bulbs of Elephant Garlic, and some Rosemary, Salt, and Sage as well as a long grill lighter.

Peter stepped out of the jeep, approaching Stiles’ side. “Been doing some extra curriculars without sharing?”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles explained, “I had to do something to defend myself. After what happened with Gerard, I even carved runes into my bat. I refuse to risk being captured again. I’m done sitting out fights. I want to live as who I really am, gender and all. That includes no longer being or feeling defenseless. Found some books in our storage. It turns out it’s genetic. I just needed to be unlocked in a sense, and all the supernatural in my life seemed to do that trick. Did you really think I spent all that time I was missing school just lying in bed? I mean, I did lay in bed a lot, but still? My mind can only take so much stillness.”

Nodding, Peter asked, “Are you mad at me? For what I did in the past?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, you were driven out of your mind as well as a victim trying to put things to right in a world that often only understands blood.”

Peter then asked, “Was the teen the one you spoke to before?”

Shaking his head, Stiles mixed up the herbs he’d gotten, even breaking up the garlic, while lighting all three tea candles. “I don’t think so. I think the teen was the twin of the one I spoke to.”

Stiles finished mixing the herbs, including the garlic. He then lit them on fire right beside the candles as he hummed softly to them. As the herbs and candles burned, they melted and melded into his jeep before their eyes, spreading over the entire jeep inside and out.

After everything had fully sunk into the jeep, Stiles motioned toward the jeep in invitation before grabbing the now empty paper bag and getting back into the driver’s seat.

------------------------------------------

A little less than forty minutes later, Peter stood in the loft watching Stiles getting Deaton set up in a chair.

Deaton seemed kind of scared of Stiles.

Peter frowned. Even though he loved Deaton being afraid—of course—Peter was concerned and curious about what in Stiles Deaton feared. Was it Stiles’ magic? Or something else?

Stiles seemed to be working on being patient even as he sat across from the Druid. “Look, we need to know everything you do about Talia’s dealings with Deucalion.”

Even though he still looked afraid, Deaton seemed to gather himself and put upon a condescending mask. “I cannot share private pack information with you, Stiles. I swore an oath.”

Nodding, Stiles asked, “An oath to Talia?”

The Druid shook his head as if Stiles were a child. “No, to the Hale pack, the Hale Spark, the Hale territory.”

Derek stepped forward then, saying, “Well that spark resides in me. I am the head of the Hale pack. I am in charge of what remains.”

Deaton attempted to sidestep saying, “You are but one Hale, Derek. You do not your whole family make. Nor can you speak for a territory as a lone wolf.”

Peter grinned. “But he is not a lone wolf. I am one of his betas, as is Stiles.”

Trying to side step again, Deaton said, “Perhaps, but do you truly possess this territory anymore?”

Stiles smiled as he tilted his head faintly and leaned forward just a touch. “Do you control it?”

Eyes widening just a touch, Deaton said, “Why would you ask that? I’m simply a retired Emissary.”

Peter and Derek both growled.

Leaning forward less than half an inch more forward, Stiles said, “Now, that was a poor move. Forget wolves can hear your heart?”

Deaton swallowed. “I misspoke. I am in the process of becoming an Emissary again.”

Derek frowned but Peter growled still.

Peter moved closer, claws lengthening. “If I remember right, an Emissary bond is to the death? You seem alive enough.”

Not batting an eye, Deaton said, “Til death or the dissolution of the pack, actually.”

Stiles nodded, asking Peter, “Hmm… what happens to an Emissary that betrays a pack?”

Chapter Text

Not batting an eye, Deaton said, “Til death or the dissolution of the pack, actually.”

Stiles nodded, asking Peter, “Hmm… what happens to an Emissary that betrays a pack?”

Peter perked a brow, “Hmm… death. The method of the death is tied to the way in which they betrayed their pack, naturally.”

Nodding again, Stiles pieced together the bits and pieces he had. Popping his neck to keep tension building for the once emissary, Stiles asked, seeming randomly, “Why would you be coming out of retirement?”

Deaton seemed hesitant, likely suspecting a trap. “A young man is on the road to become an Alpha.”

Nodding, Stiles asked, “Would that be why you called Scott to come ‘help’ you before?”

Frowning, Deaton said, “That is between Scott and I.”

Derek growled, impatient.

Stiles nodded. “So, how do you know when a pack has disbanded?”

Deaton paused, gathering himself to his full height and authority. “When they have broken up.”

“Or died?” Stiles asked.

Frowning more, Deaton said, “That… can also be the case.”

Stiles nodded, intentionally working to keep himself at least externally calm. “Then, the Hales didn’t disband, right?”

Deaton didn’t answer right away, seemingly thinking through his response. “No, I would say they did. The pack fell apart. That is a form of disbanding.”

Peter growled low like a promise. “No, a pack of two is still a pack. Even discounting myself, Derek and Laura were the Hale pack. You were due loyalty to them. You should have gone with them or in some way sought them out.”

Deaton frowned.

Stiles grinned. “Maybe, Peter, but more importantly a wounded pack member was left, meaning that the Emissary would have been expected, or at least implied to, stay and care for the wounded before they and the wounded rejoined the rest of the pack.”

Derek growled this time, not so lowly but closer to a wolf about to break the room.

Tilting his head just a touch without submission, Stiles asked even though he knew the answer, “So, if you retired… as you’ve already said, you left a pack without permission or them disbanding. You were trusted with a wounded pack member who you clearly did not heal OR protect. Am I missing anything?”

Derek growled out, “Nor did he make himself available for Laura and I. We didn’t know who the Emissary was, but he never tried to contact us or let us know it was him. We were left to assume that the Emissary had been killed, especially as their wards should’ve protected us all in own damn home.”

Before anyone else could do a thing, Stiles threw up what looked like dust but smelled like a foul herb blend. It landed in a beautiful pattern of symbols around the supposed Druid.

Derek reared back from the herbs on instinct since such actions usually meant Mountain Ash or other person as well as that Derek was started ot lean into Deaton’s space before the herbs were thrown.

Deaton looked to Stiles. “I am not a wolf, Mr. Stilinski. Mountain Ash has no effect on me.”

As if to further make his point, the Druid reached out as though to pass the border of the patterned ground herbs, but he couldn’t. He was trapped. Eyes going wide, Deaton looked down at the herbs and seemed to be trying to formulate an idea of what it was or perhaps how to get out.

Neither waiting for Deaton to ask anything, nor Deaton to try to escape, Stiles said, “Peter, would you hand me my phone? I think we have something the Alpha Pack would like to
talk about.”

Peter handed Stiles his phone with a wicked grin baring shifted teeth.

Accepting his phone, Stiles dialed up the number that had called him to tell him about his father.

It took a couple moments, but a sly British accent answered, “Umm… I was not expecting a call from you any time soon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Stiles rolled his eyes even though he could not be seen. “You see, I’ve got some questions. I get that this is about revenge—we got your spiral on the deer, but I feel like you are one up on us in that you know what this vengeance is for but none of us do.”

“Hmmm… a pity,” Deucalion replied.

Nodding, Stiles said, “But you see, I have a Druid here who seems to think his shit don’t stink, but I worry he will not cooperate with our questions, so I was thinking that perhaps you’d like to let us in on what was done to you. See if we could make it right without dying.”

Deucalion hummed a moment before responding, “I’m not so sure sure an option seems ideal. I feel like I should get something for answering said question.”

Stiles nodded. “Would a piece of the Druid be gift enough?”

A smile could be heard in his voice as Deucalion said, “Perhaps… if I could hear and see said removal.”

Stiles nodded again, saying, “Pick your piece as long as it is not fatal to remove. We still have questions, afterall.”

“Hmmm… you’re much more blood thirsty than I expected from a Sheriff’s child.”

Shrugging, Stiles said, “Guess you don’t want to pick and are gonna have to accept what we give you.”

Deucalion laughed on the other end, “Oh my, you are a delicious surprise, Stilinski.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles switched the call to video chat while turning the camera onto Deaton.

The Druid looked pale, impressively so for someone dark skinned. “Y-you can’t do that! Scott will never—”

Stiles ignored Deaton, looking to Peter and Derek, “Which of you would like to do the honors?”

Derek swallowed hard but stuck his arm out to stop Peter. “I will. I owe it to him, for Laura… for my family.”

With a nod, Stiles backed up a touch to make room for what would happen next.

After checking he could pass into the herb circle, Derek gripped Deaton just past his shoulder toward his neck with one hand while the other ripped Deaton’s arm right out of the socket, causing the Druid to scream in pain and shock.

Switching to a normal, voice-only call, Stiles said, “Send one of your to the loft to retrieve the piece if you want it, and tell me what this vengeance is for. I’d also love it if you’d return Erica and Boyd. They had nothing to do with whatever this all is. They’re innocents.”

Deucalion growled, “There are no innocents. I will send you the broken one, but will keep the other as why I will destroy you all.”

The call ended and Stiles rolled his eyes. “I guess innocence is a trigger word.”

Derek frowned, looking to Stiles, “Why are you … why are you so cold about this?”

“He killed my dad,” Stiles said slowly. “and while there are issues between me and my sperm donor, it didn’t mean I wanted him dead. If I had, I’m sure Peter would’ve happily dealt with it.”

“Agreed,” Peter added in as he got to bandaging up Deaton. Though hurting the Druid was good, they were clearly not done with the man.

Stiles slid his phone into his pocket then rubbed his face with both hands. Once he was done, Stiles looked ot Derek. “I’m cold because I cannot do this without being cold. It’s not forever, but I… Erica and Boyd need us. You two need me. I cannot fall apart right now. I’ve been doing that for weeks now. It didn’t magically make anything better. Or at least not enough.’

“I’m seeing if being cold will be enough for a little while to get us all through this. Because I am not losing this pack. I’m… I’m not losing anyone else. I can’t.”

Derek nodded, and although it wasn’t his normal inclination, Derek pulled Stiles onto his feet and into a bloody hug.

Stiles sagged into Derek, accepting the hug fully before reaching out an arm to invite Peter into the hug as well.

Setting aside what he was doing, Peter joined the bloody hug even though it would ruin what he was wearing. Blood was brutal stain to get out.

---------------------------------

A while later…

There was a knock on the door into the loft. Stiles chose to answer the door, but Peter was tight to him.

Stiles opened the door to have an unconscious Erica shoved into his arms by a tall, broad and balding man with violent eyes.

The stranger growled out: “The arm.”

Peter handed over the Druid’s arm, wrapped in sheets to make it safe to carry around people not in the know without attracting attention. “Nice and fresh, Ennis.”

The man accepted the wrapped arm and took off. It seemed he didn’t want to come in to chat.

Stiles tumbled further in with Erica, saying as the door was closed, “Help?”

Chapter Text

Stiles opened the door to have an unconscious Erica shoved into his arms by a tall, broad and balding man with violent eyes.

Stiles tumbled further in with Erica, saying as the door was closed, “Help?”

With the door shut, Derek moved closer, sweeping Erica off her feet and heading for the table with her unconscious form.

Stiles was quick on Derek’s tall, saying to Peter at the same time, “Please help?”

Once she was laid on the table, Erica’s body could more easily be seen. Her clothes were damaged from some shifting and being clawed too much by Alpha’s to have fully healed it all. She was pale and thin, likely hungry.

Stiles growled, “Shit!”

Working to keep a hold of himself, Stiles gritted out, “Peter, grab her some clothes!”

At the same time, Stiles slowly peeled off Erica’s tops to see the full damage to her upper body. It was not pretty—so much bleeding and wounds untreated. Forcing his hand not to shake, Stiles began setting up an IV for Erica even as Peter returned to his side with some of what had to be Derek’s clothes.

Not even growling about the clothes, Derek had a hand on Erica the whole-time pulling pain, which at the very least proved she was still alive so far.

Peter touched the same arm as Derek to help pull pain.

Stiles took the shirt given him to pull partially on Erica before starting to bandage the wounds on her upper body. Once that bandaging was done, Stiles asked Peter, “Could you grab a sheet too?”

Even though he visibly hesitated to let the young girl go, Peter did as he was asked quite quickly.

Taking the sheet from Peter when he returned with it, Stiles wrapped the rest of Erica’ chest so she wouldn’t be too exposed or cold. Next, Stiles worked on taking off Erica’s jeans and miniskirt over it that both were more shreds than full clothing items anymore. At the same time as he began cleaning and bandaging the wounds on Erica’s lower body, Stiles asked Peter, “Would you finish bandaging Deaton? I still have questions, and I’m sure you’d love the chance of some torture rather than letting him bleed out as a gentler death.”

Although he growled his displeasure, Peter moved to deal with Deaton’s wounds even as the Druid groaned and whined in pain.

Stiles ended up pausing on a cut on Erica’s lower thigh, growling out, “FUCK! They hit her femoral artery!”

Bending over Erica some, Stiles adjusted Erica’s leg as he spoke Derek and Peter. “I’m going to have to do something quite serious. If I pass out, please do not freak out. I’m going to be okay. This is just going to be exhausting.”

Before either wolf could stop him, Stiles clamped both his hands over the deep gash in Erica to force his magic—as much of it as he could really—into the wound to heal it. It took everything out of Stiles to fully heal the wound though, causing Stiles to collapse when done having lost consciousness.

------------------------------

Peter growled—“Derek, get him—he healed her… or least the one dangerous wound, but you need to set him up with an IV and get him off the ground. I’m almost done with this traitor. Then I’ll help.”

Shortly thereafter, Stiles was laid out on the couch hooked up to an IV. Peter was wrapped around Stiles, holding him close and monitoring his condition.

At the same time, Derek had Erica on the other couch doing the same thing with her now fully clothed as well as bandaged while plugged into an IV, too. Unable to hide both his anger and worry, Derek asked, “What are we supposed to be doing with all of this?”

After releasing a sigh and speaking quietly so as not to disturb either Stiles or Erica, Peter explained, “We’re going to torture some answers out of Deaton to find out what the Alpha pack want. We’re going to get Boyd back and deal with them. After that, if he’s still alive and not traded to the Alpha pack outright, Deaton will be killed—slowly.”

Derek nodded. He looked at both of the young adults, saying, “I should’ve looked for them. I should’ve known something was wrong and gone to Stiles sooner… done more.”

Peter shrugged. “The past is the past, Nephew. All we can do is try to do better moving forward. On that note, I am so, so sorry for what did to Laura. I… Honestly, at the time, I was so crazed she was just a stray wolf in the area to me. I didn’t realize what I had even done until the Hale Alpha spark slammed into me. It’s why I tried to burry her with honor and respect in our familial graveyard, but the hunters… Gerard dug her up and cut her in half, desecrating her grave.”

Derek, with tears in his eyes, asked, “Are you who buried her upper half with Wolf’s Bane growing over it?”

Peter shook his head, eyes tearful now too. “No. I didn’t even realize her upper half was there until others discovered it. I thought the Wolf’s Bane was a taunt as much as the wolf lower body half in the woods that the Sheriff and his deputies recovered.”

Derek nodded. “If you had known who it was, would you have killed her?”

Shaking his head, Peter admitted, “No. I would’ve attacked her over abandoning me, leaving me to burn up in my mind over and over for six years, but I would never have killed her.”

Derek rubbed his hand over his face, asking, “Is that why you attacked me? Because I abandoned you too?”

Peter explained, “Of course not! You were just a kid. I know she was too, but I was angry and crazy. I would’ve done it to you too at that time, but after what I did to Laura? I was careful to pull my punches with you. I knew I had probably ruined things between us with killing Laura. I also was struggling to finish killing those responsible for the fire, which had me more on edge, but none of it was your fault.”

Looking down and away, Derek said almost off handedly—if you couldn’t hear how his heart rate sped with fear—“So you were going to kill me too for my part in the fire? I understand. I want that sometimes too.”

With a soft growl just for Derek, Peter said, “No! Never!’

“You were a victim. If it hadn’t been you, then they would’ve found a different way. The Argent’s are cold-blooded, trained killers. You never had a chance. Probably none of us fully did, and that lands on me and Talia. She, as our Alpha, and me as the Left Hand, were responsible for keeping us all safe, and we failed. It is not now nor ever was something ever to be held against you or other survivors,” Peter said, fighting back tears. “I know I failed you, but I am man and wolf enough to know just saying that I’m sorry is not enough.”

“That when I ran into Laura I would’ve probably fought her for leaving me behind if I’d known who she was and would also have been wrong for it,” Peter explained. “I was insane with pain and loss and while killing those who murdered our family was and is the right thing to do. Killing or hurting her would never have been okay with me or for me to do. Sadly, I did kill her, and I will regret it until the day I die and long past that. All I can do now is try to do right by you and set what I can to rights here and now because I know the present is all we have and actions speak far louder than words ever will.”

Tears falling from his eyes outright, Derek nodded. He was clearly fighting to maintain some control of himself.

Peter added, “And honestly, with you never having been trained to be an Alpha or what that takes, this seems like as good a place to start as any to help you be able to heal and move forward. You have the potential to be better than all of us, both as an Alpha and a person, I’m sure.”

Chapter Text

Stiles groaned softly as he began to come to consciousness, feeling held too tight. As he came to further awareness, he slowly opened his eyes to see that he was lying on one of the couches in the loft. He had an IV hooked up to him that was empty and had a wolf named Peter curled around him.

Refraining from the nervous giggle he felt fighting to emerge, Stiles looked around further without moving much. He could see that on the other couch was a sleeping Derek and Erica cuddled together.

Surprising himself, Stiles did release a giggle, but he found that it caused no response from anyone else. How did that not wake at least Peter? The man was more wolf than man some days and ever the survivor. Derek was a survivor too. How did neither wake?

Moving himself to get up and untangle himself from Peter, Stiles found that his physical body stayed put even as he sat up, his moving body more ethereal than physical as he couldn’t properly touch Peter or disrupt him. Perhaps his giggle, too, was not physical enough to elicit proper sound?

-

Suddenly, Stiles startled hard while waking, nearly falling from the couch, but Peter caught him before Stiles got anywhere.

Peter gently held Stiles to keep him safely in place, asking, “Are you okay?”

A shiver running down his spine and causing goose bumps to rise over his arms, Stiles admitted, “I had the weirdest dream… I could move, sitting up while not moving my body.”

Perking a brow, Peter wanted to label it but didn’t want to carve out a meaning without knowing more. But knowing more was secondary to Peter right at this moment. The priority right now was Stiles. So, instead of inquiring about the dream, Peter asked, “How’re you feeling?”

Stiles wiggled his limbs, toes, and fingers a little, seemingly testing out his body before answering, “Sleepy, but okay. How’s Erica?”

Unable to look away from Stiles’ amber eyes that appeared to have flecks of gold dispersed throughout, Peter smiled. “She’s doing better. You saved her life.”

Flushing at the focus he could feel on him as well as the praise, Stiles diverted the topic of conversation as he asked, “Deaton still alive?”

Nodding while running his fingers absently up and down Stiles’ back, Peter admitted, “For now… I’m more than ready for some answers. However, we should get some water and food into everyone, first.”

Agreeing softly even as he found himself looking up into Peter’s blue eyes that while often called cold seemed to warm with each glance, Stiles asked, “Wanting to cook or order in?”

Deaton groaned in the background, ruining the moment.

Refraining from growling, Peter gently shuffled himself and Stiles around until the young man was settled on the couch alone and Peter was back on his feet beside it. Peter carefully removed the IV from Stiles before placing a bandage over where the line had been in Stiles.

Unable to completely help himself, Peter bend over a touch to kiss just above the bandage before fully rising back up. Looking to his nephew, Peter could see Derek was awake and watching while still cuddling Erica to help with her healing. “I’m going to order some things to feed everyone. Any requests?”

Derek looked down as the young woman in his arms for a moment before looking up and saying to Peter, “Erica really likes cherry pie…”

Nodding, Peter smiled slightly, saying, “I’ll make sure to get some then.”

Heading for the kitchen, Peter picked up a couple of order-out menus therein. He looked through a couple before ordering from three of them.

-

Stiles sat up on the couch and stretched his arms out before getting slowly up. On his feet, he stretched his back some. Although he wasn’t full on a young Gandalf the Gray, Stiles still felt pretty amazing for being able to help Erica.

After moving closer to the other couch, Stiles crouched down before Erica and Derek. Stiles gently moved one of her curls from Erica’s face to tuck it behind her ear. As he finished, Stiles looked to Derek, asking, “How’re you doing?”

Derek admitted, “It’s been rough, but we’re going to fix this. Things will get better.”

“Found some extra hope while I napped off the magical exhaustion?”

“Something like that,” Derek grumbled, brow signals calm.

Smiling as he stood up, Stiles walked over toward Deaton who was asleep in the seat he’d been tied to for sitting where Stiles wanted the Druid to remain like it or not. Looking over the first aid done on the Druid, Stiles found himself proud of Peter for not killing the man or doing him dirty without Stiles there to help.

Shortly thereafter, Peter returned to the room, looking at Stiles. “Admiring my handy work?”

Stiles turned to face Peter fully with a devious smile. “Yes, and anticipating the workmanship to come.”

-----------------------------------------------

Scott was pacing in the bathroom. He wasn’t sure quite what to do with himself. Why hadn’t he gone to Deaton? Was he hurt? Was that why Stiles hadn’t gotten back to him? Should he call Stiles? Shouldn’t Stiles call him?

Aware he could stay in the bathroom forever, Scott washed his hands and dried them before stepping out into the larger area of the building while still drowning a touch in his concerns and questions of what he should or should not be doing.

Allison then said, “Are you coming? We were hoping to grab some snacks before the movie.”

Nodding, Scott got up and moved to follow Allison out of the bowling alley toward her car, which is how they even got there before they played. He felt a bit in a haze, thinking about Deaton and Stiles, but at the same time, he was with Allison.

His girlfriend was the world to Scott. They were even hanging out with some of the lacrosse team and their girlfriends. He was living the dream. The supernatural could wait, right?

-----------------------------------------------

A little over an hour later…

Stiles sat cross-legged on his chair about six feet from where Deaton was tied down to his seat, bleeding. “Now, let us try again. You were the Emissary for Talia Hale of the Hale pack… you were involved in and or aware of near everything Talia was up to. Probably knew quite well what the Right Hand did too and at least a fraction of what the Left Hand did—”

Peter was currently holding Deaton’s remaining arm by the forearm and the shoulder, implying the threat of removing the arm. “Hmm… sounds accurate.”

Deaton nodded a slow yes, clearly watching Peter more than Stiles.

Snapping his fingers to draw the Druid’s attention, Stiles continued, “So, you would know of things that could’ve rubbed the Demon Wolf wrong. What do you think he may be upset about, were you to guess?”

Eyes snapping to Stiles at the snapping of fingers, Deaton took a slow breath while listening. “I am not one for guessing, Mr. Stilinski. We do not live in a world that allows us to guess.”

Stiles nodded to Peter.

Peter wrenched Deaton’s arm to behind the Druid to beyond comfort.

“No breaks,” Stiles said. “… yet.”

Even though he seemed disappointed about not going further, Peter grinned at Stiles’ addition of ‘yet.’ Keeping the pressure on but not breaking the limb, Peter wrenched the arm a little further, just before its breaking point.

Stiles unfolded his legs and stood up. Walking a little closer, Stiles pretended to enjoy the signs of their efforts to affect Deaton: the removed arm and all. “Perhaps I was not exacting enough, pointed. Alan Deaton, did you ever witness something bad or unfair be done directly to Deucalion or any pack he’s ever been in that you know of?”

Deaton paused before speaking, seemingly seeking to word his response carefully. “I did not witness anything bad or unfair happening to him or his pack.”

Taking the answer in stride and trusting Peter to speak up if the Druid dared to lie, Stiles asked, “Were you aware of something bad occurring to Deucalion or his pack occurring before the Hale fire?”

Not waiting as long, Deaton responded, “Of course. Gerard Argent permanently blinded the wolf.”

Stiles paused in his movements. He stepped back from Deaton and Peter, staring down the Druid. “How did Gerard blind Deucalion permanently?”

“I don’t know I wasn’t there,” Deaton clipped out, annoyed.

Peter pulled on the arm he held hard, breaking Deaton’s arm. “Lie.”

Deaton shouted out in pain in time with the snap of bone.

Perking a brow, Stiles stepped closer before looking into the Druid’s screwed shut eyes. “Would you like to try that again?”

Seemingly stealing himself, Deaton didn’t say anything at first.

Twisting the break in the Druid’s arm, Peter said, “You were asked a question.”

Deaton grunted in pain. “Fine! I was there!”

“No shit,” Stiles dismissed. “Why were you there?”

Although at first he waited, Deaton groaned out as Peter twisted the break again, “To help! To help with the peace talks!”

Sighing, Stiles said, “Did Deucalion know you were there?”

Grunting at another twist, Deaton whined, “Yes! He’d wanted to show unity between the packs.”

Feeling like he was pulling teeth and getting tired of it, Stiles said, “Explain in full or Peter’s taking that arm and both feet.”

Deaton’s eyes opened and got wide as he paled. “You wouldn’t… I’m the Hale Emissary!”

“WRONG!” Derek yelled from where he was lurking in the corner. He moved to Deaton and grabbed him around the throat. “Tell them or I’ll bite you and let you die of bite rejection like you let our family burn our family!”

Seeing that he had no allies and had no idea where Scott was or if the teen even knew to come, Deaton forced out of himself, “Duke wanted peace. One of Ennis’ beta’s had supposedly been killed by Gerard’s men. Ennis wanted blood. The Alphas met, and Duke fought for peace, even setting up a meeting with Gerard to make peace. Deucalion offered for others to come with him on this mission.”

“Supposedly?” Peter asked.

Deaton groaned, “There was no evidence. Just suspicion.”

Stiles asked. “Why was it suspected?”

A shiver ran down the Druid who was trying to work out the wording just right. “Because… because it had been claimed that Deucalion had bitten Alex Argent, Ennis thought this may be pay back from Gerard for his brother.”

Peter frowned.

Stiles followed the lead of Peter’s expression. “Very carefully words. Do you know what happened to Alex Argent?”

The Druid paused, ordering his words and weighing his options. “Is this really necessary?”

Giving Deaton’s arm a yank, Peter dislocated the Druid’s arm from the shoulder socket. “It clearly is to you. Tell him.”

Gasping to catch his breath from the sharp pain, Deaton grit his teeth before saying, “Yes, I know what happened to Alex Argent.”

“And that is?” Stiles responded.

Deaton slowly said, “He fell in love with a wolf. Alex willingly took the bite, and Gerard murdered him and his chosen wolf bride for it.”

Stiles felt his eyes grow moist. “How do you know that?”

Starring bullets into the ground, Deaton said, “I was who Gerard called for advise to make sure the weapon he used was both fatal and would prevent resurrection of either wolf.”

Peter in one swift motion ripped Deaton’s remaining arm right off his body. There were no tears in Peter’s eyes just an angry red flare, revealing his Alpha spark.

Derek reared back, shocked to see his uncle with red eyes.

Less shocked, Stiles said, “And I thought I was quick to the trigger in response to that.”

At those words, Peter and Derek both looked to Stiles to see what he meant only to see that Stiles now had a knife in his hand that had not been there before.

Peter smiled, pleased at the sight of Stiles feeling so strongly about the situation before turning to Derek. “I’m not going to attack you.”

“Where you just apologizing before so I would let my guard down for you to take over here?” Derek asked, clearly feeling betrayed.

Peter rolled his eyes, ignoring the shouts and groans of the now armless Druid. “No. I didn’t tell you about this to prevent you from thinking I had that as a reason to be helping you. I’m not helping you to take over or take your spark. I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m working on getting out, but I refuse to leave the ancestral Hale land to that idiot Scott. I want to train you to fill that role, to be the Alpha I know you can be.”

Stiles looked at Peter in response to his words. However, the young man didn’t say anything about that. “Peter, would you set aside the limb and bandage the man. I’m not done with him yet. We still need to know more about what’s going on.”

Chapter Text

Unwilling to accept the willingness with which the Druid appeared to have answered the hunter’s question, Peter in one swift motion ripped Deaton’s remaining arm right off his body. There were no tears in Peter’s eyes for the lost couple, just an angry red flare, revealing his Alpha spark he’d been hiding within from others.

Derek reared back, shocked to see his uncle with red eyes.

Less shocked, Stiles said, “And I thought I was quick to the trigger in response to that.”

At those words, Peter and Derek both looked to Stiles to see what he meant only to see that Stiles now had a knife in his hand that had not been there before.

Peter smiled, pleased at the sight of Stiles feeling so strongly about the situation. Peter felt just short of surging into the young man to kiss him passionately. It further solidified that Stiles was worth it, worth making choices to help them leave this place for good.

Next, Peter turned his attention to Derek. “I’m not going to attack you.”

“Were you just apologizing before so I would let my guard down for you to take over here?” Derek asked, smelling sourly like betrayal.

Peter rolled his eyes, ignoring the shouts and groans of the now armless Druid. “No. I didn’t tell you about this to prevent you from thinking I had that as a reason to be helping you. I’m not helping you to take over or take your spark.”

Keeping his tone even and non-threatening, Peter tried hard to impart his genuine intentions: “I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m working on getting out, but I refuse to leave the ancestral Hale land to that idiot Scott. I want to train you to fill that role: to be the great Hale Alpha I know you can be.”

Stiles looked at Peter. “Peter, would you set aside the limb and bandage the man. I’m not done with him yet. We still need to know more about what’s going on.”

Looking at the limb in his hands, Peter frowned, tossing it to the side of the still noisy Druid. Peter then got to pulling out supplies to suture and bandage where the arm had been pulled from its socket. As he worked and fought to not growl at the Druid so it wouldn’t be mistaken as aggression to someone else, Peter further explained, “I want to be rid of this place that has taken nearly everything from me before it can take anything more. I’m not going to survive losing much more as I care for so few things anymore. I’ve already died once—”

“I cut your throat,” Derek whispered. “Why aren’t you plotting to kill me? I know we talked, but I killed you. I could kill you again, but you want to run?”

Peter gave a sad, hollow smile. “I want to escape. But I do not want to flee like I’m being chased. I want to know that part of what I still care about is safe and steady while I walk into something new, something not so scarred with loss. I struggle to make anything new here, but I know that you can. I know that you will, Derek.”

Swallowing hard, Derek just stared at his uncle.

At the same time, Peter worked steadily, feeling Stiles watch him too though not as in shock as Derek. Seemed the younger man was holding his tongue or had an idea. Both were possible—separately and at the same time—with Stiles’ mind.

Once done, having not given the Druid any pain medications, but draining pain just enough to keep the man conscious, Peter looked at Stiles. “Would you like to take a break or forge forward?”

Stiles grinned without heat. “I think he was just starting ot get into some interesting territory. Would hate to waste the revelations we’ve have so far.”

Peter nodded and moved closer to Stiles, asking, “Would you like to call Deucalion again to see what we could get for another arm?”

Frowning, Stiles shook his head. “No, but we should bag that and store it in a freezer or something.”

With a nod, Peter moved to grab the arm and disappeared into the kitchen to wrap the arm in some plastic take-out bags from their earlier meal. Once it was secured, Peter through it into Derek’s empty freezer above the fridge. That done, Peter returned to the main area in time to see Stiles moving closer to the Druid.

Peter was carefully quiet, eager to see what Stiles would do, was doing.

Stiles flicked Deaton’s ear, announcing, “Hey, pay attention. We’re not done yet. Not even close.”

Deaton groaned after he startled at being flicked.

Continuing, Stiles asked, “Why did you help Gerard?”

With a sigh, Deaton said, “It was an exchange. I gave him guidance and in exchange he didn’t try to paint the Hale pack as the responsible party.”

Peter frowned, but didn’t speak yet. That wasn’t a lie or at least Deaton didn’t seem to consider it one, but at the same time, it did seem like an incomplete answer.

“How would you know it was an exchange? Did he approach you with that as an offer?” Stiles asked.

“Sure,” Deaton said dismissively.

Peter growled, moving forward and grabbed one of Deaton’s ear’s—

“No!” Stiles demanded. “He needs to be able to hear me. Pick something else.”

Peter grinned ferally at the Druid who looked less dismissive and more concerned. “But… but Mr. Stilinski, what will Scott think?”

Tilting his head a moment, Stiles said, “I changed my mind. Pick an digit, please.”

Just barely keeping himself from laughing in the Druid’s face, Peter looked at the man’s shoes. “Removal or breaking?”

Stiles waved a hand, gesturing for Peter to choose.

Smiling, Peter stepped a touch closer and slammed the heel of his foot down on Deaton left big toe, crushing it with supernatural strength.

Deaton cried out in pain.

Continuing as though nothing had interrupted his pursuit, Stiles asked, “Did Gerard make an offer of trade?”

Shutting his eyes tight, Deaton said through gritted teeth. “No. I knew the score though. He’d done the same to my sister under different circumstances. She refused, and it cost her.”

Stiles nodded. “So, you knew it would fall on you if you didn’t obey? That doesn’t sound like it involved the Hales at all.”

Groaning, Deaton said, “We both know you are not that dense, Mr. Stilinski. Gerard needed a fall guy for what he’d done. It would reflect poorly on him and his legacy for his brother to fall for a werewolf let alone willingly take the bite. The only way to bury it is to create an alternative narrative. An attack by a werewolf is the obvious failsafe. The female wolf goes missing, never found, and the brother was bitten against his well—and Gerard lived happily ever after, even giving his brother what ot Gerard would appear to be an honorable death.”

Peter felt his stomach roil a touch at that. As a left hand, he’d have taken similar steps ot protect his family, but not like that, not from that. He protected his family from death, not embarrassing themselves or others, let alone embarrassing himself. Gerard was unendingly twisted, even if it did not escape Peter’s notice that he had failed to protect his family from the fire and Gerard so far had gotten away with what he’d done to his brother.

“Did he seek you out for such exchanges on the regular?” Stiles asked.

Deaton shook his head. “No, not on the regular. The man didn’t trust anyone after Alex, let alone someone involved with the supernatural in a non-hunting way.”

Peter watched as Stiles seemed to mull things over. “Back to where we’d been before, why were you with Deucalion when he went to talk peace at his meeting with Gerard?”

Seeming almost like he suddenly remembered something, Deaton groaned, “I’m so hungry… please? I am empty, an abyss of need, please?”

Perking a brow, Peter offered, “Hungry enough to eat your own arm?”

Without missing a beat, Deaton said, “Yes!”

Peter was tempted to move and grab the arm to push the issue.

Stiles shook his head, seemingly seeing the man’s thoughts. “We’re not feeding him his own arm. Tell me what I want to know Deaton, and I’ll feed you.”

Gritting his teeth, but unable to stop himself as his emptiness, his hunger knew no bounds, Deaton said, “Talia wanted to send someone with Deucalion. In front of others, she painted it as to support Deucalion, but I knew the truth. She didn’t trust that Deucalion was being honest. Then man was… is likely still, quite brilliant.’

“She didn’t trust that Gerard couldn’t convince him to side with Gerard in exchange for saving his pack. Talia wouldn’t go herself, but was unsure who to send since she didn’t seek to let her Left Hand in on some of her plans. I volunteered to go with Deucalion as an Emissary representative for the Hale pack to show my worth and loyalty to Talia. She was becoming paranoid. Had been for a while by then. I did not want to be the next person whose memories she removed.”

Peter felt a shiver run down his spine at the mention of memories as well as scheming without including the Left Hand. Both were huge red flags to him. “Do you know whose memories she took, toyed with?”

Deaton’s head lolled to the side to face Peter more directly, “Yours… a time or two. Your mother. Possibly others. I know she was considering doing so to Derek to help him forget Paige as well as Paige’s mothers.”

Derek whined softly at hearing his mother was considering taking some of his memories.

“Mothers?” Peter asked. “What did she do to my memories?”

Stiles moved to Peter’s side, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together in a show of support.

Looking up to the ceiling, Deaton said, “I can only tell you some. Your sister Alpha ordered me to keep some secrets even beyond her death though she thought that was far further out than it turned out to be.”

Derek whined again at his mother’s death being spoken of so flippantly.

“Tell me everything you can,” Peter demanded.

Deaton leaned his head forward to seemingly stare at the ground. “You tried ot fight her once… for the Alpha spark… you knew she’d taken some of your memories and refused to give them back. You didn’t win, but she took away the memory in full so that you neither remembering challenging her or your having figured out that she’d taken memories.’

“She took some memories of Chris Argent from you. I don’t know all the details.., but you two were too friendly in her eyes, I guess. She wanted to prevent anything further from occurring. She’d already found some suitable options for you to marry and didn’t want you messing that up for her. She wanted to tame you in a sense and have firmer control over you through a s spouse and hopefully your children with said approved spouse.”

Peter felt his claws coming out slowly, careful to not cut into Stiles’ hand but struggling to hold himself back from howling and bringing his sister back just to kill her himself. How could she do this to him?! He was loyal. Maybe not as loyal as he remembered, but still more than loyal enough to not have his memories ripped away! They were a pack, after all. That required trust.

Continuing, Deaton said, “I know you had children you didn’t know about. I don’t know where or how many… no, that’s a lie. I know where one is, but I cannot tell you. The other possibles, I don’t know where or their number.”

Peter gripped Stiles hand too tight and had to let go, backing up from Stiles a bit. How the hell could this be?! He had children? Possibly had LIVING children?! His sister didn’t even want him to know about them?! What the hell had she been thinking?!

Derek asked the room, “How can you undo an Alpha order if the Alpha is dead?”

Stiles gave Peter room and gently squeezed Derek’s shoulder in support since the man seemed shaken to say the least.

Instead of addressing Derek’s question just yet—needing to calm some first—Peter asked Deaton, “The ones you know about and can tell me about… tell me.”

Deaton shifted a little in his seat. “I know about twins… twins girls. Malia and Melissa, I believe they were named… They were put into foster care. Talia had me keep track of them quietly so no one would ever find them. You’d had an affair of sorts with the Desert Wolf. I don’t know if it was love on your part or one of your sister’s schemes intending to weaken someone she saw as a threat. But, giving birth to the girl did weaken the Desert Wolf. She fled after Talia had taken the babies, not allowing she or you to hold them even before she arranged for them to go to a new home.’

“If I remember right, the girl were adopted by the Tates… but there was a car crash with the mother, a boy, and the two girls. The mother was probably killed on impact but the kids? Hard to say. Animals got to the crash long before anyone even knew to look. One of both girls may still be alive, but I really don’t know beyond that the Desert Wolf is still weakened, so at least one of them must be alive for that to hold.”

Unable to help himself, Peter growled and then howled, a full-throated expression of devastation and anger. How could this be real? Deaton wasn’t lying, but how did this go from unpeeling Deaton’s deceits to revealing Talia’s as well?

Stiles asked, “Are there others?”

Deaton looked at Stiles, admitting, “I don’t know. Peter was a wild youth. Talia painted him as reckless, but I was never really sure how true that was or not. If there are others, which there could be, I was not in the loop about them.”

Clenching and unclenching his fists and trying to get back on point for a break from the pain, Peter spoke, “Derek, I’ll… talk to you about Alpha orders when I’m calmer. Deaton, did anyone else go with you and Deucalion to meet with Gerard?”

“No,” Deaton admitted, his head lolling back to stare at the ceiling as his stomach growled. “I am so hungry… I will eat the world… all worlds…”

Peter frowned, but kept pushing himself and Deaton, unable to handle stopping, being left with his own thoughts and further loss when he thought he could take no more. “What happened in the meeting?”

“Talia was wrong, which was starting to grow from then on. Deucalion truly wanted peace, btu the meeting was a trap. Gerard blinded Deucalion for his ‘vision’ of peace with his bastard sword that he liked, likes to use for bifurcating the supernatural creatures so unfortunate to cross his path.”

“He’s not dead?” Derek asked, concerned immediately.

Deaton chuckled weakly, “Cockroaches don’t die… they just scurry away to heal before coming back with more numbers.”

Stiles frowned. “Have you seen him recently?”

“No,” Deaton said. “I just don’t trust he’s gone. They are ways to stop bite rejections… even heal in some cases.”

Derek growled. “You mean you could’ve saved Paige?!”

Shaking his head with a strange sort of sorrow on his face, Deaton said, “No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?!” Derek demanded, stepping forward as his claws dropped.

Shaking his head again, Deaton said, “I can’t tell you.”

“Alpha order?” Peter asked.

Deaton nodded. “As has been said.”

Peter had to wonder if this crossed over somehow with other things, but needed more time to think. As a result, Peter pivoted to ask, “Why weren’t you harmed for your being with Deucalion?”

“Why harm me?” Deaton asked. “Gerard didn’t see Talia as a valid threat in the same way he saw Deucalion. The man with a ‘vision’ had the potential to create greater alliances and command more loyalty from others than Talia did.’

“Do not misunderstand my words—she was a force to reckoned with; however, Deucalion can from an old European line. The Hales are from an North American Indigenous line with some intermarrying. While the line was old, Deucalion’s line had ties well beyond our shores as well as wealth that would make any Hale blush despite the Hales’ great riches and land holdings.”

Derek frowned. “Why would Mom not have been seen as a threat worth hurting you over?”

Deaton laughed without humor. “By not hurting me, Gerard didn’t start a fight with the Hale pack. He was counting on Deucalion’s Left Hand turning on him and ending the issue outright. Why start a second conflict before Gerard wanted to?”

Chapter Text

Stiles frowned. “Wasn’t he already planning to get rid of the Hales?”

Shrugging even though it looked uncomfortable with bandages with reasonably fresh sutures beneath them, Deaton answered absently, “Probably, but he wasn’t ready, I think. Why rush ahead to attack people who are actively trying to stay out of things?”

Peter took a deep breath, pulling his claws back in slowly to get a grip on himself. “Was Kate already here?”

Deaton furrowed his brows a bit. “I don’t know. I didn’t keep track of her.”

Derek pulled up a chair and took a seat, watching what was happening.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. “Did Deucalion hold his blinding against Talia?”

Not bothering to look at anyone, Deaton let his eyes fall shut. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Drumming out a thought against his leg, Stiles asked, “Do you know why Deucalion is angry at the Hales?”

Deaton grunted, “There are many reasons he might be, but I do not read minds despite my numerous skills.”

“What are the possible reasons?” Peter asked.

“Only sending me with him to the peace talk with Gerard,” Deaton said. “Not encouraging more strongly one way or another the course of action in dealing with Ennis’ call for violence versus Deucalion’s call for peace… Talia’s scheming and secret keeping. Talia’s betrayal and crimes against Deucalion’s Emissary… current, not former.”

Peter frowned. “What happened to his former Emissary?”

“Deucalion killed them when he killed his pack for power,” Deaton responded. “Can I be fed now? I’m soooo hungry!”

Shaking his head a hint, Peter followed up with, “What did Talia do to his current Emissary?”

Deaton sighed, “Didn’t protect her daughter through turning her to save her … or saving her from a worse death via Ennis, if Derek had not interceded, causing his eyes to turn blue…didn’t defend the Emissary when I disowned her for perversions well before she had a daughter with your disgusting help! But yeah… Deucalion may just be mad because Talia did everything in her power to prevent others from helping Deucalion for fear he would lead hunters to them, even before the Alpha pack came to be.”

Derek whined, “Wait! Paige was Marin Morrell’s daughter?”

Deaton’s head lolled to the side as Deaton groaned. “I’m so hungry… I feel like my body is devouring itself, I need more food, power… energy. Feed me, please!”

Stiles stood back a bit, his mind going through the information they’d already gathered and all of the things Deaton had said so far. Then, Stiles asked, “Was Paige Peter’s daughter?”

Shaking his head as though to clear it, Deaton said, “That I cannot answer. Alpha order.”

Peter was starting to subtly shake, vibrate with rage. Paige may have been his?! He was responsible for the death of his own daughter?! Clenching and unclenching his hands, Peter asked, “Do you know anything more about why Deucalion would have a grudge against Talia?”

Lolling his head one way and then the other, Deaton groaned, “Please feed me! I’m so hungry!”

Peter stepped closer to Deaton, wrapping his now claw-tipped fingers around the Druid’s neck. “Answer me or I will leave you starve forever.”

With another groan, Deaton said, “Possibly? I don’t really know. I’ve shared all that I know for sure that I can.”

Peter let Deaton go and took a few steps back. Looking at Derek, Peter debated the next step.

Derek growled. “Are we feeding him or not?”

Stiles sighed, but he nodded. “I’ll grab him something to eat.”

Peter opened his mouth to make a suggestion—

However, Stiles cut him off, saying, “I’m not feeding him his own arm. We might be able to trade it for Boyd or something.”

------------------------

A while later…

Peter picked up Stiles’ cell and called back Deucalion.

The villainous British accent answered once again, “Hmm… I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon. Should I take this to mean you are wanting to walk away… or surrender?”

Not even bothering to growl, Peter responded, “Not Stiles. While your sing-song is lovely, I would much prefer to speak with your Emissary. It would seem we have a matter to discuss.”

Deucalion growled. “Not likely.”

Stiles took the phone from Peter without even pretending to regret it. “Actually, we would like to meet up with you and your Emissary.”

“Hmm… and why would that be?”

Refraining from popping his fingers or even rolling his neck, Stiles was blunt. “Because your beef is with Talia and probably Deaton too. But beyond that, we don’t really know what the issue is. We’d like to discuss it all. Plus, Peter has some personal questions for Marin Morrell, your Druidess.”

Deucalion hummed on the other end of the line, “And why would I do that?”

“Because once upon a time you were a man of vision, and I believe that you still are—blind or not. Additionally, I suspect you’re curious and potentially have questions of your own if nothing else based on when I last saw you,” Stiles said.

“Hmmm… smart. I will think about it. I’ll call back in ten minutes with the answer.”

Stiles wanted to ask about if the wolf didn’t call, but decided not to leave that opening. Instead, Stiles just ended the call. No need to give loving goodbyes when Stiles was very aware that such things were at best traps and at worst, wastes of time.

Looking at Derek and Peter, whom he knew could hear both sides of the call, Stiles said, “I think we should get ready. If he calls back, I’d bet money it’ll be something short notice where we cannot fully prepare, plus I know this could be used as a trap.”

Peter grinned, envisioning the heads he’d rip off over a trap.

Derek didn’t seem as ready for blood as Peter.

Stiles moved to where Erica was still sleeping to heal up. Running a hand through the blonde’s hair, Stiles used his magic to feel all along her aura to see how she was doing. The answer being that she was tired as well as healing, but Stiles knew he still needed to keep an eye on things. better safe than sorry.

Peter then spoke up, saying, “Derek, I think you should stay here to keep Erica safe while she’s healing.”

Nodding, Derek said, “Agreed. I’ll also keep Deaton so we still have him as a bartering chip.”

Stiles looked at them both. “I think we should conceal Deaton in case they try to attack here while we meet with some of them.”

With a nod, Peter suggested, “Why not used my passages to move the whole group?”

Derek furrowed his brow. “But they could be watching us.”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe, but we have to decide what we’re doing either way.”

Peter strolled up to Stiles while motioning Derek closer while holding a finger up to prevent anyone from saying anything more. Peter then led both them both into the back of the loft and into the room he sometimes used there. He led them to his closet. He quietly opened it to reveal a secret passageway out of the loft.

Furrowing his brows and frowning, Derek looked ready to lay into Peter but kept his mouth shut with seeming awareness of what Peter was doing. That in mind, Derek moved to scoop up Erica from the couch, laying her iv on her for while he carried her to where Peter had shown Derek and Stiles.

Seeing Derek’s intentions, Peter nodded. He motioned his hands for Stiles to stay right there. Then, Peter moved to grab Deaton’s arm from the freezer before punching Deaton to knock him out. Once the Druid was out cold, Peter untied him from the chair before trussing the Druid to himself to keep him immobile. Peter also gagged the man so he couldn’t make much noise when he woke later.

Making sure he had Stiles’ things that were not already on the young man, Peter took the arm and Deaton to the escape option he had revealed to the others.

Once at the opening, Derek signaled for them to wait. He set Erica down gently and ran off for a moment to make sure the loft was locked as were the windows. Then, when he returned to the room Peter sometimes used, Derek locked the door into the rest of the loft too.

Back with the others, Derek scooped up Erica once more, holding her close and keeping her safe.

Peter nodded in appreciation before sliding down the passageway into the floor below while still holding Deaton and his arm. On his feet, Peter moved to the side for others to come down.

Next was Derek with Erica held tight.

Then, it was a couple minutes before Stiles followed, having sealed the passage in a sense.

Peter led them to another bedroom in that loft below Derek’s, aware Derek had rented the whole building so all the lofts and apartments within were empty. Setting aside Deaton as well as Deaton’s arm, Peter opened the closet in the bedroom to open and reveal another passageway. However, this one did not go straight down but rather appeared to curve.

Using his hands, Peter showed that it had to be one at a time through this one as well as that he would go first, then they could push Deaton through with his arm and so on. Peter went down the passage first, which was a slide passageway as it scoped the body down in a spiral through a dark tube and down onto the ground floor.

Once he was down and through, Peter moved and was ready to catch Deaton with his arm who came down quickly next. Having Deaton and his arm, Peter quickly set them aside to catch Erica if she was next.

Instead, Derek came down next, tumbling quietly out before turning and pushing himself up on his feet to catch Erica as she came down with her IV. After he tucked her close to him, Derek stepped back even as he signaled to Peter to make room.

Stiles slid down next, a tangle of flailing limbs. The look on Stiles’ face was drained of color and screamed that there were words, but he kept up the silence they dwelled between them all in right now beyond his panicky racing heart.

Everyone out, Peter led them to a side wall that he ran a hand over before pressing in at a seemingly random spot that opened a hidden door. Slipping out while carrying Deaton and the arm, Peter led them through another doorway into the building beside the loft: an abandoned parking garage by the looks of it.

Derek looked angry as he followed while carrying Erica.

Stiles wasn’t far behind the others, sealing doors magically as they went through each of them as though they were never there in the first place.

Peter led them to the third floor of the parking garage to a slick black SUV that looked both well-used and brand spanking fresh from a hunter’s catalog. Using his fingerprint to unlock the back of the vehicle, Peter slid Deaton and the druid’s arm into the large ‘toolbox’ that doubled as a disguised contain for body disposal due to its large size in the back before shutting the thick plastic toolbox and then the back of the SUV.

After walking around to the driver’s side door, using his fingerprint yet again, Peter opened the door and unlocked the other doors in the vehicle for the others.

Stiles jumped into the front passenger seat beside Peter, fidgeting once his door was shut and seat belt on. He was slowly getting some color back, but his heart rate was still quite elevated.

Popping open a back seat door, Derek slid Erica in and buckled her in before closing the door and getting in on the other side, behind Stiles. Once Peter had the SUV’s engine started and was beginning to drive out of the building through the back, Derek muttered, “Were you ever going to tell me you had done construction on my building?”

Popping the p as he spoke to downplay his concerns of going unnoticed and their safety, Peter simply said, “Nope.”

When at least four blocks away from the loft, Stiles asked, “How long have you been prepared to possibly have to get people out of there unseen?”

With a shrug as he made a turn, Peter answered casually, “Since Derek moved in.”

Derek growled softly but didn’t say anything one way or another.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but the young man’s cell phone began to ring.

Grabbing the phone, Stiles checked who was calling: Unknown. “I think it’s Deucalion. It hasn’t been ten minutes yet.”

Peter kept himself outwardly calm, saying, “Better to know.”

Stiles nodded and answered the call.

A weak but somewhat feral sounding voice erupted from the other end of the line: “Is Erica okay?”

Chapter Text

A weak but somewhat feral sounding voice erupted from the other end of the line: “Is Erica okay?”

Stiles’ eyes got big, “Who is this?”

A grunt from the other end and what sound like impact into flesh before the voice on the phone was replaced with the same British accent of Deucalion they’d been dealing with. “I thought you’d like proof of life, so let him speak a moment. Now, I have decided we should indeed meet if for nothing else than for you to understand the truly hopeless state of things before you.”

Then the line went dead.

Still with big eyes, Stiles scrambled with his phone and called someone.

Peter frowned but couldn’t take his eyes off of the road. “What is it?”

Stiles held up a hand and growled softly as the line he’d called went straight to messenger. He then tried again while saying, “Head to the Whitmore house.”

This time the call picked up. Allison asked, “What’s up Stiles? Is something wrong?”

Still frowning, Stiles asked, “Are you with Scott?”

Allison paused before saying, “No, why? Is something going on?”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Earlier today. We had a date. It was ended early though because Scott was worried about Deaton, I guess,” Allison said.

Stiles nodded even though she could not see it through the phone. ending the call after saying: “Thanks.”

Off the phone, Stiles looked behind him at Derek, “Did you get Isaac a new phone?”

Derek furrowed his brows. “It’s on the way—was actually supposed to arrive today.”

Peter growled, putting together what Stiles already had, speeding up the vehicle while muttering, “Fuck.”

Aware words were needed, Stiles asked Derek, “When did you last see Isaac?”

Looking concerned, Derek said, “Yesterday. He was working on some school something and needed to get samples for biology…”

Stiles sighed, “So yeah, it may have been him on the phone if it wasn’t Boyd or maybe Scott.”

“What?!”

Running a hand through his hair, Stiles explained, “Technically, with you killing Peter, you sort of got Scott as a possible beta since you never overtly refused him nor did he completely refuse you, even worked with you to kill Peter… there may be a possibility of pack there. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac are part of your pack… and there’re two more, sort of, but I think only one counts since Lydia outright refused everyone more than once.”

“Jackson,” Derek acknowledged, frowning harder. “You think they’ve…”

Stiles shrugged, “If they haven’t, they may still try. You are who turned him after all.”

Peter slammed the SUV breaks and lid into parking in front of the Whitmore house just in time to watch Jackson throw one of the twins out of the house through a front window with a roar.

Stiles was quick to get out of the vehicle, conjuring Mountain Ash by instinct in his hand without fully thinking about it.

Peter wasn’t far behind but did say to Derek first, “Stay and guard Erica!”

Stiles took the opportunity to throw Mountain Ash around the angry looking twin that was getting up outside the house. After that, Stiles raced inside the broken front door to see the twin that had spoken to him raising Jackson by his neck.

Not thinking things through entirely, Stiles started grabbing pieces of wood from the broken door and anything else he could and began throwing them at the twin holding Jackson. Stiles put magic and belief behind each item he threw to make them have more impact to distract the Alpha.

Peter ran in, jumping over Stiles to slam into the twin, causing Jackson to be let loose.

Stiles was quick to Jackson’s side, seeing that the teen was wounded all over and bleeding. Stiles tried to help, but Jackson pushed him off and threw himself back into the fight with the twin.

Skittering back, Stiles noticed Jackson’s mom on the ground in the adjoining dining room. No wonder Jackson was so mad. Quick to his feet, Stiles ran for Jackson’s mom, Mrs. Whitmore, to check on her.

Mrs. Whitmore had a been banged against a wall based on the wound to her head as well as the blood mark on one of the nearby walls in the room.

Taking her pulse, Stiles found that she was alive but her pulse weak. Looking over her further, Stiles realized that she’s been hurt more than being banged into a wall. His attention was drawn away by Jackson roaring again while Peter kept fighting the twin while also keeping him away from Stiles or from rushing out toward the SUV.

Stiles stayed with Mrs. Whitmore to protect her should the fight move closer to them. As he watched, Stiles saw with sickening recognition as Jackson grew a LIZARD TAIL and swiped it at the twin multiple times before landing a mark, cutting up the twin’s side and through his clothes, causing the twin wolf to drop like a sack of potatoes pretty much instantly.

Ripping his attention away from the now over fight, Stiles noticed something he’d missed before: Mrs. Whitmore had been bitten! “Peter!”

After checking that the twin was indeed paralyzed from the Kanima venom in Jackson’s apparently still there tail, Peter moved to be beside Stiles. “What is it?”

“They bit her,” Stiles said.

Jackson shook his head, walking closer with moist eyes. “No, I did, by accident. I… does this mean I’m going to lose her?”

Peter looked at Jackson, “How did you accidentally bite her?”

Sighing as he stood beside them, Jackson explained while crouching down to touch his mom. “When I got home, they’d already hurt her. I roared at them and they threw her at me so fast my still open mouth with dropped teeth got her. It’ why it’s only the lower teeth, if you look.”

Looking at his mom and gently smoothing her hair away from her face, Jackson seemed to take a moment to consider his thoughts. Then, he looked at Peter, “Can you bite her?”

Peter frowned. “It could—”

Jackson shook his head, interrupting, “She’s bleeding out—even before you got here. My getting my teeth on her even by accident is dangerous. I need her to be okay. Please bite her.”

Stiles looked between them, and then he asked, “Does this mean you want to join Peter’s pack?”

-

Peter could smell it on the woman: death. She was more banged up than they could readily see, he suspected. Hearing Jackson asking for Peter to bite his mom was incredibly surreal. He’d never had anyone ask him for the bite. Honestly, he thought Derek was stupid for turning Jackson in the first place, but what room did Peter really have to point fingers? He’d turned Scott after all. That was certainly one of the biggest things in his past that he regretted—well, of what he could remember.

However, at Stiles asking about Jackson joining his pack, Peter’s head shot up. Even though he thought turning Jackson had been a mistake, Peter could not deny that his wolf howled inside for pack. It would make it harder to leave town, to escape this hell hole, but his wolf wanted. And, if he was honest with himself, Peter kind of wanted it too. Not Jackson specifically but pack overall.

Maybe he could do better this time? Maybe this was a real chance of having it all?

Before he could get too far ahead of himself, Peter returned his attention to what was being said around him.

Jackson looked at his mom. “If her life being saved requires me to join his pack, so be it.”

Peter’s inner wolf was practically prancing, but Peter the man wasn’t so keen. So instead of letting Stiles continue, Peter said, “It doesn’t work like that. I’d honestly rather have her consent, but I can smell as you do that she’s running out of time. I’ll turn her, and you are welcome to join my pack, but you do not have to. She’ll need to stay in my pack in the beginning to heal up and learn about being a wolf, but then she can choose for herself how she wants to move forward.”

Very gently, Peter lifted Mrs. Whitmore’s arm and bit into her left forearm and held on for a moment or two to make sure the bite was deep enough to help the bite take.

Then there was a howl from the front yard.

Peter very carefully let go of Mrs. Whitmore, saying, “Please bandage this.”

After getting up on his feet, Peter motioned for Jackson to stay to keep the others safe. Peter checked out the broken door to see it was indeed the twin trapped in Mountain Ash that had howled. Making sure there were no surprises out there, Peter slowly stepped out of the house and approached the twin in Mountain Ash. “Have something to say for yourself? After all, attacking a human not in the know does seem outside of what the Alpha Pack are known for...”

The twin snarled at Peter before saying, “Duke was pretty disappointed to find you not at the loft… he wants to meet behind the Stilinski residence, in the backyard—at dusk.”

Chapter Text

Peter parked the black SUV in the Stilinski driveway. He didn’t get out of the vehicle right away. He just took a deep breath. This was a big moment—he knew it, but there was no going back, no walking away, no running. Another deep in and out—then Peter turned to look at Stiles who sat shotgun. Not ready to confess, to share, Peter took Stiles’ hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the knuckles. It was too much and not enough, but Peter didn’t know what was coming next, so he had to do something as he was too good at words to reveal some truths in moments like this.

Not giving Stiles or anyone else time to react to the small gesture, Peter unlocked and opened his door, jumping out swiftly. Closing his eyes a moment, to take in his other senses: four werewolves already in the backyard of Stiles’ childhood home that Peter didn’t understand Stiles still considering home. no scents of poison of one kind or another. There was no scent of magic outside of Stiles, but Peter kept an absent awareness and seeking out for them in case Marin was present.

A lot of the neighbors were not yet home—perhaps a lacrosse game tonight? Peter didn’t know.

Peter heard the others get out of the vehicles: Stiles, Derek, and Jackson.

Aware they were likely being listened to, Peter just motioned toward the house.

Stiles shook his head as he pulled out some keys and led them to a side entrance into the backyard.

Peter touched Stiles softly to slow the young man. Moving ahead first, Peter checked that it was safe before letting Stiles open the padlock to let them all through.

Peter let Derek go first and followed, with Stiles then Jackson behind him. They needed to be a united front.

Entering the backyard, they saw Deucalion sitting in a folding chair while looking as bored as could be.

Ennis was about ten feet away from Duke beating on Isaac Lahey. “And this is what happens when you call for help!”

Isaac was on the ground curled up to protect his organs as best he could. He was covered in blood from wounds that appeared to have healed as well as ones that had not yet done so.

On the other side of Deucalion from Ennis, Marin was standing with a cold look in her eyes as she stared at those who had just entered the backyard.

Jackson roared. While he wasn’t above some bullying that he did privately regret, Jackson knew this was not the same thing.

Peter put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder to keep him from rushing forward to Isaac’s aid.

Not waiting for Derek or Peter to say anything, Stiles stepped forward. He stared down Deucalion. At the same time, Stiles spoke darkly, “Are you going to make him stop or do I need to?”

Deucalion chuckled as he leaned forward some. “You think you can?”

Not waiting to see, Deucalion lifted his hand, seemingly signaling Ennis to stop.

Ennis stopped his repeated blows to Isaac, but did lift him by the neck to let him dangle.

Deucalion looked over those that had arrived without getting up.

Derek spoke next, “What are you seeking revenge for, Alpha Deucalion?”

Standing finally, Deucalion grinned with too many teeth. “Ah, pup… you’ve inherited so little from your mother, and I cannot be prouder.”

Just barely holding back a growl, Derek said, “That is not an answer.”

Deucalion grinned still, saying, “I didn’t, did I?”

Jackson started tensing like he was going to rush into this claws first, but Peter kept him back, saying, “Why meet with us if you do not intend to tell us? We have two of your Alphas as well as Deaton, who is surprisingly still breathing.”

“Hmmm… learning more of his betrayals?” Marin asked, deciding to chime in.

Peter gripped Jackson with two hard motions warning the young man to stay where he was before moving a touch forward. “Can you tell me the truth?”

Marin stared into Peter like she could peel him open with her eyes—no magic or claws required.

Derek growled. “Off topic.”

Marin looked at Derek. “Is it? Is talking about Paige off topic?”

Not seeming as sure of himself, Derek just asked, “Is it on topic?”

With an empty smile and wet eyes, Marin said, “For me, yes. That was my baby girl… and she’s gone now, thanks to your mother who also killed Paige’s other mother and stole the memories of the father. That seems damn on topic to me.”

“Am I the father?” Peter asked, trying to keep himself still without getting his hopes moving in any one direction.

Looking at Peter with surprising mercy, Marin said, “I don’t know. We had two donors and two kids. You were one of the donors, but we never did DNA testing—no time before Talia realized what had happened. Talia killed my love with the baby still within her. Then she came for me and mine.’

“I’d managed to stay hidden and give birth, but I gave up my daughter to loving parents sworn to secrecy. By the time Talia tracked me down, any proof that I had been impregnated was gone, and I pretended to be none the wiser about what Talia had done.”

Peter frowned saying, “Talia had no reason to hurt you like that… not over me, not over something so cherished as a child.”

Marin laughed. She outright laughed in everyone’s face. “That is rich coming from you, whom she took so much from. But alas, my children, my love was not about Talia having issues with me. That was Deaton’s doing. He disowned me for loving other women and then after finding out that I had married and was trying to conceive, he convinced Talia that my love was a threat.’

“Then, Deaton discover who our two donors were, and Talia lost her ever-loving shit. She refused to let you have a child, even the risk of a child. She viewed you as needing to stay hard, cruel, and married to the pack in a sense. Even if you were married, two or three times before Talia picked someone for you, so you stop straying.”

“What?” Peter said. Not in anger or even shock but more in the sheer unfathomableness of it all.

Derek asked, “Did your love’s child survive my mom? Talia?”

Marin looked at him, tears in her eyes before looking at Jackson. “Yes, he did. As you know all about, Paige only lived so long. Her life was cut short. That too can be placed at my brother’s door. He was sure I’d had a child, just as he was sure the child in my love’s body was dead. He cursed my child. It manifested into cancer, and when I asked the counsel of Alpha’s to turn her through her legal parents, well before you asked Talia, Derek, she convinced them that it wouldn’t be safe just like Deaton had convinced her because he had figured out who her true mother was.”

Deucalion stepped in then, resting a hand upon Marin’s shoulder. “And this is just some of the many reasons that I am going to destroy the Hale pack for crimes done not only to my Emissary here, but to every member of my pack—both past and present!”

Starring down Derek, Deucalion continued, “I am willing to spare one full-shifting Hale that will join the Alpha pack after killing their own pack and extinguishing the traditional Hale spark for good.”

Stiles looked at Marin who didn’t look as joyous about this plan, but she didn’t say anything one way or another. He understood. This all seemed to dredge up a lot of past traumas. However, now wasn’t the moment to fight one way or the other about it.

Looking at Deucalion, Stiles asked, “Really? Most of the pack are teenagers—some not even eighteen yet. They weren’t there for Talia’s wrongs, for the things even the Hale spark itself was involved in. All these innocent people do not need to die. They aren’t a part of this!”

Chuckling, Deucalion said, “By being involved with the Hale spark, they are guilty by association. They made their choices, regardless of how ill-informed they were. It’s not like I was informed when I trusted Talia, her counsel, her Emissary… There are no innocents in this. The closest thing to was you, and you’ve chosen to stand with the monsters, so you will be judged right along with them.”

Derek looked thoroughly out of his depth at what they’d learned so far.

As a result, Peter asked, “How long do we have to decide?”

Tilting his head faintly without submitting, Deucalion said, “I always knew you were the practical one. You have two days and nights. And, should you be chosen to live, I’ll even let you keep your mate. Unlike Talia, I don’t break up mates. You will die with your mate or live with them, Peter.”

Before anyone else could say anything, Stiles said, “In exchange for Deaton’s other arm, may we take Isaac with us as we depart?”

Deucalion perked a brow, “Come prepared?”

Stiles nodded. “It was a worthy price to you for Erica, so I hoped it would be a worthy price for one of the others you have.”

Careful to not look at Isaac, to not show anymore cards than had already been shown, Stiles looked to Deucalion for an answer.

After thinking for a moment, Duke said, “I am willing to make the trade if you have it here.”

Nodding, Stiles said, “Please let one of the others or me grab it from the vehicle we drove here.”

With a motion of his hand, Deucalion said, “You will retrieve it with Ennis. When you hand over the arm, he’ll give you the beta.”

Nodding again, Stiles moved to do as was permitted while trying not to panic at having Ennis at his pack and moving away from the other members of his pack. While moving, he did send a touch of his magic to the rest of his pack to protect them while he couldn’t see them.

Once at the back of the SUV, Stiles opened the back to reveal Deaton’s still partially frozen arm in a bag. Stiles readily handed it to Ennis who in return dumped Isaac into Stiles’ arms.

-

While Stiles went to get the arm and was followed by Ennis, Peter worked very hard to keep things calm where he was with Jackson and Derek to prevent either of them from attacking or otherwise breaking down. They needed to stay a united front as well as trust Stiles in what he was doing.

On second thought, Peter did ask Marin softly, “If I was willing to provide a DNA sample, would you want to know if your children are mine or the other person’s?”

Marin looked at him with a questioning expression, but nothing further was shown nor did she say anything at first. Then, she asked, “Did Deaton tell you about your other spouses?”

Peter shook his head faintly.

Deucalion laughed again, “Her betrayals knew no end. Talia kept her whole pack under her thumb, even taking memories from human members. Yet, somehow, she never lost rank, was never deposed. However, after I was attacked by Gerard and then my own Left Hand, there was no mercy from the counsel for me. No recompence or sympathy. No, they were all listening to her whispers in their ears.”

Before he could react to all of this, Derek saw Ennis come back with the arm. Listening, Derek could hear Stiles working to get Isaac in the SUV on his own. It was time to go. Derek looked to Duke and simply said, “Thank you, Alpha Deucalion for this meeting and the trade. We will leave you in peace.”

Jackson muttered under his breath so quietly only Peter heard as he was the closest to Jackson: “—for now.”

Peter knew that Mrs. Whitmore being attacked was a massive issue for Jackson that would not be easily forgiven, let alone having his newly turned mother murdered for having to be turned to save her life. It was a dark road that Peter would need to help Jackson navigate if he was going to have any shot of making it long in this life.

With the others, Peter bringing up the back and watching the Alpha pack members present and their Emissary, the Hale wolves and Jackson backed out of Stiles’ backyard toward the SUV before quickly getting inside and driving off.

---------------------------------------

After driving around for a while and Stiles casting on the vehicle a time or two to help disguise where they went, had been, and were going, Peter pulled up to the Martin household.

Stiles was texting ahead.

As a result, the garage door opened for Peter to drive the vehicle in. Once the vehicle was in and park, the garage door closed behind them. Then everyone flooded out of the SUV to take Isaac into the house through the door from the garage to one of the kitchens in the house.

Lydia and Erica met them near the door and brought Isaac into a dining room and laying him out on the table for some necessary first aid while Isaac whined and seemed to fight crying.

Part way through Isaac being bandaged with Stiles speaking softly with the traumatized wolf to help him calm, Mrs. Whitmore came in. She was a bit tired and still healing as the twin named Aiden had clawed up her back quite deeply and knocked her around against walls and furniture, demanding answers to questions she had not understood at the time. She learned after that she had multiple contusions, a damaged spine, and neck.

As she got closer, Mrs. Whitmore asked, “Is he going to be okay?”

Chapter Text

As she got closer to those working on Isaac on the table, Mrs. Whitmore asked, “Is he going to be okay?”

Peter grunted, “Physically, yes.”

Derek whined but helped as best he could no less in bandaging and cleaning wounds.

All the while, Stiles softly ran his fingers through Isaac’s hair speaking soft and comforting word to help Isaac calm down and continue to let them help him.

A bit later, Isaac having been taken to sleep in a guest room with Erica wrapped around him and Derek nearby, Stiles and Peter were sitting with the rest of the wolves and Lydia in a living room within her home.

Peter had filled everyone in on what was going on and had happened so far with the Alpha pack and those taken and recovered, including Deaton being held in a toolbox in Martin’s garage as well as the twins paralyzed with Kanima venom and in a sound-proofed Mountain Ash circle in another guest room to keep them secured without letting them ease drop on or watch the pack.

Lydia had convinced Peter that they all needed to eat and had ordered in a TON of pizzas that they had all had some of, including Stiles still eating with all the magic he’d been doing.

Stiles was sitting half on Peter’s lap as he ate due in part to being so tired and Peter taking some of the strain from the magic user to help him focus on recouping calories while listening to things around them.

Peter asserted, “Lydia, we can’t exactly just charge randomly into buildings around town to try and find them.”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia said, “That’s not what I am suggesting. I’m saying that with having Marin Morrell’s address, you could go and question her if she’s home ir not outright trap her. Also, you could bring in Danny. I know he’s not necessarily in the know, but he’s a good resource. We could also bring in Chris and or Allison to possibly get access to more resources.”

“No,” Stiles bite out sharply. “No Allison.”

Peter frowned and asked with an edge to his voice: “Did she hurt you?”

“She shot arrows into Erica and Boyd when we were imprisoned by Gerard in Chris Argent’s basement. I don’t trust her nor want her anywhere around me or our wounded.”

While not openly smiling, Peter couldn’t deny he was proud to hear Stiles refer to the wolves as his in a sense. Making note of the information Stiles had shared, Peter said, “We’ll leave Allison out of this, which means probably no Chris until we know more about things or can talk to him without alerting Allison.”

Lydia frowned, but she seemed to accept it. “Then, I think it’s even more important to bring Danny in on this. He’s Jackson’s best friend and in danger if for nothing else than possibly being used against us to get at Jackson again.”

Even though he wasn’t a huge fan of this, Peter did see the usefulness of bringing the hacker into the group, especially after Stiles had shared about the teen’s help with attaining information that helped Stiles with his investigations at the beginning of his supernatural exposure.

Stiles nodded then, saying, “We could go check out Marin’s place, see if she’s home and on the way back here possibly sneak Danny in with us to bring him to Lydia’s house and break the news to him.”

-------------------------------------

Marin walked into her rental apartment from the front door only to see her living room contained Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski, and Jackson Whitmore. Unable to stop herself, Marin walked forward, dropping her groceries and purse and leaving the door open as she approached Jackson. She reached out her hand to touch him but recoiled when he flinched back from her. Tears in her eyes, Marin whispered, “You look so much like her…”

“How did he survive the womb with his mother’s death?” Stiles asked carefully.

Marin kept looking at Jackson with a mix of love and loss as she spoke, “A magical failsafe. If Deaton or the Hales found either of us or harmed one of us badly enough, the baby we were carrying would magically transfer to the other as if the surviving one were carrying twins. It leaves the one who has died appearing to still be pregnant with a now dead child, but the baby is actually safe with the survivor.’

“It’s how I knew they’d gotten her rather than her just running late. It’s incredibly painful to go suddenly from carrying one child to two, especially with how much further along the girl was than the boy in gestation. The pain was nothing though in comparison to the emotional pain of knowing my love was gone. I had to hurry and pack what I could and flee, so they’d not find me too. I couldn’t let them kill the last of the woman I love.”

Tears running down her face now, Marin said to Jackson, “You’ve grown up so much. I’m so proud of you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Jackson growled.

Not flinching or looking away, Marin said, “I know, but I’m proud of your survival. I’m proud of you finding a way forward with your life. You’re survived living in this cursed town with the ashes of the woman who destroyed so many lives. You survived being a Kanima and are not under anyone else’s control now, which is quite rare for one not tightly held within a pack as a secret.”

Trying not to grind his teeth, Peter asked, “Does this mean you didn’t know about the twins going after Jackson’s adoptive mother and by extension Jackson?”

Shaking her head, Marin said sadly, “I had no idea. I’m here to destroy my brother and end the Hale spark, among other things. Killing everyone else is not what I am here for. That is Deucalion. You see, my love was Duke’s only child. Although he didn’t want her to stray far, we fell in love hard in our youth and ran away. Not cutting communication with Deucalion—he just wanted his daughter to be happy even if it meant their family became a long distance one, us having moved quite far from him.”

Stiles asked, “Did Deucalion know about her passing? The children?”

“He found out about both of those later. After he was blinded but before he formed the Alpha pack. It was what pushed him over the edge and into killing his pack. He lost his eyes, had his Left Hand turn on him, and discovered more and more of what Talia had been doing… then discovered that his daughter had been killed and his grandchildren were in the wind. I never told him the specifics of where they ended up, so he doesn’t know Jackson’s his grandson,” Marin admitted, looking down. She seemed to consider herself in some part an element in Deucalion losing his mind.

Stiles sighed and motioned to the loveseat at the side of the room for Marin to have a seat as he sat beside her.

Peter sat in one of the living room chairs, watching what Stiles was doing with caution. This was no time to let one’s guard down. They didn’t know how much more there was to all of this. Interrupting, Peter asked, “You said among other things? In terms of why you are here. What do you mean?”

“Check on my remaining family, Jackson, and kill the man that bit Paige,” Marin answered easily.

Peter frowned, “Are you including me in that?”

Shaking her head, Marin said, “I already knew about Talia messing with your head. You knew no better, and it’s not like you knew what was going to happen. You didn’t know better, but Ennis should have. Yet, he did it anyways.”

Stiles asked, “Do you know who all Deucalion has? Who he may still be trying to get?”

Looking at her hands, Marin sighed herself. She then looked at Stiles before her eyes looked around at everyone there. “He has Vernon Boyd and Scott McCall… was looking for Danny Māhealani to lure Jackson out, but clearly he’s been ‘gathered’ in a sense by the Hale pack before Duke could get his hands on him. I’m grateful for that.”

Jackson crossed his arms at being talked about right in front of him.

Nodding, Stiles asked, “Does he think anyone else is in the Hale pack?”

Marin took a breath before saying, “Maybe.”

Peter growled. “What do you mean?”

Looking at Peter, Marin said, “He’s not sure if the Hale spark, Derek, or you have bonds to Cora Hale anymore or not. He knows that regardless, she’s leverage, if needed, or even another beta to accept then kill for power.”

Peter’s eyes went a bit wide. “Cora… is alive?”

With a nod, Marin said, “Deucalion said he grabbed her on the way here. It seemed she had been in South America but had heard about a Hale Alpha and was coming back to see what was going on here.”

Stiles asked, after a moment or two of letting another live Hale sink in some, “If you want to kill Ennis, why haven’t you?”

Marin grinned in a nearly feral way herself. “Because he’s being terrorized. No rush to end his suffering. The same for my brother though a different method.”

“You cursed them?” Stiles asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes. My brother’s curse is to always hunger, to devour and devour until all that has ever mattered to him has been consumed by him. Ennis… his is more painful… he’s slowly being bifurcated from his inner wolf.”

Peter perked a surprised brow. “That’s excruciating.”

Nodding in clear understanding of what she’d set into motion, Marin said, “Naturally, though I cast it in such a way as for the burden to rest fully on Ennis while his wolf sleeps and slips away painlessly.”

Nodding slowly as he took this all in, Stiles asked, “Are Boyd and Scott okay?”

Marin seemed to think this over before saying, “They’re both still alive.”

Peter growled. “What are you not saying?”

Looking down, Marin admitted, “Scott’s in a coma. They bet him nearly to death. He’s not dead, but he’s not aware and hasn’t been for little while. Boyd’s wolf is being driven insane by being denied feeling the moon at all due to where he is being held.”

“And Cora?” Peter grit out.

“She’s sick. I think it’s Mistletoe poisoning, but Deucalion hasn’t really let me close to her or really revealed if he poisoned her or if she had a run in with hunters before he got her,” Marin said.

Dropping his claws, Peter kept himself seated. This was no time to rip the woman apart. Maybe later.

Stiles asked, “Do you know why the rest of the pack are angry with the Hales?”

Marin said slowly, “Ennis still blames Talia for her not doing anything about Gerard killing one of his betas. Ennis thinks she was somehow connected to Gerard or benefited from the kill. Kali… she’s a wildcard. Her Emissary was in love with her and working with Talia to separate Kali from her pack, so that Julia, the Emissary, could run away with Kali, supposedly. I’ve never known to what degree what happened with Ennis’ beta or with Kali’s Emissary are actually true.’

“Aiden and Ethan, though—I know theirs is true. They were the lowest of the low in their pack, and they were abused in all sorts of ways as a result. Some of the Hales knew. Beyond Talia, I’ve never heard the specific names of any of the others in the know. But the pack the boys were in way a strong ally with the Hales, supposedly or at least Talia wanted them to be, so she overlooked what was happening to the boys in favor of getting her way. Supposedly, Talia was trying to amass loyalty, kind of like her own army to call upon at her whim.”

Peter growled again, getting up and pacing. Marin’s heart didn’t skip a beat, and although some humans could learn to lie to wolves, Marin was unlikely to be trained with Deaton not being trained as such. His sister was really this bad?! He knew, remembered—or so he thought—her being kind of stuck up, high on their heritage even if she didn’t always show respect to her elders.

That left him in circles of what if he was even remembering true things right now. The fire had damaged him, his memories. Now, he knew Talia had taken things from him at least if not further changing things in his mind. How could he trust his own mind?

Along that line of thought, Peter moved closer to the loveseat where Stiles and Marin sat, looking at Marin. “Do you know about what memories my sister has taken from me as well as may have changed?”

Furrowing her brows a bit, Marin acknowledged, “I’ve heard rumors, but I don’t have much more concrete information than Deaton does.”

Not satisfied but willing to work from there, Peter asked, “Did you know about any past marriages of mine?”

Marin nodded. “Yes. At least two marriages and one possible engagement that was stopped before it could be marriage.”

Peter followed up with, “Do you know who I was married to?”

After a deep breath as though she had never thought this would come up, Marin admitted that “One was the Desert Wolf. You married her and had children with her. You married a man, but I don’t know who he was. Just that he was from a rival pack, and Talia refused to let you marry into a rival pack and leave the Hales. You were too useful in a sense, or at least that was the impression I got from Deaton when he wasn’t bogged down in his wolves need to breed rants.”

“And the possible engagement?” Peter asked, working not to show hard he wanted to hug himself and make himself stronger to NEVER have something like this taken from him again.

Marin said, “Chris Argent. It wasn’t clear what you two were to each other fully. You’d been caught kissing by Laura and another family member more than once. One of them let it slip to Talia, and she was having none of that. Chris was before either of your marriages, I believe, but I’m not too sure on the timeline to be honest.”

Stiles let out a breath, seemingly holding back his own reaction to stay as on task as he could.

Jackson of the other hand just announced, “Fuck!”

He then topped it off with, “I’m damn glad I never had to deal with Talia. Screw that shit!”

Marin had a sad smile at his outburst, a moment of bonding between them for her even if Jackson may not see it that way.

Stiles asked, “If you were able to get your revenge on Deaton and Ennis, unhindered by either Hale pack, would you help us get our pack members back?”

Chapter Text

Stiles asked, “If you were able to get your revenge on Deaton and Ennis, unhindered by either Hale pack, would you help us get our pack members back?”

Jackson tacked on, “And help stop bystanders from getting mowed down in the process.”

“The Hale spark must be snuffed out,” Marin said in response, looking at Peter even as she answered Stiles and Jackson.

Somewhat numbly, Peter slowly nodded and said. “I understand.”

Stiles perked a brow, staring at Peter, seemingly waiting for more.

Peter looked at Stiles first then looked at Marin. “I’ll help destroy those you seek recompence from. Then, after the Alpha pack and Deaton are dealt with, you and I will deal with what to do about the Hale spark. That work for now?”

Marin paused, seemingly thinking about this.

Before the druidess could answer, Stiles point blank asked, “Did you help kill my dad?”

Marin sighed. “No, but I did know it may come to others being hurt. Deucalion has little patience anymore. He’s sick of waiting.”

With a sigh, Marin said, “I’m willing to accept the temporary alliance with one amendment, should it come down to an actual fight about the Hale spark, it is a one-on-one fight between me and the person who possesses the Hale spark.”

Stiles groaned.

Peter said, “Done.”

Jackson’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t say anything.

Stiles frowned, suspicious of what Peter may have in his metaphoric back pocket.

Peter then said, “Where is Deucalion keeping the prisoners?”

Marin replied, “In an abandoned bank vault… a place that can block the moon’s rays from reaching them.”

“Damn,” Peter grunted.

Stiles gathered himself up. “Okay, let’s grab what we need and meet up with the others.”

Jackson growled. “No, we can’t risk the others. What if Marin turns on us?”

Looking at Marin, Stiles stepped towards her, flashing his eyes gold as he spoke: “Good point. Marin Morrell, do you hereby swear to abide the alliance between you and the Hale packs? To help the Hales packs and their pack adjacent in our efforts to reclaim our pack members and family while protecting Beacon Hills as we help you to attain your vengeance against Druid and former Hale Emissary Alan Deaton and Alpha Ennis of the Alpha pack? The alliance shall include an allowance for should there need be a fight for you to extinguish the Hale Alpha spark, it will be done in one-on-one combat between you and the person who possesses the Hale Alpha spark. Do you hereby swear?”

Stiles held out his hand, trusting that Marin understood what he was doing.

Despite her initial hesitancy, Marin immediately took Stiles’ hand in hers as she said, “I hereby swear.”

Stiles held his other hand out to Peter while saying, “Do you hereby swear to this as well?”

Peter nodded and took Stiles’ other hand. “I hereby swear.”

“Thus sealed,” Stiles said as a translucent golden wire seemed to wind between where the hands clasped with Stiles’ before sinking invisibly into their skin.

Jackson tilted his head a hint, seemingly curious about the magic that was just done.

Stiles gave a final nod. “That should do it.”

After letting go of Stiles, Peter looked at Marin, “What do you know about the twins?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, saying, “We can talk about this on the road, but I don’t think we want Deucalion or any of the Alpha pack coming around here and catching us all together.”

Peter nodded. “Good point, Marin, would you like to pack a bag before joining us?”

With a shrug, Marin moved away from the group, saying, “I’ve just got to grab my bags. One moment.”

Jackson looked displeased but stayed near the door to prevent anyone from rushing in or out it seemed.

Peter was surprised Jackson seemed ot be taking everything so well so far. The teen’s identity crisis had after all led to him becoming a Kanima, so this was not the behavior Peter would have expected had he known in advance what all would be laid out before them. Did this mean Jackson could be his?

Shaking his head faintly, Peter got himself back on track. They had the Alpha pack’s Emissary on their side. One down, more to go. Peter wondered if the twins knew anything worth knowing but also if they too could be turned away from the Alpha pack? If not, Peter would trade or even kill them as the situation called for. The blood in his future soothed a touch of the agony of all the things his sister had seemingly stolen from him.

There was so much to do with only so much time available right now. They had more pressing issues, but Peter could not deny the desperation with which he sought to know more about what had happened, about the things taken from him. There was quietness at the back of his head, wishing they could find and reclaim the Desert Wolf. Would she accept him back? Would she share with Stiles? Would Stiles share with her?

What about his other spouse? Were he and Chris Argent boyfriends? Other? Nothing? Everything?

Shaking his head a bit harder this time, Peter forced himself on task as Marin came out of a backroom of the apartment. After glancing over the group, Peter said, “Jackson take rear.”

That said, Peter led them out of the apartment, even pausing for Marin to lock up behind them. Then to the SUV and back on the road. Once they’d pulled the vehicle from the parking spot, Peter began, while driving, “What can you tell us about the twins?”

Sitting in the back with Jackson, Marin explained, “They were deeply abused by their original pack. Deucalion helped them slaughter their abusers, starting with the Alpha of the pack. After they’d killed the rest of the pack, Deucalion took them in and taught them about merging as they turned to become something bigger, badder, and a heck of a lot harder to fight let alone kill.”

Stiles turned in his seat at the front to look back at Amrin, asking, “How did Deucalion know about that ability?”

Shrugging, Marin acknowledged, “He’s a very learned man. Deucalion has amassed a large amount of knowledge over the years, even after being blinded. Before he went mad, Deucalion was a man of peace and incredible intelligence. With his crazed wolf and grief-born madness? All that knowledge and intelligence has been pinpoint-focused on violence and destruction.”

Jackson growled, “Sounds like he’s been working on imploding.”

Peter nodded, seeing what Jackson meant. “Maybe he is. Losing a child… it is more than some can bare. I lost what I thought was my only child in the fire. We hadn’t even had the chance to tell anyone about our baby yet. Sadly, that is apparently for the better with everything that apparently had been happening.”

Marin pointedly looked out of the window, not quite engaging like she had been.

Growling low and feral, Peter took a right turn a bit too fast, demanding, “Or am I mistaken?”

With a sigh, Marin admitted, “Yes and no. Talia knew. She was already working on how to address the issue.”

“THE ISSUE?!” Peter growled, managing to still not speed or hit any of the few other cars on the road.

Marin explained, “She didn’t want you distracted. She just hadn’t decided how to deal with it. I don’t know much more than that though. I wasn’t in the loop in a sense anymore. I mostly watched from a distance for my opportunity to strike back for what she’d done, allowed.”

Tensing and releasing his hands on the steering wheel, Peter focused on the road while knowing that Talia was lucky to have been burned alive. Because had he found out about her betrayals of him? Of his children? Of his children’s mothers? Peter would’ve done far worse… if he ever did actually let her die. Half the fun in a sense would be denying her what she seemed too ready to dispense to any chance of Peter ever being happy, feeling whole. No wonder he always felt alone. He was. He was, and Talia wanted him that way!

Peter growled again, more to himself than to anyone else.

Stiles set a hand on Peter’s shoulder to seemingly show support.

Leave it to the young man to see Peter’ pain in ways those who had known him for longer never seemed able to. Relaxing his grip on the steering wheel, Peter got them safely to the Martin residence. There was no call for hurting anyone with a car crash before they could save pack members and further dismember a Druid.

Once they pulled into the garage at the Martin residence about fifteen minutes later, Peter got out of the vehicle after turning it off. He moved with false calm while still keeping his limbs and movements loose, ready for violence at the drop of a hat.

Coming into the house from the garage, Peter could hear Erica raising her voice from further in.

Erica demanded, “We can’t just wait around! Boyd is still there… he’s still being tortured and hurt! We have to go get him.”

“And we will,” Peter crooned as he entered the living room the rest of the packs were in.

Upon seeing Marin, Erica lunged for the Druiess.

However, Peter caught Erica, saying, “Not right now. We need her.”

Erica tried ot fight, growling, “She was there! She watched them hurt us!”

Stiles came from around Peter and pulled Erica into a tight hug, whispering softly to her, promising blood and that they would get Boyd back.

While Stiles had Erica taken care of for the moment, Jackson moved to be closer to Lydia without touching her while taking his Mom’s hand to make sure she was okay still.

Seeing the room at least partially settled, Peter said, “Marin has agreed to help us get our pack members back.”

“For a price?” Derek asked, standing up.

Peter nodded, proud of his nephew. “Yes, among other things, we’re going to help her get revenge against her brother, Deaton, and Alpha Ennis of the Alpha pack. We know the Alpha pack are keeping our pack people, but we need to deal with the twins before moving on that.”

Erica growled at that from where Stiles still held her.

Stiles sighed. “Peter, you need to tell him everything.”

Peter nodded, “I will, btu after we deal with the twins.”

Derek furrowed his brows practically into his eyes, but he seemed to go along with it.

Stiles sighed, but nodded. “Okay, so what are we going to do with the twins?”

“Talk,” Peter said with a grin.

With that said, Peter headed toward one of the back bedrooms that held one of the twins: Ethan.

Stiles left Erica with Derek and the others to join Peter in the room with Ethan.

Ethan was sat in the middle of the room in a chair bolted to the ground, surrounded by Mountain Ash. Although not gagged, Ethan showed no signs of seeking to make a sound.

Peter walked around the circle of Mountain Ash a time or two before asking, “Did you know that True Alphas can break a Mountain Ash ring?”

Not getting a response, Peter continued, pulling up a chair just a bit outside of the Mountain Ash ring. “You see, lots of people take that to mean that a True Alpha can be made by a wolf being just right in one way or another to the degree that they could through will alone break a Mountain Ash ring and become an Alpha as a result.’

“Others think it is something any Alpha can do. Still others thing only the best of the best can do such a trick. Even further others think it is disrespectful to call it a trick and think one much be trained over the ages to learn to do it. But they’re all wrong…”

Ethan perked a brow at that.

Although he saw it, Peter continued as though he had not. “You see, a True Alpha is an Alpha that is truly meant to be an Alpha, someone worthy of being an Alpha. I wondered, after the Argents burned us out of our own house, killing most of my family, why Talia couldn’t get us out… couldn’t break the Mountain Ash. I don’t know if she even tried.’

“I wanted ot know though. I had already heard some Alpha’s could do it. I’d never met one, mind you, but I had several reliable sources that could attest to it. Yet, I didn’t understand. After the fire… after seeing vengeance for my family and not fully succeeding, I was killed, cut down by my nephew. I was mad after all. How insane I was is a question I do not debate, but even after all of that, and bringing myself back to life after death, I still wanted to know. I had to know,” Peter explained.

Folding his hands in his lap, Peter looked at his hands before looking up, admitting, “Just like I needed to know who all was involved in the murder of my family and had to destroy them, I had to understand what happened. I needed ot know why Talia couldn’t do that, couldn’t save us. At least some of us if not everyone. Even just the kids would’ve been enough in my mind. But she didn’t.’

“Learning all I have since, having paid and fought for it with all I could while keeping it all to myself, I realized that she couldn’t. Talia Hale was a LOT of things, but she was not a True Alpha. She was not deserving. Hence, she could not break the ash line. My sister… Talia, the Hale pack’s Alpha was a weak and cruel woman of the lengths I continue to watch expand. The things she’s taken from others, even the memories from her own pack members is almost beyond comprehension.”

Standing back up, Peter then said, “But what I can say, comprehend is that I will do all I can to protect my pack in a way she didn’t seem to either intend or be capable of.”

Right in front of Ethan and Stiles, Peter’s eyes glowed a deep red as he broke the Mountain Ash line around Ethan and stared into the young man’s eyes. “I cannot undo what my sister allowed to happen to, but I can offer you something better than Deucalion’s self-destructive mission to implode and destroy everything he can along the way.”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat at Peter breaking the Mountain Ash circle.

Ethan stared at Peter’s actions and then into Peter’s eyes. “Why did you break that? You know I could rip you to pieces…”

“Maybe,” Peter said, “but I don’t want to fight you if I do not have to. We are both victims of my sister’s inadequacies and poor judgements, lack of loyalty or morality even.”

Perking a brow, Ethan asked, “Aren’t you the Left Hand? What moral high ground could you claim from that position?”

Pulling back from smiling at the young man’s knowledge, Peter said, “But I am not a Left Hand anymore. I now shoulder the responsibility my sister failed to.”

Chapter Text

Perking a brow, Ethan asked, “Aren’t you the Left Hand? What moral high ground could you claim from that position?”

Pulling back from smiling at the young man’s knowledge, Peter said, “But I am not a Left Hand, anymore. I now shoulder the responsibility my sister failed to.”

The weight of those words and their truth lay heavily upon Peter’s shoulders. He didn’t like it, per say, but knew that the reality of his responsibilities were no less for it. He had a pack now, if small, and he had to look out for them to the best of his ability. That was part of why he had to try to reason with the twins if he could.

Ethan seemed to consider Peter’s words quite heavily.

Not wanting to rush the young man, Peter sat back down, resting his hands on his lap. There was plenty for him to think about too, including how he intended to move forward once they got the pack members back. Would he really be able to leave? Did he still want to? Would the pack go with him?

Did he want a pack in the first place? Okay, that one was a dumb question. His wolf was near purring at having more to care for, having a slow building pack, company and love. It was an easily addictive thing for one, like Peter knew he was, that often was pushed to the outskirts if allowed to be considered part of a group in the first place.

It felt good to feel the bonds inside him. He wanted to play them like an instrument by making each bond and the person connected to happy enough to sing in his chest where his family, the Hale pack bons, used to be. Wasn’t that a kick to the gut? Few pack members but more space filled as they didn’t keep him pushed away.

Stiles, on the other hand, was fidgeting against the door

--

Stiles’ breath caught at Peter breaking the Mountain Ash line. It caused Stiles to wonder if it wasn’t just him fighting to be who he truly is. Trying to reign in his reaction, Stiles focused for a moment or so on his breathing while Peter finished talking and giving Ethan time to think.

Aware he could use some rest but not really feeling able, Stiles leaned back against the closet door to the room they were in. Stiles knew he was pushing it, but what wouldn’t he do for his pack? He had a role to play in a sense. He was soundproofing the room with his presence to prevent any nosey wolves from hearing their words.

Running a hand through his hair, Stiles tried to keep on task even as he fidgeted. They needed to get Ethan and Aiden on their side if they could. The more people in the pack, the stronger the pack. He remembered that from some random thing he’d managed to read when trying to help Scott with his shift.

That really wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like an eternity at the same time. It blew Stiles’ mind just how much had happened in so short a time. At least they’d gotten Erica back… they’d found and gathered who they could. Now, they needed to rescue the others as best they could.

Ethan groaned, asking, “May I speak with my brother?”

Peter seemed to take that into consideration. “Hmmm… Why did you tip off Stiles that he could run? Did the others know about your doing that?”

With a frown, Ethan admitted, “No…. I thought he was just some kid in over his head.”

“Like you?” Peter asked kindly.

Still frowning, Ethan shrugged, “No.”

Peter nodded, “So, you warned him to give him a chance to get out while he could, from your perspective?”

“Yes,” Ethan agreed.

“Does your brother know about it?”

“No,” Ethan admitted, frowning harder if such a thing were possible.

Nodding, Peter said, “Then, I think if you could make that choice without him, you should do the same here.”

Clearly not pleased, Ethan growled out his frustration.

Even though he wanted to involve himself further, Stiles didn’t. This was Peter’s show. Add on that Stiles was feeling the drain from his magic. However, what was left but to ride it out? He focused as best he could to keep the magic flowing and stay on his legs.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

Stiles stepped aside.

Jackson stepped into the room with moist eyes, saying, “We have a guest… and food.”

Peter frowned but motioned for Jackson to go before motioning toward Ethan while looking at Stiles.

Nodding, Stiles threw up some Mountain Ash to fall around Ethan to once again contain him in a circle.

Peter then stood. Looking at Ethan, Peter said, “Take this chance to think about things. When someone comes back in, it’s be to give you some food and water.”

Tilting his head faintly, Ethan looked at Peter like he had a mouth full of questions ot ask but simply gave a curt nod instead.

With that done, Peter led Stiles out of the room, leaving the twin behind like before.

Once out in the living room area with most of the others, Stiles saw that their ‘guest’ was Danny. Not remembering anyone being told to get the guy, Stiles both surprised and pleased. It mattered to him so much that one more person was safe. However, upon smelling burgers and pizza, Stiles gave Danny a quick hug before going not make himself a plate.

After he filled a plate with six slices of pizza with two burgers on top, Stiles returned to the living room for the talk he was grateful he would not have to lead. Before anyone good get deep into any conversation, Stiles intentionally took a HUGE bite of one of the burgers he’d gotten. He was starving. The magic was taking a lot out of him, especially on top of his body still healing his top surgery. Thank goodness this had not all exploded the same day as the surgery!

Tuning back into the conversation around, Stiles picked up on Derek mentioning that Jackson and him had grabbed Danny since Peter hadn’t.

Peter gave a nod of acknowledgement and approval.

Stiles watched Danny as Lydia broke down that the supernatural was real.

Danny put up a hand to stop her. “Yeah, I know.”

Frowning, Lydia asked, “How?”

Jackson seemed to be mouthing along with what Lydia had just said.

Lifting a hand that was empty one moment and then had an orb of moving water in it the next, Danny grinned, “I’m not strictly normal myself, and Scott nor Jackson were entirely subtle about being different when they first got bit.”

Danny then closed his hand while putting his other hand over it, and the orb of moving water vanished as though it were never there.

Eye wide, Stiles announced with a bite of pizza in his mouth partially chewed, “That’s awesome!”

Peter rolled his eyes but smiled too at Stiles’ reaction.

Lydia was shocked.

Jackson just pulled Danny into a hug.

Nodding, Peter said, “Well, with that addressed, we need to refuel and deal with the twins before the next step.”

“The twins?” Danny asked. “Do you mean Ethan and Aiden?”

Looking around some, Danny then added on, “Ms. Morrell is involved too? I knew she seemed off.”

Marin smiled, giving the young man a nod. “Seems you are not as oblivious as most of this town.”

Danny shrugged. “More like, a lot of town doesn’t want to get into this mess.”

Perking a brow, Peter appeared to mentally stick a pin in all the layers of what that off-hand statement could mean to move forward. “Stiles?”

Seeing what Stiles was doing, Peter sighed. “When you’re done refueling, we need to go back in and deal with Ethan.”

Stiles nodded, swallowing another bite of pizza he’d been chewing.

Even though he was in no rush for blood, Stiles understood his magic gave them an upper hand even if slight. The silencing alone helped prevent one prisoner from hearing another, plus it was helpful too with preventing anyone from knowing exactly where Deaton was beyond those who truly knew and were supposed to know.

It was all one step at a time to get where they were going, needed to be. That included making sure the ones they cared for were safe too.

Although his ‘brother’ wasn’t really loyal, Stiles still wanted Scott to be okay. Boyd just had to be okay. Boyd, like Erica and Stiles had survived the Argent’s basement, and Stiles refused to let them fall to this either. They’d made it so far already—he had refused to give up then and sure as hell wouldn’t be giving up now!

Forcing his mind back to eating, Stiles tried to keep himself from eating too fast or too slow. He didn’t want to make himself sick, but he also understood that they didn’t exactly have all the time in the world right now.

A few minutes or so later, once he had finished everything on his plate and dealt with it, Stiles got himself some water and motioned toward the door to Ethan.

Peter led the way.

Stiles followed while taking a drink. He shut the door behind himself and let the silencing magic loose around himself as he set his drink aside while Peter stood toe to toe with Ethan.

Peter asked, “Did you try to break the line?”

Ethan admitted, “Yes, but it didn’t break.”

Nodding, Peter sat in the chair he’d used before. “That’s another element of the True Alpha experience that I doubted you’d have down. You have to be at peace with, deeply bound and in sync with the inner wolf.”

Peter added, “Even with possibly having good reason to slaughter your pack after defeating the Alpha, you never tried to form a proper pack or fully accept all aspects of your wolf. That’s not surprising—you’re young for it, especially after so much trauma if even half of what I’ve heard is true about what you and your brother have been through.”

With a sigh, Ethan frowned. “You left me, here, aware I would try to break the line? What if I had been able to? Would you then kill me?”

Shaking his head, Peter said, “No. I would not have killed you. At least, not for that. My attacking you would’ve been far more in relation to what you did once you had freedom. But yes, I did leave you in here with the risk of your escaping while I wasn’t here.”

Frowning still, Ethan asked, “Is this a game? A trick?”

Stiles smiled, unable to stop himself. While Peter could be tricky, the wolf was his own form of honorable. Although his morals were not black and white, Peter did have his own concept of what was right, wrong and probably an idea, opinion on everything between and around.

Peter shook his head. “No trick. No humor. Curiosity but also a gamble. You see, I don’t think you really want to murder everyone.”

Ethan shrugged.

Stiles smiled. “Not wanting to get caught in a lie?”

Peter nodded, “Probably. However, you really have to ask yourself, Ethan, do you really want to slaughter a bunch of people with a high chance of you and or your brother dying in the effort, or would you rather increase your odds of survival?”

Sighing, Stiles moved away from the door, “No, Peter… that’s not how this pack is going to work!”

Perking a brow and seemingly amused Peter asked, “This pack? Our pack… and how would you have it, darling?”

Stiles tilted his head just a hint before shaking it some to clear it out. Turning ot face Ethan, Stiles said, “Look, you’ve been living on survival mode, yes?”

Hesitantly as he watched this confusing dynamic, Ethan nodded his head.

Stiles nodded, once, himself. “Me too, but it doesn’t have to be like that. Talia Hale did you dirty. She messed up things with and for a LOT of people. But this Hale pack? It’s not like that. We’re not trying to force you to join us. Peter’s just having a really, really bad day.’

“But, bad days aside, this is an opportunity to break away from the Alpha pack. You don’t have to fight with us, help us. You could just leave… go somewhere else. You and your brother can make your own pack or join another. Regardless, you have a choice.”

Ethan watched Stiles critically. “But if we stay with the Alpha pack, you’ll kill us?”

Shaking his head, Stiles said, “No. We’ll keep you trapped here until they’re dealt with one way or another.”

“And then?”

Stiles looked to Peter, asking, “And then?”

“We’ll see,” Peter acknowledged. “Who knows, maybe we’ll all die and you guys will be left here until someone finds you and sets you free?”

Stiles frowned. “Peter…”

Shrugging, Peter said, “We’ll probably set you free with or without your Alpha sparks.”

Ethan frowned. “You can’t take an Alpha spark from someone.”

Peter said, “Deucalion is not the only person who make knowledge—archaic and more—their business. Knowledge is power.”

Growling in frustration, Ethan looked between Peter and Stiles before asking, “Who is the Hale Alpha?”

Peter grinned with too many teeth—“I am one of two Hale Alphas.”

Ethan looked to Stiles, asking, “Are you the other?”

Stiles’ eyes got big before he laughed. “Hell no! Even if it’s possible for me to become an Alpha, I do not EVER want that job!”

Seemingly thinking this through, Ethan asked, “If you ever did become an Alpha, what would you do with the spark?”

“Pay it forward,” Stiles responded without any thought. “I’m not Alpha material. I would not dare to claim otherwise. I’d pass the spark to Peter, probably, or if he were not available, I’d pass it to Derek.”

Peter grinned at Stiles’ words. “Oh, darling… ever loyal.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “My loyalty is earned. Make sure to not lose the privilege.”

Nodding, Peter said smoothly, “I would never dream of it, sweetheart.”

Stiles shook his head faintly, but he was smiling no less. “Anyways, yeah… I’d give it to the Hales. Peter has earned it as has Derek.”

Ethan nodded slowly.

Stiles tilted his head a little, saying outloud, “You’re not really the dominant brother, are you?”

Ethan’s eyes flashed as he looked at Stiles, growling low.

Nodding, Stiles said, “I thought so. If Aiden says you can’t trust us, would you believe him or your own opinion first?”

Ethan growled. “You don’t understand. It’s not like that. We’re closer than that.”

Stiles nodded. “Cause you’re twins? Identical, monozygotic twins... from the same fertilized egg.”

With a sigh, Ethan said, “Something like that.”

Understanding he may not get more explanation, Stiles said, “Would talking to Aiden really change your opinion on what you want to do with the information you have?”

Seeming to really think about it, Ethan sat quietly for a bit.

Peter seemed perfectly willing to wait it out.

Stiles kept fidgeting, but he was trying to wait it out no less. His own endless movement was not the boss of Stiles though having not taken his Adderall today was certainly a factor. Then something dawned on Stiles: “Ethan… what is your plan for the future?"

Frowning, Ethan asked with confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Your future… I just realized, you may not have thought about your future,” Stiles admitted freely. Even though Stiles didn’t know step for step his future, Stiles did know two things he wanted in it, and part of one of them was healing right now. He realized though that Deucalion’s perspective was different than the twins. It had to be.

Stiles continued, “I think Deucalion is thinking of a lot of this as a form of end game… implosion. This reign of terror cannot possibly last forever. Eventually it will end—probably being sooner than later, which he probably wants. He’s lost his only child and has no other family that we’re aware of. Pack can’t mean too much to him as he’s killed his own… he isn’t planning for a long and happy future.”

Clearly picking up on where Stiles was going, Peter nodded. “That’s a good point. Deucalion is older, later in his years than you are Ethan or your brother. He’s lived, loved, and even had a child. He’s not thinking about your future. Are you? Do you want to go down with his implosion? His terrorization?”

Clearly having not thought of that, Ethan gave pause.

Stiles said then to Peter as much as Ethan, “That’s why an argument of survival is pointless. What is life without a reason to live? Ethan, you and Aiden killed your old pack. You’ve ended that cycle of violence and abuse. What now? Keep killing and live another cycle of violence? Or do you want something different?”

Chapter Text

Stiles said then to Peter as much as Ethan, “That’s why an argument of survival is pointless. What is life without a reason to live? Ethan, you and Aiden killed your old pack. You’ve ended that cycle of violence and abuse. What now? Keep killing and live another cycle of violence? Or do you want something different?”

Frowning, Ethan sighed as the weight of Stiles’ words sank in. “I’m willing to think about my future, but my future has Aiden in it. I need to talk to him about our future.”

With a sharp nod to Ethan, Stiles looked at Peter in question.

Fighting back a sigh, Peter nodded as he broke the Mountain Ash line. “However, if you make a run for it or harm any of my pack, I will kill in the most painful way I possibly can on short notice.”

Going pale, Ethan nodded slowly.

Stiles grinned, smelling deliciously like coffee, caramelized sugars, and fresh rain in addition to the ozone smells of magic.

Peter couldn’t help but enjoy Stiles’ shifting smells. The young man was shifting and changing in ways that his scent reflected. Peter was tempted to roll in the luxurious, caffeinated scent all day long if he could. Regardless, Peter pushed himself off that topic. “Stiles, would you lead the way?”

Nodding, Stiles moved to the door, opening it to announce, “We’re moving Ethan.”

Then, Stiles led them two doors down before opening it to reveal a severely pissed off Aiden banging against the Mountain Ash line of the circle he was confined in. The young man had blood stains here and there from the blunt force damage he was doing to himself to get free of the Mountain Ash ring around him.

Ethan rushed in but came up short before the line with awareness he was unable to pass it.

Peter followed closely after Ethan though without the rush.

Stiles brought up the rear, shutting the door and presumably silencing the room from outsiders hearing what occurred within. He then leaned against the closed door, fidgeting mildly.

Looking at the twins, Peter suggested, “Ethan, feel free to talk to Aiden as you please, but remember, you have a choice to make—as does he.”

Aiden growled.

Ethan crouched down before his brother. “They’re offering us a way out. Deucalion wants revenge… he wants to just slaughter. That isn’t going to end well, and we’re young still. We have the potential for long lives ahead of us. He… Stiles, the fidgety one—”

Stiles waved at being mentioned.

“He asked me what I wanted in my future,” Ethan explained. “And… outside of being with you in it, I’ve never felt like I could even consider such a thing. But we could? We could.”

Taking a deep breath in and out, Ethan seemed to gather himself. “I don’t want to die fighting the Hales. I don’t want you to die fighting them either. I want us to have a future. What do you say?”

Aiden growled. “You can’t trust them. They’ll take our Sparks and make us the bottom again! I refuse!”

Ethan said, “No, they’re not demanding that we join them or anything specific. We’ve got choices. We don’t have to … we’ve been through so much violence. I don’t want to do this anymore. We could just go… we could build our own pack, make a new life for us.”

Growling again, Aiden looked to Peter, asking, “Are you seriously going to just let us go?”

Peter shrugged. “It is an option. You wouldn’t be released until AFTER we have got our people back and dealt with Deucalion, but we could keep you like this until then. Afterwards? We’ll work out the details of letting you go.”

Frowning, Aiden punched the Mountain Ash barrier in frustration. He paced in his small circle before looking to Ethan, “Is this what you want?”

Touching the barrier between them, Ethan admitted, “Yes. I don’t want this to be our lives. There has got to be something better out there than this.”

Aiden shook his head. “Our faces are known. Others will come after us. There is no real way out.”

Stiles frowned. “That is simply not true. The Alpha Pack know your faces, but from people on the outside, there are just a pair of twin young men supposedly in the Alpha Pack. No one knows your faces or names.”

Slamming his fist against the barrier, Aiden said, “Exactly. If Deucalion or anyone else lives through this… we’re dead.”

Ethan whined at that.

Peter offered, “But there is another choice in that. You could fight with us to deal with the Alpha Pack. Then go your own way, but it is a risk. There is no guarantee that one or both of you will survive.”

Stiles tagged on, “And that’s a risk we’re all taking in the Hale packs. We’d rather fight for a chance at better than surrender, give Deucalion what he wants, which looks like endless slaughter.”

Ethan sighed, looking down a moment before standing up. Looking at his brother, Ethan said, “I’m willing to fight for a chance at a better life if you are.”

Aiden growled against before sighing. “For you, I will fight for this. I will not surrender my Alpha spark or submit to any Alpha. But I will join the fight on the Hale side.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

In the kitchen, Danny, Jackson, and Lydia all sat on stools at the counter while Mrs. Whitmore was grabbing herself a drink and watching.

Lydia smiled, saying “You never did tell me if you lost all of the Kanima or gained a full wolf or what.”

Rolling his eyes, Jackson admitted, “Still have the tail with venom, but otherwise I’m fully werewolf.”

“Kanima?” Danny asked.

Derek walked into the room, saying, “It’s a defect that occurs sometimes with the bite. Thankfully, Jackson survived it when most do not.”

Groaning, Jackson said, “I’d rather not be considered a defect.”

Shrugging, Derek said as his eyes went a little hollow for a moment, “Better than bite rejection.”

Derek grabbed a drink, and then he left the room. He seemed talked-out in his way.

Mrs. Whitmore then asked, “When did this all happen? Is it when we thought you died on the lacrosse field during a game?”

Flushing a touch, Jackson nodded. “Yeah, Mom. That was around when the Kanima stuff came to a head. But it started a couple weeks before at least. Hard for me to say too much on timeline as I was losing time during that whole experience.”

After coming around the counter while holding a cool cup of coffee in one hand, Mrs. Whitmore pulled his son into a one-armed hug. “Oh my boy, I love you so much and am so sorry I didn’t… couldn’t help you.”

Jackson hugged his mom close, whispering softly to her, “It’s okay. We’re together now.”

Then Mrs. Whitmore furrowed her brow as she pulled out of the hug. “Wait, this means we’re going to have to tell you dad too, damn.”

“Mom!” Jackson reacted.

Lydia giggled, but she suddenly quieted as Peter came into the room—not alone.

Peter came into the room with Stiles as well as Ethan and Aiden.

Ethan looked uncertain.

Stiles practically skipped in, seemingly feeling accomplished. “One task down—”

“One to go,” Marin said as she entered the room. “Where’s Deaton?”

Looking at Marin, Peter explained. “Somewhere secure. Don’t worry, I won’t let him die before you’re ready to take full revenge.”

‘And what if I wanted to do so now?” Marin questioned, perking a brow in a possible challenge.

“Then I would think you reckless,” Peter responded without missing a beat. “Deaton’s in the bag, but Ennis is still at large. Would you waste your chance at one to taste the other’s suffering a bit earlier?”

Marin smiled faintly, “No, just checking.”

“On?” Erica asked as she entered the room.

“If Peter would hold up his end of the deal,” Marin said.

Erica frowned. “Are you going to hold up yours?”

Maring nodded. “Yes, as long as the Hale packs hold up their end.”

Aiden then asked, “Are we going or what?”

Stiles laughed suddenly before covering his mouth and wheezing out, “Sorry… sorry, that just cuts through the tension like a sledgehammer.”

Erica giggled a little at Stiles’ words. Then she said, “So, are we going to go get Boyd back or what?”

Fighting back rolling his eyes, Peter said, “We need to make a plan first, not just charge in blindly. I do not want anyone dying who isn’t supposed to.”

“That includes not killing Scott,” Stiles added helpfully.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Seriously, fail wolf has gotten himself caught? What am I saying—of course he has.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at that.

Peter waited a moment, hearing Derek returning after he’d taking a break—likely due to thinking about Paige.

Once Derek was back in the room, Peter spoke, “The Alpha pack have Scott, Boyd—”

“Allison Argent,” Aiden added.

Stiles audibly groaned at that little tidbit.

Peter’s eyes cut to Marin.

Raising her hands, Marin said, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know.”

Ethan shrugged. “Deucalion was hoping the young huntress could force Scott to become a True Alpha or maybe just lure out her father, Christopher Argent for some payback.”

“What did Chris do?” Peter asked, holding back his internal reactions of concern for all parties let alone his own muddied experience, knowing both so much and so little about parts of his own past, including where Chris fit in it.

“Had the good fortune of having the last name Argent and Gerard as his father,” Aiden said blandly like he was acknowledging an insect.

Everything in Peter wanted to roar in the young man’s face, but Peter knew it would do no good. His crushing need for answers, while valid and important, were not for right now.

Popping his neck, Peter groaned, “Stiles, darling, could you—”

“Already on it,” Stiles chirped while texting.

Working to keep his calm, his heartbeat steady, and his eyes from flashing, Peter continued, “With them having these prisoners, they are the priority first and foremost along with making sure Ennis dies a painful death with Marin’s help.”

Marin grinned without mercy at the mentioned overdue revenge.

Stiles then added, “Chris is incoming, five minutes out based on his last text.”

Peter nodded. “And, we need to deal with Deucalion and Kali. I have no interest in this coming back on any of us.”

Ethan volunteered, “Well, if you’re involving a hunter, does that mean he’s going with us?”

Before Peter could answer, they all heard the front door get kicked in.

Lydia frowned, “Whoever did that is paying for it…”

Jackson looked to her, saying, “It’s Christopher Argent, Allison’s dad.”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia said, “My statement stands.”

Stiles hollered—“We’re in here!”

Chris was in the room in seconds, weapon pulled and smelling strongly of Wolf’s Bane.

Peter growled, “Put it away. We don’t have Allison.”

While frowning and starring down Peter, Chris said, “That’s not exactly how the text read.”

Stiles responded. “I just said we knew where his daughter was. That is not the same as saying we took her.”

Chris sighed. “Maybe, but a text like that with an address from an unlisted number is not something that inspires a lot of trust.”

Peter fought back a groan, saying, “We’re working to get her back with the others.”

Chris nodded, “Who has them?”

“The Alpha pack,” Derek answered.

Looking around the room, Chris noted the twin brothers. “Are they part of the Alpha pack?”

Intercepting the twins, Peter said, “They’re fighting on our side, as is Marin.”

Frowning still, Chris said, “I assume I’m not here to round up a crew of hunters to deal with this.”

“No,” Peter confirmed. “You are not. However, as a concerned father, Chris, I figured you’d want to be involved in our efforts to get everyone back.”

“Who all do they have?” Chris asked.

“Allison, Vernon Boyd, Scott McCall, and Cora Hale,” Stiles answered.

Derek sucked in a harsh breath before whispering as though saying it aloud would shatter this possible inkling of hope, “She’s alive?”

Peter reached out to grip Derek’s shoulder. “Yes, according to Marin she’s alive, but sick. She’s been poisoned, but we don’t know for sure by who at this point.”

Although he was worried about Derek being angry about not finding out sooner, Peter was not entirely surprised when Derek’s eyes became moist at the dangled hope that he could neither accept nor deny until he saw Cora with his own eyes.

Derek nodded. “Then we’ll get her back and find an antidote for her.”

With a nod, Peter said, “Agreed. Whatever it takes.”

After a deep breath to re-ground himself, Peter began again, “We know where they are. Stiles could you—”

“Got it,” Danny said, keeping up as though he’d always been in the group. Danny gave his phone to Peter while explaining, “That is some live footage from over the bank that has the best view of the entrances and exits of the options.”

Peter perked a brow while smiling faintly and looking at the image on the phone.

Chris asked, “How did you—”

“What I’ve learned about Danny’s skills is that it’s best not to ask those kinds of questions,” Stiles explained before grabbing some sodas from the fridge and passing them out to his peers.

Jackson nodded. “He has amazing skills, but the less you know the better.”

Danny chuckled, not adding anything else to the conversation though he did accept a soda from Stiles.

Derek said, “So, are we wanting to come in hard from both entrances?”

Shaking his head, Peter said, “No. they could use those they have as leverage to escape. We’re going to break into four groups. Two will do as expected: one group per entrance but we’re not charging in per say. One group is just waiting outside, guarding the door so no one slips out past them. The other group is going in openly through the front.”

Stiles nodded before asking, “Are we showing our being with Marin upfront?”

Peter nodded, “Yes, she’ll be with me in the group gong in through the front.”

Chris grunted. “I should be apart of that group too. I want to make sure—”

“No,” Derek said. “You’re a risk to show, plus you’re a bigger enemy than we are. Your last name with throw caution to the wind and this’ll be a blood bath.”

Peter nodded. “He’s right. We don’t even want you at the back door. You’re going to be part of a different group. We’ll need you as part of a different aspect. We need you on a rooftop. You’ll be with Stiles and Mrs. Whitmore.”

Jackson sighed, sounding relieved his mother wouldn’t be in the thick of the fight.

Ethan then asked, “And the fourth group?”

Lydia added, “Maybe someone should be here to hold down the fort?”

Peter nodded. “That is a good point. I take it you’re volunteering for that?”

Lydia shrugged. “Might as well be handy for something. It’s not like I’m going to run around with a mace or something.”

Stiles nodded, saying, “I can leave some Mountain Ash here to help you keep the place secure. Plus, since you’re not a wolf, Lydia, you should be able to break the line if we’re retreating to you.”

Peter nodded. “Plus, it’ll make sure someone is here with Isaac while he’s healing up.”

Chapter Text

Three hours later…

Stiles was on a roof two buildings away from the bank vault with Chris Argent, Mrs. Whitmore, and Erica.

Although he wasn’t wild about being separated from the rest of the pack, Stiles understood they needed to spread out some, and with the slight boost in numbers, it was more plausible than it was at the start. Running a hand through his hair, Stiles looked around at what everyone was doing:

Mrs. Whitmore was crouched down near Chris to be an untrained spotter for him as well as to have a good line of sight to see her son as he entered the building.

Chris was set up with a sniper rifle set up and aimed, ready to take down any unfriendly wolves that tried to escape.

Even though he wasn’t wildly trustful, Stiles did understand that Chris had more than enough reason to cooperate right now with Allison on the line. Nothing like a kid on the line to change the game—look at Marin, after all, to see the effects of losing s well as potentially losing a child.

Peter alone was twitchy over the children and spouses he has possibly still out there even when planned what was occurring now.

Stiles further understood because it was family. Stiles understood even without Peter’s reactions to the revelations, even without his sperm donor turning sour. Stiles knew family. He had one in packs.

Erica on the other hand was pacing. She’d wanted to be part of the action. She wanted to fight for Boyd, even tolerating fighting for Scott though conveniently silence on the Allison front.

Stiles understood—he had been, was still sometimes there mentally. He watched Allison fire arrows into Erica and Boyd while they were chained to the electrified fencing. Allison never apologized or tried to make amends. Why even pretend to forgive when the person didn’t even bother to ask for it or acknowledge wrongdoing?

Stiles moved to sit near the door to the roof, aiming to help guard the way out in a sense. Erica was arguably supposed to be with him, but he understood the pacing. He figured she could do all the pacing for both of them. He wanted to be down there too, to protect his packs. However, he understood Peter’s reasoning and knew strategically it was sound to have someone at the higher ground as well as protection for ways out as well as protecting where they were retreating to.

Stiles still didn’t like it. He wanted to be down there, but he had to begrudging trust in Marin’s abilities and desire for vengeance to support his pack. Stiles was beyond ready to get their pack members back and end this reign of terror that had, in some ways, only just begun.

Chris said quietly, “They’ve entered the vault, and the other team is on standby.”

Wishing he could be down there still, Stiles grunted in response. He really hoped this all would work.

They stayed there only maybe a minute more before Stiles was rousted from his seat by the door as Ennis charged through the door and at Chris Argent.

Erica turned on a dime at the sudden action and threw herself onto Ennis, clawing him as much and deeply as she could.

The moment Erica landed on Ennis, he quickly moved in a too fast spin to loosen her grip before throwing her wholesale off the roof and to the ground several floors below.

While Mrs. Whitmore attacked Ennis too, Stiles was scrambling to his feet and grabbing some Mountain Ash from his pocket to throw.

However. Ennis kicked Mrs. Whitmore away in time to turn on Stiles, clawing deep gouges up his abdomen and chest.

Stiles dropped down to his knees in shock and pain as his hands went to his wounds on automatic.

Taking advantage of the moment, even as Chris began firing Wolf’s Bane and Mistletoe coated bullets into him, Ennis bit deep into Stiles’ shoulder before turning on the Argent.

Mrs. Whitmore was back into the fight, even without training, to intercept. She seemed to be running on Mama Bear energy at the moment, likely putting together that this meant Jackson and the other were being attacked too.

Groaning in agony as he forced himself to his feet, Stiles pulled on his pack bonds—HARD—while screaming mentally: TRAP! RUN!

He then got himself fully up and reached out his shaking and bloody hand to push Ennis a bit away from everyone before throwing up Mountain Ash to circle the wolf.

Dropping back down to his knees once it was done, Stiles gave orders while still having his shaky hand out stretched, binding Ennis like a tied hog with magically reinforced and Mountain Ash coated bindings to imprison him. “Chris, put the gun away and grab Ennis. We need him alive. Mrs. Whitmore, please pick me up. We need to grab Erica on the way and get out of here. I’ve warned the others.”

Words out, Stiles fell over in so much pain. Stiles knew he had to be rejecting Ennis’ bite.

Mrs. Whitmore was quick to scoop up Stiles and get moving while Chris grabbed Ennis after dealing with his rifle.

Stiles said, as he was starting to black out: “We have to go back to Lydia’s… and Peter needs to re-bite me to save me—I promise it’ll work…”

With that, everything went black for Stiles.

--------------------------------------------------------

Feeling the painful yank on the bonds and hearing Stiles resounding call that this was trap and to run, Derek barely swallowed a growl. Looking at those with him, Derek desperately wanted to save Cora and Boyd but didn’t want to risk Danny or even Ethan.

At the same time, Derek didn’t want to leave Peter either.

However, in a sense, Derek’s choice was made as Danny rushed for the door seemingly seeking to save Jackson.

With a growl, Derek followed, not willing to leave the new beta alone in this fight.

Ethan made it to the door first, ripping it off the hinges as he shifted partially in preparation for a fight.

Danny came it, both hands full of multiple moving orbs of water.

Derek partially shifted and followed them, seeking to save his family with all he had to give!

Bursting into the back of the vault, they all could see an unconscious Scott bruised to hell and back, a bleeding and feral Boyd as well as three other separately huddled unconscious bodies with weakening heartbeats.

Past the captured, Derek could hear fighting deeper into the vault. Seemed hell had broken loose.

Derek took charge, “Ethan, gather everyone you can! Danny, please help!”

Moving toward Boyd, Derek whined softly, trying to appease the feral wolf, knowing it was a gamble.

At the same time, Danny throw his water orbs at Boyd and grabbed some Mountain Ash from a pocket to throw at Boyd too!

Boyd staggered back and hit his head on the Mountain Ash circle he was suddenly in. he ferally growled then howled before charging the circle with all he had, knocking himself silly.

As Danny quickly moved to help, Derek once close to the Mountain Ash circle told Danny, “Break the line.”

Though he visible didn’t want to, Danny broke the line.

At the same time, with two fisting clasped together tight, Derek slammed his fists hard down onto Boyd’s head, knocking the young man fully unconscious.

Then, Derek picked up the young man and moved him to Ethan who had already picked up Scott and another person. Derek passed Boyd to Ethan to be carried as well.

Derek then motioned for Danny to grab Allison. Before ordering them, “Run! I’ll be right behind you!”

Derek then moved to Cora, pulling her tightly to him.

Chapter Text

Stiles didn’t know what was happening. He’d been giving orders, slowly but surely even as everything began going black. Now, he was vaguely aware of his body. There was a weight on him, no… a person on him? As sound came back to him, Stiles could hear sniffling, sobs. Was his shirt wet? Wait… was he wearing a shirt?

Slowly, opening his eyes, Stiles heard audible gasps. They sounded louder than they should, almost as though they were exaggerating for a theatre performance in a large auditorium. Eyes open, Stiles realized he was on the ground, and someone had been slumped over him, but at the gasps and Stiles regaining consciousness, Peter had shot into sitting ups beside Stiles.

There was wetness on Peter’s cheeks and his eyes moist. The man just stared at Stiles like this was some kind of dream.

Erica crouched down on Stiles’ other side and pulled him into a hug, murmuring wetly, “Batman, you scared the shit out of us… Your heart stopped beating. We thought you were dead.”

Stiles asked quietly, scared of the answer but needing ot know, “How long was my heart not beating?”

Peter seemed to come back to himself a bit even though he still seemed to be unsure this was real, saying, “Almost fifteen minutes.”

Stiles hugged Erica tight as she burst into fresh tears at that information, “Don’t worry Catwoman, I’d never leave you.”

Making eye contact with Peter, Stiles added, “Any of you.”

Mrs. Whitmore then interjected, “Stiles, honey, you need to eat… have something to drink. You’ve been through a lot.”

Stiles nodded, not letting go of Erica right away, aware she needed longer.

Once she seemed steadier, Stiles let Erica go and slowly stood. On his feet, Stiles looked around himself before asking, “Did everyone make it out?”

Mrs. Whitmore answered with tears in her eyes, “No.”

Erica touched Stiles hand to draw his attention before flashing her eyes: red.

Stiles flinched like he had taken a gut punch before looking to Peter, asking, “Derek?”

Peter nodded slowly.

Stiles felt himself nearly vibrating he was so angry. “What?! What happened?! I …I…”

Erica immediately hugged Stiles close his tears began to fall.

After a moment, Peter joined the hug, holding them both close.

After too long and not long enough, Stiles whimpered, “What happened?”

At the same time, Danny holding a tearful Lydia came into the room. “It was a set up.”

Stiles growled, low and bordering on feral.

Danny held up the hand that wasn’t holding Lydia close, saying, “I’m not your enemy.”

Stiles sighed, forcing himself to mellow. “I’m not growling at you Danny. I’m frustrated… mad a I didn’t see it coming.”

Peter nodded, but he remained quiet.

After a deep breath, Stiles let go of Erica and Peter. “Peter, it’s not your fault either. I know you’re beating yourself up over this, but we already acknowledged Deucalion was a smart man and may not be as unhinged as rumored.”

Marin slowly limped into the room. One of her arms was in a sling and that hand was bandaged as was part of her forehead. “Deucalion is not as unhinged as people believe, but his cruelty seems to grow by the day.”

Ethan ran into the room, saying, “Boyd needs help!”

Stiles growled low, stepping forward toward Ethan.

It being unclear what Stiles would do to other, Peter intercepted. “Ethan, is he loose?”

Shaking his head no, Ethan said, “I think he needs his Alpha or something?”

Erica growled at that, taking off out of the room.

Unable ot help himself, Stiles followed.

Peter tried to stop Stiles.

Stiles looked at Peter, saying, “He’s family.”

Nodding, Peter got out of Stiles way but also followed.

While in his mind there were things running wild in a chaos he didn’t understand, Stiles did understand the call of pack. He was needed. That was important!

Skidding into the room only a moment after Erica, Stiles saw Boyd throwing himself against the Mountain Ash circle he was in. Not really thinking things through even as he vaguely heard Erica in the background talking to Boyd, Stiles felt his instincts change to the front of his entire being, slamming into him like a semitruck.

From one step forward to the next, Stiles body shifted into a large dusty white wolf to sit outside the Mountain Ash circle.

Somehow that shift triggered all the werewolves in either Hale pack within the house to full shift too, Stiles’ Spark still alive and pulsing through the pack bonds.

However, as that occurred, Stiles could feel all the pack bonds blazing inside of him for the first time as he had bonds in both packs: Peter’s and Erica’s.

Stiles could also feel erica already fraying some with so few betas: a feral Boyd, a wounded Isaac, a poisoned Cora, and Stiles himself.

Peter seemed to be unsteady as well, but less so with him having Jackson, Mrs. Whitmore, Danny, Lydia, and Stiles. Peter also had age on his side to a degree through having experience.

Stiles slowly moved closer to Erica, laying his head partially against her in support, showing she was not alone.

While supporting Erica physically with his presence, Stiles closed his eyes and let his Spark follow along the pack bonds to both Boyd and Isaac.

Marin rushed into the room after a couple minutes, grabbing and shaking Stiles. “STOP!”

Startling out of what he was doing, Stiles flashed his blue eyes at Marin.

Peter shifted to his human shape. “What’s going on?”

Marin said, “He’s going to put out his own Spark if he doesn’t slow down!”

Stiles looked at her, tilting his head in question.

Sighing as she hobbled into sitting on the ground Marin explained, “You have to go slowly and piece mail it out or as a snap decision. There is no in between, and a snap decision could have all kinds of unforeseen consequences. Damn my brother for not training you once he realized what you are.”

It was Peter’s turn to growl. “What do you think he is?”

Marin looked at Peter and then Stiles before saying, “Spark.”

Peter grinned.

Stiles shrugged, or he shrugged as much as a wolf could. He already had an idea about what he was even if he had no idea what his limitations were if he had any. Stiles knew he had magic. He even knew it was more than Deaton had been forthright or specific with knowledge of. Did it matter what it was called? Right now? There were bigger problems.

Looking at Peter, Stiles pawed the Mountain Ash circle Boyd was contained within.

Recognizing what Stiles was trying to signal, Peter asked, “Okay, darling. Please, be careful.”

Stiles quickly caught Erica eye to motion toward Boyd.

Erica nodded to Stiles as Peter broke the Mountain Ash line.

Before Boyd could leap into attacking anyone, both Stiles and Erica leap onto, puppy piling onto Boyd with all the pack and love and home feelings they could while Stiles used his magic to further sooth and bring sanity back to Boyd’s wolf and by extension Boyd.

Peter kept a watchful eye even as Marin left the room.

-

Although he was not Erica’s Alpha, Peter still needed to make sure Stiles was okay and that the fledgling Alpha would make it too. For Derek, Peter had to keep her and Derek’s pack safe.

Peter still couldn’t stand that they’d been duped. Aiden had never intended to fight with them. He used the opportunity to bring Jackson to Duke rather than fight with the Hales.

Having tried to offer peace or some kind of deal rather than a fight with the Alpha pack, Peter’d thought he was being reasonable, behaving like an Alpha could. He was so wrong though. Less than two minutes into the building, Peter felt and heard through the pack bonds Stiles’ scream of ‘TRAP! RUN!’

Despite years alone, tortured in his mind, Peter’s first thought was his pack. He had to trust the other groups to get out; however, he also needed to get his group out only to have Aiden turn on them and with Kali beat the living shit out of himself, Jackson, and do a number on Marin too.

Only still feeling the bond allowed Peter to trust Jackson was still alive, but his state of being? Hard to say. Ethan and Peter himself had Alpha sparks to help them heal the Alpha wounds they’d received, yet were both still healing. Who knew how bad it was for Jackson? As it was, based on what Ennis did to Stiles as well as what the Alpha pack members had done to Erica and Isaac, let alone Boyd and the others? It wasn’t pretty.

Boyd could at least heal. His sanity, feral wolf were the bigger battles first with him. Isaac had already starting to heal. Scott was comatose, but who was to say where that would lead. Allison was in rough shape, but at least wasn’t rejecting the bite, which meant it was likely Kali or Deucalion that bit her. Ennis being separated from his wolf would likely make his bites fatal at this point if Peter understood Marin’s curse upon him.

Mrs. Whitmore was healing.

Chris too was healing, thankfully not needing supernatural assistance to heal since his wounds were minor.

Now, there was also the teenager who was found among the pack members taken. He had been bitten like Allison, but Peter knew he’d have to wait for the teen to wake up to find out who he is.

Peter also knew Chris was a possible issue incoming about Allison depending how she took all of the news when she woke. She was very likely to wake soon as she had not taken the kind of beating Scott had.

To be fair, no one seemed to take a beating quite like Scott had appeared to. Peter just wanted the young man to wake up. Not because Peter liked Scott in the least, but Melissa was a good woman, and she didn’t deserve this.

Thinking of Melissa, Peter made a decision then and there. He pulled out his phone, but then he hesitated. Did he really want to just call Melissa out of the blue?

After thinking for a moment, Peter decided if nothing else, he could later claim it was about seeking another date with her after messing up the first. calling Melissa’s cell number that she’d given him when he’d asked her out on a date, Peter put the phone to his ear and listened ot it ring, and ring, and ring… and ring… then go to messenger.

Although he was concerned, Peter kept his features smoothed. As much as he hated it, Peter knew he couldn’t just call the hospital in case his concern was as valid as he worried it may be after what happened with Sheriff Stilinski.

Peter put a pin on that concern; aware he couldn’t just rush off on one thing or another to check. He had a pack, an allied pack, and two hunters here to deal with and to one degree or another watch over. He couldn’t risk it right now regardless of his concerns.

Watching Erica and Stiles cuddle Boyd to possible death if not at least possibly embarrassment depending on how connected to his instincts Boyd was, Peter was pretty satisfied that things were mostly handled with no growling or struggle.

As a result, Peter asked, “Would you three like to move to the kitchen to get something to eat?”

From under the pile, Boyd whined.

Stiles began to lap at Boyd’s muzzle to comfort his fellow wolf.

Erica followed Stiles’ lead despite her being the Alpha and he a beta.

Peter found it wonderous that somehow, Stiles managed to be in both packs without issue so far. However, Peter did know this would make it harder for him to take Stiles out of this hell hole. Separation could wear on the young man, but it was too early to know if such a thing was a full issue just yet. Plus, Peter had a blood debt against the Alpha pack now.

Although Peter had tried to make a deal as he had with Marin, Deucalion apparently was beyond that. He wanted the suffering of others. Duke wanted his way or death, so death he would have. However, it would be Duke’s death if Peter had any say in it at all.

Stiles finally yipped before slowly shifting back to his human shape. Still cuddling Boyd, Stiles looked up at Peter. “Food sounds good. Plus, I have questions.”

Peter nodded, offering Stiles a hand to help him up.

Accepting the hand, Stiles hopped up before looking at Erica and Boyd. “You guys wanna shift or stay wolves?”

Erica and Boyd each looked to the other before getting up and following, seemingly not seeking to shift any time soon.

Peter led the trio to the kitchen the packs had been commandeering. “I’ll grab some snacks while calling out for more food.”

Danny slid into sitting on a stool at the counter, saying, “Mrs. Whitmore already called out for food. Should be here so, I think.”

Peter nodded, wanting to ask for a status update, but felt he should actually go and talk to those he wanted to rather than ask another source.

Stiles plopped down onto a stool to sit beside Danny. “So, what food was order?”

Boyd chuffed from where he had settled on the ground near Stiles’ with Erica.

Answering Stiles’ question, Danny said, “Mrs. Whitmore ordered a bunch of pizzas as well as some stuff from a Asian restaurant on the other side of town.”

“Huh,” Stiles said while putting a handful of chips in his mouth. “Sounds like there might be enough food.”

Peter had already begun pouring chips and some pre-popped popcorn into large bowls for people to snack on. He was currently working on chopping up some raw vegetables to snack on as well like carrots, celery and broccoli. “Please chew with your mouth closed.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles smiled after swallowing what was in his mouth.

Danny tilted his head a touch, “Enough food?”

“Wolves eat a LOT especially after shifting, being turned, etc,” Peter explained as he put out more snacks.

Snacks out and knowing food was on its way, Peter left the kitchen to check on others. He trusted Danny could help catch up Stiles while Erica and Boyd rested near them.

First stop was following the smell of Chris Argent to Allison. Once to the room, Peter softly knocked on the door before opening it to find Chris sitting on the bed with Allison laid around him.

Allison’s eyes were open and seemed sad.

Chris was quietly speaking to her, “We’ll figure this out. I’m sure we can find a pack for you. This is a change, but you’re going to be okay.”

With her eyes growing moist, Allison said, “No one is going to trust anyone with our last name—wolf or not. And I can feel myself being called… Kali. She’s calling me to her side. It’s getting harder to refuse. I don’t think I’m going to last.”

Peter cleared his throat to draw their attention. “While I’m not promising forever, I am willing to take you into my pack. It should make it a little easier to refuse Kali since your wolf will not be as desperate.”

Christopher looked at Peter. “And why would you be do that?”

Smiling with too many teeth, Peter said, “I refuse to let her gain power by killing Allison who currently counts as Kali’s beta. Additionally, I… I want you to owe my by taking your only daughter. As she said, who else would take in an Argent? Plus, what wolf wouldn’t want to take at least a crack shot at her?”

Frowning, Chris looked at Allison. “It’s your choice.”

Allison nodded to her father before looking at Peter and tilting her head. “I submit to you, Alpha Peter Hale.”

Peter flashed his red eyes at her.

Allison flashed her blue eyes at him.

Perking a brow, Peter asked, “Why blue?”

Looking down, Allison said, “Because they used me to figure out how to best ambush you all, leading to Stiles dying. They also forced me to take Stiles' phone call and play dumb, lie isntead of warning him.”

Peter growled loudly.

Allison cowered, quickly adding, “Kali forced me… Alpha ordered me and tortured me into telling them things about Stiles and you.”

Forcing himself to calm down, Peter said slowly, “While I am not pleased with this, I do understand that you could not help what they did to you. Additionally, when this is all over, we’re going to talk about all that happened. Do you understand?”

Nodding yes immediately, Allison stayed cowered like she had been.

Letting out a breath, Peter moved close to run his hand through her hair, “You’re okay Allison. I am not mad at you, and I am not going to hurt you. You are a victim, not an aggressor.”

With big wet eyes, Allison asked, “Is Scott going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “Physically, he will heal, but the damage of the experience? It’s hard to say without talking to him.”

Allison nodded.

Chris looked at Peter, asking, “Does Allison being in your pack mean that if you leave here, you’re going to take her with you?”

Peter answered honestly, “I have no idea. For now, we need to deal with the enemies in our territory and saving who we can.”

With a sigh, Peter also said, “There are snacks in the kitchen you both are welcome to have some of and more food is arriving soon.”

That said, Peter left Chris and Allison to their own devices as he moved to check on the teenager they’d recovered to see if he’d awoken yet.

Suddenly, there was a loud howl that reverberated through the whole house.

Peter could hear a hummingbird fast heart racing toward the source of the sound.

Chapter Text

Chapter title: Mourning, Plotting, & Revenge

Suddenly, there was a loud howl that reverberated through the whole house.

Stiles was up and running towards the source the sound before he even consciously registered that he was. Not waiting for others or thinking, Stiles burst into the bedroom the sound had come from to find a sad and angry Isaac clawing at himself!

Quick-moving to action, Stiles tackled Isaac to the ground and held him close, not letting him hurt himself anymore while holding and cuddling him.

Erica and Boyd were suddenly there too, cuddling up to Isaac who was partially shifted.

Peter was next seconds later, asking, “What happened?”

Stiles looked up through tearful eyes, “Isaac woke up and when I got here, had been and was clawing at himself.”

Between whines, Isaac sobbed into Stiles and the others cuddled up to him.

Peter entered the room and growled, eyes flashing before he left. This time, he seemed to be on a mission.

While cuddling to Isaac to help the grieving wolf, Stiles noticed two very important things, well three: his chest had healed, his surgical changes (top surgery) remained, and he was naked in all his genital flashing glory. Swallowing hard, Stiles fought back his panic as best he could. He tried to extract himself, saying, “I-I … I need to go get dres—"

Erica growled, pulling him back into the cuddle pile. “We don’t care. We love you as you are. Now, get in here!”

Tears welling in his eyes, Stiles shakily snuggled into the cuddle pile.

Then, seeming to catch herself, Erica corrected herself, saying, “But if you are uncomfortable like this, I understand, and you can go change.”

Stiles pulled back a bit and hugged her close. He kissed her cheek real fast before running to steal some clothes real fast from Lydia’s dad’s closet (a very dusty rarely used closet, which Stiles noted for later). Once he had some shorts and a t-shirt, Stiles was back and throwing himself into the cuddle pile, saying, “I love you guys so much!”

Erica, Boyd, and even Isaac snuggled into Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t help but melt into the support. This was so much like what he’d wanted from his dad but knew he’d never get. Snuggling in close, Stiles reminded himself to cherish this. Life was short, and they needed to cherish the good times.

-

Peter was fed up with the situation. He could not lose what remained of his family. The alpha pack may be expecting them to lick their wounds and even possibly run, but Peter was not having that. No, not only were they going back… there would be no mercy!

That did mean he couldn’t bring as many of the group with him. There was the risk that they were not as bloodthirsty as him, but he’d figure it out. Peter was done trying to make deals. He demanded the pain and suffering of his enemies.

Still running on rage at this point, Peter moved to check that Ennis was still bound and sealed in a Mountain Ash circle ah la Marin. Entering the room, Peter found Marin sitting there, watching the still hog-tied wolf.

Sitting on the bed in the room, Marin looked at Peter when he came in. “I take it you want to go halves on the torture?”

Popping his claws on one hand, Peter admitted, “I’m not sure I am good at sharing, but right now is not time for torture. I think he can sit out what’s coming next. Like Deaton, Ennis can wait a touch longer for his fate.”

Marin nodded, returning to silently watching Ennis. “Are you going to bathe in blood over losing your nephew? Over Stiles and others being hurt?”

Grinning with too many teeth yet with a coldness in his eyes, Peter said, “There is plenty to shed their blood for.”

Peter intended to keep his emotions from running rampant right away at this moment. With confirmation that Ennis was kept safely contained, Peter moved to leave. He had other things to check in on.

He’d been trying to hold it together, help the pack. Peter was supposed to be a better Alpha than Talia! He was supposed to get out of here! Maybe being better meant sometimes making it a bloodier situation, getting his hands properly dirty rather than making deals and sneaking around.

Trying to keep his mind on task even as at the fringes of his mind his wolf bayed for blood, Peter moved to where he could smell Lydia had gone. Thankfully, it turned out that Lydia was with Danny and Mrs. Whitmore—some of the others he wanted to check on as well.

Refraining from letting his claws slide out or running steadfastly to the remaining Alpha pack members to slaughter them, Peter stepped into the room. There, he could see that Lydia was crying while Danny comforted her, and Mrs. Whitmore looked pale with worry even though she was partially shifted with seeming anger.

Once Peter was in the room, Mrs. Whitmore looked at him, demanding, “We’re getting my son back, right?”

Lydia and Danny both looked at Peter for an answer to Mrs. Whitmore’s question.

Peter simply said “Yes.”

“When?” Danny asked.

Acknowledging the young man with a nod, Peter said, “Honestly, as soon as I am sure how we’re going to go about it as well as who will actually be joining the assault.”

“Assault?” Mrs. Whitmore said. “Are you planning to kill them?”

Not even blinking an eye, Peter said. “Yes.”

“You can’t just kill people!” Mrs. Whitmore growled.

Peter looked at Mrs. Whitmore. “The life of the supernatural doesn’t follow the same rules as normal. Do you really think a regular human cop can take them? Make them stop?”

“Well, no.. but—” Mrs. Whitmore said.

“Or are you thinking that somehow magically a stern talking to will set them straight?” Peter asked, keeping himself cold so he didn’t overreact. He couldn’t be distant. That could hurt pack members, but being cold, he could do that and keep from overreacting and lashing out. The woman was new to this after all. This was the early days of trauma. She wasn’t as scabbed and scarred as Peter.

Mrs. Whitmore tried, “Aren’t there some kind of supernatural regulating situation? Like their own kind of cops?”

Peter released a mirthless laugh before cutting himself off. “That would be the self-appointed hunters of the supernatural. A family full of them burned out nearly my whole family in our own home that the hunters trapped them in. Children, women, the elderly… humans too. They murdered most of us, but that’s the kind of ‘justice’ they claim to offer.”

Chris Argent came into the room midway through the conversation. He sighed, but he still moved further into the room. “Peter’s right… even hunters that follow ‘the code’ are incredibly fallible. It’s too easy to think you know better than anyone and cross so many lines.”

Peter chuffed to hide the pain at those words and even more so the pain of who had said them. All the things Peter didn’t know were trying to come at him, break him down, but Peter couldn’t let that happen. He had things to do. While Christopher was something to be addressed, Peter had other more pressing pack things to get on. His personal needs had to wait.

Mrs. Whitmore asked quietly then, “Does this mean they’re going to hurt my boy?”

Peter forced himself back into the conversation. “It depends. If Deucalion realizes that Jackson is his grandson, it could lead to less violence. But it could also push him further over the ledge and into full madness. However, if he doesn’t? Well, you saw Isaac…”

As tears trickled down her face slowly, Mrs. Whitmore asked, “What do we need to do to get him back?”

“Kill them before they can kill him or anyone else,” Peter said calmly, careful not to betray his concerns others may have been harmed outside of the pack. However, even avoiding it, he knew once this was finished, he’d have to look into things, make sure to clean up behind the Alpha pack to keep his own pack and the younger ones safe.

Cracking his neck, Peter said, “I came in here to ask you three if you were okay.”

Mrs. Whitmore said, “I can’t be okay. My son is out there possibly being hurt or murdered.”

Those words caused Lydia to press her face into her hands again, using them like a paper bag to get her own breathing under control.

Danny rubbed her back, saying, “Lydia’s been found naked at sites with dead bodies a few times in the last couple weeks and is feeling called to go like she had some of those times.”

Peter frowned. This was no good. He cracked his neck again, then said, “Mrs. Whitmore, could you do me a favor?”

The woman looked to him with tears still in her eyes. “What are you needing?”

Looking at Lydia, “I need you to take these two where Lydia is being called. Chris can go with you to make sure you are all safe. Chris, please go ready for bear in a way that is not obvious in case there are cops.”

Chris frowned, asking, “And who is going to keep Allison safe?”

“Erica, Isaac, and Boyd,” Peter responded smoothly. “Isaac needs to spend time with those he knows, and he does not have the same trauma with your daughter that the others do, so it’ll be a bridge in a sense.”

Chris frowned. “Are you seriously intending to leave the young here unsupported while you sate blood lust, and I help a young woman follow a supernatural calling that you’re not being clear about?!”

Peter didn’t bother with posturing. “Lydia is a Banshee, a woman of death. She’s being called to a dead body or someone about to die, possibly in a way connected to the supernatural. With the Alpha pack in town, it could be Melissa McCall, Mr. Whitmore, or who knows who else, okay? Yes, we’re spread thin, but that’s what this hell town does. They’ll need a fighter with experience with them in case the person is being attacked or not dead yet.”

Motioning to their surroundings, Peter said with growing ferocity with each word, “The wounded are safer here than out and about, so yeah… here is where a lot of them are staying. But leave the others who are captured to die? No. I am going to go and get them back even if it costs my literal life… I will not lose any more family or pack so help me or get out of the way!”

Stiles slipped into the room near the end, adding on, “Then I guess I am going with you.”

Peter turned to face Stiles. Not using his Alpha voice or trying to sway him one way or another, Peter simply asked, “Are you sure?”

“After everything you’ve done for me? Even accepting me into your pack?” Stiles asked. “Of course I am going to help. I can even make this place more secure before we go.”

Feeling both proud and worried about what more he could lose, Peter kept it to himself and just nodded his acceptance. “We need to get Marin.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Forty-five minutes later…

Peter kicked in the door to the bank vault where they’d tried to free their pack members from before. He’d signaled for Stiles to follow before stepping more fully into the area.

In the middle of the vast room stood Deucalion. He didn’t have his walking cane. He simply stood there in his dark sunglasses, pressed slacks, dress shirt, and leather business shoes. He looked slick, business casual with a grin that spoke of anything but pleasant times. “Decide to try again? Who did the spark go to, after all? Was it you?”

As Stiles came more fully into the room, Aiden too came into the room to Deuc’s left.

Behind Stiles was a seriously pissed off partially shifted wolf, Ethan was that wolf and was so mad that his brother betrayed him!

Stiles held back his shift. He didn’t need to show that just yet. He knew they could likely smell that he’d been turned, but Stiles felt no need to share just yet the tricks he could or could not do.

Feeling his pack bonds to Danny growing close, Stiles kept to himself the frown he knew Peter was likely hiding too. Danny shouldn’t be this close! He was with Lydia… did something go wrong?

Before he could do much one way or another about that, Stiles was snapped back into the moment as Deucalion taunted, “You know, we didn’t even kill him, your nephew… we forced Cora and Jackson to submit to him… then tried to force him to kill them. Punishment for the Hale spark. Let the spark devour its own pack like its bearer allowed the destruction of all I’ve ever had!”

Although he didn’t move, Deucalion’s radiating anger and putrid scent of accomplishment was spreading through the whole area. “But it’s just the beginning… if you’ll kill your pack, but for your mate, you may join us. you need only kill your pack, and we’ll end the Hale spark forever and scorch this earth of all those who’ve betrayed us!”

Stiles bit back the growl he wanted to let loose, but as he paid more attention, he noticed Mountain Ash. Mountain Ash in a line between them and the Alpha pack. How was that possible? Usually, wolves couldn’t handle or use Mountain Ash. Was someone in the Alpha pack a True Alpha?

Peter took another step forward, and then he seemed to notice what Stiles had. “Learn how to use Mountain Ash even as a wolf?”

“No, but made new friends since some of my others have turned against me,” Deucalion said as Jennifer Blake, the new English teacher at the high school walked out of the shadow with a sickening smell and twisted smile.

Stiles groaned, “Seriously?!”

Shaking his head, Stiles said, “Now this, and maybe later Mr. Harris is going to give everyone A’s. What in the world is it with messed up teachers at the high school?!”

Jennifer kept smiling. “Too bad Derek didn’t make it to our date or I could’ve spared him going out this way…”

Pointedly not commenting on that or how much it kind of made him want to both throw up and somehow strangle the universe for putting Derek through so much, Stiles instead said, “What is even the point of this? Burning down the world? It won’t fix anything!”

Deucalion chuckled, “Oh who ever said we wanted to FIX anything?”

Peter growled, clearly ready to be done with this. He openly charged at Deucalion.

The older wolf smiled smugly, seemingly expecting Peter to be stopped by the Mountain Ash line.

However, Peter sailed over the line like a hot knife through butter while breaking the line for others to follow. He didn’t pause or slow, slamming full body into Deucalion claws first, then mouth.

Deucalion took the claws in his chest but knocked aside Peter’s head while twisting the younger man’s arm and throwing him away and into a cement wall so hard the wall dented and some of the cement cracked and crumbled off as dust.

At the same time, Ethan was quick on Peter’s trail before twisting into tackling Aiden hard to knock his brother to the ground.

Stiles on the other hand walked closer to Jennifer. He didn’t run, but he never took his eyes off of her. He was almost conversational as he said, dropping his claws, “I wonder just how powerful you are? Are you an Emissary?”

Jennifer giggled. “Oh, childe, I’m am far more than that these days. I have consumed so much more than any Emissary probably has.”

“Consumed?” Stiles parroted. “Odd word choice. Stealing magic? A cannibal?”

Stiles was honestly just aiming to keep her focused on him and away from Peter and even Ethan.

Peter got himself back onto his feet, howling in rage before joining Ethan in attacking Aiden. The two on one worked well for the moment, Peter snapping Aiden’s neck.

Deucalion then charged in, kicking Peter back and away from Aiden, slicing Peter the right side of his ribs. The demon wolf threw off his glasses before charging Peter and throwing him to slam hard against another wall.

Peter groaned, picking himself up. Peter then ran at Duke again before, at the last minute, turning hard out of the way and twisting himself around to be at Duke’s back, clawing up the demon wolf’s spine.

Deucalion roared twisting himself around and backhanding Peter into another wall before moving to advance on Stiles.

Jennifer grinned and replied. “Something like that… you got something tasty for me?”

Then, Jennifer noticed Deucalion charging their way, Jennifer moved out of the way, turning to slow Peter by using her magic to weigh him down, keeping him on the ground and then pressing him further into the cement, trying to crush him.

Deucalion managed to grab Stiles and throw him down to the ground, and then Duke pinned him there with his clawed hand piercing through Stiles’ shoulder and then into the cement floor beneath it a bit.

Unable to help himself, Stiles cried out in pain. He could hear vaguely Ethan and Aiden fighting.

Stiles tried to claw at Deucalion, to somehow get him to let Stiles free. In his panicked desperation to make the pain stop, Stiles wasn’t thinking.

Then, from further back in the building, a loud and reverberating scream let loose and shook the room with the strength of it. Lydia?

Stiles groaned, still trying to claw at Deucalion even as he heard doors being broken. He had no idea who was coming or if they’d help, but then he caught a sound that made his blood freeze:

Peter gasping, gurgling on his blood.

Stiles stopped thinking about his clawing and protecting his neck, letting his body move on automatic, as his eyes searched for Peter.

The last True Hale Alpha was being crushed into the ground by Jennifer’s magic as she laughed at his suffering, his ribs cracked, cracking and blood leaking from his mouth and numerous wounds.

Peter and Stiles made eye contact for the briefest moment, Peter gasping out a barely audible, “I love you.”

There was yelling and violence around them, but Stiles’ entire focus zeroed into Peter, his words, this moment. Eyes rolling back in his head, Stiles let himself go. As he did so, his body began to glow, burning Deucalion everywhere he made contact with Stiles.

The demon wolf ripped himself away with a howl of pain as his scorched skin.

Stiles levitated up off the ground to right himself into standing on his own feet. With his voice echoing and sounding like multiple people talking at once, Stiles’ declared, “You were a man of vision… you were beloved…. And you let this consume you! You are unworthy!”

At the same time, Stiles was walking toward Deucalion with no fear. In his mind, over and over, Peter’s dying words were on repeat. Reaching out his hand as he walked toward the backing up Alpha, Stiles used his magic—or perhaps his magic used him—to grab the Demon Wolf by the throat, crushing his windpipe before ripping it out of the man. With the body released to the ground, Stiles’ eyes flashed and remained a vibrant, burning ruby of many Alpha sparks.

Christopher had already busted into the room, weapon out.

Lydia, Danny, and Mrs. Whitmore were in the back area with the presumed prisoners based on what Stiles could hear.

Stiles looked toward Jennifer.

Mrs. Blake seemed concerned enough that she shifted her attention fully to Stiles, pushing her magic at Stiles to crush him like he’d been doing to Peter.

However, even as he was beginning to glow brighter, Stiles tilted his head slightly and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for air and clawing at her throat with her human nails.

Stiles kept moving past her even as shots fired around him at Aiden who was trying to beat his twin into submission.

Once to Peter’s side, Stiles knelt down beside the Alpha. Glowing even brighter than before, Stiles touched Peter’s corpse softly.

Seconds later, Peter gasped back to life, his body healed through Stiles actions even though it was unclear if Stiles was burning up an Alpha spark or strictly using his own magic.

-

Gasping as he sat up, Peter felt a shiver of shock and fear coursing through him. His mind’s first thought was the woman bringing him back to hurt him more or for Deucalion to torture him. However, as he looked around, Peter saw Stiles knelt beside him and glowing brightly, too brightly.

Before he could react let alone do one thing or the other, Peter watched as Stiles stood back up and walked away with an entirely blank lack of expression on his face almost like he was a tool more than his Stiles.

Regardless, Stiles moved with seemingly confident purpose.

Peter forced himself to his feet. Even though his legs felt wobbly like a nubile horse’s appeared when taking their first steps, Peter forced himself to get up and keep moving, following Stiles, wanting to help and or protect him—whatever his mate needed.

Stiles moved on. He moved smoothly to the back area where the prisoners had been held before. He saw Jackson, crumpled on the ground, nearly every bone in his body broken. He smelled like blood and tears.

Once more, Stiles knelt down. He touched Jackson softly, and soon Jackson gasped for air, slowly sitting up, his physical wounds healed. Stiles was glowing brighter, starting to make it harder to look directly at him.

Jackson though, once sitting up, curled up and cried with huge body-wracking sobs.

Unable to help himself, Peter moved to Jackson. Peter kneeled beside Jackson and pet his hair, promising that this was all almost over even as he kept an eye on Stiles no less.

Moving further in, Stiles came to Cora and again knelt down. He touched Cora and healed her too, burning brighter and triggering her to puke up the poison to get the last of it out of her.

Then, Stiles moved over to Derek’s mutilated corpse. Stiles knelt down beside the dead body.

Cora slowly rose to her feet, whispering, “They made us submit… submit to Derek. Then they wanted him to kill us for power. They beat Jackson to beyond his limits, but he never gave them any information. They didn’t bother torturing Derek. They wanted him to go mad, yes, but they seemed to think him killing us would do the trick, but Derek decided he wasn’t going to wait for them to decide how they wanted to force him to kill us. He took his own life, slashing his own throat.”

Touching her throat at the memory, having seen it even as weak and ill as she had been, Cora looked at Derek’s body. “They beat on and defiled his corpse they were so angry. I-I…”

Crumbling to her knees, Cora began sobbing.

Peter held out an arm to Cora, inviting her closer.

Cora moved to her uncle, cuddling into him as she cried.

Touching Derek’s chest, Stiles’ eyes glowed a vibrant red as he seemed to be enacting his will upon Derek who cell by cell appeared to be healing before their eyes. All the will, Stiles was glowing brighter and brighter. He was making it near impossible to have ones eyes open it was so bright a glow, like starring at the sun.

Worried that if Stiles was burning out his spark he would die, Peter had to pull free of Jackson and Cora. He crawl as best he could in the direction of where he’d last seen Stiles to be even though Peter had to keep his eyes shut and the closer he got, the hotter it got. It didn’t quite feeling like burning again, but it was working its way there based on the way it felt.

Peter fought himself to go forward despite every instinct and remembered trauma screamed for him to run. Once he got close enough, Peter caught a piece of a person’s body. Feeling the hummingbird fast heartbeat in the limb he’d grabbed that he’d recognize anywhere, Peter used his other hand while still holding the ankle he had to force himself ot his feet and find Stiles’ neck.

Thinking *mate* Peter bit down for all he was worth at the junction between Stiles' neck and shoulder, trying to ground and save Stiles from burning himself out to nothing but ash.

Chapter Text

Worried that if Stiles was burning out his spark he would die, Peter had to pull free of Jackson and Cora. He crawled as best he could in the direction of where he’d last seen Stiles to be even though Peter had to keep his eyes shut and the closer he got, the hotter it got. It didn’t quite feel like burning again, but it was working its way there based on how it felt.

Peter fought himself to go forward despite every instinct and remembered trauma screamed for him to run. Once he got close enough, Peter caught a piece of a person’s body. Feeling the hummingbird fast heartbeat in the limb he’d grabbed that he’d recognize anywhere, Peter used his other hand while still holding the ankle he had to force himself ot his feet and find Stiles’ neck.

Thinking *mate* Peter bit down for all he was worth trying to ground and save Stiles from burning himself out to nothing but ash.

-

Moments later, the glow, light stopped flaring out from Stiles, and he went fully limp in Peter’s hold. Growling, Peter held Stiles close, saying, “We need to get out of here.”

Mrs. Whitmore was the quickest to action, pulling up the young adults to get the moving before outright lifting Lydia up who was in tears from having killed someone for the first time as well as all she’s seen.

Jackson ended up taking Lydia from his mom, so that she could help the others.

Ethan was sobbing beside his dead brother in the main room. The wracking wails of loss were rattling to hear.

Despite this, Mrs. Whitmore moved to the young man to gather him up to get moving.

Derek slowly fumbled to his feet, confused. He’d come to when things were too bright to be real. But looking around, watching the others? This was unreal. Although something inside him screamed to kill himself before the alpha pack could make him hurt Cora and Jackson, Derek could see both Cora and Jackson were okay. Not just okay, but they were in a better state than he’d last seen them.

Pushing back against the instinct to sacrifice himself for his pack, Derek acknowledged that this was his family, his pack, his uncle’s pack. And, if Uncle Peter was saying that they needed to move, then they needed to move.

Straightening himself briefly, Derek moved to Cora to double check she was okay before helping her to get moving.

Derek looked around at who all was also here: Stiles in Peter’s arms, Jackson with Lydia, Ethan with Mrs. Whitmore, Danny, and Christopher Argent plus obviously Cora. Furrowing his brow, Derek didn’t say anything. Instead, he helped get Cora moving who seemed to be finding all of this just as unreal as he was.

Danny and Chris came more fully into Derek’s range of attention as Chris spoke, “You guys need to get out of here. I have a clean-up crew coming.”

Peter nodded, picking his way through the area.

It was then that Derek looked around himself and then up at the roof: there was damage and wreckage all over, far more debris than was there when he’d killed himself. One of the walls looked almost fully blow through. Had Lydia screamed? Had a wrecking back been bounced against a wall? There were a few odd spots of singe, and the room was made of elongating cracks with a few holes that looked like someone had shot a flamethrower around the edges.

It all came together in Derek’s mind with his odd jobs in construction over the years: the building was going to come down. Not waiting for others to explain, Derek scooped up Cora wholesale and grabbed up Danny too and ran, shouting, “The roof’s about to cave in!”

Peter scooped up a wildly cussing Chris while still holding Stiles and ran.

Jackson with Lydia and Mrs. Whitmore with Ethan were right behind them.

Within five minutes, everyone got out of the building just in time for the roof and two of the walls to collapse into the old bank.

Everyone back on their own feet except for Stiles, Peter said not too loudly, “We need to get further away from here. Chris has people coming, and we don’t want to be here for it. Plus, other people may have heard the ruckus.”

That said, they all (except Chris who stayed to meet with his contacts) rushed out to get at least six blocks away before slowing a little but still going strong to get to Lydia Martin’s home.

Once to the property line, most came up short until Danny broke the Mountain Ash line. That done, they all headed into the residence.

The moment Derek got into the house he had an armful of Erica Reyes sobbing and holding him tight, smelling so relieved that he was there. After a moment, he felt why as she returned the Hale spark to him while holding him. Derek buried his face in her hair, speaking softly to her for only her to hear, “I’m so proud of you! You did so well—thank you for being strong for everyone!”

Boyd rushed too to join the hug too, quiet but there for them no less.

Isaac was next to join the hug.

Derek didn’t know what to say or even do, so he just hugged them all, holding them to him as best he could. He didn’t think he’d get them both back after everything and keep Isaac also, but here they all were! Both Erica and Boyd were here, alive, and not driven to feral madness like the Alpha pack were trying to do. Isaac was also here, helping to hold them all together. Derek was so damn grateful.

Once the hug was released, Derek wanted to take stock of more of what was happening. Following the others into the kitchen, Derek found a newly conscious teen he vaguely remembered trying to rescue before the Alpha pack got him.

The teen was sitting in a stool at the counter, looking worn out but also smelled so full of wonder and confusion it could clog a weaker nose.

Peter approached Marin, saying, “I presume things were uneventful here?”

Marin, holding a cup of very dark coffee in one shaky hand frowned, “Not even a bit.”

Frowning, Peter asked, “Were you attacked?”

“Sort of… talk to Stiles. It felt his magic. It burst into the house, broke two holes in the ceiling of the house. I’m sure when Lydia’s recovered some, she may be angry. Certainly, her parents will be when they notice,” Marin explained.

Derek noticed that Peter was no longer holding Stiles. Where had the young man gone?

Catching Derek’s eye, Peter said, “Jackson and Mrs. Whitmore got Stiles comfortable in his own room. He’s done a lot—”

Derek nodded.

-

Marin said, “That’s putting it lightly, he shot huge beams of light into the house, fully healing this one”—motioning to the teenager—“and healed most of McCall’s wounds. McCall’s not woken yet, but the bruises and visible wounds are gone as far as I can tell.”

Motioning to her body vaguely, Marin said, “And you may notice I’ve got no more bandages or marks on me… thankfully, I was in the same room as Liam, the teen, so no extra ceiling holes. But yeah, it rattled people here. There was some concern he may have died doing what he did. It’s good to know he’s still alive. Boyd’s also thinking clearer. No light on that one that I’m aware of but it synced up a little too good to be sure.”

Peter nodded, noticing all she had mentioned and more. The woman appeared to be of glowing health as did the teen. Looking at the teen, Peter wondered what exactly they’d gotten themselves in on that front. He’d pretend to hope for the best while preparing for the very likely worst based on the hell town they lived in.

While thinking for a moment, Peter was caught off guard at Mrs. Whitmore coming up to him and flashing her Alpha red eyes at him. He flashed his in return. Now that would be something to deal with.

Mrs. Whitmore spoke before he could, saying, “Can I give this back? I don’t want this over my son let alone to lead people in this lifestyle I feel woefully ill-informed about.”

Peter nodded. “Just touch me and choose mentally to pass it to me. It should flow from you to me.”

Nodding, Mrs. Whitmore swept him into a hug, letting go of the spark to flow into him as she whispered, “Thank you for saving me… and Jackson.”

Peter nodded, kind of surprised at her words but feeling alight with the Alpha spark back within him. Enjoying the hug a little more in its freely given state, Peter was caught off guard at the sudden shout.

From another room, Erica shouted, “DEREK!”

After letting Mrs. Whitmore go, Peter rushed with all he had to where Erica’s shout had come from. Entering the room of origin and absently noting it was where Stiles had been put to rest, Peter came into the room to find Cora standing in the corner of the room, seemingly in shock with her hand over her mouth, Erica looking worriedly at Derek, and Derek on the twin bed, holding a slowly waking Stiles.

Peter didn’t know what to say at the scene.

Derek looked up to the others, including Peter, his eyes flashing blue.

Erica asked quietly, “What did you do?”

Looking down at Stiles, Derek said, “He saved Cora’s life… brought me back, Peter too. He healed so many of our packs… I couldn’t let him struggle through the consequences without help. I did what I could to help.”

Stiles’ eyes fluttered open, seemingly hearing Derek. He bent up just a touch to hug Derek close.

Peter didn’t know what he wanted more: to rip Derek away from his mate or profusely thank his nephew for making sure Stiles was okay. He didn’t have to choose though as Stiles beckoned him into the hug that Peter easily joined.

Once everyone let was released from the hug, Peter asked Stiles, “What did you do? Are you okay?”

At the same time, they could hear some excitement from whence they came and a door being kicked open too.

Stiles smiled shyly, “That’s probably Chris… you may want to let him know it’s not something bad.”

Peter perked a brow before saying, “What isn’t something bad?”

Chris burst into the room, “We have a problem, somehow someone found—”

“No,” Stiles said. “I made the bodies vanish… before I lost consciousness, I set in motion their breaking down at record speed to become almost as if they were never there.”

Laughing a touch in shock, Peter said, “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

Deflating, Chris groaned. He didn’t say anything beyond that, just leaving the room while shaking his head. It seemed Stiles was giving the hunter some extra gray hair.

Cora asked quietly, “Does that mean the last part of Mom is gone?”

Derek slid Stiles aside and opened his arms in invitation to Cora.

When she accepted the comfort offered, Derek wrapped his arms around Cora. “We’re the last part of Mom, not the Alpha spark. We are, and she would be so proud of you!”

Holding onto her brother, Cora burst into tears, burying her face into Derek’s neck.

Peter gently helped Stiles up and motioned to the door at Erica to give the siblings a moment of privacy.

However, Cora looked up with bleary eyes, “Please stay, Uncle Peter.”

Unable to deny such a request, Peter passed Stiles over to Erica to head out to the others while he came closer to what remained of the Hale family.

Peter hugged what was left of the Hales, whispering a soft “Thank you” to Derek in the process.

-

Stiles left the bedroom with Erica, taking stock of himself. He felt both weaker and stronger all at once. It was quite confusing. His legs felt jelly-like, so he leaned some on Erica to help get his bearings. At the same time, Stiles tried to walk through what he last remembered: mostly watching Peter be magically crushed, and his last words, ‘I love you.’ Stiles felt that may haunt him all the rest of his days.

Erica led Stiles to the kitchen and enticed him into taking a seat on a stool beside the teen they’d rescued from the Alpha pack before.

With a yawn, Stiles did as Erica wanted. He then said, “Thanks.”

Nodding, Erica moved to hug Boyd who had at some point entered the room.

Unable to shake the image in his mind of Peter being murdered right in front of him, Stiles looked around the kitchen a bit before looking at Mrs. Whitmore. “Did everyone make it out?”

With her eyes a bit moist, Mrs. Whitmore said, “Yes, thanks to you. You even healed some of those here too before you lost consciousness.”

Surprised some, in part, because he’d started to lose awareness of the things around him after watching Peter die, Stiles just nodded. He returned to trying to back track. Stiles’d been pinned to the ground with Deucalion’s clawed hand jammed through him. His shoulder? Chest? Arm, maybe?

Shaking his head a little, Stiles forced himself to ask aloud, “Does that mean Scott’s up?”

Mrs. Whitmore shook her head. “Not yet, but you healed all of his visible wounds.”

Allison slowly walked into the room, followed by Chris.

Approaching with her hands slightly up and very open, Allison looked at Stiles, asking, “Can I come in?”

Faintly tilting his head, Stiles actually considered the question. Even though he really did want nothing to do with Allison, she was pack now. He could feel it. As a result, he looked to Erica and Boyd, the latter shrugging in response. “Yeah, come on in Allison. You’re pack, after all.”

Allison sighed, her body relaxing some as though a huge weight had been lifted off her.

Stiles then asked, “Whatever happened with you and Scott getting taken?”

Allison flinched at that before her dad hugged her close.

Chris explained, “They tried to use Allison to force Scott into becoming a True Alpha. It didn’t work, so she ended up bitten, and they beat Scott into a coma before her eyes.”

Stiles nodded slowly. It was strange. He knew he should feel sympathy for Scott at the least, probably both of them, but Stiles didn’t really feel anything. Well, he felt kind of empty.

Appearing to space out, Stiles tried again to retrace his steps mentally. He knew for a fact that he had to have brought Peter and Derek back. He even had a vague idea of touching them to do so. He knew that he got rid of bodies, dead bodies. Did he kill them?

Stiles then looked around himself again. Catching his eyes on Chris, Stiles asked, “Did I kill people?”

Frowning, Chris asked tentatively, “You don’t remember?”

Looking down at his hands first for a moment before looking back at Chris, Stiles said, “It’s a bit patchy. There are some things I know I did. I KNOW it, but there are other things... I either don’t remember or am trying to process. Like, clearly there were dead bodies. I know I got rid of them, and how. But I don’t know who killed them or even who all was killed entirely. I think Deucalion and Aiden are dead, but I’m not… I cannot fully remember it.”

With a nod, Chris gently let Allison stand on her own feet unheld. “Lydia killed Kali to stop her from killing Jackson. You killed Deucalion, I suspect, but don’t know for sure in the chaos. Aiden was killed by Ethan and I, and you killed Jennifer Blake in the same way she’d seemed to have killed Peter.”

Stiles nodded, saying somewhat numbly, “That’s a lot.”

Chris nodded. “It is. Lydia’s gone to lay down and rest with Jackson to help her recover some and get her thoughts together.”

Nodding again, Stiles said, “I wish sleep could do that for me.”

Mrs. Whitmore said, “You could try, Stiles.”

Shaking his head, Stiles said, “No. Peter’s last moment is tattooed in my mind. His final words are a cycle in my mind. I don’t know when I am going to feel up to sleeping, but it’s not right now. I almost lost him.”

At that point, Peter slid into the room looking rumpled, likely from the Hale group hug in the bedroom. Realizing what was going on, Peter said, “You mean my last words? I meant each one of them.”

Stiles looked down at his hands as tears streamed down. “You can’t… I’m not… and you’re you.”

Peter came closer to Stiles, telegraphing his movements as he slowly wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, hands clasping loosely behind his back. “You are so amazing. No matter what, I meant it. I love you.”

Tears running down his face still, Stiles looked up into Peter’s very blue eyes. “I just… I got Dad killed. I just… I don’t want to lose you, lose anyone else, but especially you.”

Before he could say anything more, Stiles burst into sobs, pressing his face into Peter’s chest.

-

Peter held Stiles close, whispering, “Come on, it’s okay. You’re not going to lose me. I’ll always come back.”

Stiles whined—“I did lose you! I watched you die!”

Peter hugged Stiles just a touch closer, being firm but not hurting him, just enough to help Stiles feel just a hint of the supernatural strength. “I promise you; I will always come back. I will never leave and stay gone… not unless you say you want me to.”

Chapter Text

Later that night…

In Lydia’s backyard, Stiles sat cross-legged. He laid his head in his hands, trying to breathe through his emotions. He’d been fighting to ignore them, be cold through so much of this trauma that he’d not had enough time to feel it all. He’d lost his dad. He’d been turned even though he hadn’t wanted to be, yet—if ever.

Stiles’d gotten lucky and his surgery had not been undone in the change at least. Stiles had even been unintentionally outed to some of the pack, and thankfully he was accepted as he is. However, this was all too much! How was he supposed to be able to hold it together? To help the others?

Tears starting to run down his cheeks, Stiles kept his sobs silent and to himself as he kept taking big, deep breaths in through his nose and then released slow breathes out his mouth.

How was he supposed to process all of this? Trying to lock down his emotions, Stiles focused on covering his leaking emotions. He had to suck it up and hold it all in just a little bit longer. Once he let go, he’d be useless to the others, so he had to get it together, keep it together a little longer.

After allowing his magic to wash him of tears and the scent of his overwhelm, Stiles got up and went back to what he’d been doing: casting protections around the house. It was only a matter of time before he crumbled, and he needed everyone to be as safe as possible in the meantime.

Stiles refused to leave his pack vulnerable or in any way unprotected if he could help it.

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The next morning…

Having managed to avoid sleeping the night before in the chaos of everyone trying to get sorted, Stiles was back at the kitchen counter. “How’d they get you, Liam?”

“I don’t really know. I was running. I want to be on the lacrosse team, and I figured doing exercises before tryouts may help my odds,” Liam said.

“Where were you running?” Stiles asked.

“Some park. It was late, so not a lot of people. Well, other than this weird group around someone knelt on the ground. But that’s about the last thing I remember. That and realizing I was probably going to worry my parents with being out so late,” Liam explained.

Stiles nodded. “I’m sorry you got roped into all of this.”

Liam shrugged. “I really hope it helps me get on the lacrosse team. It certainly better explains how Scott went from a benchwarmer to co-captain.”

Nodding, Stiles couldn’t help but suspect that Liam likely stumbled onto his dad being murdered but was none the wiser. It was probably for the best that Liam hadn’t seen what was possibly occurring.

Chris then came into the kitchen, grumbling softly to himself.

Perking up just a touch, Stiles said, “Coffee’s already brewed. There are mugs out beside it too.”

Nodding, Chris grumbled his way through the morning ritual of coffee and leaving the room with the sacred caffeine.

Lifting his own mug of coffee, Stiles couldn’t deny the power of a good cup of coffee. It was part of how he managed to look tired but not dead tired. Although he didn’t prefer black coffee, Stiles didn’t dare touch any of Lydia’s special coffee stuff. Stiles was in no rush to piss off the fiery red head.

Liam asked, “Why’re you apart of this? You don’t smell like a werewolf or flash your eyes…”

Shrugging, Stiles said, “At first, I was just a smart kid doing dumb things. Now, it turns out that I’m a Spark, which is a type of magic user.”

“Like a wizard in D&D?”

Chuckling softly, Stiles said, “Maybe, kind of?”

Liam nodded. “Does that mean you had to be bit by another Spark or is it different?”

Marin came in, giggling softly at Liam’s words. “No, he’s born that way.”

Frowning, Stiles said, “Does that mean it’s genetic?”

“Usually,” Marin said. “At least, according to myths. It’s pretty rare; however, that’s not really my area of expertise to be fair.”

Stiles nodded. Changing the subject, not wanting to dwell on which of his parents might have had magic, Stiles asked, “Are you and Peter killing Deaton and Ennis today?”

Smiling somewhat sadly, Marin admitted, “Already done. Peter thought, and I agreed, that it was best to get it done while everyone else was sleeping last night. I made it hurt… as was meant to be, but Peter got his licks in too for you getting hurt and what they did to his pack and family.”

That left Stiles wondering if somehow, he had slept the night before and missed it because he never heard a thing. Maybe Marin used magic for that? Or did Stiles actually sleep a bit at some point? Rolling his shoulders to let out some of the tension and uncertainty that he knew was not even remotely close to being dispelled, Stiles asked, “With your vengeance dealt with… are you looking to stick around?”

Before Marin could answer, Lydia Martin was dragging Jackson into the kitchen with her. For once in all the time Stiles had known her, Lydia looked imperfect. Lydia’s hair was a mess though her face was cleaned. Her pajamas looked ruffled, and her eyes were puffy from crying so much the day before.

Stiles spoke up more gently than with Christopher. “There’s already coffee ready with mugs out.”

Lydia looked at Stiles and narrowed her eyes before asking, “Did you touch my white chocolate peppermint creamer?”

Shaking his head, Stiles was relieved when Lydia moved to the coffee, still holding onto Jackson like his arm was her own personal teddy bear.

Jackson just grumbled, his eyes barely open as he was dragged around by his girlfriend.

Unable to help himself, Stiles asked Jackson, “How’re you feeling today?”

With a grumble, Jackson flipped Stiles off.

At the same time, Lydia had finished making her coffee and was tugging her Jackson along as she left the room.

Stile got up, asking Liam, “Want some breakfast?”

“Sure. There’s cereal on the fridge,” Liam volunteered.

Shaking his head, Stiles got into the fridge, taking out eggs, bacon, sausage, and some thick cut bread as well as a few steaks, too. Moving around in the kitchen, Stiles used old habits, like making food for others to help him escape his mind. He didn’t want to think about how worn out he felt or that his Dad was gone, like his Mom. Stiles didn’t want to relive over and over Peter’s last moments yesterday before Stiles had saved him. There was so much to escape, in his mind. The day before, the days before were a LOT to deal with.

Stiles wanted to take his mind elsewhere or somehow turn the damn thing off. As turning off his mind was not really an option, Stiles started pulling out pans, bowls, and utensils to make a feast for both packs to distract his mind as best he could despite his shaking hands and endless fidgeting with too much energy but also nearly none. It was a weird state of conflicting sensations.

Once he had a bowl full of cracked eggs, Stiles turned on a burner on the stove and placed a big frying pan on it. He then returned to his bowl of eggs and began to whisk them. He didn’t hum or dance at all, instead counting his whisk rotations while thinking about other things to add to breakfast.

Liam asked, “Anything I can do to help?”

Stiles nodded, “Why don’t you get into the fridge and pull out some fruit. It can get chopped up to be a fruit salad to go with everything else.”

Once the eggs were fully whisked, Stiles then pulled out a couple chopping boards. While pointing at them one at a time, Stiles told Liam, “This one is for meat, this for veg, and this for fruit.”

Liam nodded, pulling out some apples, grapes, strawberries, and more.

Stiles got out some knives. After he chose the one that would work best for this task, Stiles used the knife to cut the steaks one at a time into thick strips. Stiles figured they would stretch further this way and bring something new to the meal in a sense. Once all the steaks were cut into strips, Stiles dumped them into a large bowl that he then set aside.

-----------------------------------------------

Smelling garlic, onions, and even mushrooms, Peter slowly woke, his stomach growling. Looking around himself, Peter realized Derek, Cora, Erica, and Isaac were all cuddled up with him. Looking around at the cuddle pile, Peter realized most of them were awake, but Derek wasn’t.

Wondering where Boyd had gone off to as well as questioning why Stiles wasn’t with them, Peter slowly removed himself from the pack pile. He gently scented everyone lightly before walking barefoot out of the room to find his way to the scents of food.

Once he entered the kitchen, and connected dining room area, Peter could see Boyd setting the table that clearly’d had extra leaves pulled out as well as chairs added. Peter moved to Boyd, scenting him before moving along to get a better look into the kitchen.

Liam was cutting golden kiwis for what seemed to be a sizeable bowl of fruit on the kitchen side of the breakfast bar counter. There were three cutting boards in total. While Liam used one for fruit, Chris took the one that smelled from a distance of meat to put into the dish washer. The third had chopped tomatoes, onions, and chiles all separated into piles.

Stiles sat at a stool at the stove, flipping pancakes from a flat iron pan onto a plate on the counter beside the stove. He buttered the silver dollar pancakes he’d removed from the pan before ladling on four more.

There were already four casserole dishes with lids sitting on potholders on the counter a bit away from Stiles with warm food in them: scrambled eggs with slices of steak, sausages, bacon, and even some waffles. There was enough food to feed an army, not counting the pancakes or the other three pans Stiles had going on the stove: two large frying pans of fried potatoes and a second flat iron that it appeared Chris was cooking mini chili, cheese, and diced radish quesadillas on.

After filling the dishwasher more but not yet turning it on, Christopher returned to the stove to stand beside where Stiles was sitting and fidgeting while cooking. They looked like a good team in Peter’s mind.

Coming closer, Peter scented Stiles gently. Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles and kissed his cheek. “How did you sleep darling? I don’t remember you coming to bed.”

Stiles shrugged.

It was then that Peter noticed that Stiles’ hands were shaking while he cooked. Frowning, Peter asked, “Are you okay?”

Shrugging again, Stiles said, “Just tired. Yesterday was a lot. It’s been a lot for a little bit with the whole Alpha pack thing, and add on all of the magic yesterday? I could eat an entire elephant. Figured everyone else couldn’t be far behind, so I got to working on all of this. The others are being awesome and helping.”

Peter nodded, asking, “Can I help you? I can take over for you to maybe geet in a little nap before everything’s done.”

Stiles shook his head. “No, I need to keep busy.”

Gently nuzzling the side of Stiles’ neck, Peter said, “Okay, darling. Is there another way I could help?”

His voice incredibly small as though raising it could shatter everything around them, Stiles asked, “Can you check that I didn’t kill or bring back to life anyone else?”

Eyes big, Peter kept back his frown. He’d not thought of that being a concern. He’d been so focused on saving and protecting his family and pack that he’d not considered the possible larger consequences. He had been worried Melissa McCall had been caught up in all of this, and he’d not yet been able to confirm it one way or another. But now, it was even more important.

After giving Stiles a gentle squeeze around the middle and kissing his cheek softly, Peter let go of Stiles. “I’ll look into it, darling, and let you know.”

Peter left the kitchen to go step outside of the house and into the backyard. He pulled out his phone that he’d thankfully already grabbed before on his way out of the bedroom. He started making some calls.

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Once all the food was on the dining room table, Stiles asked for Liam and Boyd to go grab everyone for breakfast. Stiles didn’t want anyone to mis out on food. While they were going to let others know, Stiles worked with Chris to take out more glasses and mugs for everyone and prep juices, coffee, tea, and other beverages for others.

Chris said quietly as they worked, “You know, you don’t have to do all of this.”

Stiles shrugged. “I kind of need to. Got to keep my mind busy.”

Nodding, Chris said, “I heard you before, but I also know that it can be easy to overdo when trying to avoid one’s own mind.”

“Fair,” Stiles said. “But I cannot handle things right now. It’s… it’s too much.”

Erica popped into the kitchen, pulling Stiles into a hug. “Handle what?”

Stiles settled into her some before pulling back to say, “Life.”

With a nod, Erica hugged him a hint tighter. “We’re here for you if you need anything.”

Hugging her close, Stiles pressed his face into her shoulder, which muffled his words. “I know, Catwoman. I know.”

Peter came into the house, brows signals erupting like a constipated Derek, as her said, “Stiles, darling, I need to talk to you… privately.

Chapter Text

Late the evening before…

Waking up underground, Laura clawed at the dirt above her, fighting her way to where she hoped fresh air would be. Her inner wolf howled: demanding fight, demanding freedom!

Laura clawed and clawed and clawed some more before breaking through the ground. That gave her hope. She fought harder and harder through the dirt, refusing to just lay down and die. Finally, Laura was able to get high enough through the dirt, breaking fully into the fresh air and climbing out of where she’d been. Once out of the ground, covered in dirt, and panting to take in all the fresh air she could, Laura noticed the headstone: Laura Hale, Beloved & Forever Remembered.

Frowning, Laura thought back on her last memories: she was fighting another wolf. There was a werewolf in Hale territory when she went back to check on things. she fought with all she had, but the feral wolf was better, somehow.

Only in her last moment did both she and the wolf really see each other: Laura and Peter Hale.

The very last thing she remembered was everything going black as Peter howled in mourning, possibly apology.

But she wasn’t dead… anymore? Laura did, after all, just dig her way out of her grave. She was indeed breathing.

Looking around herself, Laura saw her childhood home: its burnt carcass.

What happened to Peter? Derek? What about Derek?! Is he who buried her? Did Peter do that? Is Derek okay?

Laura realized that she had to find her family, whoever of them were left!

Not daring to follow instinct and howl since she knew it could draw hunters too, Laura looked over herself. She was wearing clothes that were falling apart, but the clothes still covered her some, and the dirt covered her further.

Looking around while sniffing the air, Laura noted that there was no one visible and it smelled like no one had been around in a long time. Refraining from dusting herself off, Laura got moving. Hopefully, in town she could find some clothes and cover to begin to figure out what all was going on and who was still alive that bore the Hale name.

Laura moved to the trees around the once grand Hale house. She climbed the tree and began her route of traveling by the tops of trees to get to town. She didn’t want to alert anyone to her presence in advance. As it was, she’d made these kinds of mistakes in what led up to her Uncle Peter killing her. No need to make the same mistake twice.

Aware she should head towards town, Laura moved while she still kept an ear and nose out for others. There was no telling what all may or may not have changed.

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Present…

Peter walked into the house, brows furrowed, trying to tamp down his emotions to not let his chemo signals go crazy and tip off the other wolves too much, especially Stiles. Keeping himself as restrained as he could while looking natural, Peter said, “Stiles, darling, I need to talk to you… privately.”

Stiles let go of Erica, nodding to Peter. “Outside?”

Nodding, Peter moved to the backdoor and opened it to let Stiles out first.

Once they were both outside and the door closed, Peter said, “I need you to take a deep breath.”

Frowning now himself, Stiles asked, “Why?”

Trying to be considerate, Peter said, “Please, darling?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, then a second, Stiles asked somewhat meekly, “Did I bring Dad back to life too?”

With a sigh, Peter said, “No, I don't think you did. However, he is not dead.”

Clearly startled, Stiles asked, “Did they bite him?”

Peter nodded. “It must have been Kali or Duke. Ennis’s bite was a death sentence.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Stiles said, “Is he an Alpha now?”

Even though he hated not having all of the answers, Peter didn’t want to lie to Stiles. “I don’t know. It depends.”

Stiles asked, “On what?”

“Who bit him. If it was Kali, then he probably is. If it was Deucalion, probably not unless… unless he surrendered it before he died to stop the one who killed him from getting it.”

Stiles asked very, very quietly, “Does this mean… are you wanting to check my eyes?”

With a sigh, Peter said, “It could reveal something, but there are no guarenttees.”

Afraid of what would happen, Stiles took a shakey breath before asking, “Please flash your eyes at me?”

Peter nodded and flashed his eyes.

Stiles’ flash back on instinct revealing a deep, almost blood dark red.

Gently touching Stiles’ shoulder, Peter said, “Well, that means that it was probably Kali that bit him.”

Furrowing his brows, Stiles asked, “How do you know that?!”

Peter explained, “Because if he had been turned by Deucalion, you would’ve felt him. No one has submitted to you outright, so your wolf would be clamoring after a new beta right now if you had one with your Alpha spark. However, you’re not. You didn’t even know he was alive until I told you.”

Stiles nodded slowly, appearing to go a little number than he’d been. “Does this mean I’m going to go insane? Going to have to bite a bunch of people?”

Tears began to run down Stiles’ face seemingly at the weight of all of this.

Peter pulled Stiles into a hug, holding him close and speaking softly, “No, darling. We’re going to figure this out. We’ll help you find balance and keep you sane and connected. We… I would never leave you to go mad. I care far too much to ever let that happen to you!”

“Care too much?” Stiles managed to whimper.

Peter pulled back just a touch to cup Stiles’ cheek with one of his hands. “My sweet boy, I know we’ve been so busy, but I have every intention of wooing you and caring for you in every way you’ll allow me.”

With a weak smile, Stiles said, “Good. I want to charm your pants off myself.”

Although he had been smiling, Peter forced himself back on task. “Before we do any of that, I have more I need to tell you.”

Eyes going big, Stiles asked, “Are there more dead bodies?”

Frowning, Peter shook his head. “Not quite. It would seem Melissa McCall had been attacked by the Alpha pack in a bid to make Scott cooperate. She fought hard enough that Ennis bit her. She rejected the bite, like you had. But there was no one nearby to save her, but it seems that you did.”

“Wh-what?” Stiles managed to force out.

Peter nodded. “Melissa turned. She’s heading over with my having informed her that we have Scott, safe and sound.”

Stiles asked cautiously, “Did you warn her he is still unconscious?”

Nodding again, Peter said, “Yes, but she is very grateful he is alive and needs a place to lay low.”

Frowning, Stiles asked, “Why?”

“Because there is a ‘wild’ animal on the loose,” Peter said.

Stiles further furrowed his brows. “Are you calling my dad a ‘wild’ animal?”

Rolling his eyes, Peter said, “There’s already been one report of someone being bit by a massive bear—I don’t think I am mischaracterizing whoever is doing the biting.”

“How do you even know anything like this is even occurring?” Stiles asked, exasperated.

Peter pulled Stiles closer in their hug. “Because it has been my job to know things for a very long time. Old habits die hard, as they say.”

Stiles burrowed his face gently into Peter to hide from the world and it’s overwhelming ways.

Petting Stiles’ back, Peter crooned, “Darling, I think we should go inside. I think the others are fighting about whether they should wait for us or not.”

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Fifteen minutes before…

Melissa groaned as she slowly sat up. The last thing she remembered was fighting for her life against monsters. She would normally be more levelheaded in the aftermath of an emergency, but they’d had fangs! Fur! Claws! Glowing red eyes! If that wasn’t nightmare-bait, what was?

Falling back some on her training as a nurse, Melissa checked over herself, looking for the wounds she knew she would need to treat. Only, she found none? She knew she’d been clawed in multiple places, bit in a place or two, plus all the scratches and bangs that must’ve bruised in her frantic efforts to fight back.

The monsters had wanted something from her son, but Mel hadn’t understood what. She only knew she would not let these monsters use her to hurt him. She’d fight with all she had for her child. Then that thought—her child. Shit, she needed to call Scott, warn him!

Up on her feet, having forgotten herself and the confusing lack of wounds despite the rips and blood stains on her clothes, Melissa ran for her house phone, not sure where her cell even was. However, before she could grab the phone, it rang.

Nearly on automatic, Mel answered the call, saying, “Hello?”

Unexpectedly, the voice on the other end of the line was none other than Peter Hale. While unexpected, Mel listened as he spoke to her, asking her if she was alright.

Even though she didn’t really quite feel like she made sense and had not completely lost her mind, Mel explained, “I… don’t know? I… do you know where Scott is?”

“Why yes, yes I do. He is here at Miss Lydia Martin’s house with me. Were you by chance attacked?”

“Yes… how did you know?!” Melissa asked.

“We were too.”

“Is Scott okay?!” Mel demanded.

“Yes, for the most part. He has no visible wounds, but he remains unconscious so far.”

“I… I don’t have visible wounds, but I should,” Melissa said, almost as an afterthought.

“What kinds of wounds?”

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Present…

Mel knocked on the front door of the Martin residence. She didn’t feel like cooperating, going slow. She felt a fire within demanding she take, demand what she sought. She wanted to see her son, help him. Melissa had to know he was okay!

Before Melissa could let loose fully, Stiles opened the front door for her. He opened it wide to full let her in without question.

Had Stiles too been attacked? Mel swept him into a crushing hug, nuzzling him in gratitude for being okay while also sating something inside her that he was indeed okay. Once secure that her one son, even if not by blood, was okay, Mel demanded, “Where is Scott?”

Stiles let her go and motioned her in before leading her. “He’s this way. He was pretty badly hurt. He’s healed up though even if he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Moment later, Melissa was let into a too clean, too flowery smelling room in which her blood son was laying unconscious in the bed, covered in covers and snuggled right in. Moving forward faster than seemed normal to her, Melissa was soon wrapped around Scott, nuzzling him too to try and understand what was wrong.

After finding no clues beyond scents of caretaking, Melissa asked Stiles, “What happened?”

Peter then came into the room. He flashed his red eyes at Melissa, and she flashed red eyes back.

Stiles’ eyes went big before he asked, “Mel, which person bit you?”

Mel frowned, “Do you mean which monster?”

With a sigh, Peter said, “They were monsters. They were people.”

Growling low, Melissa put herself between her two sons and Peter. “Are you a monster too?”

Stiles gently touched her shoulder. “Mel, they were werewolves… and now you are one too. We’re not all monsters.”

Turning on a dime, Mel hugged Stiles close, “Okay, okay… we’ll find a cure!”

Shaking his head, Stiles explained, “It’s not a curse and there is no cure. It’s awful how you got the bite, but there are good things too, like notice how Scott’s asthma went away? How Erica didn’t come to the hospital anymore for seizures?”

Frowning still, Mel leaned back a touch while still hugging Stiles to look him in the eye. “Is this why you were lying to your dad so much?”

Stiles nodded. “It’s… it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Cause you were still human…”

“Kind of? It turns out I wasn’t human. I’m a Spark,” Stiles said.

“And that is?” Mel questioned, clearly not so sure just yet that she wanted to know.

Looking down, Stiles explained, “It’s magic… the real kind. It’s why you’re alive.”

“What?!” Melissa responded, not angry but honest to goodness shocked out of her shoes, in a sense.

Peter intercepted, saying, “Maybe we should move this discuss away from Scott? He is resting after all.”

Mel nodded slowly, overwhelmed. She was dead? She died? Did other people die too?

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Paige gasped as she came to consciousness. Touching her arm, where she’d been bitten, first, Paige noticed a scare, but no more black goo. Next, Paige checked her throat. Derek had so sweetly ended her pain, her suffering by killing her even though it hurt him so much.

Forcing herself up onto her wobbly legs that felt strangely longer than they used to be, Paige looked around. She was in the clearing, near where she had died, been killed. The wood stump was right where it had been then, but the season was different.

Not sure how much time had passed, since time had to have passed with Derek not here nor the sun being as bright as that day, Paige looked around the clearing a bit, noticing hearing things she never had before. She could hear birds in the distance—easily quite a ways away. She could smell not just the range of grasses but also pollen of flowers from somewhere she couldn’t see, the soil beneath the grass, and even the wood of the stump and trees around the clearing. It was so beautiful and yet almost too much to process, take in.

Chapter Text

Very, very early that morning…

Slowly blinking open his eyes, Noah felt like he’d been partially conscious for hours but couldn’t put his finger on why. Looking about himself, Noah saw he was in a weird rectangle. It was like those things that the morgue put dead bodies in. That couldn’t be, right?

Not feeling fully able to move his arms around enough to push at what was on the other side of the top of his head, Noah kicked out his feet at what was on that end of him while pushing up from where his hands… Just then, Noah stopped himself. Hands? Feet? Weren’t those cut off?

Noah focused his attention on his arms and following down all the way to what? His fingers. He wiggled his fingers. How was that possible? He did the same for his legs down to his what? Feet. He wiggled his toes. How in hell was any of this possible? Them being taken was a nightmare and this was a surreal out of body moment even though he was very much in his body.

That settled, he kicked out his feet against what was walled there and slammed his hands up to pound on what was over him. It took a few minutes, and shockingly little energy compared to what that would probably normally take, before he kicked out the possible door at his feet.

Wiggling his body in eel-like movement, Noah slid himself out of where he was, landing on his feet on the cold floor. The thin blanket that had been over him fell free of him to reveal Noah naked as the day he was born though clearly not that same size.

At that moment, Noah realized something else: he was stone cold sober. No beer goggles or weaving balance issues. That was odd. It had been so long since he could last call himself any kind of sober, even when he was passing as though he was. He called it functional alcoholism. It worked for him, didn’t it?

Shaking his head, not letting himself get bogged down. Right now, Noah knew he needed to get out of where he was, which appeared to be the morgue—wasn’t that unpleasant?

Moving as quietly as he could, Noah left the room with bodies and went into the locker room once he was sure he didn’t hear anyone in there. Then, he broke, ripped a door off a locker that smelled faintly masculine. He didn’t really notice why that’s where he went first, ripping off a locker door, in seeking out clothes, but he grabbed some of the clothes within and dressed despite there not being any shoes.

Instead of breaking into another locker, Noah accepted being barefoot in the name of getting out there before the noise drew anyone his way.

After slipping out of the locker room, Noah ran out the back of the building. Outside, Noah took a few deep breaths, everything smelling so strong, overwhelming. Then his heart hurt, he needed someone. Without thinking, Noah dropped to all four, running as fast as he could while being careful to go as unseen as possible to the graveyard where his beloved rested in her casket. Thankfully, it was still dark; although, at the horizon there were signs of the sun coming.

While running, he was able to remember, put together what had happened before being in the rectangular tube situation in the morgue. He’d been drinking—of course—and then there were others, monsters with red glowing eyes. They cut off his feet and hands… they carved into his chest. It as excruciating each second of the experience. He remembers vaguely bleeding too much, bites and claws against his more flesh that was all too eager to give way. He was dead, wasn’t he? That’s what made sense, right?

Well, if he was dead but was back now, certainly he could do the same? If whatever did this to him brought him back, then that must be in him now, so Claudia should be able to come back too! He needed her to come back!

Noah wasn’t drunk: he wasn’t drowning his sorrows in liquor, so he needed Claudia! He wanted her more than drink! He always wanted her! It’s why he drank, in his mind. He needed her!

Once out of standard city limits, Noah ran faster. He jumped over the cemetery gate to rush his way to Claudia’s grave. Once there, he skidded to a stop before starting to dig her up. As he dug, his mind sorted through what he remembered happening to him: being bit, clawed, amputations, and the carved spiral. He wasn’t sure which part made him live, so he figured he needed to do it all. Even though it hurt to think of hurting his dear Claudia, Noah figured she would heal most of it like he did.

After digging down to the head of the casket, Noah realized that if he wanted to recreate what happened to him to make sure she lived too he needed to unearth the whole casket. Shaking himself a touch first, Noah moved about to get to digging more and more to fully uncover the casket. He needed his love. Noah refused to continue without her! She was everything! The last words on his lips…

Noah took a breath of dusty, dirty air after uncovering the whole casket. He then ripped open the casket with his clawed hands, paying no mind to the change from what was once his normal. The casket open, Noah set about removing each of Claudia’s hands and feet. His love was little more than bones in what remained of the clothes she was buried in, but that did not stop Noah.

Post ripping off her hands and feet, Noah bit Claudia’s bones roughly where Noah’s flesh had been bitten. He then did some clawing to match as best he could what he remembered of what occurred to him. Next, Noah used a claw to mark the large spiral over the rib cage bones and the remains of the blouse she was buried in.

Then, Noah sat back, giving the body time. He was vaguely aware that some time had passed between what happened to him and his waking. Noah took a deep breath, trying to wait for her, but he also was losing faith second by second. She wasn’t like him; she wasn’t fleshy anymore. Just bones. He’d… she was just bones. This couldn’t work, could it?

Finally, slowing down and thinking through what he knew, Noah realized this couldn’t work. He still had organs. Claudia did not. As the reality that he’d desecrated the corpse of his love and that she was not coming back, Noah roared in madness and anger, grief and powerlessness.

Some part in the back of his mind demanded her body be reburied, but what did it really matter? It was just bones! That was not his Claudia anymore than he’d been her Noah since she died!

Roaring again, Noah again dropped to all four and began to run, jumping over the cemetery gate again. He ran into the preserve, blinded by tears as he let the growing fire within him consume it all.

Not caring about his own well-being if he could not have his love, Noah attacked—clawing and biting—a few people he came across that darned to get in his way. He just kept going. There was no aim just ever-increasing pain and loss and nothing to numb the pain!

Moving as fast as he could, Noah was desperate to outrun everything he felt!

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Present…

Breakfast eaten: no leftovers, and Stiles was sitting on a lawn chair out back. He was fighting to keep his breathing even. Melissa had been killed—bite rejection. She was alive again, likely because of him. She was a wolf. No, an Alpha wolf. Based on timing, she likely got Ennis’ Alpha spark based on Stiles’ own mental math.

Peter was alive. Derek was alive. Also, something Stiles did. Even with patchy memories, Stiles knew those two had to be hm. How could Melissa not be his doing with what he did for Peter and Derek? He even saved Cora… possibly Jackson and Scott. The latter still not having awoken. Healing took time, especially mental wounds. Who was to even say what Scott might be going through in his own mind?

Running his hands through his hair and then down his face, Stiles chose to ignore how they shook. This wasn’t bad, per say, but everything had consequences. Was his Dad being back a consequence? Were there others? Cause and effect. Stiles was a cause. What was the effect?

It didn’t hurt that all the while, as his mind raced and his body felt like it was running on fumes despite eating so much breakfast, Stiles kept feeling a calling, a pull into the preserve. He didn’t think it was his dad, but he was scared no less. Was he seeking a beta? Was it a trap? Something else?

What could he do? He knew he had needs—T, sleep, maybe a hug, and probably more than he could process right now—but all he could seem to do was think himself in circles trying to find the next shoe to drop, the next chaotic monster to spring forth.

Leave it to Beacon Hills to not even let his own transition be the biggest hurdle, Stiles thought. Running both hand through his hair, Stiles knew he still needed to do more on that front, but how could he? How could he prioritize his needs in all this chaos?

At the same time, Stiles also found himself puzzling and trying to make sense of what had come before, why things had played out the way they did. He was seeking to track back from an event to see how it had come to be. Maybe his dad had seemed dead but came back like in the rare phenomena referred to as Lazarus syndrome? Maybe he just slowed to so minimal a system that his body was focusing on healing and not appearing alive while still being faintly alive?

Maybe he’d really been dead and Stiles brought him back? Maybe they just couldn’t know yet? Maybe this was all a nightmare, and he’d wake up any moment?!

No, not a nightmare. He had to believe this was real right now, even as implausible as it was. His life had been supremely unreal since the supernatural-reveal bomb exploded his life. There was just a certain amount of impossible, implausible he just had to accept, or he’d really lose it. He still had to be steady, a grounded presence for others in the pain and blood loss. He was the boring human that could be forgotten in a pool holding Derek up or a hardly touched adult before even his tenth birthday. This was his reality, like it or not.

Swallowing hard, Stiles found it so hard not to cry. It wouldn’t help anything, but this was all so much, too much. As it was, Stiles’s magic had bent to his will, but also been so thoroughly out of his control that he still wasn’t sure what all he did or didn’t do.

Just then, Peter walked out back to stand in front of Stiles. “Darling, you need to talk about this. I can smell your unrest and misery from inside the house. Please, let me help, sweetheart?”
Stiles spoke softly, saying, “Peter, I’m feel called, drawn to go into the preserve.”

Peter perked his brow. “Do you know why? Do you feel like it’s a trap?”

Shaking his head slowly, Stiles said, “It feels… familiar.”

“Your dad?” Peter asked carefully.

“No, familiar like I’ve tapped into it before somehow, with my magic. I… I don’t know.”

Nodding slowly, Peter said, “We’ll figure it out.”

Tears starting to run down his face due to just how overwhelmed he was, Stiles looked up to Peter. Looking away as he found the man’s eyes too much for how broken he felt, Stiles looked around him at the fence in the backyard and even the preserve a bit behind that.

After a deep breath in and out, Stiles looked back at Peter, opening his mouth to speak.

However, Peter frowned, saying, “Get down!”

Before Stiles moved one way or another, a woman dressed in ill-fitting clothes and who looked angry landed in the backyard. There were tears running down her face, which conflicted some with the angry look.

Stiles’ first reaction was to throw up a shield between the woman and them, but the shield quickly slipped. He felt so tired! Had he used himself up more than he realized and had not gotten enough back through eating?

Before he could come up with an alternate plan, Stiles saw as Peter whined before taking a hesitant step forward as though he was looking at a ghost.

Derek then threw himself out of the house and ran to the woman, sweeping her into a hug that the woman didn’t seem to return, but it looked like she was startled.

Soon, Cora came rushing out too, so she too could throw herself at the woman.

Stiles managed to catch his tongue, saying, “Who is she?”

Peter let but one word slip from his lips: “Laura.”

-

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes: Laura Hale stood before him. Her heart was beating with speed. But beating at all was an improvement, right? She looked angry but was also crying. She smelled like fear and want and uncertainty and so much sadness it could choke. Peter wanted to pull her close and wipe away everything that worried her, but he knew he was likely part of the issue with her.

Although he wouldn’t kill himself for her, Peter would do nearly anything short of that outside of hurting Stiles. Peter knew Laura wouldn’t ask him to hurt Cora or Derek, so he didn’t have to worry about that. Or so he hoped was still true. However, who was to say if she was okay or not. Who would be?

Peter wasn’t okay. He’d killed his own niece. She’d been part of the so very little left of his family, but he’d killed her. He’d not meant to, well, that wasn’t completely true. He’d sensed a wolf in his family’s, his territory. He attacked the intruder only to find it was his very niece. He’s realized what he’d done after dealing the killing blow he’d relive in his nightmares all his life alongside the memories of his family burning.

Would Laura kill him for what he’d done to her? Did she remember? Would she hate Peter like Derek had? Something else?

Stiles slipped his hand into Peters, weaving their fingers together as Stiles whispered for only Peter to hear: “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

It seemed Stiles pulled out of his one spiral to support Peter.

Shaking his head a bit to clear his mind, Peter looked to Stiles, saying, “You do not need to be strong for me. I am supposed to be strong for you, to help you.”

Laura then managed a rough, “Why?”

Looking back to Laura, Peter saw that she was fully hugging Cora and Derek to her. Carefully, Peter inquired, “Why what?”

“Why am I back but not everyone else?” Laura whimpered aloud. The look on her face was as though she’d been ripped through with a dull blade.

Peter took another step closer, tears starting to form in his eyes while he fought back memories of the fire. He couldn’t break down right now. He had to be strong right now. This was no time to break! “I… I don’t know. I… I’m not who brought you back, so I do not know why you were returned. I wish they were too, but no one has come forth so far. I… honestly had no clue you’d been brought back until you landed here. Were there others?”

“No,” Laura whispered. “Just the burnt husk of our home a little more worn than I’d last seen it. I… I had to dig my way out of my own grave…”

Unable to stop himself any longer but still holding Stiles’ hand, so he was dragged along, Peter joined the those hugging Laura.

Dragged along, Stiles awkwardly joined the hug.

However, due to seemingly sensing his Alpha spark, Laura growled.

Stiles sighed, saying, “I’m not your enemy.”

Although he moved to slip away from the Hales, Stiles found himself pulled back in by Peter and Derek. “Wha…?”

Derek answered first, shockingly, “It was likely you that did this—thank you for this!”

With a whine and the scent of insecure uncertainty, Stiles relented and joined back in.

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Shortly before…

Derek felt something within, almost like a flickering of a pack bond. Unable to stop himself, Derek grasped it and followed, running toward he wasn’t sure what. As he moved he caught her sent and motioned for Cora to join while flagging off others.

Coming out back behind the house, Derek couldn’t believe his eyes: Laura! She was alive. Alive and not bleeding, not dying, not cut in half… his Laura was okay! Or at least appeared so.

Beating Cora outside, Derek rushed to Laura and wrapped her in a tight but not too tight hug.

Soon, the hug was joined by Cora.

Derek couldn’t believe this was happening! How could this be happening?! It must have been Stiles’ magic, Derek guessed. It was the simplest answer, especially with Stiles seemingly bringing both Peter and Derek back to life. Stiles’d even healed Cora!

Then, Peter joined the hug.

Dragged along, Stiles awkwardly joined the hug too.

However, seemingly feeling his Alpha spark, Laura growled.

Stiles sighed, saying, “I’m not your enemy.”

Although he moved to slip away from the Hales, Stiles was pulled back in by Peter and Derek. “Wha…?”

Derek answered first, shockingly, “This was likely your doing: thank you!”

With a whine and the scent of insecure uncertainty, Stiles relented and joined back in.

Derek nuzzled his sister softly even as she growled, just sharing this moment with her, knowing she smelled more confused than angry at this point. Derek just didn’t want this to be a dream, a fantasy. He missed his sister and here she was. Derek knew he’d never let her go. He’d let her leave without him once—never again.

Finding her words again, Laura asked, “What happened?”

Peter sighed, retreating some. “I killed you… but I didn’t know it was—”

Laura shook her head, slowly peeling herself out of the group hug. “I know you killed me. I remember that, but why am I? What happened? What is even going on? Who is this?”

At her last question, Laura motioned toward Stiles.

Stiles shrunk in on himself some at that last question.

Peter, it seemed, wasn’t having that. He hooked an arm around Stiles’ waist. “This is who I am courting: Stiles Stilinski.”

“Courting?!” Laura asked, visibly shocked. “But your wife—”

“Has been dead for more than six years,” Peter finished for her. “The same for the child she carried. A lot has happened since we last encountered one another.”

Laura still looked shocked.

Derek dove in then, saying, “There was an Alpha pack. In fighting them and getting back our pack members and others they’d abducted, Peter and I died. Cora was horribly poisoned, too. A lot of people were very badly hurt. Stiles… Stiles brought Peter and I back as well as healed Cora and several other pack and pack adjacent individuals.”

Even though he left out a lot of details, Derek felt like this was summary enough for his big sister to cope with right now. “We’re still sorting out the consequences of what occurred. The Alpha pack turned some people without consent, tortured and murdered people, as well as through them being defeated disbursed some Alpha sparks among wolves here in Beacon Hills.”

Nodding as she seemed to be processing all of this, Laura asked, “But why me?”

Stiles swallowed hard. “Honestly? If it was me that did this, which there is a real chance of, I would suspect it was tied to bringing back Derek and Peter somehow. Maybe a second chance? I’m not fully sure. I’m mostly exhausted and overwhelmed.”

Laura nodded before looking at Cora. With tears in her eyes, Laura reached out to Cora, “How are you here? It doesn’t sound like this Stiles brought you back, so how are you here? I thought you burned with the rest of our family?”

Also tearful, Cora hugged Laura close, saying, “I’d snuck out that night to see some friends. When I returned home due to feeling so many bonds break, I saw the police and fire firefighters as well as our burned-up home. I ran, afraid whoever did it would come for me next. I ran mostly blinded by tears for as long as a I could, day after day, until I found an allied pack in South America to take refuge with.”

Hugging her sister tightly, Laura cooed, “I’m so happy you’re alive!”

Derek joined the hug, unable to help himself, “I so happy you’re both alive! It’s been so lonely without you both!”

Just then, Stiles’ phone began to ring. Answering the phone, Stiles heard, before he could say anything, Jordan Parrish speaking, “Mr. Stilinski?”

Unwilling to help himself, Stiles said, “Please call me Stiles. What do you need Jordan?”

Slowly letting his sisters go, Derek watched Stiles’ fidgeting while listening to both sides of the call.

After clearing his throat, “Sorry Stiles, this is official business. Your father… his body is missing. The details of what happened are incredibly unclear currently. However, I must also notify you that someone had desecrated Claudia Stilinski’s grave.”

Stiles remained calm throughout the information about his dad, but hearing about his mother’s grave being desecrated, Stiles voice was small and his body shaky as he asked, “What did they do? Spray paint the headstone?”

Derek could see and smell that Stiles was seeking that to be the answer rather than the something worse the young man seemed to suspect even if Derek wasn’t sure why.

Deputy Parrish said, “Sadly, no. She was dug up and her body damaged. It appears almost like a wild animal attack but strangely, she has markings that appear similar to what occurred to your father. We’re still investigating, but we wanted to warn you that she’s being fully excavated to assess the damage done before she is respectfully reburied as soon as we can manage.”

Tears running down his face now, Stiles nodded.

At that, Peter took the phone from the shaking young man. “Thank you, Deputy. Stiles is taking this a little hard. Is there anything you are needing Stiles to do to help the investigation?”

“No,” Deputy Parrish was quick to say. “We just needed to inform him as next of kin. If he has further questions or inquiries, he can feel free to call the station, and we will do what we can.”

-------------------------------------------------

Melissa couldn’t quite believe it. Even after Lydia, Mrs. Whitmore, and Mr. Argent had all explained and confirmed what Peter had said had led to here, Mel found it hard to believe. She sat at the foot of the bed that her unconscious son, Scott, still laid covered up on. He was like a twisted Sleeping Beauty, and no one knew if he would wake or when.

Tears forming and falling from her eyes, Melissa refused to let free any sobs. That was too close to mourning, and she had to believe he would be okay, that her son would make it. Scott had to. If he could become a Werewolf and live this life for as long as he had, Scott would wake up and keep living it!

Getting up and moving further up the bed, Melissa combed her fingers through her son’s hair to provide comfort. She understood that he may or may not be aware of what was happening to and around him right now, but Melissa wanted him to know she was here in case he was able to sense things going on around. She needed him to know he wasn’t alone and that she believed in him waking up and being okay. Feeling like she should, Mel began talking to her son, “You know… the Hales, Stiles, and more are all here. We’re all safe now. You can sleep as you need, but I want you to know when you wake up you will not be alone. You’re going to be okay, Scott. I know it.’

“Stiles is a wolf now too. Your brother is more like you than even before. I hope that things can find balance again, like when you two were younger. I’m an Alpha now. I… I can take better care of you now. I’m better equipped for it than I was before. I don’t know what’s going to happen with being an Alpha, but hopefully it’ll help us both.”

Combing her fingers through his hair still, Mel said, “I know you’ve been working to keep things together, but you can have help. You’re strong, but I want you to know you do not have to carry the load alone. I’m an Alpha now. Maybe I can lead you now? Would that be okay with you? I know I am supposedly able to force the issue, but I don’t want to. I just want to make sure safe—both you and I, as well as the others. This supernatural situation seems too dangerous to be going it alone.”

Suddenly, Scott shot to sitting up as he gasped and cried out “ALONE!”

Scott then fell back on the bed, laying down as he breathed heavily, his eyes looking all around the room in seeming confusion as he clearly worked to get himself together.

-

Hearing Scott’s crying out, Peter rushed into the room. He was ready for the worst, but Peter found Scott heavy breathing on the bed with Mel sitting on the bed beside he son.

Peter relaxed his body purposefully as he walked smoothly into the room. He moved to stand beside where Mel sat to look at the teen.

Scott’s scent was one of confusion and terror.

Aware Mel didn’t have the practice to know, Peter stated, “Scott, you’re at Lydia Martin’s house. You’re safe. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Scott looked with wide, frightened eyes at Peter as he asked, “Allison?”

Holding back a sigh or his inclination to kick the child for asking only about Allison, Peter said, “Alive.”

Nodding slowly, Scott asked hesitantly, “So she turned?”

Peter nodded. “What do you remember?”

Scott looked up at the ceiling as though he was searching for some kind of answer. “I… they wanted me… they wanted me to become a True Alpha, like Deaton had mentioned once or twice before. They.. I guess they wanted to catch more people to force it, but I guess, I guess it didn’t work. Someone chewed on Allison and then… after that all I remember is pain. There was so much pain. Blood and just so much pain.”

The longer he spoke the more glazed Scott’s eyes became as though he may be starting to relive some of it.

Aware of where Scott might be going mentally, Peter tried to throw a wrench into it, asking, “Would you like me to ask Allison to come see you?”

Like the reliable puppy he was, Scott looked to Peter despite tears in his eyes, asking, “Please?”

With a nod, Peter left the room. He went to the kitchen where he found Allison helping Stiles make cookies. The cookies smelled divine: ginger chili cookies. It wasn’t a combination Peter’d had in a cookie before, but it certainly smelled promising. Coming from behind Stiles, Peter gently wrapped an arm around the younger man’s waist. “Allison, Scott would like to see you. He’s awake.”

Stiles deflated a bit at that before pulling himself back together tightly as though nothing had occurred.

Once Allison had left the room, Peter let Stiles set things down before pulling Stiles into a tight hug so the younger man could bury his face in Peter’s chest.

Stiles gripped Peter tightly, holding on for dear life it seemed.

Unable to help himself, Peter crooned softly for only Stiles to hear: “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Stiles pressed his face into Peter’s chest and silently screamed.

Peter only knew because he felt it against him. Rubbing Stiles’ back, Peter gently rocked him a bit side to side. Even though he really didn’t care for the teen, Peter did understand that Scott hurt Stiles. While Scott was nothing to him anymore, Peter loved Stiles with all he had. Hating that this hurt Stiles, Peter crooned for only the young man to hear: “One day, I could take us away from here—you’d never have to deal with him again.”

-------------------------------------------------

About an hour later…

Stiles was fidgety and anxious. The pull, the thing drawing him toward the preserve was becoming more insistent. Not wanting to worry the others, Stiles forced himself to hold himself together. Everything was a mess, and Stiles was in no rush to make it worse. However, he had to go. He couldn’t take this anymore.

Finally, Stiles sniffed around to track where Peter was.

Peter was on the back porch, explaining, “Look, Chris, I’m not saying you have to go. I’m suggesting you think about how you can contribute to the pack, what you bring into the fold. And, before you explain weapons training and hunter skills, I mean non-violent skills or other offerings, like cooking, etc.”

Chris frowned. “I don’t see why we’re talking about this right now. My daughter is still healing. The packs are in chaos and you were literally brought back to life yesterday. We have bigger issues. What about Stilinski? He’s a wolf running around without anyone reigning him in. We should—”

Growing to seemingly silence Chris, Peter said, “Well, darling, what do you need?”

Frowning himself, Stiles said, “Are you about to suggest killing my dad?”

Caught with a foot out of step, Chris sighed. “It should be considered. Who knows what he does or doesn’t know or how much damage he’s doing. Has anyone even looked into those he’s bit?”

Although, normally, the researching and figuring things out were his area, Stiles forced himself back onto task. “The calling to the preserve is getting stronger. I don’t want to fight it anymore. I’m going to go see what it is.”

What Stiles didn’t say was just how badly he growingly wanted this all to be over. He wasn’t feeling suicidal, but all of this trauma and pain was overwhelming. He just wanted everything to mellow, even out. Years of his life proved that was not how life or Beacon Hills worked, but Stiles could hope, right?

Stiles knew he needed to pull it together more, be a team player, but couldn’t he be selfish? Just once? He couldn’t cry, couldn’t break down. It’d only bring on more issues. He was supposed to take care of others, watch out for them, right? It’s what he did for his dad since he was eight. He tried to help and look out for Scott, Derek, even Peter some. Stiles tried to save Jackson, let go of Lydia ever being his friend or Scott respecting or seeking Stiles out.

Tired of fighting, Stiles just wanted to finish this, whatever it was. If they could finally resolve all of this chaos, Stiles could sleep—live in nightmares for a while to heal himself up, recover. Stiles didn’t want to fight or be in danger anymore, but right now? He had to face whatever was calling him in the preserve. Next would probably be dealing with his dad and possibly those he’d turned.

Maybe they could get this all dealt with before Stiles just crumbled into tears and unrepairable scar tissue made sentient. Stiles knew he had to smell terrible. It was confusing in a back of the mind kind of way, but there was no time for too many questions. He just had to see things through. As always, Stiles had ot put himself last for everyone else. What was one more thing demanding him?

-

Peter knew things were not okay with Stiles. For one, he could barely smell the young man. Whether intentionally or not, Stiles seemed to be cloaking his scent.

Although he didn’t like it, Peter didn’t feel like right here, right now was the moment to address that. First and foremost, Peter had to protect Stiles. And right now? Stiles was being called into the preserve and wanted to follow the calling.

Swallowing all the things he wanted to question, investigate, kiss, Peter said, “Okay, let me grab a couple of people to go with us.”

Seeing Stiles nod, Peter gripped the back of Stiles’ neck for a moment to provide comfort before moving into the house. Trusting Stiles to be able to handle himself with Chris, Peter headed for the livingroom where he knew the other Hales was laying around.

Once in the room, Peter said, “Derek, can you come with Stiles and I?”

Derek furrowed his brows from where he was a slice of bread in the Laura cuddle sandwich. “Where to?”

Peter said, “Stiles is being called into the preserve by something. He says it’s not his dad but something his magic has touched before.”

Furrowing his brow practically into his eyes, Derek grunted out, “That sound like a trap.”

Shrugging, Peter said, “Stiles’ is going to go. I want back up for us since I’m going with him.”

Derek nodded. He kissed each of his sisters on the cheek before slipping away from the cuddle. He stood up, asking, “Askin anyone else to join?”

Peter nodded. “Marin.”

Frowning again, Derek said, “Doesn’t Stiles have magic?”

Nodding again, Peter said, “Yes, but whatever is going on may be prepared for Stiles. No need to avoid surprising whatever it is calling him.”

Derek agreed. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Peter led Derek to where Peter smelled the trail to Marin who was sitting in a chair in the dining room while drinking something that smelled terrible and doing something on her phone.

No bothering with niceties, Peter said, “Can you join us to investigate something calling Stiles from the preserve?”

Looking up from her phone at Peter, Marin seemed to weigh his words. “Are you seeking my assistance or something closer to witnessing?”

Peter admitted. “I don’t know yet. We have no clues about what’s calling or where we’ll be led to beyond that it feels familiar to Stiles’ magic.”

Marin nodded and got up, sliding her phone into her back pocket. “I’m in.”

Although he felt suspicious at how easily Marin got onboard, Peter didn’t feel like he should poke at that right this moment. Instead, he led them back to Stiles on the back porch.

Not really liking this situation, Peter was trying to hold it all together. He wanted to have time, to plan, but with everything going on, they didn’t need something at their back calling away one of the more powerful among them. Regardless of his preferences, Peter knew they needed to deal with this since it was clearly not going to go away.

However, Peter did really hope this wasn’t going to lead them to the honorable Sheriff of Beacon Hills. He trusted Stiles, but knew things could still be tricky. Once to Stiles, Peter said, “Let’s go before it gets too much later since we don’t know how far we’re going.”

Stiles nodded. He walked toward the back gate to let them out toward to preserve.

-------------------------------------------------

About forty-five minutes later…

Having finally followed whatever was calling to him, Stiles emerged into the clearing around that included a massive tree trunk from what must have been a huge tree when cut down. Looking around, Stiles was surprised to see a young woman sitting on the stump with her legs tucked to the side.

Stiles didn’t have to question for too long who it was as Derek burst past him to run up to the stump before crumbling to his knees before the woman. “Paige?”

The young woman looked at Derek, and her face lit up with a smile. “Derek? Wow, you’ve grown up!”

Derek smiled at her, “So have you, Paige. What… what happened?”

Still smiling but her scent became a little muddied with confusion. “I’m not sure. I died here. You were so sweet to be willing to end my suffering, and then I was here again. Taller and more developed, but alive and I could smell all of the things, see so much detail… it’s even more beautiful here than I ever realized before.”

Cautiously, Derek gently set his hand on Paige’s leg. “I can’t believe you’re here, alive.”

“Me either,” Paige confessed.

Trying not to panic as he had no clue quite what was going on, Stiles approached, asking, “May I take your hand?”

Paige looked to him inquisitively but offered him her hand, open palm up.

Hesitantly, Stiles took her hand, just trying to feel along with the magic to feel if he’d done this. Suddenly, he was thrown back to the ground, landing on his back like he’d been pushed over. He felt himself be sucked into something else.

-

“Stiles!” Peter yelled in reaction to seeing Stiles seem to throw himself back from his first contact with Paige. Peter rushed to Stiles side to see what was wrong only to see Stiles on his back with his eyes open but the pupils moving around like he was dreaming.

Peter couldn’t hide his worry. Stiles was too important to let his face whatever was happening alone!

Marin laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder, saying, “Move him to onto the Nemeton.”

Peter frowned, getting a good look around them, realizing where they were. Growling, Peter shook off Marin’s hand but picked up and placed Stiles on the Nemeton nonetheless.

Standing beside the Nemeton with one of Stiles’ hands in his, Peter tried pulling pain only to have himself slammed with exhaustion like he was being drained. Even though he should let go, Peter couldn’t do it. This was a way he could help Stiles.

However, almost as suddenly as Stiles had seemingly thrown himself to the ground, Stiles shot to sitting up with a gasp. He looked around himself, visibly gathering himself.

Stiles looked around quite a bit before his eyes settled on Peter, saying, “I think I understand now.”

Frowning because he didn’t understand and was concerned for Stiles, Peter asked, “Understand what?”

Slowly as though choosing his words with careful thought, Stiles said, “I brought back Laura for you and Paige for Derek. The Nemeton showed me—I brought you both back, but that included bringing back a piece of you that you each lost even if it wasn’t on purpose.”

Marin nodded. “It comes with being untrained. Your magic is wild and bound only by your intentions. You sought to save them. That must have been interpreted this way. You undid their greatest regrets that they could remember.”

Stiles nodded. “The Nemeton seems to agree.”

Marin smiled before looking at Paige with a mix of joy and sadness.

Peter asked, “So, the Nemeton was calling you?”

Nodding, Stiles said, “I guess it aged Paige up to align with Derek’s age to assist. The Nemeton wants a guardian, and this was one of its gifts to entice me.”

“One of?” Peter asked cautiously.

Stiles nodded before looking down at his hands. “In touching Paige, I unintentionally connected to the Nemeton. She died here, taken by the tree as a sacrifice n a sense, but it allowed her return, btu she will forever be in some way connected to the Nemeton now. As a result, in touching her, I connected to the Nemeton who balanced me. The Alpha sparks from Deucalion are too much for me. My exhaustion is what’s keeping me from doing anything about it or really noticing it at all.”

Paige added, “The Nemeton also offered ot train Stiles.”

Derek looked to Paige, asking, “How do you—”

“I can here the Nemeton in my head,” Paige explained. “Like Stiles said, the Nemeton and I are connected.”

Stiles nodded. “Derek? I have something for you.”

Marin looked uncomfortable.

Derek furrowed his brow, but gently took Paige’s hand in his. “What is it?”

“What you’ve earned,” Stiles said before touching Derek. Stiles flashed his red eyes at Derek.

Derek flashed gold eyes back at Stiles.

Peter’s breath caught. “How?”

Stiles had a small but tired smile. “He has nothing to feel bad about anymore. His killing her is fully undone now.”

Stiles then gripped Derek’s tightly, flashing his eyes again. This time, Stiles eyes flashed golden.

Derk’s eyes flashed back: red.

Nodding to Derek, Stiles said, “And now you are an Alpha once more. Your sacrifice re-paid. It’s only one of the sparks Deucalion had. The rest have been given to the Nemeton for her to regrow what’s been lost.”

Peter came up to Stiles and pulled him into a hug, not sure what else to do. With Derek an Alpha again, did that mean Peter may be able to take Stiles away from here when all this was done? Did this rekindle the chance for them to escape Beacen Hills?

Before he could get too far ahead in his thoughts, Peter watched as Marin moved closer to Paige.

The druidess said, “You’ve grown up to be so beautiful.”

Paige smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Mom.”

Marin’s eyes went wide before just smiled. “The Nemeton knows?”

Paige kept smiling. “She knows more than you can imagine.”

Looking away from her mother, Paige looked to Peter. “Jackson is yours. I am not. Your twin daughter run in the preserve. Your husband has passed, but Corinne is still out there somewhere.”

Tears fighting to release from his eyes, Peter fought them back, asking, “What else does the Nemeton know? Can it give my memories back?”

Paige sadly shook her head. “No, it cannot give back your memories. But, the Nemeton can share the you have a few children buried here. They were used as sacrifices to the Nemeton by Deaton.”

Peter growled, regretting not torturing the traitorous druid more. “Did my sister know?”

Paige shook her head. “Talia trusted Deaton to give them to different families. She didn’t have it in her to kill children. She just wanted ot to not be distracted from your service to the pack.”

Peter growled. Not at Paige but in frustration. Even as he was careful to not claw Stiles in his frustration, Peter forced out, “At least she didn’t kill them. Other than the twins and Jackson, do I have other children out there?”

Closing her eyes for a moment then opening them back up, Paige said, “Yes.”

Peter moved his neck some for it to pop and release some of the tension. “I… how do I find them?”

Paige looked at Stiles with a smile. “He should be able to find them using your blood, when he’s stronger due to not being so exhausted and burnt out The Nemeton has been feeding him energy since he started bringing people back so he wouldn’t collapse or die from lack of self-preservation.”

Swallowing the overwhelming emotions trying to battle their way to the surface, Peter focused on controlling his breathing, his heart rate. He needed to calm himself. He didn’t need to stress or worry his pack. However, while doing that, he did pull Stiles close, not handling Stiles’ needs being so great without Peter realizing.

-

Derek watched while holding Paige’s hand while she shared information with Peter. Somehow, after all of these years, he felt like he was a teenager again. His heart was so full of hope, love. Derek didn’t even know what to do with himself beyond hold onto Paige’s hand.

Even knowing it had been years, Derek couldn’t help how badly everything in him sought ot sink back into how things were back then. He’d had hope, been in love. Derek’s tried to help her, even gave himself blue eyes to save her suffering. He would’ve given anything for her then, and now he found he didn’t really feel different. All the years of pain and trauma were not gone. He wasn’t suddenly someone else, but he couldn’t lie and say this didn’t lift some weight of his shoulders that had been there far too long.

Looking at Paige felt like living in a dream even though Derek knew, felt it was real. It was part of why he never wanted to let go of her hand just to make sure she never slipped away from him again. Unable ot help himself, Derek whispered softly to her, “Did you… I mean, are you a werewolf now? Or did you come back human?”

With a sweet smile, Paige cooed softly, “Want me to show you?”

Derek didn’t want to let go of her, but he nodded, choosing to trust.

Paige nodded, slipping her hand out of his before shifting fully into a beautiful white wolf.

Derek stared, enraptured by her form. Not even really thinking it through, Derek shifted fully into his black wolf even though he’d never done so before. He approached her and when she allowed it, nuzzled her softly.

However, the beautiful moment was ruined when a slathering malformed cougar bursting into the clearing. The beast was flashing their red eyes, growling, and snarling as too much saliva dribbled from their mouth. One front limb larger than the other three, two tails, and a tasty cut across one side of its face, the cougar was dark and looked akin to a nightmare even in the light of day.

The cougar reared up to paw at the air in threat before dropping back onto four feet. The beast seemed to find focus as it suddenly charged at Stiles.

Chapter Text

The moment was ruined when a slathering, malformed cougar burst into the clearing. The beast was flashing their red eyes, growling, and snarling as too much saliva dribbled from their open mouth. One front limb larger than the other three, two tails, and a tasty cut across one side of its face that wasn’t healing, the cougar was dark and looked akin to a nightmare even in the light of day.

The cougar reared up to paw at the air in threat before dropping back onto four feet. The beast seemed to find focus as it suddenly charged at Stiles.

Not even thinking, Stiles threw himself to the ground as the cougar leap at him.

At the same time, Peter roared, shifting on the spot, slamming himself in full shift into the cougar to meet mid-air.

The two went down in a tumble of claws and teeth.

Back to his human shape, Derek was quick to push Paige behind him, toward Marin before quickly grabbing Stiles to pull him out of the fray. After pulling Stiles to his feet and away from Peter’s fight, Derek shoved him toward Paige and Marin as he said, “Protect them!”

Derek then shifted and threw himself into the fight just as Peter was thrown out of it against a tree at the edge of the clearing.

The manic, seemingly feral Alpha roared at Derek before throwing itself at the younger Alpha teeth first. While Alpha wounds still lasted, on another Alpha the wound was still easier to take than a beta might.

While the Alpha was feral seeming, they were also an omega, without a pack.

Derek got his claws near the Alpha’s throat finally just as the Alpha grabbed Derek by his Achilles heel and tossed him like a rag doll through a nearby tree as the fight had steadily moved toward the edge of the clearing.

The Alpha then tried to charge toward Stiles again.

Peter was back though and threw himself onto the cougar, trying to fight him into submission. Peter wanted Noah dead for what he did to Stiles. Peter wanted Noah dead for putting Stiles through so much trauma and forcing him to hide his true self. Peter wanted Noah dead for getting in Peter’s way.

However, Peter wasn’t sure Stiles would ever forgive Peter for killing his dad. No matter what Noah put Stiles through, Peter couldn’t kill Noah without Stiles’ blessing no matter how much he wanted to rip the Sheriff to pieces for everything he’d done!

Fighting Noah into submission was not going too well though. Peter clawed and bit at Noah but the cougar kept fighting, acting as though he would fight to his literal last breath to destroy everything and anything he could. Peter was bleeding all over from Noah’s sharp feline teeth and malformed extra-large paw with massive claws to go with that kept grabbing at Peter’s legs.

Derek threw himself back into the fight, trying to help beat Noah down into surrendering. Although he didn’t know every detail of what was happening, Derek did pick up on that this was not only Noah Stilinski, the Sherif, but also that Peter was trying not to kill the man. That in and of itself made the fight harder as Noah did not seem to have the same issues with killing them to get to Stiles, which was where Noah kept trying to take the fight. Hence Derek and Peter fighting to get Noah toward the other side of the clearing and away from Stiles.

Stiles screamed—“Stop! Dad stop!”

Noah growled and kicking out at both Derek and Peter at the same time before desperately clawing at the ground to gain traction and run for Stiles once again.

Peter took the claws to across his face, even splitting one of his eyes in half to shifting mid movement into his half form and grab Noah with both clawed hands. Peter tried to leverage the cougar to the ground despite the growing blood loss.

Stiles cried out again—“HUMAN!”

“Stiles!” Marin cried out with Paige as Stiles collapsed to his knees with blood dribbling from his nose and a bit out of his ears at his magic lashing out with his will.

At the same time, everyone in the clearing shifted to their human form.

Noah kept fighting, struggling against Peter’s hold on him. Seemingly determined to get to Stiles one way or another, Noah began yelling, “Bring her back! You killed her you killed me!... BRING HER BACK!!!”

Derek managed back onto his feet and rushed up with both his hands clasped together into a larger joined fist that he slammed down into Noah’s head.

Slumping weakly to the ground, stunned, Noah whined, “I need her… bring her back or kill me… I need her!”

Tears running down his face, Stiles just stared at his struggling father while seeming at a loss for words.

Still holding Noah down, Peter looked to Stiles. “What do you want?”

Marin spoke up first, “I can take care of this.”

-------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile…

Chris found himself at a loss. His baby girl was a werewolf, turned against her will. He’d been unable to protect her. After everything they’d lost and been through, Chris still could not seem to protect her. Was he doomed? Was she?

How long would she be welcome in the Hale pack? Would they force him away? Her too?

Chris watched as Lydia and Allison chatted with one another as well as with Danny and Jackson. Unable to help himself, Chris wondered if having brought Allison to Beacon Hills at all had ever been a good idea. Yes, he would still be under his father’s command or at least his wrongful perversion of their family’s code. But Allison would be human… maybe living a normal life? Now she was a Werewolf and in a pack with part of the same family his father and sister tried to burn out of existence.

Shaking his head at himself, Chris forced himself to face the reality that this was the better path. Although he’d prefer not to let his little princess go through so much pain and hardship, Chris knew this was a better way that his willful blindness attacking the supernatural and eventually abandoning her through death like his wife had. That was no good. Killing the innocent, even by accident, was no good. Even as hard as this road was on her, Chris knew this was the best path for Allison of the options he knew of.

At least this way, Allison had a choice. She was not indoctrinated like Chris had been, like her mother had been. Allison had a chance at a positive future.

Chris growingly doubted she’d have that had things gone differently. If nothing else, she could’ve been caught in the crossfire of the race war against the supernatural Gerard sought. Additionally, would Chris really be able to protect Allison from his father forever?

Pushing back his thoughts, Christ forced himself up. Nothing silenced the mind like action. Maybe he could set something to prepping for lunch later. They’d very recently had breakfast, but maybe a nice slow-cooked lunch would be a good fit after everything that’d happened, was happening.

Trying to focus on action, Chris went to the dining room, away from the others. Pulling out his phone, he started looked through the local news and touching base with some contacts. Maybe he couldn’t change what had happened to his daughter or even himself, but Chris could try to gather as much information about the Sheriff and anyone he’d bitten.

Once of his contacts was able to hit him back up right away, letting him know that three people had been bitten. One of which had taken quite the beating. It seemed Robert “Bobby” Finstock had fought back pretty hard. He wasn’t at death’s door, but he was in the hospital. The other teacher attacked, one Mr. Adrian Harris, who was torn up and bit. He was also in the hospital. The third person bitten that was known of was Deputy Tara Graeme. She was not otherwise harmed, but it seemed unclear on what exactly attacked beyond that she came upon Finstock attacking whatever it was and got bit before the creature fled.

--------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later …

In the Beacon Hills hospital, Bobby was hitting the call button from where he was strapped into his bed. He was clearly very much over this.

A nurse scuttled in, and upon seeing Bobby awake, said, “I’ll call for the doctor.”

At about the same time, a doctor came walking into the door with one Christopher Argent.

Chris spoke plainly, “Thank you for allowing me to visit an old friend.”

The doctor nodded and looked at Bobby being awake. “Ahh.. welcome back, Finstock. Sorry about the restraints, but we’re still waiting on getting your blood work back. We’re checking for in case you’ve caught something from the attack.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Can I at least get some coffee and the remote for the tv? If I have to watch the shopping network any longer, I think I’ll find a way to kill myself strapped down or not.”

The doctor nodded, “Of course, I’ll have a nurse see to the tv and remote issue. Sadly, you cannot have any caffeine until we’re sure you’re okay.”

That said, the doctor left.

Bobby looked at Chris who was still in the room. “Here to put me down, Argent?”

Chris startled at that. “You know?”

Rolling his eyes, Bobby said, “I’m considered the nuts coach, but I’m not stupid. Your family comes to town again after kids start getting bit? Of course I noticed. I remember the French teacher Katie Silver. Not the best cover name once you look back on it.’

“You better kill me now, because I won’t let you hurt those kids, and I can break these restraints faster than you can say ‘the code.’ So, what’s it going to be, Argent?”

Straightening up, Chris let out a breath before speaking. “I am not my father or sister. I am not here to put you down unless you force it. I’m here to talk to you about what happened and to see what you knew, but apparently you’re more in the loop than I knew.”

Bobby laughed at that. “Wanting to hunt what attacked?”

Frowning, Chris said, “I know you may not believe me, but I’m not like that.”

“Anymore,” Bobby said. “I remember your family hunting one of my players, torturing another. What changed the game then?”

Gritting his teeth, Chris said, “It’s not a game. And I changed for my daughter. I tried ot keep her out of this life, but she got pulled in anyways. I’m doing better for her. I love my daughter more than anything, and she demands this. She’s right about it too. My family never followed the code, and both my daughter and one of her peers broke it down for me the flaws in the cade and so much else.”

Bobby nodded then sighed. “Yeah, Stiles can wear anyone down.”

Frowning, Chris said, “I didn’t say any names.”

Rolling his eyes, Bobby said, “Do you really think a gaggle of teens were good t hiding things? The best of them is Stilinski and even he can’t be perfect. He changed my mind on things all the time, even though I refused to give him the joy of success. I just quietly edited things. I now have the best syllabus for my classes in the school, by the way.”

Chris flashed a weak grin. “I’m sure Stiles knows he won.”

Nodding, Bobby said, “Yeah, but he’s a good kid. Let me keep my pride by not having to announce I was wrong.”

Nodding, Chris said, “Wasn’t that kind ot me.”

Bobby shrugged. “Well, I don’t actually kill kids. I just make them feel like they’re dying.”

Frowning, Chris said, “I don’t kill kids.”

Bobby said, “Your dad did. Sister too.”

“And my wife,” Chris tacked on sadly. He took a seat in the chair beside Finstock’s bed. “Stiles really laid into me on a lot of that. But he never told anyone that he did, though he did also tell all he could that might be in danger from my family what and who we were.”

Bobby nodded. “If it help, the boy gives everyone extra gray hairs. Your lucky you don’t have lasting scars from it.”

Looking at Bobby strangely, Chris asked, “He physically hurt you?”

Shaking his head, Bobby said, “No, oh god no. Witnessed a panic attack of his and my heart nearly stopped at how horrible it was. It’s a mental scar, but I every now and then I even have nightmares about needing to protect him and not being able to. Now? Now, thanks to that beast, I can protect him.”

“How so?” Chris asked, concerned about how Finstock grinned as he mentioned protecting Stiles now.

“I can shift now, and I can protect all my students,” Bobby explained.

Chris nodded. “Makes sense. Can you tell me about what attacked you?”

“A cougar,” Bobby said.

Sighing, Chris said, “I mean the real story not what the cops think.”

Bobby chuckled. “I’m completely serious. A massive Cougar attacked me. It attacked Mr. Harris and I tried to fight it off. On the Harris front, it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

Chris nodded, sighing. “Do you know who the cougar was?”

Bobby shrugged. “Not really worried about it. There’s a pack here now. Things were smoother with the Hales around until your family sought to end it.”

Nodding, Chris asked, “Have you shifted yet?”

Bobby perked a brow, “Only claws, but I suspect trying for more is not really something to do here.”

Nodding, Chris said, “When they let you out, please come to Ms. Martin’s house.”

Bobby asked, “Do you mean Mrs. Martin’s house?”

Chris shrugged. “Mrs. Martin is out of town. It’s Ms. Martin’s place right now.”

Chuckling, Bobby said, “Of course.”

Standing up, Chris nodded. “She’s a very capable young woman.”

Finstock nodded. “She certainly cowed Jackson, to say the least.”

Chris nodded his good bye and left the room to go next to Harris’s room.

Still healing yet not strapped down, Harris was laying in bed, starring at the ceiling.

Stepping into the room, Chris looked at Harris before clearing his throat. “May I speak with you?”

Mr. Harris looked at Chris. “What could you possibly want?”

--------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile…

With Marin’s help, Peter was able to have Noah Stilinski put into Eichen House. Stiles’d helped Marin to ‘sacrifice’ Noah’s Alpha spark to the Nemeton before they took Noah to be committed, making sure he was in the hidden supernatural ward rather than around the unknowing where he could seriously hurt the unsuspecting.

Peter had wanted to take Stiles somewhere to relax afterward, give him a chance to decompress himself after everything. However, Stiles had received a call that he was needed at the Sheriff’s station.

For better or worse, Stiles had felt like he had to go.

As a result, Peter walked into the station with Stiles by his side. He kept the younger man close to watch over him, away the younger man was exhausted but could not yet be done with this day. Hopefully, soon they would go home and rest.

Since they’d managed to check in with Chris before heading to the station, Peter now knew that a Deputy had been bitten. So, to get in and learn as much as he sought about the office bit since they were here anyways, Peter found an additional reason to come and deal with things with Stiles. Plus, Parrish had asked to talk to Stiles about what was going on in a heavy but vague way. Peter figured Parrish could be a good support opportunity since it looked like they were going to potentially have to break the supernatural news to the ‘acting Sheriff’ as news of the Sheriff being commit spread like wildfire even as it had started earlier.

Within three feet of the station, a female deputy rushed up to Stiles and pulling him into a hug, seemingly seeking to comfort him.

Peter would’ve reacted stronger, but Stiles opened his arms to her willingly. As a result, Peter had to reel himself in. He’d been told by Stiles while Peter was doing chores for him and the Sheriff about how Stiles had been partially raised in the station. After taking a subtle sniff, Peter realized that this must be Tara Graeme since she smelled of freshly turned were.

It seemed Peter wasn’t the only one to notice, as Stiles whispered softly to Tara, “Hey, when I’m done talking to Parrish, can we talk a bit, privately?”

“Of course, honey,” Tara responded, giving Stiles another tight hug before releasing him to go on her way.

Stiles looked at Peter, perking a brow.

Peter nodded, acknowledging that he too had smelled the change on her. That communicated, Peter ushered Stiles forward. They had business to deal with after all. Parrish had not been terribly forthcoming over the phone with Stiles.

As a consequence of that, while he did want to sniff around and learn more about the new turn in the station, Peter had to make sure this Parrish wouldn’t become an enemy. The truth or even hints of it could turn people into fearful bigots unexpectedly.

Leading the way, Stiles looked around to see who all was there on the way to his father’s office where he seemed to presume Parrish would be. Stiles then knocked on the closed door.

After told to come in, Stiles and Peter stepped into the office.

The office was clearly tossed and torn through and there was even a faint sent of ashes and burning paper on the Deputy. Parrish was standing in the mess, looking more than a bit overwhelmed. With a shaky voice, Parrish said, “Please close the door.”

Frowning, Stiles closed the door.

Peter asked, “Were you bit, Deputy?”

Parrish shivered. “Yes.”

Stiles frowned harder, asking, “Did you call me to come down because you got bit?”

Deputy Parrish sighed, “Your father complained about all your lies and the weird things in town that you somehow are always there for. I was hoping you’d know what was going on… or could help with what I did.”

Intrigued but having a clue what it might be, Peter asked, “What did you do?”

“Burst into flames when he bit me.”

Proud of himself for not flinching at the visual that conjured or the way his mind fought to remember and reflect on the Hale fire, Peter nodded. “Smart move. Calling Stiles, I mean. We can help you.”

Stiles perked a brow at Peter while asking, “Do you know what it means? It’s—” before interrupting himself as Stiles sighed, saying, “Of course you do… it’s why you’re so calm despite fire coming up.”

Shrugging, Peter said, “As a Left Hand it’s my prerogative to be as educated as I can about things I may encounter. But to be honest, I’ve never had an opportunity to meet a Hell Hound in person. It’s a treat, of a sort.”

“Hell Hound?” Parrish asked, looking concerned.

Peter held up his hands as he noticed heat starting to come off of Parrish. “Deputy, I need you to take a deep breath and hold it for the count of ten before letting it back out. You’re getting worked up is going to cause you to burst into flames again if you cannot calm down, and we don’t want that.”

Thinking fast, Stiles bolted out of the room before quickly returning with a cup of water for Parrish. “Here, drink this in small sips. It’ll help you calm down.”

--------------------------------------------------------

Martin’s residence…

Derek laid out on the massive sectional in the larger living room. Laying, cuddled close to his right was Paige and to his left was Laura with Cora sitting near, flipping through channels on the tv—this was Derek’s happy place it turned out. He was nearly purring with how content he felt right now.

Softly, Paige nuzzled him and then said, “We should probably encourage the others to join us.”

Nodding, Derek was about to yell out for that the others could join, but Paige shook her head at him as though she could read his mind.

Paige said softly, “Maybe go to them and invite them?”

Although he wanted nothing more than to just snuggle into his family and Paige, too, Derek slid free from them. “Good point. If I’m going to be a leader like Peter wanted me to learn to be, might as well try to start anew in a better way.”

Smiling at him, Paige nodded. “I’ll hold your spot ‘til you get back.”

Derek nodded again and left the room. It felt surreal that he wasn’t angry. He had all kinds of feelings. Not all of them were great, but none of them were anger right now. Somehow that beautiful little bit of content helped almost wash him some of his frowns.

Not for a second falling into the idea that he was suddenly a new man, Derek knew he wasn’t magically perfect or anything like that. However, this did feel a lot like a second chance. A new start. Maybe this was a real shot at having a full, proper pack again. Maybe he could mend fences and make up for past wrongs?

First stop was where Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were all curled up together on a bed in one of the bedrooms.

Derek knocked softly on the door before coming in. though he was a bit concerned immediately that maybe he should have waited for permission to open the door, Derek forced himself to use his words even though it hadn’t really felt that natural since the fire to do such a thing. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you to say come in or anything, but you guys should come and join us in the big living room. We’re just spending some time as a pack, and I would love you to join. I’m not ordering it. Just asking.”

Erica was the first to react, sitting up some before looking at the others and nodding to Derek.

Not wanting to pressure, Derek nodded in response and left them to do as they pleased. “I’m going go offer to the others before going back to the living room.”

Leaving the bedroom, Derek’s next stop was the dining room where Jackson, Mrs. Whitmore, Danny, Lydia, and Allison were sitting around.

Seeing them all together just being together in the quiet, Derek spoke gently, “I don’t want to mess with you guys just getting some restful quiet, but I wanted ot invite you to join some of us in the bigger living room. We’re hanging out, bonding by being together in there. I’m not ordering, but you are all welcome to join.”

Mrs. Whitmore asked, “Even if we’re not all in your pack?”

Derek responded, “I’m not worried about pack lines right now. I just… don’t want anyone to feel like they have to be or feel alone.”

Lydia looked at Derek and nodded. As she held Jackson’s arm like it was her own personal teddy bear, she spoke, whispering, “Thank you.”

Leaving hopefully before anyone could feel pressured, Derek next headed for the back porch. Once out there, Derek approached a meditating Marin. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, but wanted ot offer for you to join some of us in the larger living room. We’re all hanging out, bonding by being together. I wanted to invite you to join.”

Marin, opening her eyes, smiled. “Sure. Thanks for the invitation. I’ll take you up on it in a few minutes when I’m done.”

Derek nodded before heading back in. after a breath to steady himself, Derek went to the bedroom where he knew Ethan had been put to rest and recover. He knocked softly on the door. This time he waited before opening the door.

Ethan spoke on the other side of the door, “Come in.”

Derek went in, hesitantly. He wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but so many of them had made mistakes. If he had the chance to be potentially forgiven, shouldn’t he offer it to others? That’s what his mom would say. She would tell him that forgiveness is part of being an Alpha when he and his siblings would get into trouble.

Shivering a moment at the weird experience of how he remembered his mom laid against what all she’d done to Uncle Peter, Derek fund himself with two images that just wouldn’t sync up in his mind. Pushing past that, Derek said, “A bunch of us are gathering in the bigger living room and hanging out, bonding by being together in there. I wanted to invite you to join us.”

Clearly having been crying, Ethan looked up from where he was sitting on the floor at Derek. “Why would you invite me? Don’t all of you hate me? Hate my brother for what we… the Alpha pack did?”

Derek admitted, “You’re never going to be my favorite person, but we all mess up. I can’t say if anyone else is going to be okay with this or not, but I think if my pack has given me another chance as I try to do for them too, it’s possible for you to get another chance, too.”

Looking down, Ethan whispered. “I’m not ready.”

Derek nodded. “I understand, but when you are, let me know. Even if this isn’t where you end up being, belonging, we’ll find a place you can.”

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the bed, Ethan murmured, “Thanks.”

Leaving the room, Derek took a deep breath before hitting the last room. Once to the door, Derek knocked.

Melissa said, “Come in.”

Derek stepped into the room to see Scott laying on the bed curled up on his side, crying with his head in his mom’s lap. Swallowing his mixed and constipated feelings at such a show of vulnerability that reminded him of just how young some of them were as well as how much he missed his own mom, Derek said, “A bunch of us are hanging out in the bigger living room, bonding by being together. I wanted to invite you both to join us.”

Mel combed her fingers through her son’s hair, “Scott, how do you feel about that?”

Scott looked up through tears at Derek. “After everything, you really want me to join you all?”

Derek nodded. “Yes.”

Looking down for a moment, Scott asked quietly, “Is Stiles there too?”

“No,” Derek said. “But he’ll probably join us when he and Peter get back.”

Scott nodded, fresh tears running down his face as he managed ot get out, “Yeah. Mom, we should go. Can… can I clean myself up first?”

Nodding, Derek said, “Do what you need. It’s not an order to join, and being comfortable and together is the point.”

Scott nodded.

Melissa looked at Derek. “Is my being an Alpha going to be a problem?”

Derek shook his head. “Not right now. We will need to discuss it, work it out, but not right now.”

With a sigh, Mel said, “I’m okay with that. So much has happened in so little time.”

Derek nodded. “I completely understand.”

That said, Derek left the room. He didn’t feel lighter, right or wrong, but he knew he’d tried. That counted to him. He tried. Mybe trying was the secret? Maybe that’s where his mom went wrong? She stopped trying? Derek didn’t know if that was the case or not. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t turn Paige back then or a million other things. maybe the answers to the past were not always something that could be resolved and all he had was the effort to do better, move forward trying to make better choices and not repeat the mistakes of the past.

Swallowing hard, Derek made himself move. He couldn’t let himself geet lost in a past he couldn’t change, couldn’t affect now. Right now, he had Paige back, Laura and Cora too. He wanted to focus on pack, family and second chances. Now, in Derek’s opinion, was not time to let the past drag him down.

Returning to the living room, Derek curled back up with his siters and Paige. He was happy to see Erica, Isaac, and Boyd were already in the room. Mrs. Whitmore and those who had been with her were in the process of finding their own spots in the room as well.

--------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later…

Wearing an old t-shirt and some jeans, Melissa McCall was in her backyard with Scott, Liam, and Bobby Finstock being led through a basic self-defense by Christopher Argent first thing in the morning. He was teaching them what to do when trying to fight while human both with and without weapons.

Although neither Peter nor Derek were too big on Chris, Mel couldn’t help but like the idea of having human-style means to keep the peace as well as a chance to get some time with the Silver Fox in form-fitting pants that showed off his very squeezable rear. She also understood Chris wanting to teach everyone but in smaller groups, so each person got the levels of attention needed without it having to be all day every day.

Chris was starting first with weaponless combat as for those in this group especially, it was what they were most likely to be called upon to do.

Taking a solid stance before them all, Chris started with review as he did every time when he said, “Now, when fighting someone who is right-handed, what is a good opening move in a struggle with a human?”

Liam growled in impatience with being up at this hour more than the question itself, “Can’t we just kick their ass?”

Mel sighed. She knew Liam’s anger issues were not new, but she still sometimes wanted to remind him to keep a hold of himself. Then again, after her response the first time they all practiced sparing and Mel saw Scott get bloodied and went all Mamma bear and whooped some butt, maybe she wasn’t really one to talk?

Shaking her head faintly at herself, Mel enjoyed the morning time with some of the pack.

Bobby hated the mornings too, but he always brought coffee, which she couldn’t help but appreciate. He even bought another coffee maker for each of the pack member’s houses, so that his endless black coffee needs would be more easily met.

Bobby was a keeper, and most everyone enjoyed his company—grouchy or not, unlike Adrien Harris.

Thankfully, Mr. Harris was taken in by Alpha Ilto as he couldn’t seem to get along with the young adults of the Hale pack let alone submit to anyone younger than him. Alpha Ilto seemed to have figured out how to work with Harris. Based on the young adults’ responses to the man when he was around let alone his response to them, Mel figured good riddance.

Ethan, on the other hand, chose not to join the pack. Derek and Peter had found a pack in London that was willing to take him in. The poor boy was so young but already so scared; however, for Melissa, that didn’t change that he’d also hurt so many innocent people.

Scott cleared his throat before saying, “Shouldn’t we get a hand on their right wrist? Not to break it, but to control the movement of the more coordinated limb?”

Chris nodded. “That is one way that can be effective.”

Mel kept herself loose as she listened to Chris talk briefly about some of the other options for initial moves, but she couldn’t help how her mind wandered to Scott and Allison deciding to go on a break to sort themselves out before trying to be together as anything more than packmates. There were a lot of changes with Derek becoming THE Alpha of Beacon Hills though Mel did keep her Alpha spark.

Unable to believe half the time that she was in a werewolf pack, with her son even, Melissa smiled, watching Liam start to pick a bit of a disagreement about one thing or another. She couldn’t help but appreciate Chris’ patience with the firecracker of a kid.

There had been a lot of surprises though along the way to this moment, like Jackson, Lydia, and their parents choosing to leave Beacon Hills with Peter and Stiles. The Martin’s selling their house to Derek as a new pack house. Marin Morrel even became their Emissary to stay close with her daughter, Paige who operated at their link to the Nemeton in the preserve.

Chris sighed, “Let’s do some pushups as a warmup.”

Bobby grunted, “You joining us, Argent?”

Chris took off his jacket to lay aside before he got down to the ground to do pushups too.

Mel dropped down to get to it herself. She enjoyed being able to do pushups these days. She didn’t used to be in this kind of shape. It certainly helped with her stamina at work. Thankfully, with a steady pack in town, there were less monster attacks and random murders. It made her work life easier by far.

Switching to one-handed pushups, Mel couldn’t help but smile. She and Bobby often competed in physical exertions like this: both feeling at least ten years young since the bite.

Melissa was pretty shocked that Chris had not taken the bite after his daughter had been bitten, but to each their own, but to each their own.

Chris then said, “Switch to being on your back for crunches.”

Letting herself down to the ground, Mel then rolled onto her back to begin crunches. At this rate, she figured she’d manage to get a six pack by the end of the year, especially with Derek having the pack run three times a week together and twice in rotating smaller groups.

Melissa couldn’t deny herself as her mind wandered to hoping Stiles was happy with Peter in Silver Lake. While they were not all in the same pack per say, the two packs were still allies. Melissa couldn’t wait until Christmas, which they’d all agreed they’d all meet up again for a big celebration.

-

Stiles laid on his back in the bed star fished out in nothing but sweatpants.

Peter slid into bed and gathered Stiles up into being the little spoon while Peter held him. Nuzzling along the back of Stiles’ neck, Peter couldn’t deny the younger man smelled divine—all honey, electricity, cinnamon, and a hint of forest. Peter could live a long happy life never smelling anything else beyond his mate.

Eyes closed, Peter settled into the bed, holding Stiles snuggly against him and enjoying knowing he had his mate with him. He knew they’d have to get up soon to help with breakfast and be off to their respective commitments, but Peter never really wanted to let go. This was a dream. He had Stiles with him, and they made it out of Beacon Hills!

Peter could hear from bed Mrs. Whitmore fussing about the kitchen, making coffee and putting on the kettle for tea with Jackson’s help. It turned out to be a gift for Jackson to be away from certain pressures as he could finally accept some of his unexpected talents like cooking and caring for others.

Also, Peter could hear Miss Lydia Martin in the shower singing quietly to herself.

Since moving, Lydia had not been called to a single dead body, which has been a wonderful reprieve for her.

Starting to drift off, Peter was startled to fully awake by a wild Stiles flinching out of sleep with a gulping gasp. Carefully loosening his hold on the younger man some, Peter made sure to not let go. “You’re okay, darling. You’re safe.”

Stiles whined softly before turning in Peter’s arm and cuddling close to the fellow wolf. “Why can’t I stop dreaming of my dad attacking us?”

Peter nuzzled Stiles softly. “Sweetheart, we literally got word yesterday that your father has refused visitors of any kind. It makes sense that it’s on your mind. His attacking us also wasn’t that long ago.”

Stiles nodded. “Fair, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Nodding himself, Peter knew the real issue that drudged up this issue was probably that Noah had specifically informed Eichen House that he never wanted to see his son again. Even with all the things Stiles had been put through, Peter understood the younger man still took that hard, especially when added to the things his father had said to him while trying to attack him.

After hearing a loud, “FUCK,” Peter chuckled. “I think that is our sign to get up and help out in the kitchen, my dear.”

Stiles snickered before pecking a kiss on Peter’s lips. “Yeah, we better go help.”

They both got out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen of the homey condo that Peter had gotten for all of them in the town of Silver Lake. It was close enough for Mr. Whitmore and Peter to make the drive to San Diego for work while also near free areas for the wolves to run. Plus, there was a great clinic in town that could provide Stiles his bi-monthly testosterone shots that worked for werewolves.

Stiles bounced along into the kitchen, asking, “Why all the ‘fuck,’ Jackson?”

Jackson growled. “Danny’s parents are joining us for breakfast!”

Nodding slowly, Stiles seemed to get it.

Peter sighed. “I take it you were just notified?”

Jackson nodded. “I keep telling them that I need more notice to make enough food. But they just don’t listen!”

Holding back a chuckle, Peter agreed, saying, “Would you like me to talk to them?”

Perking a suspicious brow, Jackson said, “Just about notice for coming over, right?”

“Sure,” Peter said. He’d wanted to break the supernatural truth to Danny’s parents, but no one agreed with him on that. While he could pull Alpha privileges, Peter understood that with there not really being the same levels of issues right now made the younger pack members wants to savor and maintain the peace. Only time would tell on that front, it seemed. Though Peter was still suggesting it as in peace could be the best time to bring in new possible pack members.

Stiles slid more fully into the kitchen. “Okay, well, I guess that means all hands on deck. What do you want me doing, Jacks?”

Sighing in exasperation, even though everyone could smell his relief at being offered help, Jackson said, “I need you chopping. I was trying to make crepes as a nice surprise, but with more people I think I’m going to add breakfast potatoes on top of the breakfast meats and fruit I was working on to go with the crepes.”

Mrs. Whitmore smiled fondly from where she was already making some fruit jam toppings with some frozen fruit on the stove.

Stiles nodded and grabbed a large mixing bowl before heading to the pantry for potatoes.

At the same time, Lydia seemed done with her personal care and emerged in a flouncy pink dress with a light blue sweater on over it. Her make up was impeccable and her hair up in a bun formed from a series of braids. She swept into the dining room attached to the kitchen, saying, “Good morning, any news yet on if Danny’s decided about joining us here or not?”

Jackson groaned. “Maybe that’s why they’re ‘surprising’ us for breakfast.”

Peter nodded. “Sounds like they’re wanting to check on the situation.”

Mrs. Whitmore said, “Well, they talked to me on the phone yesterday, wanting to know more about what was going on here. They seemed pretty suspicious about an older wealthy man living with freshly eighteen-year-olds. But, I explained that there were adults here. It was more about communal living not so much a cult.”

Frowning, Peter said, “They thought this was a cult?”

Mrs. Whitmore shrugged. “Not necessarily, but they were concerned. Danny apparently doesn’t really talk about the adults here, so his parents very much got the wrong idea.”

Refraining from shaking his head or rolling his eyes, Peter moved to make himself a cup of green tea. “You know, if Danny wants to come here, his parents could come too. Additionally, they would not have to live in the condo with us. I mean, there are some other condos and places live near us that are available.”

Jackson growled. “His parents can do that, but I want Danny here.”

Lydia smiled at her boyfriend. “Agreed. I think we have some more exploring to do.”

Stiles came back into the room just in time to hear Lydia’s words. “Please tell me you mean hiking or something…”

Jackson sighed, “Get over yourself, Stiles.”

“Hey,” Stiles said. “You are seriously trying to have the two hottest people from our highschool at the same time?! Come on… share a bit with others! Not everyone has your wonderful cheek bones to lure in the hotties.”

At that, Peter growled. “I’m not sharing you with Danny.”

Smiling at the response he got, Stiles set his bowl of potatoes on the counter before sauntering over to Peter and wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Jackson whined, “Seriously? You’re using even this to flirt with Peter?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Jackson, Danny and I’ll kiss it all better.”

Jackson flushed at her words.

Stiles giggled. “Okay, okay. Sorry, Jacks… I guess my years of thinking I would marry Lydia and cheat on her just a little bit with Danny are long gone. But, seriously, I hope things work out with you guys. All together you’re a great thruple—so cute I think you even make angels gag.”