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Title: Mutual Benefit – Being Pack is a Give and Take

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

Tags: m/m, canon divergence, No Alpha Pack, Erica and Boyd live, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Spark Stiles, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, True Mates, established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, m/f

Main Pairing: Derek/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Scott/Allison

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Peter Hale, Danny Mahealani, Sheriff Noah Stilinski

Summary: Summer is over and it's time to leave the comfort of the Hale House and return to the real world. Stiles has to talk to Scott. Stiles still needs to figure out what his Spark means and he hopes that Peter, who is finally back in town, will be able to teach him how to use his magic.

Mutual Benefit

Being Pack is a Give and Take

"I have a proposition for you that will be mutually beneficial."

Peter raised one eyebrow, pinning Stiles with a stare. "How do you even know where I live."

The look Stiles gave Peter in return was incredulous and offended. "As you have pointed out before, I'm the clever one, Peter. Why are you even asking this. C'mon."

Snorting, Peter walked past the boy and toward his liquor cabinet, getting out a glass of whiskey after he put his suitcase in the corner, near the bedroom (yes, Stiles had snooped before Peter arrived, to get a lay of the place). At least he hadn't gotten thrown out right away. Good start. Stiles grabbed the coffee mug he'd been nursing for the past half hour, emptying it.

"Actually, let's start with where you've been in these past months."

Peter raised both his eyebrows this time and emptied his glass. For a moment, Stiles didn't expect an answer at all. But then he was offered a wicked smile, electric blue eyes pinning him with one look and the fingers gripping the glass were spotting sharp claws.

"During our little confrontation at the warehouse, something had… slithered away," Peter put the glass away, wiggling his clawed fingers. "Someone had to take out the trash, Stiles. It's what I do."

Now it was Stiles' turn to raise his eyebrows, his eyes flitting through the apartment very quickly, even though he'd taken a look earlier. Now, he looked at it with a different point of view. The apartment was fancy, expensive designer furniture, but barely anything personal. Not recently lived in, but having been lived in for a very long time. Stiles' jaw set as the wheels turned in his head.

"Okay, so, let me catch you up on what you missed while you were… taking out the trash," Stiles knitted his fingers, his forearms resting on his knees as he leaned forward. "Jackson's a full werewolf now. He's also a full member of the Hale Pack. So is his mate, Lydia, from whom you are absolutely staying away, fyi. Boyd and Erica are back, and are also back to being part of the pack. We spent the whole summer rebuilding the Hale House. And through acts of… what does he call it… mutual devotion-" Stiles noted the way Peter's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "-Derek and I became mates. I'm the Alpha Mate of the Hale Pack now."

The surprise on Peter's face told Stiles that this turn of phrase was common, at least to the Hale wolves. Maybe to born wolves in general, but it was definitely the way the Hales explained mates to each other. Probably the way a young Peter and Talia had been taught by their parents. The thought made Stiles' chest feel strangely tight. Generations of Hales, centuries of history, and now there were only two left… He pressed his lips together in a tight line, pushing the thought away, even though it was the reason he was here. Peter was the only family Derek had left and Derek deserved to be happy, deserved family. So Stiles had to see if there was anything left of the uncle Derek used to be close to, or if the man had been burned out by trauma and loss, leaving only the vengeance filled shell of a man behind. The fact that Peter had just slipped back into being the Hale Pack's Left Hand, protecting the pack, taking out a threat to the pack, seemed like a good sign. It, at the very least, showed that Peter saw himself as part of the pack, to some degree, and accepted Derek as his Alpha, again to some degree at least. Stiles watched the man curiously.

"So, you came to make sure I stay away from Lydia?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Well, no, just… a side-note," Stiles shrugged. "It's gonna be impossible since you're both in the same pack now. But you will not be alone with her, you will not corner or threaten her or make her uncomfortable. That, I do have to make clear, because nobody will be made uncomfortable in my pack. Which it is. So, look me in the eyes and tell me you understand that."

He could be petty, he could be demanding Peter's submission. He didn't want to force Peter's submission though. That wasn't the kind of pack he wanted to lead. The whole strict hierarchy didn't really vibe with him, he wanted his pack to respect him, not to feel like they had no other choice but to obey. Peter held his gaze, knowing full well what Stiles could ask of him but didn't.

"Understood," Peter tilted his head ever so slightly. "However, I do need you to understand that I have no interests in Lydia Martin in any way. She was a useful tool when I needed her and I no longer need her. There is no reason for me to pay any special attention to her beyond that."

"Okay," Stiles pressed his lips together for a moment, before he relaxed and leaned back more casually. "So, now that you're all caught up and we're on the same page. My proposition."

"My, I don't think my dear nephew is going to like that," Peter smirked.

"Oh. Ew. What the hell, Creeperwolf," Stiles rolled his eyes. "No, get your mind out of the gutter. My proposition is that you are going to teach me magic."

Peter raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Waiting for the part that is supposedly mutually beneficial."

Grinning, Stiles stretched out a little. "It's really simple. You like power. You like revenge. There is no greater revenge for what was done to your pack than to come back strong. Make the Hale Pack a strong, prosperous and respectable pack again. Beyond gathering strong, loyal betas – which we are already doing – the way to do that is by adding power to the pack. Like a strong Emissary."

Peter started looking interested, marginally so, and Stiles' grin grew. "I have magic. Magic I know nothing about. Magic I can't control well yet. But if you teach me – and we're skipping the part where you pretend you can't, because we just talked about Lydia, and the way you knew how to prepare a spell that allowed you to come back from the dead – then I could be strong, I could be powerful, I could be a good asset to our pack, in the capacity of being Emissary. For very obvious reasons that I really don't need to discuss with you, because you might be the only person who actually gets it, Deaton is not going to be Emissary of my pack, or going to teach me magic."

Peter hummed, acknowledging Stiles' words as truth. Deaton was like the most untrustworthy person in this town. The guy knew Stiles had magic, but never dove more into it, only told Stiles when it became useful and still only told Stiles the bare minimum needed in Deaton's opinion. Not to mention the way Deaton flat-out left Derek to drown this entire time. As the former Hale Emissary, he should have supported Derek, should have helped him. Fuck that guy.

"I like this side of you," Peter grinned amused. "Demanding. Sure of your own worth, no longer viewing yourself as the human side-kick in Scott's story. Claiming your role as protagonist."

"I take it that's a yes then," Stiles tilted his head.

Peter heaved an exasperated sigh. "That's a yes, Stiles. But something tells me you haven't quite shared your magical ability with anyone, including your mate, because otherwise Derek would be here, with us. Most likely glaring threateningly at me from over your shoulder. So, we do your lessons here, away from the pack."

Stiles grinned and nodded. "Perfect. I'll see you next Tuesday after school, then."

/break\

Stiles knew that it would be so much easier to just not say anything. Peter was the perfect solution. The man was clearly versed in magic and, beyond that, he was the oldest supernatural being around, had the most personal experience and thus knowledge overall when it came to this world.

"Why do I feel like I got called to the principal's office, being called before the Alpha Pair like this? I have never been called to the principal's office before."

A small grin played on Stiles' lips as he looked at Lydia. The redhead raised one eyebrow at him and looked between Stiles and Derek. There was a frown on Derek's face.

"You were not," Derek muttered. "I have no idea why we're here either. Stiles wanted to see us both, so… if you're in trouble, so am I, I suppose."

Oh, that was what that frown was. Derek was worried he was in trouble. The grin on Stiles' lips grew and got a little softer, before he leaned over to place a soothing kiss on his boyfriend's lips. Because kissing Derek Hale was now something he was officially allowed to do. Because Derek was his boyfriend and his mate. It helped relax Derek a little.

"If anyone is in trouble, it might be me," Stiles admitted. "So I did something and neither of you are going to be big fans of it, but please let me explain first?"

Because not telling them would be easier, but it would also be messier. Sooner or later, they would find out and then they'd only be even more angry or feel more betrayed. Lydia's stare nearly bore a hole into Stiles' head.

"Peter's back in town," Stiles said, figuring he'd just rip off the band-aid. "And I went to see him."

"Alone?" Derek growled out displeased. "Stiles, the last time you saw him, you helped kill him. Did it not occur to you that the man we killed for his revenge-fueled murder spree might murder you in revenge for killing him?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Stiles nodded his agreement. "It was a calculated risk."

"You're better at math than that," Lydia's gaze was pure acid. "Why did you go see him?"

He could see how tense she was. She'd been hospitalized, nearly died, because of his attack and then nearly lost her mind when Peter had used her to resurrect himself. All that trauma and pain that the man had directly caused her… Stiles heaved a deep sigh.

"The research I've been doing over the summer? The personal pet-project that you were helping me with, Lydia?" Stiles looked at them both, biting his lip. "It's… not just general curiosity or a hyperfixation. I've been researching magic users because… I'm a magic user. I have magic. I don't know how much, or how to really use it, but… I'm magic."

Both Derek and Lydia stared at him in quiet surprise. Stiles started fidgeting a little, his eyes wandering over the library. He'd decided to summon them here, because it was where he felt the most in control. This had become his space. Sure, Lydia also did research with him here, but for the most part, it was his. All the books that they had gotten from the Hale Vault, some newer volumes that Derek and Stiles had bought over the past weeks.

"What… does that mean, Stiles?" Derek asked softly. "And what does it have to do with Peter?"

Stiles bit his lip again and leaned back in his chair some. "When we were at the rave, trying to capture the kanima, I used mountain ash, that Deaton gave me. And he… told me how to activate it, told me to 'be that Spark' and I didn't know what that meant. But when we were there, I quickly ran out of mountain ash. I had none left. So I… channeled my belief? Imagining more mountain ash? And it… came pouring out of my empty hand. I don't know how, or why. And I've been trying to figure it out since then."

"Spark," Lydia muttered. "Spinthíras, in Greek."

Stiles hummed and nodded a little. "That book you ordered was the first semi-solid lead I had. Turns out Spark wasn't just a turn of phrase, it was a deliberate word-choice on Deaton's part. I'm a Spark. Which, as far as I can tell, is incredibly rare. And so are the records on them. This is where Peter comes into play. He's been very involved in the old Hale Pack, and the Hale Pack before that – the one under your grandfather, Derek. He has… more knowledge about these things than anyone else we know. And he knows how to use magic. He knew a resurrection spell, knew what he needed and was able to prepare it for himself."

"You want… Peter Hale… to teach you how to use magic?" Lydia looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Fair question," Stiles nodded slowly. "No. I have been very carefully thinking about this. And I've also been thinking about Peter."

"You've been thinking about Peter," Derek looked physically pained by this.

"When you and I got together, you know, when I figured out that you were my mate and had kept that fact from me for weeks, I was in the middle of doing research on pack hierarchy," Stiles noted pleased how guilty Derek looked at the reminder of how much he had messed that one up. "Beyond Alpha, Alpha Mate and Emissary, there are other roles to consider. The Right and Left Hand."

"I've read about those," Lydia nodded, a wary expression on her face.

"Peter was Talia's Left Hand. And he was trained for that position, by the Left Hand before him," Stiles regarded Derek for a very long moment. "You were fifteen when the fire happened. You weren't exactly involved in pack politics. I think we all know that reflected in your… early stages as an Alpha. There is so much you don't know. But Peter does. He doesn't just have 'older than you' kind of life experience, he was closely involved in these matters."

"He killed Laura," Derek growled, eyes flashing red.

"I know," Stiles bit his lips, knowing he was on thin ice here. "He was also a feral omega out of his mind. I've seen how violent and irrational Scott got during full moons, partially because he was new to being a wolf but also because he didn't have a pack. I can't imagine what it does to a wolf's mind to be packless and alone for six years."

Derek's jaw set, his eyebrows a deeply drawn line. "I… I know it was wrong of Laura… of us… to abandon him, but that didn't give him the right-"

"I'm not talking about right," Stiles shook his head. "I'm not saying he had any right to kill her. I'm saying that… he may not have had much of a choice, because he may not have had any control. And I'm not telling you to let him move in today and have family dinners or anything. But… I think that his situation was maybe more complicated than just revenge murder. He wasn't sane. He wasn't in control of his own mind, or body."

"Stiles," Derek's voice was brimming with frustration.

"My mom tried to kill me once."

The Alpha opposite him froze at that, simply staring at him. Lydia blinked at him with wide eyes.

"She died of something called frontotemporal dementia," Stiles' chest felt tight and his hands were clammy. "It means that her mind was gone before her body. She forgot… things. People. Me. Sometimes, she'd yell at me, throw things at me, because I was a stranger in her home. One time, I was seven years old, I was in the bath and she… tried to drown me."

For a moment, Stiles paused, frowning down at his hands. "No, that's not right. She did drown me. If dad hadn't gotten home early that day and knew CPR, I wouldn't be here now, I guess."

His hands were shaking and he tried to force them to stop, tried to keep the tears clinging to his lashes where they were and stop them from falling. When he looked up, both Derek and Lydia were looking at him with unfathomably sad expressions.

"I'm not telling you to forgive him, Derek. I'm just… I know what it feels like when you have to reconcile the memory of a loved one with awful things they have done when their mind was gone," Stiles cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I'm not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me, I'm telling you this to make you understand that I'm not just… glossing over your trauma or pretending that I know better when I don't. I do know what it's like and I do know that it's complicated. How you'll interact with him is your decision and I'm not taking that from you, but how I'll interact with him is my decision. And it's an informed decision based on my experience."

Another pause, before Stiles heaved a sigh. "I do want you to at least… see for yourself. I don't think he's the same man we put in the ground. He seems more together. I just… I think that, if dying and coming back did something to heal him mentally, he would be a valuable addition to our pack, because of the knowledge and experience he has, because he is a seasoned Left Hand and having that would be far greater than either of us trying to teach one of the betas how to be a Left Hand. Just… see for yourself, before you make a final decision, Derek, please?"

Derek nodded slowly, not looking at Stiles. Lydia, on the other hand, was staring quite intensely at Stiles. He turned to hold her gaze.

"I'm not asking you for anything, Lydia. He has his own apartment. Because Left Hands are… othered… in most packs. So he isn't living here. He's not to be alone with you, I told him that. But I did want you to know that he's back in town and that I will be spending time with him. Okay?"

Her lips were a tight, red line and her eyes were burning, but she nodded. Okay. That had gone marginally better than anticipated. He just wished he hadn't had to bring up his mom. Not in this way, at least. That was something he didn't want anyone to know about, because it hadn't been his mom. It had been the illness. And maybe Stiles was drawing the distinction too hard, but Derek wasn't drawing a distinction at all, so…

He heaved a deep sigh and prayed that Peter Hale would be worth the trouble.

/break\

Derek kept grinning at Stiles, which was just so untypical for his Sourwolf that it was starting to freak Stiles out. They'd had two dates so far, but both times Derek had taken Stiles out. Picked him up in the Camaro, paid for the food, once lunch and once dinnner, and then dropped him off at home afterward. He had even gotten a goodnight kiss in the car before Stiles bolted home, hoping none of their neighbors were too noisy. Today, however, Stiles had taken over the date planning and he had picked Derek up from the Hale house. Because he did feel guilty about the whole Peter situation and he didn't like the silence between them, he needed Derek to know that Stiles was in his corner, even when they didn't fully agree. Still, he had somewhat expected there to be tension after yesterday's conversation about Peter. Instead, his Sourwolf kept grinning at him.

"Okay, what's with the grins?" Stiles asked after a moment.

"You're Little Red Riding Hood," Derek pointed out, grin back on his face. "Literally."

Frowning, Stiles looked down himself, pulling a little on the red hoodie he was wearing. "I mean, I own a lot of red hoodies and wear them a lot, but that never got me pretty grins like those."

Oh, there was the faintest blush on his Sourwolf's face at the compliment and wasn't that utterly charming and heartmelting? Stiles could make the big, bad Alpha blush. Hah.

"You're wearing a red hood, you are carrying a basket of food, walking into the woods, with a wolf at your side," Derek pointed out, eyes twinkling. "You're Little Red Riding Hood."

"Well, unless we are taking an incredibly long walk all the way to Austin, Texas, you will not get to eat my grandma and live out your crossdressing fantasies, mister," Stiles huffed.

Derek next to him chuckled and wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulders to pull him closer. "I think I can live with that, Little Red."

This time, it was Stiles' turn to blush, but he also gladly leaned into his boyfriend. He'd really wanted to make some time for them, before the school year started. Stiles could already see himself getting stretched thin once that was the case. During the summer, he had gotten away with staying out late or even over night, but that wouldn't fly anymore once school started. And he wouldn't have as much time for Derek and the pack anymore either, between school and lacrosse.

"Okay! We're here," Stiles grinned triumphantly when they reached the cliff.

It overlooked all of Beacon Hills and as night was slowly falling, the lights in the town and the stars above set a beautiful atmosphere. Derek kept smiling at Stiles every now and again while they set up their picnic. While they ate, they cuddled together on the red plaid-pattern blanket that Stiles had spread out for them. It was just so peaceful and serene and Stiles found himself relishing in it, in getting the chance to just be with Derek. No research, no training, no life or death situation, no betas about to barge in. Just the two of them, together.

"I love you, Sourwolf," Stiles whispered softly into the night air.

Derek behind him pulled him closer against the wolf's chest, so he could reach over Stiles' shoulder to kiss his cheek. "I love you too, Little Red."

/break\

Stiles frowned curiously when he got to his room after his grocery run, just to find a very large box waiting for him on his bed. He tilted his head and approached it like it may explode. Carefully did he open the lid, just to gasp.

With eager fingers did he pull the content out of the box and lift it up into the air. A leather jacket. A red leather jacket. And it had a hood! Stiles couldn't keep from squealing as he turned it over. Another gasp escaped him when he saw the imprint on the back of the jacket. A large triskelion with a circle around it. Stiles' face lit up brightly.

Putting the jacket on, Stiles gave it a spin in front of the mirror, his grin nearly splitting his face. He had his own leather jacket now. Boyd, Erica and Isaac always wore theirs, ever since they'd become Hale Pack. And Jackson had started wearing one too. Even Lydia, though she chose a soft-brown one instead of the standard black. And now Stiles had his own leather jacket. The most Hale Pack leather jacket of them all, with the Hale symbol on the back.

He was out of the house within moments and in his Jeep to drive out to the preserve like a mad man. As soon as he reached the Hale House, he jumped out of his Jeep and rushed in, breathlessly.

"It's perfect!" Stiles yelled into the house.

He gained the attention of the three wolves in the living room. Jackson and Erica, who were sitting in front of the TV playing video games, and a pouting Isaac behind them who had clearly lost the last round and had to give up the controller.

"Holy shit, you look like sexy Red Riding Hood," Erica commented.

Stiles just grinned at her like the sun, pulling the hood up to emphasize the fact that his leather jacket had a hood. Yeah, the imagery of Red Riding Hood was most definitely intentional. Turned out that his boyfriend was actually a giant dork.

Said giant dork finally came down the stairs. As soon as Derek laid eyes on Stiles did said eyes glow a bright Alpha-red. It was becoming harder and harder to fight the arousal every time he saw Derek flash the red eyes and considering Jackson's disgusted nose-wrinkle, Stiles failed again.

"You are ridiculous, Sourwolf," Stiles tugged on the jacket. "This is real leather. And customized. This must have cost just so much money."

"So?" Derek raised his eyebrows and stepped up to him. "You do realize that I am rich, right? So what's all that money for if I can't spend it on my mate."

Stiles preened a little at the possessiveness, just to pause. "What do you mean rich."

"Stiles," Derek gave him a look and motioned around. "We built a ten bedroom two story house with titanium cages in the basement and I have been buying you a new, rare book pretty much every three days during the summer. Also, I keep feeding five werewolves and two humans practically daily. But have you seen me go to work even once since you know me?"

These were excellent points that Stiles may have never put into context. All the expensive furniture, the high quality wooden floors, just how fast everything had been delivered at all times and yeah the titanium cages in the basement. Stiles pursed his lips, before the meanest, most evil smirk spread over his lips and he wrapped his arms around Derek's neck.

"So, what you're saying is that I got a sugar daddy now?"

"No," Isaac said forcefully. "You absolutely do not and will never say these words ever again."

A pillow hit Stiles in the back of his head, making him cackle. Though the cackle somewhat died in his throat when he saw the hungry red gaze aimed at him. Arms wound around his waist, pulling him flush against his mate's chest.

"You tell me what you want and I'll buy it for you," Derek promised, lips brushing against Stiles' cheek. "Anything for you, Little Red."

And maybe Stiles melted just a tiny little bit at these words.

/break\

"So—o, how long are you gonna avoid McCall?"

Stiles glared and grabbed his pillow to hit Erica with it. The she-wolf yelped and then cackled before burrowing herself more into her mate. Boyd, still half-asleep, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her hair. Isaac on Stiles' other side was still fully asleep and using Stiles as an oversized teddy bear. Stiles found himself not minding that. Now that summer was over, it was getting more chilly in Beacon Hills.

"She's not wrong," Boyd muttered. "School starts tomorrow. And he's going to have questions when you sit with the pack."

"Which you will be doing," Erica declared. "I'll personally drag you to our table, if you don't."

"Tomorrow is future Stiles' problem," Stiles mumbled and buried his face in Isaac's curls. "Present Stiles wants to enjoy the last day of sleeping in and then breakfast with dad."

There was a stretch of silence that Stiles didn't particularly like, because it usually meant someone wanted to say something they knew Stiles wouldn't want to hear.

Unsurprisingly, Erica volunteered for the position. "And when are you going to tell your dad? Because you are having a harder and harder time beating the polycule allegations with every day."

And she wasn't wrong. While his dad had been open to the fact that he had other friends now, had even encouraged Stiles about it because he wanted his son to get to spend time with other people aside from Scott, Stiles could see that his dad was growing more and more suspicious of the wolfy behavior. Excessive and lingering touches, the fact that, more often than not, they all slept in a pile, wrapped around each other in a way that could easily be mistaken for the wrong kind of intimate. Because platonic near-naked intimacy between teenagers? Not necessarily the most typical one.

"You keep saying that you're putting it off because we've had peace this summer and you want to enjoy that and not have the drama of explaining things to your dad," Boyd whispered. "But… do you really want to be pressured into telling him when we face our next threat again?"

Oh damn it, he had a point. Stiles turned around to glower at the taller boy, earning a smirk back. With a huff did Stiles nudge Erica until he could also snuggle up to Boyd and use his broad chest as a pillow. Isaac made a sleepy noise in protest before he pulled himself up close against Stiles' back.

"If I told him, would you guys… You know, glowing eyes and fangs and stuff?"

"I thought you'd want Derek to do that," Erica blinked at him curiously.

Stiles paused for a moment. "Yeah, no, absolutely not."

"Are you guys fighting?" Isaac asked, sounding concerned. "I heard you talk yesterday and…"

"Oh," Stiles swallowed. "Right. Werewolf hearing. And you live there. Uhm. No, no, we're not fighting. He just needs to think about some things. But that has nothing to do with me not wanting him there when I tell dad, because I don't want him there so dad won't catch on with the twenty-one year old boyfriend I have. These are two very separate 'please don't be mad' conversations to be had and if Der is there, it may turn into one conversation and that may actually be too much."

Isaac hummed at that, but his arms tightened around him. If Isaac had been there and heard, then he now knew about Stiles' mom too. That thought made Stiles curl together a little, because Isaac was maybe the last person he'd have wanted to know about this. The other boy had actually been abused by a parent. His wasn't like Isaac's situation though, Stiles' mom hadn't meant to hurt him, it had all just been the illness, and he didn't want Isaac to get the wrong impression.

"Okay, pups. Up, time for breakfast and a totally terrifying conversation with my dad."

Heaving a sigh, he got up and then urged the three betas to follow him downstairs. Him and Boyd got breakfast started together and half-way through the pancakes, his dad zombie-walked into the room, just to be handed a coffee by Isaac.

"Good morning, sheriff," Erica greeted him with a bright grin.

"Morning, kids," Noah grunted and nodded at them all. "Are we sure I have not adopted any of you without my knowledge? This is the fourth day this week that you lot are here. Where's Jackson?"

"Oh, him and Lydia had other plans for the last day before the new school year," Erica snickered.

Both Stilinski men made very similar faces at that and then shared a smile. Okay. Yeah. Stiles could do this. He could totally do this. His dad loved him and he already loved like the majority of the pack. (Stiles tried to not think about the fact that the only one Noah didn't like yet because he didn't know him was Stiles' boyfriend. Different conversation to be had.)

The five of them ate in peace, Noah asking the teens a couple questions about the upcoming school year and their plans. How Boyd was going to fully join the lacrosse team, after having been randomly subbed in by coach last year (Stiles loved that absolutely unhinged man), how Erica's parents were doing (because Roberto Reyes owned the coffee shop where most of the station were getting their coffee fix so Noah was on friendly terms with Erica's dad), how well Isaac had been settling in with his new guardian (at which point Isaac, bless his heart, sang Derek's praises in what was so clearly an attempt to butter Noah up for the later reveal of that being Stiles' boyfriend. Hold on a second, if Derek was Isaac's guardian and Stiles was Derek's mate, which was like werewolf-marriage, did that make him Isaac's stepfather? Okay, pinning that freak-out for a later date too).

The teens cleaned up the table while Noah finished the newspaper and, before the man could get up, all four of them sat down with him again, staring maybe a little intensely at the sheriff. Slowly, he put down his coffee mug and looked back at them.

"You finally gonna tell me whatever it is you've been hiding from me?"

"Ye—ep," Stiles swallowed hard. "Okay, so, I need you to listen to me and to believe me, even if it sounds crazy and like I may have lost my mind but I haven't. I… I really need you to believe that I'm telling you the truth, dad. So I need you to listen to me to the end."

Noah looked wary at that, but he nodded. "Okay, kiddo."

"Obiecasz mi, tato," Stiles said with more urgency. [Polish translation: Promise me, dad]

The look on his father's face softened some. "Yeah, Mietek."

Stiles breathed out a little sigh and nodded to himself. Okay. He could do this. His dad was still going to love him after this. His dad was going to understand. He wasn't going to lose his dad.

"That night, when Scott and I went out looking for half a body, Scott got bitten by a werewolf."

Band-aid approach. His dad looked ready to protest, to react annoyed, but one pleading look from Stiles silenced him for now. Stiles had asked to be believed, to be heard out. Stiles tried to talk as slowly as he could, because the lightning speed at which his words wanted to come out was not going to help him here as he retold everything that had happened this school year.

Laura's body. Derek. Peter, the Alpha. Kate Argent having laid the Hale Fire. The Argents being hunters. Stiles tried to lean into the angle of all those cases that didn't really make sense, that the sheriff just couldn't figure out. Because he was missing information, didn't have the bigger picture.

The kanima. The betas being turned. Isaac's dad being killed by the kanima. Gerard Argent. Matt and his control over the kanima. The night in the basement.

And throughout most of it, Noah looked like he didn't believe his son. Like this was all some crazy tale that Stiles was spinning, just some stupid story. But something about Stiles' expression when he talked about that night in the basement, about what had really happened and where he had really gotten the bruises, it put the most devastated look on Noah's face.

"So. Yeah. I couldn't really tell you 'my principal the werewolf hunter had me abducted to torture me so he could let my werewolf best friend know not to date the granddaughter of said principal', because… that sounds crazy, doesn't it? It sounds like I've lost my mind."

And he wasn't even being glib about this, he was being very literal, he knew it did sound like he was losing his mind. "I sound like mom when she called me a demon."

Noah flinched and Stiles looked down at his hands on the table. For a moment, he wondered if she'd been right. He had magic, he still didn't know what a Spark was. What if he actually was the demon that she had tried to kill? Tears prickled in his eyes.

"I swear I'm not making this up, dad," Stiles' voice had a desperate edge to it. "I can prove it. And you can talk to Melissa, she knows the truth too. She can… I don't know, you can talk about it as humans who got dragged into this supernatural mess. Please."

"H… How can you prove it?" Noah sounded and looked tired, rubbing his face.

"I believe that is our cue," Erica grinned. "Please don't freak out, sheriff."

And then her eyes were glowing golden and her smile held too many fangs. The sheriff's hand went to his holster on reflex, even though he wasn't wearing it. He inhaled sharply, staring wide-eyed at the blonde girl. At the half-shifted werewolf.

"Okay," Noah said warily. "Okay. So this is… real. This is really happening."

"This is really happening, dad," Stiles nodded and bit his lip.

"I need…" Noah trailed off for a moment and then took a deep breath. "I need some time to… I don't even know. Reevaluate everything I know?"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded again and swallowed hard, anxiety knotting up his stomach.

With one look at his son did Noah see where Stiles' mind was going. The next moment, he pulled Stiles into the tightest, fiercest hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I love you, kiddo, you know that, right?" Noah whispered softly. "I love you, Mietek."

Taking half a shaking breath, Stiles burrowed his face in his dad's chest. "Love you too."

/break\

Derek woke up because someone was crawling into his bed. The cold night breeze coming in through the open window carried the honey-lightning scent of his mate and Derek relaxed a little. At least until he realized that it was Sunday night and tomorrow was the first day of school. And then he realized something else too. Stiles had never been in his bedroom before, much less his bed. They'd barely confessed their feelings last week and Derek had taken Stiles out twice, once for lunch and once for dinner. He had certainly not taken his mate to bed.

"Why are you in my bed, Stiles?"

Stiles just hummed softly while curling together on Derek's chest like a kitten, pulling the blanket closer around them both. "Missed you."

Heaving a sigh, Derek wrapped his arms around his mate. "This about Peter?"

"Peter, because I didn't want you and me to fight. My dad, because I actually told him the truth today. Maybe even Scott, I don't know. Like, I feel anxious about seeing him tomorrow."

Stiles lifted his head to look at Derek with big, sad eyes. Derek wrapped his arms a little tighter around Stiles and pulled his mate close enough to kiss his forehead. He didn't want to fight about Peter either and maybe he wasn't ready to talk about that yet either.

"How… did your dad take it?"

"I don't know, I think it went well? There was some yelling at multiple points, which I guess is fair. The nearly getting killed parts?" Stiles shrugged and snuggled back down. "Says he needs some time to come to terms with it all. I texted Melissa and asked her to check in with him. Maybe talking to another parent who got thrown into this will help?"

Derek hummed and ran his hands over Stiles' back, trying to sooth him. "Today's a school night."

He tried to ignore the strange feeling in his stomach that saying this to his boyfriend caused. Stiles snorted and pulled the blanket fully over his head, making Derek sigh.

"I brought a change of clothes and you can drop me off at school when you drop off Isaac anyway," Stiles shrugged. "Look, the past two days were like really fucking emotionally exhausting and I want some Alpha snuggles, so shut up and snuggle me, Alpha."

It was Derek's turn to snort, but he still pulled Stiles closer. If he was being honest, this was very comforting to him too. Their conversation about Peter had rattled him, on multiple levels. Part of him knew Stiles was right, that what he and Laura had done by abandoning Peter had been awful and had led to this situation. If Peter had gotten to heal in a pack, with actual pack-bonds to support him, he would have healed faster and wouldn't have been as disoriented when he woke up. Derek knew he wasn't blameless. Derek also, on an abstract level, understood the rage and need for vengeance aimed at the Alpha who had abandoned Peter.

But that Alpha had been Laura. For six years, she had been his whole world. The two of them never integrated into a pack in New York, they never took in any additional betas either. They lived as a pack of two, just Derek and his big sister. And now she was gone and she was gone because Peter had killed her. For six years, she had been his only family and now she was just gone.

His grip on Stiles tightened when fear set in. What if someone took everything from him again? Took this pack he so carefully built for himself. Took his mate.

"Kinda squishing the breakable human here," Stiles mumbled. "Everything okay, Sourwolf?"

"Y… Yeah," Derek forced out, voice sounding rough.

"You are a shit liar, Derek Wigrad Hale."

"That's… how do you even…" Derek frowned surprised at his Stiles.

Stiles cracked an eye open and gave him the most mischievous grin. "I've been reading the Hale Chronicles. I know all about your family's horrid naming traditions. Your middle-names indicate the position in the pack that you are meant to take on one day. A future Alpha's middle name would have been Wisamar or Wisagund, both meaning 'wise leader'. The middle name of the Right Hand is either Wigrad or Wastrada, meaning 'good counsel'. The middle name of the Left Hand is either Wermund, meaning 'true protector', or Warintrud, a combination of 'defend' and 'strength'. The leader, the adviser and the protector."

Derek simply stared at him. He hadn't even known that. He'd always hated his middle name because it was impossibly old fashioned and stupid and he'd always thought it was weird that they all had one, but… He bore the name of a Right Hand.

Laura Wisagund Hale. Derek Wigrad Hale. Cora Warintrud Hale.

The Alpha, the Right Hand and the Left Hand of what the Hale Pack was supposed to be one day, when their mother would have handed over leadership to Laura. Derek had been fifteen when the fire happened, he was supposed to start his training as Right Hand the following year, as was tradition. His aunt Fiona had been so excited to teach him, had talked about it so animatedly and he'd been so freaked out about it. It sounded boring and like a lot of responsibility and he'd only just lost Paige, he wasn't ready for that.

Kate had understood him, offered an open ear when he wanted to vent about his family, told him he was so mature and would be fine. She'd twisted a teenager's frustration with his family and used it to manipulate him, to take what she wanted from him…

"They all start with 'W' to invoke the wolf. It started to honor the first officially recorded 'Hale' Pack – mind you, obviously not named that yet, kind of predates the modern concept of surnames, obviously, and also predates your time in English-speaking countries. The first recorded Alpha of your bloodline was Wisagund Wisamarsdottir, her Right Hand Wigrad Wisamarson and her Left Hand Wermund Wisamarson. They were the first wolves from your bloodline to really form their own pack, establish their own territory, at Lake Constance, and make a name for themselves. Judging by the family tree, they generally stuck with W names for a few generations, before the tradition of middle-names to honor the first pack was established, somewhere around the time your family moved to England. They founded a town called Hale there, that's where your current surname comes from," Stiles continued, voice soft and content. "Before a branch of your family decided to take a big ship across the ocean."

Derek jerked a little, torn out of his spiraling thoughts by Stiles' recounting of the Hale family history. Blinking, he turned to look at the boy in his arms. Barely older than he had been when Kate… Derek was barely younger now than Kate had been back then.

"I read something else really interesting in your family history, you know?" Stiles asked, looking at him. "Der? Hey? You listening to me, Sourwolf? I know you probably know all of this already, but it is totally not my fault that I fell down a rabbit hole of wanting to know everything about the family I am now like werewolf-married into."

Derek's heart stumbled a little at that. Werewolf-married. Because they were mates. Because Derek had let things grow so far that Stiles was now bound to him. He was so young, he should have a choice, many choices. And Derek had taken that away from Stiles.

"Okay, whatever's going on with you, I don't like it," Stiles frowned and sat up on Derek's chest to glare down at him. "That's the miserable self-loathing eyebrows. I don't like them. What's going on in that head of yours, Derek?"

"You're sixteen, Stiles," Derek whispered. "You still go to high school. You and me… I'm…"

"This is about Kate," Stiles whispered, too clever for Derek's own good. "Okay, you listen here, Derek: You are not Kate Argent. You never forced me or manipulated me into anything. I have grown attached to you all on my own, you never intentionally set out to make me fall for you, did you? You were probably more surprised by it than me."

"I… Yeah," Derek nodded after a moment.

"And you aren't with me to use me for some ulterior motif either, are you?" Stiles asked, eyebrows raised. "You're with me because you love me, right?"

"Yeah," Derek managed a more certain answer this time.

"Look," Stiles sighed and cupped his cheek. "I get it. She fucked you up badly. She groomed you and killed your family. And maybe we are age-wise in the same range as you and her were back then, but that doesn't make us you and her."

Derek still looked doubtful, all he could think about was Kate's wicked smile and how violated he had felt after. How guilty. How he hadn't spoken for months after the fire, because he felt every word out of his mouth would be a lie, feared that Laura would be able to tell, would know that the fire was really Derek's fault.

In the end, when he finally told her, after over a year, Laura had just hugged him so very tightly and told him over and over again that it wasn't his fault, that this adult woman had taken advantage of him, that he was just a kid and couldn't have known.

"You said that mate-bonds are forged through mutual devotion, Derek," Stiles' voice had softened so impossibly much, his gaze filled with love. "You have to be as devoted to me as I am to you. It's a two-way street. If you were manipulating me for your own gain, you wouldn't be devoted to me. And I chose to devote myself to you. This is real, Derek. What we have is nothing like what happened between you and Kate, okay?"

Derek stared at Stiles for a few long moments, the sincerity and determination in Stiles' eyes, while his words slowly sank in. Stiles was right. A mate-bond was the purest and strongest bond there was, it could not be forced. It was willingly given by both parties, could only form if both were devoted to each other. Derek took his first proper breath since this conversation started and nodded.

"You… You're right. I just…"

Stiles tilted his head. "You have trauma. I get that. I know that. I just need you to… like… talk to me about it? And not to just shut down and get lost in your own head, okay? Because not talking about it really did not work out for me and my dad."

Nodding again, Derek pulled Stiles close enough so he could bury his nose in his mate's hair. "I love you, Stiles. Thank you for… being you."

"Now, that's a thing I've never been thanked for before," Stiles snickered.

For a few moments, Derek just breathed deeply, relishing in his mate's scent. "What was the other thing you found out? You wanted to tell me something else?"

He wanted to hear his mate's voice again. Loved the enthusiastic passion with which Stiles could speak about whatever he hyperfixated on. And he was even a little proud that Stiles had somehow ended up hyperfixating on Derek's family. Especially since Derek had never paid attention to these things. Uncle Aaron had tried to teach him, but Derek had been young and bored and uninterested. He wished he'd listened more when he still had the chance, but he would now listen to Stiles.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. So, like I said earlier, your family's from Lake Constance originally, right? They were part of the Nemetes tribe that worshiped its tribal goddess named Nemetona, who was like in charge of sacred places like groves. She was married to Loucetius, a god of healing, war and storms which is a pretty badass combination. Nemetona is where the Celtic term Nemeton comes from, which is a place sacred to Druids, usually a grove or at least a tree. The Hale Chronicles say that there's a Nemeton in Beacon Hills too. That your family brought seedlings all the way from Lake Constance to England to plant trees and then brought seedlings from those trees over to the states. A thousand five-hundred years of history and there's wolves and trees in this town that can trace their lineage back that far. That's pretty cool, isn't it?"

A pleasant warm sleepy feeling overcame Derek and he hummed softly. His eyelids grew heavy as Stiles went on a tangent about Gaulish-Germanic deities, Derek letting his mate's voice wash over him as he drifted off to sleep.

/break\

Derek dropped Isaac (who had given Stiles teasing grins all throughout breakfast) and Stiles off at school and Stiles had stolen one quick kiss from his boyfriend before bolting off into the building. They were quickly met by Boyd, Erica and later on Jackson on their way to class. Stiles noted the lack of Lydia but tried not to think about it too hard, until lunch rolled around.

Stiles' steps stuttered when he entered the cafeteria and saw Jackson and Lydia sitting with Danny and Allison. The way they had done all of last year. Jackson and Danny were talking, so were Lydia and Allison. Because Allison was Lydia's best friend. Stiles' grip on his bag tightened.

His eyes scanned the cafeteria and he spotted Isaac, Boyd and Erica sitting at Boyd's old table. The three were so engaged in their conversation, they hadn't noticed Stiles yet. So Stiles just stood there, literally between the tables. Between two halves of his pack.

It was when Scott entered the cafeteria and walked over to sit down next to Allison, kissing her on the cheek, that something in Stiles just snapped. With a deeply annoyed feeling in his stomach did he stomp over to the jocks' table.

"You, you and you are coming with me," Stiles pointed at Lydia, Allison and Scott. "Now."

Danny raised his eyebrows in surprise at Stiles' tone before he turned to look at Jackson, who just shrugged. Right, Danny had no idea about werewolves. Danny was just best friends with one. That needed to be fixed before Danny got in trouble – the way Lydia had gotten into trouble by being kept at the fringe of the pack, involved with too many of them while not knowing what was going on, because in the end, that was what had gotten her attacked on the lacrosse field.

The three followed him outside, Lydia with one raised eyebrow. Stiles raised his chin in reply.

"You judged me for asking Peter to mentor me, but you fall right back to hanging out with Allison? After what she's done to our pack? She shot two dozen arrows into Boyd and nearly killed him! Just to kidnap him and Erica to get tortured by her grandpa. And she stuck two daggers into Isaac. That was a fucking traumatic near death experience for them, you know."

There was a flicker of something in Lydia's eyes at that. At Stiles drawing a parallel between Allison's behavior and Peter's behavior, and in return between Lydia's choice and Stiles'. Now, granted, Stiles hadn't been best friends with Peter before the attack, but he still thought it was a hypocrite thing to do, to just forgive and forget what Allison had done to traumatize people to whom Lydia was now close. His jaw set as he watched her really consider this.

Predictably, Scott spoke up. "What happened wasn't Allison's fau-"

"Oh, shut up!" Stiles interrupted him, pent-up anger that had been piling on for months finally exploding. "This entire time, you have been prioritizing Allison over everything! Over me, over our safety. Do you remember the bruises I had, before the summer? Did you even notice them? Did you ever wonder where they came from?"

"I thought…" Scott faltered a little. "You drove the Jeep through the warehouse all. I figured…"

"Gerard Argent snatched me off the lacrosse field and tortured me," Stiles pressed his lips together. "He did it because of you, both of you. I was a message to you to stop hooking up with his granddaughter. That's what happened to me. And that's why we barely hung out all summer, Scott, because I was angry – am apparently still angry – that all year long, you put your mate before me at all times. It used to be you and me against the world, Scotty. What happened to that."

There was silence stretching on between them, Scott looking troubled and guilty. They'd barely spent any time together in the past months. Stiles had checked in on the full moon, they'd played Call of Duty like three times, but that was it. There had been no deep conversations, no confrontation about what had happened with Gerard. It had been… empty.

"How do I fix this?" Scott asked, looking so earnest.

Stiles took a shaky breath. "You have to apologize to Derek for what you did with Gerard. That shit was fucked up, Scott. And I need you to lay off about the betas, I get that the bite was forced on you, but Isaac, Boyd and Erica all consented to it. It was their choice. Derek didn't force them. And I need you to pick up. I need you to not hang up on me just because you're on a date with Allison. When I call you because I'm in a life or death situation, I need to be able to rely on you."

Scott looked like a kicked puppy, but nodded. "I just… I want things to go back to how they were."

"They won't, ever," Stiles raised his eyebrows. "You're a werewolf now. We are in near constant danger. There's a pack of werewolves I'm in. It's never going to be like it used to be, because our world has fundamentally changed. And so have we."

For a moment, Stiles paused, before he turned toward Allison. She'd remained quiet so far, but he appreciated the vague guilt on her face.

"You're going to apologize to them," Stiles stated simply. "You're going to apologize for attacking them, for nearly killing them, or I won't let you near my pack again."

Lydia made an indignant sound, and Stiles growled back to quiet her. Which mostly worked because it startled her. It also startled him a little, if he was being honest.

"I know what I did was messed up, Stiles," Allison spoke softly. "I just… after mom…"

"Yeah, yeah, you lost your mom, sad. Doesn't excuse a bigoted attempted-murder spree," Stiles said harshly. "Besides, it's not really like she was a victim. She didn't have to die. She chose to die, instead of turning into a werewolf. Her own bigotry is what killed her, so maybe, just maybe, said bigotry isn't what you should have taken as a lesson here."

"She died because Derek bit her," Allison argued, raising her voice.

"And Derek bit her because she was actively killing Scott," Stiles countered with a snarl. "She was poisoning him for dating you!"

The way Allison flinched away at that, eyes wide and shocked. Oh, for real. Stiles' head snapped over to stare at Scott in utter disbelief. The other boy squirmed.

"She was hurting so much, I didn't want to make her feel worse about it."

Stiles took a deep breath in through the nose and then shook his head. "Whatever. You? You get to hang out with who you want, including people who harmed and tried to kill our pack, so you don't get to judge me for Peter. You? Apologize to Derek and get your shit together. And you? Apologize to my betas and… also get your shit together."

With that, he left the three standing there and stomped back inside. He sat down next to Danny near forcefully and then turned to stare at Boyd, Erica and Isaac across the cafeteria. He raised his eyebrows at them, asking without words why the hell they were still sitting there. The next moment, the trio got up and walked over to them, Erica plopping down next to Stiles while holding Boyd's hand, Isaac sitting down at the rear.

"Dannyboy," Stiles aimed a cheerful smile at the jock to his left. "What are you doing after school? Because oh boy does Jackson have a story to tell you."

Jackson stared at Stiles in surprise. Oh, Stiles knew that Jackson wanted to tell Danny but didn't know how. And especially now, after telling his dad? Stiles knew they couldn't keep the people closest to them from finding out one way or the other and telling them was the safer option.

/break\

Derek's eyebrows were drawn so deep, Peter was quite frankly impressed. He was also not the least bit surprised that when Stiles arrived at his doorstep, Derek stood behind the boy like a looming shadow. With his most charming smile did Peter step aside and invite them both in.

"Before we do any magic, we need to talk about what you are," Peter sat down on his couch. "What do you know about Sparks?"

"Lydia bought a book in ancient Greek called Spinthíras. It basically retells the story of Hades and Persephone from Demeter's perspective, how her and Hecate traveled the world looking for Demeter's daughter. Every place that aided her, she left a blessed seedling behind. A tree embedded with a spark of Hecate's magic," Stiles recounted. "Unsure how that relates to me though."

"That's the Greek interpretation," Peter nodded, resting his chin on his hand. "And it relates to you in that these magic trees are said to choose a guardian for their lands and pass on that spark of magic to a human infant, so the magic can grow within them and when they reach maturity, the magic manifests, granting that person the power to protect the tree and its land."

Stiles blinked at him with those large eyes of his. Peter so hated having to tell the actual truth, he was mildly allergic to it. However, Stiles was right that he would benefit from this too. To have a Spark as the pack's Emissary was… He couldn't even put into words just how impactful that would be, how powerful that would make their pack.

"You said Greek interpretation," Stiles pursed his lips. "Implying others."

"Mh," Peter gave a shrug. "Just like there is werewolf lore in so many cultures, differing and contradicting one another while still carrying a core of truth, many cultures have interpretations of Spark lore too. Partially contradictory, but at their core, carrying a certain truth. Depending on your own theological beliefs, you may take the godly angle as serious as you like, but what it boils down to is a magic tree and a magic user protecting it, both created by the gods."

"What's yours?" Stiles asked, leaning forward, greedy for knowledge.

"Our family goes back a long way, to a tribe known as the Nemetes-"

"Oh fuck me, the sacred groves," Stiles muttered with wide eyes.

"Mh," Peter couldn't help the small, pleased smirk. "You read up on Hale history?"

"Mhmh," Stiles nodded. "Der gave me access to the Hale vault. I've been through the Hale Chronicles. There's a goddess of protection and of sacred groves."

"Nemetona," Peter nodded, his eyes wandering from Stiles to watch his nephew's wary expression instead, to see Derek's reaction. "The trees in her grove were sacred and magical. When our family left their lands, we took seedlings with us and planted sacred groves in Nemetona's name wherever our family settled down, including here, in Beacon Hills."

Reaching out to the table next to the couch, Peter took the book he had put there earlier and handed it to Stiles. It was old, bound in leather, with golden lettering on the cover. Funkōn.

"Let me guess, 'Funkōn' is the Germanic version of Spark?" Stiles frowned at it curiously.

"Mh," Peter smirked. "I don't know how good your old high German is, but if you want to know the history of your Spark, you should read up on the culture that forged it."

Stiles heaved a long-suffering sigh. "If I'm lucky, Lydia learned old high German because she got bored on a rainy Tuesday or whatever."

"Don't look so put out that you didn't get to levitate anything today," Peter rolled his eyes. "You need to understand what you are and what you can do, before you can learn how to do anything, otherwise you will lose control."

"Wait, I can levitate things? Like, with my mind?"

Peter fixed the boy with a pointed glare. "Go read your book."

"Homework," Stiles groaned and hit his head against Derek's shoulder. "I take everything back that I said about him, he is evil after all."

Well now, wasn't that interesting. Whatever had Stiles said to Derek about Peter? For a long moment, it was just quiet between them, before Derek sighed.

"Go ahead, wait at the car, Stiles?" Derek requested softly.

Stiles raised his eyebrows and looked between them warily. "Uhm. Okay. Don't kill each other? And, you know, thanks for the book, Peter. I'll text you when I finish it."

"You don't have my number," Peter pointed out when the boy headed for the door.

Stiles chuckled amused as he left and somehow, that didn't reassure Peter. Peter tensed marginally, left alone with Derek. With his nephew. With his… Alpha.

"Are you better?" Derek asked softly. "Better than you were before?"

"Are you asking me if I'm sane again?" Peter raised an amused eyebrow. "I… suppose a case could be made for it, yes. I'm no longer feral. That part of me died, the feral untethered beast died when you tore my throat out. What came back is… You could say that, in my death, I was putting myself back together, piece by piece. I wouldn't necessarily call myself sane, the trauma, the fire, the loss, they're still there, still a part of me. But I'm not the monster driven only by revenge and bloodlust."

Derek nodded, his eyes dropping down onto the floor. "I'm sorry."

"For killing me?" Peter raised an eyebrow. "Because, quite frankly, you might have done me a favor with it. Having coherent thoughts again is quite the improvement, I'll admit."

"For abandoning you," Derek's voice was so soft.

In that moment, Derek reminded Peter of that little boy who'd once broken Peter's favorite vase and apologized for it, all guilt-ridden and soft-spoken. Only that this time, Derek hadn't broken a vase (the favorite vase of Peter's uncle James, the only reason why the vase had mattered to Peter at all), this time, Derek had broken Peter. Or helped break Peter, anyway.

"I appreciate the sentiment," Peter said dryly. "But it doesn't change the past now, does it?"

"I was fifteen, uncle Peter," Derek looked up at him in despair. "She was my Alpha. She dragged me all the way across the states and I tried, I said, but she wouldn't hear it and I stopped fighting."

"Yet you still think you have something to apologize for."

"Because I didn't stay fifteen," Derek lowered his gaze again. "At one point, I became an adult and I could have… I should have… At one point, it became my own choice not to return. It was just… easier. Not to look back. You were… a reminder of everything we lost."

"I wasn't a reminder, I was a person. I was your pack," Peter snarled, eyes flashing and beta-shift coming on. "I was your pack and you never looked back. You called me 'barely human' when you showed me off to Scott to teach him how bad the Argents are."

Derek flinched at that wide-eyed and horrified. "I… I…"

"I wasn't dead, Derek," Peter got up, got all up in Derek's face, claws itching to sink into the foolish boy in front of him. "I was still human! I wasn't treated like it by anyone, but I was still human. How did you expect me to become anything but a feral beast when my own nephew looked at me and didn't even see a person?"

He could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and he took a stumbling step back. "Leave."

"Peter," Derek started, tried to say something but seemed unsure what.

"No," Peter growled. "Get out of my den. Now."

With a defeated sigh did Derek obey. The moment the door closed behind the Alpha, Peter went down on his knees and felt himself shaking with tears that he hadn't been able to shed in too many years. Tears of mourning for everything and everyone he had lost, including himself.

/break\

At the end of the week, Danny found himself sitting under a tree in the backyard of the new Hale house, Lydia and Stiles on either side of him as the three watched a pack of werewolves throw each other around like they weighted nothing. Glowing eyes, fangs and claws. That first day of the school year had definitely been intense. Danny's best friend was a werewolf, in fact, most of the people in his school friends group were somehow supernatural, aside from Stiles, it seemed.

"I can't believe you're dating your cousin, Stiles."

The comment was absolutely worth it because he got to see Derek 'Miguel' Hale get barreled into by Erica and fully take the fall, so thrown off by having heard Danny's remark (because werewolves had enhanced hearing, as Danny had learned. Among many other wild things Danny had learned in these past five days. Today, for example, he had learned that Stiles was dating Derek Hale, the Alpha of the pack, also known as 'Miguel Stilinski').

"That's not," Stiles groaned and flushed brightly, burying his face in his book.

"No, I get it. You were trying to hide your hot college-age boyfriend in your room and figured playing it off as him being your cousin was a good idea," Danny chuckled.

"I mean, no," Stiles looked up, peeking at him. "I was trying to hide a wanted murder fugitive and figured playing it off as him being my cousin was a good idea. We weren't dating back then."

"I don't know how you managed to make that worse, but you did," Danny nodded. "Impressive. Nearly as impressive as you actually bagging that."

"He can hear you, you know," Lydia commented dryly.

Danny grinned brightly and turned to make eye-contact with the hot man. "I know."

Stiles made another distressed noise and hid in his book again. At least his book was in English. Lydia had been reading something very vaguely German looking for the past couple days and kept making notes that she passed on to Stiles. Somehow, Danny had a feeling there was even more going on that he didn't know about yet.

For now, he would like to digest the fact that his best friend used to be an enslaved lizard.

/break\

"This is actually really cool," Stiles looked up from his notes to look at Derek with his distractingly pretty doe-eyes. "The Germanic origin story ties Sparks to Nemetona through her husband."

Derek hummed and put his own book down. He reached his now free hand out to run through his mate's hair, loving that Stiles had outgrown the buzzcut because his hair was so soft and Derek just couldn't stop playing with it. Stiles subconsciously snuggled closer to him.

"I told you that Nemetona was married to a god named Loucetius, right?" Stiles continued, resting his cheek on Derek's thigh. "His name actually means glowing or… sparkling. He was a storm god, a lightning bringer. So, the lore around Sparks here is that Loucetius wanted his wife and her grove protected, so he chose a Spark and bestowed them with a spark of lightning. A warrior to guard the grove of Nemetona. And every tree taken from her grove could, in his stead, choose a guardian."

"So whether Germanic or Greek, they both come down to a magic tree that chooses a guardian, its magic granted by gods," Derek murmured. "So… you have godly magic."

"Yu—up. Guess that makes me a demigod," Stiles grinned.

Derek stilled. Being bestowed by a god's blessing… Was that why Peter was so willing to help them? Stiles may be joking, but in their world where everything mythological was true to some degree? That was a lot of power, more than a druid or witch had to offer.

"I think you should go to Peter alone next time," Derek whispered. "We… Our conversation didn't go so well on Monday. And I think that was… on me. Maybe we need more time."

Stiles blinked up at him and then sat up so he could kiss Derek ever so softly. "Okay."

/break\

Now that Stiles had the homework and research part out of the way, fully immersed himself in Germanic Spark lore, he was finally allowed to do actual magic. He was sitting in Peter's apartment, on the wolf's couch, eager and ready.

"I have multiple books on spell work, rituals and runes that you can and should read," Peter said seriously. "These are magicks that anyone with some magical inclination can perform. That's because we take the magic needed for these from the Earth. To get it, a sacrifice of sorts has to be made. For a spell, the spoken words, the breath of life you give with every word, are a form of sacrifice. The greater the magic you're trying to perform, the greater the sacrifice has to be."

Stiles was nodding along eagerly. This was the kind of knowledge he wanted to soak up like a sponge. Magic! Real, actual magic. He was so ready to study up on spells and learn how to draw runes, anything it took to become a greater asset to his pack, to be able to protect them.

"However, these practices are more or less secondary for you."

Stiles blinked up at the wolf in surprise at that. "Huh. But that's… magic?"

"That's human magic. You're not human," Peter raised an eyebrow at him. "You're a Spark."

"I mean, on that technicality, you aren't human either," Stiles rolled his eyes. "Werewolf."

Peter mustered the most exasperated look at that. "The 'were' in wolf still comes from 'man', as in human. I'm magically inclined thanks to the wolf part, but I'm still very much human. You are… something beyond human. You aren't magically inclined, you are magic, Stiles."

Okay, yeah. Stiles and Derek had had that conversation before. But somehow, when Peter said it, it freaked Stiles out more. Derek was way more soothing than his uncle.

"What… does that mean?" Stiles asked, arms crossed as he leaned back some. "For my magic, I mean. Do I… not have to make a sacrifice then?"

Peter tilted his head ever so slightly. "For the things we humans have to? Yes, you do. Because these are what would be considered unnatural magicks. Magic created by humans, where humans force magic into doing their bidding. But you, my dear Spark, have something very unique on top of that. You have natural magicks."

Stiles was ready to explode. "Stop being so dramatic and keeping me in suspense, what can I do?!"

It got him a near amused snort from the wolf. "You control nature itself. All elements and all things that are natural obey your will. Once you hone said will and learn control over them, that is."

"Control the elements?" Stiles raised one eyebrow. "What, like, water-bending?"

A wolfish grin spread over Peter's lips as he motioned at the bowl of water in front of him. "I would so prefer to start with any element than fire, but yes."

"So… uh… what do you expect me to do here?" Stiles scrunched up his nose.

"You said you used your magic before. Tell me how you did it."

"I just… concentrated on mountain ash? That was the objective, I had run out of it but needed more so I was just… imagining more mountain ash and bahm, more mountain ash."

"Try less 'just' and more detail," Peter looked at him unimpressed. "How were you imagining it, how did you feel while doing it, what motivated you. Magic is a lot about feelings. Whether you go into a ritual with love or hatred in your heart can change the outcome. The feelings that made you channel your magic for the very first time must have been strong. Tap into them."

For another moment did Stiles look at the wolf with doubt in his eyes, but then he closed his eyes. Honestly, saying some fancy Latin words and having shit happen sounded much easier than the vague concept of using his emotions and imagination to do something that he wasn't even entirely sure of what exactly it was supposed to be in the end.

With his eyes closed did he try to recall that night outside the rave. He could feel the tears of frustration clinging to his lashes when he realized that he'd run out of mountain ash. The one thing he was supposed to do. Trap the kanima, so Isaac and Erica could capture him, so they could interrogate him and neutralize him. Derek and Boyd were out there, fighting hunters, protecting the others so they could go through with this plan. Scott… Scott had also been there. Because that was the day after the two of them had officially joined the Hale Pack.

Stiles gasped softly when a sense of warmth filled his chest, spreading out into the very tips of his fingers. Pack. His pack. That was the night he had really been part of the pack for the first time. The night they all had worked together – Derek, Stiles, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Scott, even Allison – the first time Stiles had felt that sense of pack.

"Good. Now channel that into what you want to do."

Channel what? Stiles frowned and opened his eyes to complain to the wolf. Not a word left his mouth when he realized that he was floating two feet over the couch, the air whipping around him, the water from the bowl circling him in water blobs. The flowers on Peter's windowsill seemed brighter, longer, leaning toward Stiles as though they wanted to reach him.

The smug wolf in front of him froze for a moment when Stiles looked at him and, near instinctively, flashed his eyes blue at Stiles and tilted his head to the side, ever so slightly baring his throat in submission to a more powerful predator.

Stiles was surprised by that, until he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind Peter's couch. His eyes were glowing a bright teal-color, similar to the way the wolves' eyes did. He looked… otherworldly and powerful.

"Stiles," Peter growled. "You're causing quite the mess, do try to reign it in. Focus."

"He says to the kid with ADHD," Stiles muttered, eyes wandering. "How. I feel… overwhelmed? I feel everything. I can hear your plants, Peter. This is… This is too much."

And it was. The plants were whispering, not really words but emotions, somehow. He could feel that Peter took good care of them, that they were happy here. The water circling him was singing to him and through that, he knew its temperature, its purity, even where it came from. He could see the little brook up in the mountains that it had once originated from. The air caressed his skin, warm and gentle like a lover, comforting and with a wisdom of old age.

Suddenly, he was falling and came crashing down onto the floor in front of the couch. Groaning, he climbed back onto the couch, his knees too weak for him to stand, all energy drained from him.

"I told you to focus," Peter heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You let nature dominate you, when you are supposed to be master over it."

"Oh, I'm so fucking sorry for that," Stiles snarked with a glare. "You try having tab water tell you its riveting journey from the well it once sprung from while the wind's trying to seduce you and a bunch of house plants tell you all about their great plant dad who is a sap and talks to them!"

Somehow, Peter looked both annoyed and amused at the same time. "That's why I told you to focus, on only one thing. When you used your magic for the first time, you didn't get distracted either, did you? The wind didn't, what was that, seduce you, because your attention was on the mountain ash."

Oh, Stiles absolutely hated when Peter was right. Glaring weakly at the wolf, Stiles tried to get up. Only that his legs absolutely did not cooperate. He made a soft noise. With a heavy sigh did Peter get up and head to the kitchen. For a moment, Stiles felt abandoned, until Peter returned with a glass of water that he handed over to Stiles with a near concerned look.

"Drink," Peter ordered. "When I said you are magic, I meant it. You run on your magic, it is an inherent part of you, so if you use too much of it, you'll feel weak. For now, drink something, then later try to eat to get your energy back."

It was only moderately embarrassing that Peter had to hold the glass to Stiles' lips because Stiles nearly dropped it when he attempted to take it from the wolf. But there was something in Peter's eyes that made it not embarrassing. Then again, after six years in a coma, Peter knew what it felt like to need help with basic functions.

"I'm calling Derek so he can pick you up," Peter sighed. "I will not have you loitering here for hours and thanks to you, I do now have to clean up the place."

Stiles looked around, noting the splashed water everywhere and the papers that had been blown around by the wind. He didn't find it in himself to feel guilty, because holy shit, he had done that. Even if he hadn't had actual control over it, he did have access to it. He'd felt powerful.

/break\

When Stiles opened the door, Scott stood in front of it with a giant pizza box and a DVD set of the original Star Wars trilogy. For a few moments, Stiles simply blinked and stared.

"I meant it," Scott spoke with fierce determination. "I want to fix things. I don't know how, but I do. So I figured, I mean, you always nag me to watch these movies. If you want me to see them so badly, then you should watch them with me. And I brought pizza."

A smile tugged on Stiles' lips and he stepped aside. He hadn't had any plans today, for a change. Erica and Lydia had tried to rope him into a shopping trip, Jackson had wanted him to come over and play video games, Stiles had also considered maybe just breaking into Derek's bedroom and cuddling with his boyfriend all day. But none of those were fixed plans. And Scott was here. Making an effort. The traitorous, always scheming part in the back of Stiles' brain told him that if they could really rekindle, maybe he could make Scott see reason, see that joining the pack would benefit everyone – make the pack stronger, prevent Scott from becoming an omega. But no, that was going too far. First, Stiles and Scott had to work on Stiles and Scott.

"I'll get us sodas," Stiles declared. "You set everything up in the living room."

If Scott were a puppy and not a werewolf, his tail would be wagging at that. And that made Stiles feel warm, because it meant Scott did still want to be his friend. A part of him had thought maybe things between them had corroded too much over the summer. He paused at that thought, frowning. Okay, maybe they did still need some more talking before they could slip back into comfort.

"Why didn't we spend time together over the summer?" Stiles asked softly, sitting down next to Scott. "I mean, I know why I didn't. I was mad at you for not noticing the bruises and for not telling me about Gerard and I was really busy with the Hale House – we, uh, rebuilt the Hale House over the summer – so I didn't have much time anyway. But…"

But were you just too busy making out with Allison to even think about me?

Scott sat crosslegged on the couch, accepting the soda from Stiles and frowning a little himself. "I was busy too, you know. My grades had gotten so bad last year with everything going on, I had summer school to deal with. And mom's still adjusting to knowing about the supernatural, she wanted to spend a lot of time. And, yeah, Allison too. But it's also, honestly, I didn't… I didn't feel welcome here? When I was over, the one time. It felt… hostile. Not you! But the house? I don't… It felt like I shouldn't be here, smelt like too many other wolves…"

Oh. Right. Territory. Derek had called his house Hale Pack territory before. With how the betas kept coming and going, they must have covered every surface in the house with their scents by now. It made sense that Scott's wolf wouldn't feel welcome in another pack's territory. Which only made it feel like more of a gesture that Scott was here now.

Offering Scott a small grin, Stiles opened the lid of the pizza box. "Now, here's the thing you need to know about Star Wars, before we start watching…"

/break\

Stiles so owed Erica. She could be climbing Boyd like a tree right now, but instead of spending time with her mate, she was out shopping with Lydia and Allison. Over the summer, Lydia had kind of become Erica's friend. The first girl friend she ever had. So far, with Boyd, Isaac and Stiles, all her friends were boys. And it was awesome, getting to do more typically girly things with Lydia – they'd had a spa day during the summer, went shopping together because while Lydia loved Erica's general change in style, she did think Erica could 'tone it down a little'. In the end, with Lydia's help, Erica had finally found her own style, somewhere between showing off the body she was proud of and being comfortable the way she had been more or less forced to all her life. Sexy, accentuating her body, but still comfortable to wear (and practical in case of a fight; Derek had insisted on that and he wasn't wrong). Erica and Lydia were friends now.

Lydia was also best friends with Allison though. Despite Allison seriously hurting Erica, Boyd and Isaac. And sure! Erica had threatened Lydia and Allison before too, had attacked them when they were all still on different sides. But what Allison had done to her and Boyd wasn't just an attack. She'd abducted them so her grandfather could torture them. Injuring someone in a fair fight was one thing, but that had been too much.

Allison had apologized. After Stiles told her to. And Erica had not been willing to listen. Ignored her for two weeks straight, pretended her and Scott weren't there, at the same lunch table as the pack. Because she was also still mad at Scott for what he'd done to Derek (and to Stiles). It was hard to ignore the couple when they were always kind of around, awkwardly clinging to the fringe of the pack while definitely not being part of it.

Allison made… an effort. Apparently, she was actually getting professional help. Had been seeing a therapist over the summer already, worked through the bigoted brainwashing from grandpa and all the death and loss in her family (though they went with a more… humanly acceptable version of things where grandpa was a regular racist).

Erica didn't know loss. Her parents were both still alive, all her aunts and uncles were living in Puerto Rico, so were her grandparents on her dad's side, while her mom's grandparents had moved to Florida. Nobody she personally knew had ever died and she didn't know how she would react if she'd suddenly lose her mom. Though she liked to think that she would not help getting her classmates tortured.

Stiles knew loss. Isaac knew loss. Derek knew loss. Boyd knew loss.

Boyd and Erica had spent hours talking about Alicia, Boyd's little sister who had died when he was still little. Whom he couldn't save. The helplessness of that. The way losing family left a hole inside the family, one that was impossible to fill. Erica had held him gently while he cried for a person Erica had never gotten to meet and a part of Erica felt an echo of that loss, in that moment.

But Allison's aunt and mom had been bigoted murderers. They'd also been her family that she lost. It wasn't an excuse for what she had done to Erica and Boyd. And Erica wasn't going to forget it any time soon. Perhaps though, just perhaps, Erica could be the bigger person. For Lydia.

"So, this is awkward," Erica commented casually, eyes on the wall in front of her.

Lydia was currently in the changing room with about twenty outfits, leaving Erica and Allison sitting alone outside and waiting for her, after not having found anything for themselves.

"It is," Allison sighed. "I… I know… I know what I did to you was…"

"Severely fucked up?" Erica offered, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Allison winced, then lowered her gaze to her hands. "It was just… It was easier."

Erica nodded, a disbelieving look on her face. "Shooting us was easy."

"Believing Gerard that all werewolves are monsters was easier than… easier than accepting that my mother killed herself for no reason. Chose to leave me for no reason," Allison's voice was so small. "She killed herself because she was turning into a werewolf. And instead of even just… trying to be a werewolf, choosing to stay with me, she chose death. It was… It was easier to believe Gerard that this was her only option, that turning into a werewolf would have turned her into a monster. It was easier to believe that than to accept that my mom couldn't live, not even for me."

Erica's eyes softened some. It was still severely fucked up and Erica was never going to forget it. But maybe she understood it just a little bit. And maybe Allison really was working through her shit, if she could admit this herself and saw how fucked up it all had been.

"C'mon," Erica sighed and got up. "Lydia will be at least another half hour before she'll be ready to show us anything and I saw a cute pair of shoes in the store next door."

Allison looked up at her surprised, before offering the smallest smile and following her. Urgh, Stiles and all his forgiveness was really rubbing off on her. That's what she got for picking the most forgiving asshole as her best friend. All the threats Derek had made in the past, including bodily harm, and Stiles had forgiven, had even fallen in love with Derek. Jackson's bullying in the past. Erica taking out a piece of Roscoe to knock Stiles out with. Stiles had given them all a second chance and they were the ones who had gained from it.

No third chances though. If Allison ever harmed anyone Erica cared about again, she was personally going to rip that girl's throat out with her perfectly manicured nails.

/break\

Stiles was trying to space out the tough conversations he had to have with his dad. Only when Noah seemed moderately settled with the fact that werewolves existed did Stiles feel like he could maybe have the next hard conversation. Noah and Melissa had talked, at length, and even brought in Chris Argent about it. Now, Noah barely tensed when one of the betas would flash their eyes over breakfast and growl at each other about the last waffle (because, for reasons beyond Stiles' comprehension, Stiles still woke up with at least one wolf in his room at all times and the ones not sleeping with him usually found their way to his breakfast table anyway).

Things were settled on the werewolf front. Time for the next tough conversation. It was a literal coin flip for Stiles though, which topic to bring up next. The five years older boyfriend, or the fact that Stiles wasn't human. The coin decided that he should have the magic conversation first. Part of Stiles was relieved about that. Somehow, his relationship status was the conversation he was most afraid of. What if his dad was disgusted by it, angry, disappointed? Would shoot Derek in the face (now that he had wolfsbane bullets thanks to Argent)?

No, the fact that Stiles was now some kind of blessed-by-the-gods tree-guardian seemed safer.

"Where are the wolves?" Noah asked warily, looking around the kitchen. "I don't think I've seen this room that empty in months."

"Uhm, yeah," Stiles nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "I kinda asked them not to come over today so you and I could… talk."

With the heaviest sigh did Noah go and make coffee. Only when both Stilinskis were a whole cup in did they sit down opposite each other. Stiles fidgeted with the mug in his hands.

"What is it this time?" Noah visibly braced himself. "Is it vampires?"

Stiles blinked owlishly. Were vampires real? He needed to read up on that, actually. How had he not read up on that yet? Kiddo Stiles would be so disappointed in him for not knowing yet if Spike and Angel had the potential to be real.

"I don't know, pinning that for later research," Stiles shook his head. "It's about me. I'm… I'm not… human, dad. I'm what's called a Spark. A magic user who can control nature basically."

"Control nature?" Noah repeated in disbelief. "What does that even… holy shit."

Stiles raised his hand and with it, the water out of his own water-glass so that it was now swirling around him. With his other hand, he was pulling the air, letting it whistle around the two of them.

"If it's natural – the elements, plants, trees – then it answers to my call," Stiles replied, a proud grin on his lips. "I'm slowly getting the hang on minor things. Peter's been teaching me."

"Peter. Peter Hale? The formerly comatose lawyer?" Noah's eyebrows drew deep. "The one who bit Scott? Whom you helped kill? And who resurrected himself with magic?"

"Yeah, that last part is why I asked him to teach me. Because he knows about magic."

Noah looked very tired. "And can we, perhaps, address all the other parts?"

"Sure. So, the coma was pretty tough on him and he's working on getting his license back."

"Stiles," Noah managed to make his name sound like a warning, threat and plea in one.

"I honestly don't know what you want to hear, dad," Stiles shrugged helplessly. "It's not like there's some magic school I could sign up for. Sadly, Charmed remains fictional and the Halliwells can't help me with this one."

Noah heaved a sigh. It was his 'being your father has once again aged me by a decade' sigh. Stiles was pretty familiar with it. His dad should be roughly 970 years old at this point.

"You yourself said that he has manipulated both Derek and Lydia in the past, in different ways. What makes you think that he isn't doing the same with you? If you have this… magic, what if he just wants that? Wants to manipulate you?"

"Fair point, fair point," Stiles nodded. "Honestly, I don't know. I can't know for sure. But he's my best shot. I absolutely do trust him more than Deaton, because at least Peter has always been upfront about his nefarious nature. He sweetens his words, sure, but he does make his intentions clear. I know he's helping me because he'll benefit from it too, through my power and through the way this does put him more into his nephew's good graces, Alpha of the pack and all that."

"Right," Noah rubbed his face. "I still have to meet your Alpha too. This has just all been… a lot."

Stiles only marginally tensed at the idea of his dad and boyfriend meeting. "So yeah, I just wanted you to know that I'm magic and that Peter has been teaching me."

"Peter will teach you here, next time," Noah looked up, tired but determined. "You told me about multiple murders this man has committed. Your intuition may be good, but I'd like to rely on my own. Make my own call if he's the man he used to be, or the… monster you met."

Stiles heaved a sigh and deflated some, nodding his agreement. "I just… To be honest?"

"Please," Noah raised both his eyebrows at his son.

"I think I have an easier time looking past the murders and assaults because he was insane back then," Stiles shrugged, decidedly not looking at his dad. "His mind was gone. He wasn't himself anymore. I have noticed a change, since he started teaching me. He isn't the same feral monster he was when he first woke up from the coma, driven mad by loss and trauma."

Stiles' voice dropped to barely a whisper when he admitted the part he hadn't even been able to say aloud to Derek yet. "I just keep thinking about what if mom came back. She hit me, threw things at me, called me names. She drowned me. But if she came back? I couldn't… I couldn't hold all of that against her, because it wasn't her. Because her mind was gone."

Noah stared at him in silence, before nodding. "He's still coming over. I want to see for myself."

/break\

Peter's gaze wandered along the walls, over the family pictures. He could hear Stiles busying himself in the kitchen, heart racing like a rabbit on the run. Peter took his time looking around the Stilinski home, before ultimately settling on the man on the couch.

Noah had gotten old. But then, six years had passed and werewolves generally aged slower than humans. And age became the man. The lines on his face suited him. His gaze was still as piercing as Peter remembered though. Intense and serious, making criminals and lawyers alike squirm.

"John," Peter greeted him with a quirk of his lips.

Stiles in the other room stilled. "Noah! It's Noah! And technically, it's Sheriff Stilinski to you! For crying out loud, can you at least attempt to make a good first impression, Zombiewolf?!"

For a second, Noah looked baffled, before barking out a laugh. The sound drew Stiles out, wary expression on the boy's face as he lingered in the kitchen doorway and watched them.

"He used to call me that, when we were teenagers," Noah explained, expression softening.

"Arguably the weirdest nickname I have ever heard," Stiles muttered. "Wait. Why does he have a nickname for you? You two knew each other in high school?"

"I was in your mother's class," Peter offered after a moment, eyes still on Noah, unable to look at Claudia's son. "We were… friends. Her tendency to cause trouble and her sarcastic attitude bewitched me and we quickly realized we were kindred spirits."

"Mh," Noah huffed out a breath through his nose. "When me and your mom started dating, Peter resolutely refused to learn my name, said I was just a John Smith type, not worth remembering the name of. Gone like all the other guys who couldn't handle a woman like Claudia."

"It appears I was wrong," Peter drawled. "Happens to the best of us."

For a long moment did Stiles stare at Peter with those impossibly wide honey-whiskey eyes of his and Peter's heart clenched. Satisfied that nobody was getting killed, Stiles retreated to the kitchen and returned to his previous task. Peter went to sit opposite Noah.

"He has Claudia's eyes," Peter whispered softly. "I recognized him on sight, the first time we met. He looked at me with Claudia's eyes and he reminded me of her."

Noah swallowed hard, his own eyes dropping to his hands. "He does. Sometimes, when he looks at me, all fierce and determined and convinced he's right, it feels like she's standing right behind him. He's… He's so much like her, it hurts. Not because it's a reminder of what I lost, but… but because he never got to actually… see these parts of her. All his most recent memories of her were tainted by the illness and the memories before that… We're different with our kids, when they're still small. All soft and sweet. He never got to see her cuss up a storm, pull a prank, do… do all these things he does that drive me crazy. He never got to see just how much he's like her."

Silence fell between them. Loss was a heavy burden, Peter knew that all too well. He'd wanted to step up, back then. When Claudia died, he meant to be there for Noah, for Stiles too. Had made that promise to his dying friend, that he'd watch over her son.

Months prior, Paige had rejected the bite, Derek had killed his first love and Peter, knowing the hand he had played in this (this wasn't what he had planned, he had meant it, had wanted her to turn, wanted the alliance that Derek and Paige's mate-bond could have brought their packs. Not this. Not loss. Not blood on Derek's hands), he had tried his best to be there for his nephew.

Parallel to it, Talia's friend Deucalion had been betrayed by Gerard, a treaty meeting going horribly wrong on Hale Territory, under Talia's watch. The outfall of that had caused them all work for months. The distrust between the packs, the threat of the hunters.

Things were barely getting back on track when the Hale House burned to the ground.

"She knew I was a werewolf," Peter said after long minutes of silence, a smile quirking his lips. "Thought it was the coolest thing possible. Came to me with a stack of books and notes, asking me what checked out and what didn't."

"Stiles says the bite cured Scott's asthma and Erica's epilepsy," Noah's voice was tight. "Why didn't you offer it too her? Why didn't you try to save her?"

"It was too late," Peter swallowed hard, his fingers intertwined in his lap. "By the time she got the diagnosis, too much damage had already been done to her brain. The bite can heal a lot, but not everything. At best, it would have trapped her in the mental state she was in, her body ever healing itself from further damage and living on, but the memories that were lost… maybe even gone forever. Believe me when I tell you that she wouldn't have wanted that. Being trapped in your own body while your mind gives out is… hell."

Silence, again. Only the clattering of the dishes in the kitchen and the sounds of Noah's harsh breathing and Stiles' jackrabbit heartbeat. Peter stared down at the ground. He remembered picking out that carpet with Claudia when she and Noah had first moved in here.

"I visited you," Noah whispered softly. "Not as often as I should have, maybe, but…"

"I know," Peter's throat felt tight. "I heard your voice. I may not remember what you said to me, but I remember hearing you, sometimes."

"I talked about Claudia," Noah said after another long moment. "I talked to you about my grief. After I…" Noah paused, taking a shaky breath. "I didn't deal well with it at first. I drank too much. I left Stiles to fend for himself. I tried drowning my grief, shoving it down and ignoring it. I know I should have reached out. To Melissa. To you. To the guys at the station. To anyone. But I couldn't. I felt like I needed to deal with it on my own."

Peter closed his eyes. He wished he had checked in more. He'd dropped by, sometimes, left take-out at the station for Noah. The man looked put together, but Peter hadn't looked too closely. Between his own grief for his friend, the burden of trying to help Derek through his loss of Paige, the workload of being Talia's Left Hand and dealing with the outfall of the meeting of Alphas, he just… hadn't had the mind to look closer. Noah had been upright and working, that had to be enough.

Evidently, it hadn't been enough.

"They took Stiles away from me," Noah looked away, anger coloring his face. "He'd nearly burned down the house making dinner on the anniversary of Claudia's death. Tried to make her favorite, but that was… that was too complex for a kid his age. They took him away from me, because he'd been unsupervised and I was drunk and…"

Noah took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. "He lived with Claudia's brother Stan in Texas for nearly a year, while I got my shit together. I got sober, started going to a self-help group for widowers. Started… visiting you. Because talking to you about Claudia helped. Maybe because you didn't answer. Couldn't judge me for how I handled it."

Peter lifted his eyes to look at the man, really look at him. Saw that maybe part of what had made him age so much was the grief and loss. Saw the heartbreak and pain and guilt on his face.

"I don't, for the record," Peter swallowed. "Judge you for how you handled it. I hardly have room to judge how you handled your own grief. I killed people for mine."

The silence seemed heavier this time and when Noah met his eyes, there was something dark in them. "Maybe I would have too. If there was someone responsible for it. If she hadn't died from the illness, if someone had intentionally taken her from me. Maybe I would have too."

Peter's lips quirked in a sad and dark smile. Noah and Claudia may not have been wolves, but they had been so devoted to each other, they were their own brand of True Mates.

Stiles cleared his throat and entered the kitchen. "So—o… is Peter allowed to teach me magic now, or are you going to arrest him for the murders?"

Noah shook his head. "He can teach you. But I'm staying. I want to see what you can do."

"That is a compromise I can live with," Stiles grinned broadly. "Lets me show off some."

Peter took a moment to watch how wide Stiles' grin stretched, just like Claudia's whenever she got her will. The boy thought that Peter was only teaching him for the sake of profiting from having a strong Emissary and that surely was something Peter benefited from. But mostly, he found himself so painfully honest with the boy because there was a debt to be paid. A promise to be kept.

He was going to make sure that Claudia's son was strong and powerful and safe. Even when he had been at his lowest, feral and murderous, he had not once been able to harm Stiles. Not at the hospital, not on the lacrosse field, not in the parking garage. Because when Stiles looked at him with his wide, brown eyes, the wolf in him that wasn't fully there and couldn't tell what was real or not, what was past or dream or present, only saw Claudia. Saw pack.

/break\

Boyd sat with Erica perched on his lap. Which had become her favorite spot, somehow. Not that he minded. He loved the weight and warmth of her, loved when she'd lean against him and he could smell her hair even when her curls would tickle his nose.

He'd had a crush on her pretty much since they joined Derek's pack. But he wasn't good at these things. Talking. Even less so with girls. And then the three of them had made plans to run away. Isaac had backed out and it had been just him and her. Holding hands as they left with utmost determination to make a new life for themselves out there, somewhere. Like everything would somehow be okay as long as they had each other.

And then Allison had attacked. Erica could have run – should have run, maybe – while the huntress was shooting arrows into Boyd. He'd put himself between them even, to draw her fire. But Erica had said, had plead her to stop.

The basement. The torture. Hours strung up on that ceiling. But they survived it, together. Well, with major help from Stiles, who also set their heads straight about running away.

Still, that day had forever changed their lives. Mutual devotion, was what Stiles called it. The foundation of a True Mate bond. A dedication to one another, to protect, help and support each other. That one night had laid the foundation for what Boyd and Erica had now.

But that one night had also laid the foundation for a deep friendship with Stiles. When he'd so fearlessly tried to cut them down, getting himself electrocuted, when he had brought them back, told them to go home. When Erica had more or less bullied him into 'fixing' the Hale Pack.

Somehow, the loudest person Boyd knew had become his best friend. He knew he wasn't Stiles' best friend. Knew Scott would forever have that spot, even when the other boy screwed up, years of loyalty were not that easily overwritten by stupid teenage mistakes. But that was okay. Boyd didn't need to be that, he just needed to be Stiles' friend.

"Okay so, you are going to be the first ones, aside from Peter and my dad, to see this," Stiles bit his lips hard when he turned to look at them. "Don't freak out. Dad kinda freaked out. It's a bit weird."

"Sti—iles," Erica whined and leaned her head back against Boyd. "Stop talking. Start witching."

"Not a witch," Stiles squeaked indignantly.

There was a glimmer of mischief in Erica's eyes. "Fine then. Start sparkling."

Stiles flipped her off, while Boyd chuckled softly. But the next moment… Stiles actually started sparkling. His eyes were glowing a dark turquoise color and there were sparks like electricity dancing around his fingers, up his arms. When Erica's curiosity got too great, she leaned forward to touch the sparks, just to hiss and flinch away.

"It's electricity. What were you expecting," Stiles rolled his eyes, but there was a proud grin on his lips. "Peter taught me how to control elements that are already there first, to teach me, you know, control. But considering I first found out I had magic because I managed to create something? He says that this is a harder and more energy-consuming form of my magic, but I can just summon whatever element I want or need."

He snapped his fingers and there was suddenly a green flame on their tip. Boyd stared wide eyed, speechless. When Stiles had said that he 'had magic', nobody in the pack really knew what to do with that. Especially since he kept insisting that he couldn't really use it yet. The flame grew and seemed to dance over Stiles' skin without burning, but Boyd could feel its heat, knew it was real.

His best friend was a fucking witch. And a badass one at that.

/break\

Derek's wolf hadn't been this at ease in too many years. Sitting on the couch in their den, with Stiles sprawled out on his chest, head turned so he could see the TV screen, and their pack surrounding them. Jackson and Lydia were sharing the love seat and making out more than they were paying attention to the movie, but Derek had grown very used to that in the past months. Thankfully enough, Boyd and Erica were better when it came to the PDA. They were holding hands and leaning against each other, every now and again whispering to each other. Isaac was seated on Erica's other side, throwing popcorn at the three couples whenever they got too annoying for him.

"I vote we invite Danny to pack nights too from now on," Isaac announced. "I am so sick and tired of being the only single in this pack."

"Motions seconded," Jackson hummed, face buried in Lydia's curls.

"Motion granted," Stiles rubbed his nose against Derek's collarbone. "That okay, Sourwolf?"

Stiles lifted his head up to look at Derek with these big, brown eyes of his and how was Derek possibly supposed to say no to that? It wasn't a bad idea either. Danny was now more or less a part of the pack. They hadn't officially asked him to join the pack, had only put him in the know and he kept coming by the house with more questions, but at this point, not making him part of the pack would be stupid. Even if he didn't want the bite, he was cunning and clever, now knew about the supernatural and he was close to two of Derek's pack-members already.

"Let's invite him into the pack, officially," Derek hummed.

Stiles smiled pleased at him and pecked his lips before settling back down against his chest.

/break\

Stiles bit his lip nervously, staring at his dad across the dinner table. The sheriff was a little distracted with a case, a car accident that freaked him out a little. A deer that had run straight into a car, instead of away. Part of Stiles wanted to believe the driver had just been really, really drunk and recounted things wrong, but part of him was also wary. Maybe 'deer' was the new 'mountain lion'. Okay, maybe both Stilinski men were distracted by the case. Or maybe Stiles allowed his thoughts to drift instead of focusing on what he wanted to talk to his dad about.

"So… Remember when we talked about the whole bisexual thing?" Stiles asked, nervous and tense. "And the fact that I neither have a boyfriend or a girlfriend? That… uh… may have changed?"

Noah looked up and Stiles found himself the sole center of his dad's attention. "Which one is it? Is it the Mahealani kid? He's new in your roster of strays you bring home."

"Understandable conclusion, but no, it's not Danny," Stiles bit his lips. "Remember Derek Hale?"

The sheriff tensed and narrowed his eyes. "Two times murder suspect and former wanted fugitive Derek Hale? Both times accused by you? Peter's twenty-one year old legal adult nephew Derek Hale? The Alpha of your pack of werewolves Derek Hale?"

"Yeah. That… That would be the one. The Derek Hale," Stiles nodded slowly.

"Tell me you're only bringing him up because he has a younger sibling your age and you just met and started dating him or her," Noah requested, but the pinch on his face told Stiles that Noah knew where this conversation was headed.

"Uhm," Stiles scratched his cheek and looked away from his dad. "Okay, look, I know I'm sixteen, but I am a very mature sixteen year old, you know that."

You're the reason for that. Stiles didn't need to say that part aloud, it was being heard, if the way his dad flinched was any indication. Maybe it was a low blow. Maybe it wasn't fair. But it was true. Stiles had been taking care of an entire household when he was eight, learned how to cook, how to do a deputy's paper work just so his dad wouldn't lose his job when he was passed out drunk over his files. He learned how to take care of himself and a grown man when he was a child, when his biggest concern should have been about playing with his friends or homework, not how to cook dinner for them and do laundry and buy groceries and cover up for his dad's drinking.

Sure, Stiles was sixteen years old, but he'd been the adult in the house for eight years now, had taken on more adult responsibility at eight than most of his classmates did today. He knew for a fact that Jackson didn't know how the washing machine worked and Lydia could not even make eggs sunny side up without nearly burning down the kitchen. There was no way that it was fair to judge his maturity on the same arbitrary set of rules as theirs.

"I want to meet him," Noah's gaze was hard, arms crossed over his chest. "That is non-negotiable. I want to meet that boyfriend of yours."

"Uhm. We're having a pack barbecue this Saturday, to officially welcome Danny into the pack. You could come too, if you'd like? Meet the whole pack, in a… more official setting than our kitchen."

The sheriff nodded pleased, though there was still some reluctance in his gaze. But Stiles had made too strong an argument for Noah to not see that Stiles was right.

"He makes me happy, dad," Stiles whispered softly while clearing the table. "He saved my life repeatedly. I saved his. We fight alongside each other. We lead together. He makes me feel like I… matter, like I'm important, in a way I never felt before."

When he turned back to his dad, the expression on Noah's face had softened considerably.

/break\

Stiles was so, so, so bone-tired. School, every day. Homework, after. Lacrosse practice. Spending as much time with the pack, in his capacity as Alpha Mate. Trying to spend time outside of pack-activities with them because they were his friends. Being a boyfriend. Lessons with Peter, as often as they could manage. The household, cooking, trying to spend time with his dad.

Stiles felt stretched so thin and not just exhausted from how much he was juggling, but by how physically training those were too – keeping up with wolves, training with the team, using his magic. But most days he couldn't go to bed at a 'reasonable' hour, because there was something he still needed to do. Either a beta dropping by, or homework, or research, or…

"Tha—at's enough screen-time for Stiles," Scott said gently and closed Stiles' laptop.

Stiles would have liked to startle at it, but at this point, it was more startling when he had his bedroom to himself. Blinking slowly, he turned toward his best friend. Concern was written all over Scott's face. It was nice that Scott came by again. Sitting with the pack during lunch helped with him growing more used to the betas' scents that were all over Stiles' house.

"Wait, why did Stiles have enough screen-time?" Stiles frowned, looking at his closed laptop.

"Because I have been here for five minutes and you haven't noticed me," Scott raised his eyebrows. "And you have spent these five minutes staring at the blinking cursor in the empty document. I think it's safe to say that whatever you were trying to write isn't happening tonight."

Huh. Yeah, that was fair. With a sigh did Stiles get up and stretched wide. His back cracked.

"What's up, Scotty?" Stiles asked, craning his neck. "Anything I can help you with?"

Scott actually looked a little upset at that and shook his head. "You know that everyone's noticing how tired you are, right? Lydia's been talking to Allison about it. Isaac brought it up with me."

Because Isaac and Scott were now friends. Stiles approved, because it meant another tie that may bring Scott into the Hale Pack. Besides, they both could use more friends. The two boys walked over to Stiles' bed and sat down on it together. Stiles couldn't help the grin when Scott subconsciously leaned in to scent Stiles. Spending so much time with the pack, Scott was finally adapting some more wolfly behavior that the betas had learned over the summer.

"I'm fine," Stiles said belatedly. "I just have, you know. A lot on my plate."

Scott looked at him with an imploring gaze. "Isaac says that you always cook at pack nights, but that you also always make everyone else help you. Let others help you with other stuff too."

Stiles huffed out a laugh and elbowed Scott. "I wouldn't know what. You wanna write my econ paper for me? Or go to magic lessons with Peter? Shall Erica sub in at lacrosse practice for me?"

He started absentmindedly playing with his magic, twirling his fingers and letting sparks dance around them. Scott stared at the magic with a captivated gaze, as the wolves always did.

"What about Derek?" Scott asked. "I mean, he's your Alpha. And he's your… something."

Stiles grimaced. That was a conversation he had effectively avoided so far, hadn't he?

"Boyfriend," Stiles supplied softly. "And mate, actually. And he's already doing a lot for me."

He was giving people second chances, trying to help Stiles fold people into the pack who he may not have tried to make pack if Stiles wasn't around. More than once, Stiles had come home to find shopping bags with groceries on his living room table on days he knew Derek went to do his own grocery run. When he fell asleep at Peter's after a lesson, he'd wake up in his own bed, in Derek's arms, because his mate had picked him up. All the books Derek had bought him to make Stiles' research easier for him. Stiles closed his eyes with a gentle smile, thinking about Derek.

"He really makes you happy, doesn't he?" Scott asked softly and without judgment.

"He does," Stiles whispered, feeling himself grow more sleepy and resting his head against Scott's shoulder. "We're having a barbecue at the Hale House on Saturday. Please come."

There was a long stretch of silence, before he felt Scott's arm around his waist. "Okay."

A small, pleased smile spread over Stiles lips. One step closer to his goal of one united pack. With his mind a little more at ease, Stiles finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

/break\

Derek's mate was an ever-scheming little menace. He wondered what it said about him that he found that equally as charming as he found it exasperating.

A barbecue, appealing to the Alpha's inner provider instinct. Hosting for his entire pack, making the food for them – meat they had caught themselves during a hunt, at that.

Danny, who may not want the bite but had accepted the invitation into the pack, was sitting between Stiles and Jackson, laughing at something. On Jackson's other side was Lydia, her hand covering Jackson's, squeezing it slightly. Not telling Danny had been stressing Jackson out, on top of the guilt for how the kanima had nearly attacked Danny back at the Jungle. The boy was still struggling with the kanima's actions. This, Derek knew, was helping. To have not just his mate and pack, but to also bring his best friend into the know.

And Derek had to admit that Danny was a clear asset to the pack. The young hacker had proven to be useful in the past. Having a bond to another beta also strengthened Derek.

Boyd stood with Derek at the second grill, helping, because they just needed too much food for only one grill. Maybe they should invest in a large, proper barbecue station for the backyard? So they could have pack barbecues next summer? Mh, Derek liked the thought of that.

Erica and Isaac walked out with the last of the salads, the table otherwise set for everyone. But Derek knew not all guests were here yet and his stomach was in knots about who was yet to come.

His nose caught scent of Scott long before he saw the boy. Scott had apologized to him, had told him about Gerard's threats against Melissa, about how helpless he himself had felt. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Scott was just a traumatized kid who didn't know what he was doing. Derek had told him so and had also told him that, at the very least, Scott needed to start accepting guidance then. Scott had hedged, but in the end agreed.

Maybe it were the months spent without Stiles that made Scott realize how truly alone he was, if Stiles didn't guide him, pull him along everywhere, do the research and explain everything. But Stiles was now the Hale Pack's Alpha Mate. He had his own betas to guide and do research for. If Scott wanted that, he had to make a compromise.

For the most part, Derek was too tired to hold a grudge. And he saw the benefit of that compromise, the way they both gained from it. Because Scott was Stiles' best friend, would forever be important to Stiles. So for Derek, having Scott in his pack was a gain solely based on Stiles' emotional well-being already. To know the boy safe, protected by pack, preventing him from going feral. There was nothing Derek wouldn't do to help his mate. And another beta in the pack did make them stronger, as long as Scott would be willing to be a beta this time around.

When Stiles got up and rushed over to pull Scott into a hug and the other boy's awkwardness immediately drained away from him, Derek had a feeling that Scott would take pack more seriously this time. Because he'd gotten too close to losing Stiles before and Derek knew that wasn't something Scott was willing to risk again.

After Stiles, Lydia got up to greet Allison, who now stood around a little lost since the boyfriend she had come with had just been dragged away by Stiles. The mated pair had grown even closer, their bond forged stronger by months on their own. With Stiles, Lydia and Jackson in the Hale Pack, Allison and Scott had relied on each other. Derek remained wary of the Argent, especially after what she had done to his betas, but when Erica walked over and wrapped an arm around Allison's shoulders to steer her toward the table, Derek relaxed a little.

"Your pack grew considerably in size since I last saw it."

Derek heaved a sigh and turned around to face the man. "Hello, uncle Peter."

Peter smiled sharply and lifted up a tray of something. "I brought some vegetables so the diet will be a bit more even and not… all meat. It was so sweet of Stiles to invite me."

It was Derek's turn to smile, lips twitching. "Stiles didn't invite you. I did."

The perfectly crafted mask on Peter's face slipped for just a moment to make room for surprise. "Oh, did you now? Your mate must have forgotten to mention that when he told me to come."

Blue eyes bore into Derek with an unsettling intensity, but Derek wasn't willing to have a heart to heart in a backyard filled with wolves. His confrontation with Peter a few weeks ago had rattled him and he'd spent a lot of time thinking about things. He'd already lost so much family. Peter was all he had left and if there was any chance at all that he could get his uncle Peter back – the man he had adored as a kid, had trailed after like a lost puppy and thought was the coolest person on the planet?

Derek Hale was done losing and he was done punishing himself. He had a right to live, to be happy. If Peter disappointed him, then that would be on Peter, not on Derek. But if there was any chance at all that Derek could have some of his family back, then he was taking that.

The look on Peter's face when he inclined his head ever so slightly, just barely baring his throat, was softer than Derek had seen it since he was a child. "Thank you for the invitation, Alpha."

Derek grunted and nodded. He watched Peter head over to the table and he noted the way Peter kept his distance to Lydia. In return, she didn't even look his way. Stiles had told her beforehand that Peter would be here too, because the whole pack was. She'd had time to accept that and, on account of Allison's presence, may have made a compromise with Stiles.

"Derek. It's good to see you in a capacity where I hopefully won't have to slap handcuffs on you."

Derek stepped away from the grill, his place quickly taken by Isaac, so he could properly greet the sheriff. Noah looked at him like he could strip away layers with his eyes alone, see what laid hidden, judge Derek's every decision. It went against an Alpha's nature to feel like this, but Derek's wolf wanted to roll over and bare his belly to show he wasn't a threat.

"Haven't broken the law, sheriff. Not that I did the last two times you handcuffed me."

Noah winced and then huffed out a laugh before clapping Derek on the shoulder. "Sorry about that, I suppose. You know how convincing Stiles can get."

"Yes," Derek heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I will have gray hair before I'm thirty because of him."

The look on Noah's face turned near mischievous at that, reminding Derek a lot of Stiles. "You brought that on yourself. There surely are easier romantic options to find for a young man like you."

"Easier maybe," Derek turned to look at Stiles, watching his mate laugh at something Erica had said. "But who wants easy? Nothing good or worth it is ever easy. Your son… Your son is the most remarkable person I ever met. I would do anything for him and I know that he would do anything for me. There's nothing easy about that kind of commitment, but one we both made."

Noah gave Derek's shoulder another squeeze. "Be good to him. He… has been through a lot. I'm not going to threaten you that if you hurt him, I'll hurt you, because we both know Stiles in vindictive and will enact his own revenge if needed. But I'm telling you to… be patient with him."

"Always," Derek whispered. "Because he's patient with me too."

"Mh," Noah's eyes sparkled as he looked from Derek to Stiles and back. "Stiles told me this whole devotion thing you wolves have going on. True Love and all that. I like it. It puts you on equal footing. You're both getting the same out of it, putting the same into. You don't expect love to fall into your lap and to not have to do anything for it. Keep doing that, you're on the right track, son."

He patted Derek's back briefly before heading over to the table to sit with the others. Derek took another moment to look at them, take in his pack. It was funny to him. Stiles had told him, one night when they laid together, that he had only taken on the Hale Pack as a selfish project. A distraction from his own anger and loneliness. He helped Derek become a better Alpha, together they made the betas better werewolves, they rebuilt the Hale House and the Hale Pack together and had forged something of their own, for themselves. Had made Stiles and Derek for it. Somehow, that very selfish project of Stiles' had turned out quite mutually beneficial for them both.

~*~ The End ~*~