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Chapter Text

Stiles was fifteen and ready to head to court for her emancipation hearing.  She had called a cab to come pick her up at her house because she didn’t want to walk in  heels , especially not in late October.

When Stiles was eleven, she created a false persona.  One legal in every way except that there was no living, breathing person attached to the birth certificate, Social Security Number, and Driver’s License that Stiles had hacked in to create.  With this false persona, Stiles created a company: Voin Enterprises.

This company then purchased 50 acres of land just inside the forest preserve.  On that land she had a  house built; one that she could also use to store all her computer equipment.  She’d been living in it since construction was completed, just three months shy of her twelfth birthday.   Her father still spent all his time drunk and ignoring her so she doubts he ever noticed she no longer lived in his home.

The driveway to reach her home was more than a quarter mile long and the property was in the middle of nowhere, and she was wearing heels.  Thus, the cab.  Normally, she was happy to walk the quarter mile driveway and then the mile to the nearest bus stop.  She did it several times a week to get to her martial arts classes.  Today was a special day though.

*~*~*

Court was just as over-whelming as she had assumed it would be.  She was grateful that her attorney, David Whittemore, was doing all the talking; she was so nervous that she knew she’d be a rambling mess for certain.

“Your Honor,” David addressed the judge.  “My client has demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt that she is a competent, responsible adult.  After her mother passed away seven years ago her father stopped paying the mortgage and the utilities in his grief.  The house was in foreclosure and the utilities had been shut off and turned back on several times.

“My client, who was eight years old at the time, took money out of her inheritance and brought the mortgage current.  As you can see from her bank statements, she has continued to pay the monthly mortgage payment and all the utilities.  You can also see from the statements that she buys all the groceries and pays for the upkeep of the yard.  She also cleans the house and does all the laundry for both her and her father.

“She received her high school diploma when she was six.  She earned her Bachelor of Arts in Linguistics from Harvard, graduating Magna Cum Laude at the age of eleven.  She also earned her Master of Arts in History from Princeton when she was thirteen.  My client has recently finished all the coursework for her Doctorate in Literature and History with an emphasis in Mythology and Folklore through Oxford’s online program.  She is currently working on her dissertation.

“I submit to this court that there is no good reason why my client should not be granted her emancipation today.”  David sat back down in his chair next to Stiles.  The judge shook his head in disbelief as he quickly flipped through the stack of paper exhibits in the case.

Finally, he turned toward the Petitioners. “I have seen my fair share of teens asking to be emancipated.  Some were even mature enough that I granted their petition.  However, in all my years on the bench I have never seen such a cut and dried case as yours.  Petition for Emancipation is hereby granted.”  The judge banged his gavel ending the court session.

Stiles couldn’t believe it.  She sat there, completely stunned.  She could feel the tears stream down her cheeks, but she didn’t care.  Stiles was free.  She quickly stood and couldn’t help but give her lawyer a quick, but sincere, hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she gushed.  “I can’t believe it’s real.  I’m finally free.”  David Whittemore just smiled down at his young client.

“You’re welcome.  I’m glad that I could help.” He was sincerely glad that he could help this young woman.  He and the sheriff had not seen eye to eye several times over the years on a few cases.  David was relieved to have helped the girl, but it was nice to stick it to Sheriff Stilinski at the same time.

“You take care of yourself,” he told her as he picked up his briefcase.  “And if you ever need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I promise,” She replied.  “Thank you, again, for everything.” She slipped on her coat then headed outside to call for a cab to take her back home.

*~*~*

One of the first things she did when she got home, second only to taking of her high heeled boots, was to transfer ownership of Voin Enterprises into her own name.  Once done, that meant she actually owned the property, the house, and all four of the subsidiary companies.

Two of the subsidiaries are rental properties and management companies; Vesta Properties handles all the residential real estate, while Māra Commercial Properties handles all the commercial real estate.  The Seshat Foundation offers full ride scholarships to females ages ten and up that come from troubled or difficult backgrounds.

The last subsidiary she had created was Athena Technologies.  This company holds three patents, one trademark, and one copyright.  While Stiles may not have majored in anything technological, she was still a genius and the world’s best hacker.  One of the patents is for a firewall that will send a virus back at the attempted intruder after their third attempt.  One patent, the trademark, and the copyright are for her Computer Based Intelligence, or CBI, that she refers to as Cobi.  (While most people would refer to Cobi as an AI, Stiles finds that offensive.  Just because she has electrodes instead of neurons does not in any way make Cobi fake or artificial, merely computer based.)

The final patent is for a surgically inserted form of birth control that results in a semi-permanent tubal ligation.  There is a solid cylinder inserted into each Fallopian tube, while on the outside of the tube there is a casing clamped around the cylinder holding it in place.  This method is, theoretically, 100% effective with her enhanced healing.

Speaking of which, she needed to arrange to have a doctor implant the set that she had commissioned.  Since any doctor that would agree to implant a non-FDA approved device inside of her probably wouldn’t be the most ethical doctor to begin with, she’ll need to find a bodyguard to be in the operating theater and recovery room with her while under anesthesia.

Stiles spent the rest of the day of her emancipation and most of the following day, searching until she found a doctor that was both a fairly decent surgeon and had blurred boundaries when it came to ethical treatments.  It took her another two days to find someone that she thought she could trust enough (read: pay them enough) to guard her while she was unable to defend herself.

Chapter Text

Just past noon, Stiles opened her front door after hearing someone ring the doorbell. She’d seen pictures of the man and was expecting him, even so, she still wasn’t ready for the reality of him - Eliot Spencer .  He stood just shy of six feet tall, with shoulder-length brown hair, and the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen.  Everything about him - his build, his posture, his energy - screamed of power and control.

“Mr. Spencer?” Stiles asked politely, even though she knew exactly who he was.

“Yes,” he smiled just a little.  “Ms. Stilinski?”  He held out his hand for her to shake, she eagerly accepted his firm grasp.

“Call me Stiles,” she replied, stepping back from the door.  “Please, come in.”  She motioned toward the front room .  Stiles followed him into the room and they sat across from each other.  Eliot chose the light beige sofa in front of the large bay window, and Stiles in the center of the matching sofa against the wall.  The fireplace in the center of the wall, opposite the door they had just entered, and a large coffee table between them that matched the rest of the wood trim in the room.

“I have to admit,” Eliot spoke first, once they were both seated.  “You’re not at all what I was expecting.”  Stiles chuckled softly as she leaned back into the couch.

“I’m never what anyone expects,” she replied enigmatically.  Eliot eyed her skeptically for a moment, and then he smiled.

“I could see that.  You look young, but sound old.  People are usually only comfortable with. . . normal . . . people.”  He got a little more comfortable in his seat.  “The fact that you’re a teenager with the knowledge and resources that require you to hire someone like me . . . well, you’re not exactly normal.  Are you?”  He smirked at her.

She couldn’t help it.  She let out a laugh at that.  The first real laugh she’d had in more years than she cared to count or admit.

“No, Mr. Spencer, I’m far from normal,” she answered, eyes shining in amusement.

“Eliot, please,” he insisted.  “Shall we get down to business?”

“Of course,” she offered.  “We’re burning daylight.” She grinned at him and he offered a small, but genuine, smile in return.  “I’m scheduled to have surgery in less than twelve hours and I am, frankly put, terrified of being vulnerable while under anesthesia.  Your main duty would be to stand guard, if you will, while I’m in the operating theater and in the recovery room.  Your presence in the O.R. has already been approved by the surgeon.”

“Okay,” he nodded as he took that all in.  “I have a few questions.”  She nodded for him to go ahead.  “Where is this surgery taking place?  What type of surgery?  Why is the surgery taking place so late at night on New Year’s Eve?  Are you expecting any trouble?”  He rattled off his list of questions.

“It is scheduled to start to nine this evening at a small surgical clinic in town.  It’s so late at night because we needed to make sure that no one else would be there.  This particular procedure is to implant a non-FDA approved birth control device in both of my Fallopian tubes.  

“And, no, I’m not actually expecting any trouble.  But I’d rather be paranoid and end up not having needed you there, then to not have you there and something happens while I’m out.  Since the surgeon is willing to take a bribe to implant a non-tested, non-FDA approved device into a teenage girl, then he’s not someone I would willingly trust with my unconscious person,” she answered.

Eliot thought her answers over for a few moments.  “May I ask why you’re willing to have the device implanted if it hasn’t been tested or approved?  It could be dangerous.”  He sounded genuinely concerned.

“I designed the device, specifically for my physiology.  So the risk from the device itself is minimal.  It’s more the morally gray medical staff I’m worried about,” she informed him.

“Again, not what I was expecting.”  He gave his most charming smile.

“It’s always a good thing, for me anyway, to be underestimated,” she responded with a sly smile of her own.

“Do you often need to be underestimated?”  He queried.  He wasn’t certain that he liked the fact that this young teenager already knew the value of being underestimated.  What had happened in her life that warranted such knowledge?  Come to think of it, where were the girl’s parents or guardians?

“Women are always underestimated, Eliot, just because we’re female,” was her non-answer.  Somehow he knew that was all he was going to get out of her on the subject.

“Where are your parents? Shouldn’t they be one's watching over you tonight?”  He figured that if she was the one meeting, and hiring, him he likely wasn’t going to like her answer.  But he needed as much information as possible to keep her, and himself, safe.

“My mom died when I was eight, and I was emancipated from my father a few months ago,” she told him.  “I have no guardians anymore.”  Her answer was concise and unemotional, which meant it was deeply emotional and painful.

“I apologize for bringing up any painful memories, but I needed to make sure that everyone was accounted for,” he tried to defuse the tension in the room.

“I understand,” she told him; and she did.  That doesn’t mean that she was happy about it, just that she understood his motives behind the question.  

They talked a bit more.  She described to him, in detail, what the procedure should be like.  She showed him the devices still in their clear, sterile packaging.  She wanted to make sure that he knew everything that should happen to make sure it does happen.

Once that discussion ended, Eliot excused himself to head to the clinic for a little while to take a look around.  He’d be back around eight to pick her up and drive her to the surgical clinic.  While he was gone, Stiles went up to her office/library to get the checks ready to take with her that night.

It had taken more than two months to get everything and everyone arranged for the procedure, which would take place that night.  Doing the procedure so late ensured no one would stumble upon the surgery at the small surgical clinic.  It also meant that all the medical personnel would be paid exorbitant “consulting fees” by Athena Technologies.  In addition, Stiles was going to pay for all the medical supplies out of pocket.

When Eliot returned exactly at eight, Stiles was dressed comfortably for the surgery.  She wore a fleece hoodie with an off center zipper, and under it her sports bra that she would leave on during the procedure.  She matched it with high waisted maroon jeggings and matching maroon booties with a relatively low heel.  She wasn’t normally one for high waisted pants, but she knew that her lower abdomen was going to be tender and sore, not to mention stitched up, after the surgery.  

As they were headed toward Eliot’s rental SUV, Stiles handed all the “consulting fee” checks to Eliot to carry.  He willingly took them and put them in the inside pocket of his coat.  On the drive to the clinic Eliot was the first to break the silence.

“You wear a lot of expensive and high-end clothing,” he commented in an off-handed manner.

“I find the fact that you know my clothing is high-end fascinating,” she responded in the same tone he did.  He glanced over to her to see her staring back with a slight challenge on her face.  He knew then that if he wanted an answer from her then he would have to answer first.

“I dated a fashion model,” he told her.  She nodded her head, indicating that made some type of sense to her.

“I have a lot of money and not much else to spend it on,” she finally answered.  They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence.   

*~*~*

Stiles and Eliot arrived just after 8:30. Based on the number of vehicles in the parking lot, the four members of the medical staff were already there; Eliot locked the deadbolt behind them.  The two made their way into the clinic and were soon met by the surgeon who led them into a large room with chairs and empty spaces where patient beds would fit.

“This is the recovery room,” the surgeon explained.  “Since you’ll be coming in here after the procedure I thought I’d save us having an additional room to clean by having you start in here instead of an exam room.”

“That makes sense,” Stiles responded.  “Dr. Jones, this is my bodyguard, Mr. Spencer,” she indicated to each man.  “Mr. Spencer, this is the surgeon, Dr. Jones.”  Both men nodded their heads toward the other, neither exactly fond of the other.  The doctor didn’t want a bodyguard in his O.R. and Eliot didn’t like the fact that the doctor was willing to do the procedure on a fifteen year old girl in the first place.  

“Now, Dr. Jones,” Stiles continued.  “I have given all four checks to Mr. Spencer to hold on to until after the procedure.  If he’s unhappy with anything that happens, or my well-being is put in jeopardy, he has been given my permission to tear up the checks.”  The surgeon looked ready to protest, but Stiles merely held up her hand to forestall his arguments.

“I’m not anticipating anything like that to happen, but I wanted all of us on the same page.  Since I’m going to be unconscious, I wanted to let you know up front.  However, if all goes smoothly like I think it will, then the checks are larger than originally agreed.  I think that’s fair all the way around.  Don’t you?”  She asked the surgeon, as if daring him to disagree with her.

“Of course,” he stiffly responded.  “May I have the devices now, please?”

Stiles shook her head.  “Mr. Spencer will hand them to you once I’m on the table.  Yes, I know I’m paranoid, but considering the circumstances I believe my over-cautious nature can be forgiven.”  Her look once again daring him to argue.  He wisely did not.

“Very well,” the surgeon stated.  He motioned to a chair behind her.  “Go ahead and put on that gown and the nurse will be in to get you in a few moments.”  He then quickly exited the room, not enjoying the way that the bodyguard stood, with his massive arms crossed over his expansive chest, glaring at him.

Stiles slipped off her boots and her leather jacket; she placed them in the chair next to the one that held the gown.  She glanced toward Eliot to find him still staring at the door, with his back to her, granting her some privacy while still being able to be close enough to protect her.  She quickly removed her zip-up hoodie and put on the gown, though she left on her sports bra.  She tied the string at her neck and the one at her side.  She then removed her jeggings and panties, folded them, and placed them on the chair with the rest of her clothes.

She had barely had a chance to sit down when the nurse came in and asked them to follow her.  They were led to a smaller operating theater where Stiles was directed to lay on the table.  Other than herself and Eliot, there were four other people in the room; the surgeon, an anesthesiologist, a nurse, and a surgical tech.  The nurse and the surgical tech got her laid down and draped with sheets.  The nurse inserted an IV into her left arm, at the elbow, as the anesthesiologist got ready to attach the tube of the IV to the machine that would inject her with the anesthesia.  Within seconds she was completely sedated.

As Eliot begrudgingly handed over the devices he almost growled, “If anything happens to this girl, torn up checks will be the least of your worries.  Do I make myself clear?”  He pointedly looked each medical staff member in the eye until they nodded in understanding.  With that done, he took a step back so that he could still see what was going on in the procedure, and see what each person was doing at all times.

The procedure itself was fairly simple and didn’t take much time at all.  In less than an hour the nurse was wheeling the still sedated Stiles back into the recovery room where she had left her clothes.  The nurse told Eliot that the average time for the patient to wake up was about thirty minutes. She then excused herself to go back to the O.R. to help tidy up.

Less than ten minutes later Stiles stirred and started to wake up.   ‘She did say that she had a high metabolism and that her body burns through chemicals fast,’ Eliot thought to himself as the teen opened her eyes.

“How long?”  She asked with a cracking voice, throat dry from the anesthesia.

“It’s not even ten o’clock yet,” he told her.  “The procedure took less than an hour and you’ve only been in here for about ten minutes.”  He got out of his chair and went to the fountain drink machine and got her a cup of ice water.  “Here,” he said as he came back and handed it to her.

She took as long pull of the water before she responded, “Thank you.  This whole thing took less time than I anticipated.  Were there any problems?”  She asked before she took another sip.

“None,” he told her.  After he threatened them, everyone had been on their best behavior.  The two were interrupted from further conversation by someone walking in through the far door.

“My part of the procedure is done and I need to get going,” the anesthesiologist announced.  Eliot glared at him for a moment before turning his head toward the girl reclining on the bed.  She nodded, so Eliot reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the stack of envelopes.  He found the doctor’s name and held it out to him.

He pulled it back at the last second.  “You were never here and this never happened,” Eliot reiterated.  The doctor just nodded and took a hold of the again-proffered envelope, then turned and quickly exited the same way he entered.

Less than five minutes later the surgeon came in.  He seemed caught off guard that she was conscious.  “You’re awake.”  She and Eliot both just raised an eyebrow at the statement.  Dr. Jones quickly composed himself.  “Yes, well, the, uh, procedure went well.  There were no complications.  There are three dissolvable stitches in your lower abdominal muscles, and five external stitches that you’ll need to remove in ten to fourteen days.”  Stiles nodded that she understood; she had expected as much.  “The nurse and surgical tech agreed to stay until you were up and ready to leave.  This,” he handed a prescription page to Eliot, “is a prescription for Lortab.  Take one pill every four to six hours as needed.  I believe the Walgreen’s pharmacy is open twenty-four hours.”

Eliot looked over the small piece of paper before he folded it and placed it in his other inside coat pocket.  Then he pulled out the remaining three envelopes and found the surgeon’s.  Just as he did before he pulled it back from the man at the last moment.  

“You were never here and this never happened,” he glared the older man into submission.

“Of course, Mr. Spencer,” Dr. Jones replied.  He left with the same lack of fanfare as the previous doctor.  When Eliot turned back around, Stiles was slowly lowering her legs over the side of the bed.  

“Will you hand me my clothes, please?”  Instead of answering, he simply gathered her belongings and placed them on the bed next to her.  He then resumed his position between the door and her, with his back to her.

Stiles found her panties and pulled them up to her knees, while still sitting on the bed.  She then did the same with her jeggings.  Only then did she try to stand up, making sure that the bottom half of her clothes didn’t fall to her ankles (she was certain that bending over at the waist would be painful).  She gingerly pulled the panties up over the bandaging on her lower stomach, then repeated the process with the pants.  Once they were secure, she finally took off the gown.

She pulled on her hoodie and zipped it up.  Then she awkwardly put on her shoes.  Before she could pick up her leather jacket she looked up and saw Eliot holding it open for her.  She slipped her arms into the sleeves positioned behind her and a little lower, so she wouldn’t accidentally pull on her stitches.  As she was raising her jacket to her shoulders, he pulled the hood of her hoodie out to lay over top of the leather.

“Thanks,”’ she said as she turned around to face him.  His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were soft and kind.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“I need to let the other two know we’re leaving and give them their checks,” he stated.  She waited for him in the hallway where he left her.  It only took him a few minutes to get back to her.  She zipped up her jacket as they headed out to Eliot’s rental SUV.  

The ride back to her house was nearly silent, the only conversation was her telling him not to bother with the prescription. Once back at the house he helped her inside, and assisted her in taking off her jacket, which he hung in the hall closet for her.

“Are you hungry?”  She asked.  “It’s been twelve hours and I’m finally allowed to eat.”  She grinned at him.  It was so open and innocent that he couldn’t help but offer his own small smile in return.

“You sit, I’ll cook,” he told her as he guided her to a stool at the kitchen island.

“I can cook, ya’ know,” she sulked.  “I may be young, but I can make more than just ramen.”  He chuckled, he couldn’t help it.

“I have no doubt,” he replied honestly.  “But 1) you just had surgery and don’t need to be on your feet, and 2) I like to cook and your kitchen is amazing.”  She blushed, though she wasn’t certain why she was blushing.  Then it dawned on her.  This was the first time in eight years, since before her mom got sick, that someone was willing to take care of her.  He wasn’t doing this because he was being paid; this wasn’t playing bodyguard.  No, this was just him being kind.  She had so little experience with that she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with, or about, it.

“I left two steaks marinating in the fridge,” she offered quietly, in lieu of any other response.  

Eliot found the steaks and set out to make them something to eat.  It was easily the best meal she’d ever eaten, and even as awkward as she normally was around other people, she was completely comfortable with him all evening.

Chapter Text

It had been eight months since her surgery, and Eliot had never left.  Well, he did occasionally leave to work a job with his Leverage Consulting team, but he always came back.  

It seemed that the night of her surgery he had decided he wanted to stay and train Stiles how to fight, to defend herself.  She was smart enough to take him up on his offer; even though she already knew how to fight,  she was aware that you could never know too many ways to defend yourself.  She was already an expert at Tai Chi, Yoga (although not a martial art it is great for balance and flexibility, so she liked to count it), Sambo , and she was a 2nd degree black belt in Krav Maga (however, the closest instructor that could train her the last three degrees was two hours away in San Francisco, so she was fine not progressing any higher).

Stiles never mentioned to Eliot that she could already fight.  She liked learning from him, for one thing; and she discovered she liked having another person in her home all the time with whom she could talk.  So, she acted like she didn’t know anything about self-defense.  But she knew that one of these days she was going to have to come clean to him.  

Back in mid-March Stiles had finished her dissertation and was then awarded her Doctorate in Literature and History with an emphasis in Folklore and Mythology from Oxford.  

“Why folklore and mythology?” Eliot had asked once.  

“Have you ever noticed that all the companies I own are named after goddesses?”  Stiles asked rhetorically.  “I believe that women need strong archetypes, including those found in folklore and mythology, to look up to, and, in order to look up to them, I first needed to learn about them.”  He hadn’t ask her about it again.

In April they celebrated Stiles’ sixteenth birthday together.  After he drove her to get her Driver’s License, he then took her to the dealership and helped her pick out her brand new, bright blue 2010 Jeep Wrangler Islander. Though this particular vehicle had less than fifty miles on it, the model was a year old so she got a fantastic deal on it.  Eliot’s presence next to her also kept her from being harassed by the salesmen.

Now August, Eliot had finally decided he wanted to stick around for good.  Yeah, he’d still help out his team in Portland, but he’d found some place that he belonged.  There was something about the girl that made every protective instinct he had, and he had a lot, flare to life.  He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but he knew this was where he needed to stay.  But to do that, he had to come clean to Stiles.

“Stiles, can we talk?”  Eliot asked after dinner one night.  He seemed nervous; and Eliot Spencer was never nervous.  That made Stiles suddenly feel nervous.  He led her to the couch in the family room , just off the kitchen.  He sat on the end of one of the couches closest to the end of the couch where she sat.

“I’m not sure how to tell you this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it,” he began.  She nodded that he should do just that.  “I’m a werewolf; an Alpha werewolf to be exact.”  He watched her as she turned that sentence over and over in her mind.

“You’re being serious?”  She clarified.  To answer her question he allowed his eyes to flash Alpha red.  “Oh, thank god,” she sighed out.  Eliot was stunned.  

“After eight months you’d think I would be used to your completely unexpected responses, and yet I’m still surprised.  What exactly do you mean, ‘oh, thank god’?”

“Just that if you’ve been keeping something like that from me then I don’t feel bad having kept my secret from you.  Also, that . . . you’re like super strong, right?” He nodded, his eyebrows near touching his hairline.  “See, this means I can stop holding back when we spar.”  She grinned like that explained everything.  Before he could ask her to clarify, she continued.  “Were you born a werewolf or were you bitten?”

“I was bitten about ten years ago.  I was in the Army and stationed in the Middle East, special forces.  I was doing a random covert patrol when I was attacked.  The fight didn’t last long; he was stronger and faster than I was.  The fight ended when he shifted and bit me.  I . . . retreated.  The bite mark was completely healed by the next day and all my senses seemed heightened.

“I went back out the night after the attack to try to track him down.  When I finally found him he told me that I was now his beta and that I had to do what he said.  And me being me, I didn’t take to kindly to that.  We fought again; and now that we were on a more even footing with regard to speed and strength (even though alphas are still stronger and faster than betas), the fact that I was better trained made all the difference.  I killed him and became an Alpha twenty-four hours after becoming a werewolf.

“That’s a tough thing to do.  It was already difficult to handle my new beta senses, but an alpha’s are even stronger.  I told my commanding officer what had happened and he helped me out a lot.  He sequestered me, with chains, on the full moon until I learned to control the wolf inside of me.  Luckily it only took me two months to be able to find the thing that anchored me to my humanity, which allowed me to control the wolf instead of the wolf controlling me.  Other than my CO, and now you, there’s only one other person, that I know of, that knows what I am, and he figured it out because he was a wolf too.

“Now,” he finished up.  “Can we get back to the part where you’ve been keeping a secret, and that you no longer have to hold back when we train?”

“Alright,” she sighed.  “Fair’s fair.  You trusted me, so I’ll trust you.  Now, for any part of me to make sense I need to start the story at the very beginning, and it may seem nonsensical to you, but please just bear with me.”  He nodded that he would.

“It all started back in 1944.  The official story was that Captain America was on a top secret mission for almost three weeks.  In reality, he was kidnapped by Hydra and held for that time.  Of course, that was not reported to anyone or even put in any of the official records.  Once Hydra had taken a bunch of samples of his blood (and other bodily fluids), they locked him in a room with a young woman who only spoke Russian.  The men in charge told him in broken English, ‘fuck then feed.’  

“It took almost twenty-four hours before he gave in and had sex with her; and even then it was only because he heard her stomach rumbling in hunger.  As soon as they were done, two people came in each carrying a plate heaped with food and a large glass of water.  This pattern continued the entire time he was there.  After seventeen days, they knocked him out, wiped his memory of him ever having been there, and released him back where they picked him up.

“Thirty-nine weeks later, the girl (an orphan known only as Female #1) gave birth to a daughter.  A healthy girl with brown hair and amber eyes, just like her mother.  As the child, known as Female #2, grew up, they tested her and experimented on her.  When she was fifteen, she was locked into a room, just as her mother had been before her.  Female #2 was locked in with Winter Soldier.  And like her mother, they weren’t fed until after they’d copulated.  They were locked together for three weeks.

“Now, Winter Soldier was once a normal man until Hydra began experimenting on him.  Then he was in an accident and he was dying.  He lost his entire left arm and shoulder; it was replaced with a mechanical metal arm.  To try to save him they injected Steve Rogers’ blood into him.  It worked, in more ways than one.  Yes, it saved his life, but it also made him a Super Soldier like Rogers.  So Female #2 had also been locked in with a Super Soldier.

“Thirty-seven weeks later, Female #2 gave birth to a daughter.  Another healthy girl with brown hair and amber eyes, just like her mother.  As this child, Female #3, grew up, they tested her and experimented on her.  However, before she could be locked in with a Super Soldier she disappeared.  That’s where Hydra’s official records end.

“What happened to her?”  Eliot had an idea, but he needed for Stiles to clarify a few details for him.

“My father, Sheriff John Stilinski, wasn’t always a sheriff.  He spent the first twenty years of his adult life in the Army, only the first three of them not in the 10th Special Forces Unit (which as I’m sure you’re aware, focused on Eastern Europe).  On the last day of his last tour he was a scout sniper in western Russia.  A man approached him, just outside of the compound his unit had been watching, escorting a young woman.  He informed my father that he’d come back from a mission and found a file on the counter in Medical.  When he’d opened it he discovered he had a biological daughter and that, according to the post-it note inside, she was “ready for breeding.”  The man, who when my father finally asked him couldn’t remember his own name, had snuck her out of the base/compound and then demanded the then-Sergeant Stilinski take the girl.  

“The nameless man stated that the file indicated that she was fifteen years old and her personal identifier was Female #3; and that according to the pedigree chart in the file, the girl’s mother was Female #2 and her grandmother was Female #1.  The man urged John to get her out of Russia as quickly and as quietly as possible so that she wasn’t found.  John promised that he would do everything he could to make it happen.

“‘My name is John Stilinski, and I’ll take her to northern California if you ever get a chance to come look for us.’ My father told the man.  My father and the young woman watched as the man (whose only notable characteristic was the fact that his entire left arm was made out of metal) disappeared back into the trees and inside the base to try to buy them some time to get away.

“The sergeant got her to his commanding officer, Colonel Nick Fury, and relayed the events.  Hearing the description of the man Col. Fury told them that the man was known only by his codename: Winter Soldier.  Col. Fury called in multiple favors to get the girl a birth certificate, immigration papers, a passport, and a marriage license indicating that she and John got married.  They adjusted the age on her birth certificate to show that she was twenty, and she chose the name Claudia for herself.

“After John and Claudia settled in a small town about two hours north of San Francisco, otherwise known as Beacon Hills, John joined the Sheriff’s Department as a deputy.  Less than three years later Claudia gave birth to their daughter.  They named her after Claudia’s father, the man that had saved her, using a play on words: Warrior of White.  Claudia argued for the Russian version, which was Voin Belyy, but John eventually won the argument for the Polish version of Wojownik Bieli.  So their daughter was officially named Wojownikbieli Stilinski, but they called her Stiles.

“I learned early on to speak English, Russian, and Polish fluently.  At the age of five, my mom and I enrolled in Tai Chi and Yoga classes.  Because of our love of languages, we both learned Japanese and Hindi in honor of the disciplines we were studying.  My parents fought the local school board and I was allowed to test out of each class in each grade.  Before the academic testing, the school psychologist administered both types of IQ tests to me.  It turns out that I had an IQ of 220, with a photographic memory. I received my high school diploma when I was six.  

“Later that year, my father was elected to the office of Sheriff of Beacon County.  That was the last happy memory I could recall with any certainty for a long, long time.  

“Within a year, when I was seven, my mother started to forget things.  At first it was just small things, but then she would occasionally forget who me and her husband were temporarily.  And then it was no longer temporary.

“Having been told the stories of everything my mother could remember of growing up in the compound, I wanted to know exactly what had happened to her and if there was any way to reverse it, stop it, or even just slow it down.  So I studied and became a hacker.  I started off hacking into small things and then starting getting progressively more daring.  Soon I had hacked my bank account to fund getting me an office with multiple servers and a dedicated high speed internet line.

“My final “dry run” was to hack SHIELD.  I knew that if I was caught my godfather, Director Nick Fury, would yell and be disappointed.  But then he’d probably offer to help.  Only I wasn’t caught.  I had perfected a way of using the power and phone lines to get in, instead of trying to fight through firewalls.

“Which led me, on my eighth birthday, to hack Hydra.  From their information, I realized that what was happening to my mother was permanent.  There was no way to fix it or change it; no way to slow it down at all.  My mother was going to die.  Because she was losing her memory, she was going to die alone.  Even if there were other people in the room with her, she’d always feel alone.

“That thought, more than anything, spurred me into action; I would make them pay, and since there was nothing that could be done to medically help my mother I’d make them literally pay.  I hacked into Hydra’s account and took everything.  I also took the personal fortune of Hydra’s Director and the personal fortunes of the members of their Board of Regents.  Once all the funds were in one numbered account overseas, I split it up into several smaller amounts in different banks.  Then I took the funds in those accounts and split those into smaller amounts, always closing up the now-empty accounts behind me.  Again and again, all over the world.  The money bounced around until I was as certain as I could be it would be nearly untraceable.  All told, I now had access to approximately thirteen trillion dollars.

“I transferred a hundred thousand into my personal account here in Beacon Hills.  I figured that even though I couldn’t see my mom, because she would freak out and start screaming every time I would enter her room, I could help pay for the best care available.  It was the least that Hydra could do, after all.

“That led me to another train of thought.  How else could I honor my mom?  What had my mother always wanted for me?  That was easy – for me to further my education.  So I decided what I wanted to major in and applied to every college I thought I might want to attend.  My father hadn’t spoken to me, or looked at me, or acknowledged me in any way, since my mom got sick, so I had plenty of free time on my hands to study. I got accepted to Harvard’s online program and began working toward my Bachelor of Arts in Linguistics.

“Four months later, Claudia died.  Alone.  Then I, too, was alone.  Until you.

“So, long story short, I am the great-granddaughter of Captain America (a.k.a. Steve Rogers), and I am the granddaughter of Winter Soldier (a.k.a. Bucky Barnes).  That makes me a Super Soldier.”  Now finished she waited for him to process.  It didn’t take long.

“Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier?”  He nearly shrieked.  Well, for him anyway.  Stiles nodded in confirmation.  “Oh, of course he is.  Who else would it be?”  He chuckled mirthlessly.  “So you’re seriously a Super Soldier?”

“Yup,” she popped the ‘p’ on the end of the word.

“And your father thought it was safe for him to just ignore you?  Was he trying to get you captured by Hydra agents?”  Eliot’s mood was quickly turning toward livid.

“E, breathe for me, please,” Stiles was concerned.  She’d never seen him this worked up; and knowing what she now knew about him she didn’t want him to lose control.  He seemed to sense her panic so he took a couple deep breaths.  Soon he was calming down.

“Sorry,” he apologized to her.  “I’ve had a few run-ins with Hydra agents over the years and they’re dangerous.  Add to that the more that I hear about your father the more I’d like to remove his heart from his chest . . . well, it all leads to me being a little . . . crazy and over-protective.”

Not thinking her actions through, she hurriedly moved to sit on his lap and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as tight as she could.  He quickly returned the hug and the two stayed that way for some time.

*~*~*

Their sparring sessions were much more intense now that neither of them held back their strength or speed.  Stiles also stopped pretending that she only knew the techniques that Eliot had taught her.  Needless to say he was surprised.  Then she took him to the basement, that he didn’t even know existed.  The entire front half of the basement was a gym (farther back were storage rooms and her computer servers).  He was speechless.  She told him all the martial arts that she knew and he suddenly looked like a kid in a candy store, both at the gym and the knowledge that she’d been able to defend herself all along.

They still trained and sparred outside since the weather was nice.  It was about a week after the Big Reveal, as they’d taken to calling it, that everything changed.

Eliot and Stiles circled each other in the grass of the side yard.  The sun was shining down fiercely on them, making sweat from its heat run down each of their necks.  Suddenly, as if given a signal, they both darted forward. Fists and arms flying, legs and feet kicking.  To the outside observer it was a deadly tangle of limbs, but it was a beautiful dance.  Terrible and deadly, but beautiful nonetheless.

Back and forth, both gaining the upper hand then losing it to the other.  On and on for more than thirty minutes.  Then Eliot threw a punch at the same time that Stiles went to sweep his legs out from under him and they went down in a tangle of limbs.  Stiles ended up sprawled on her back with Eliot laying atop of her with her hands pinned above her head, both sharing the same air as they were trying to catch their breaths.

Their eyes locked in an intense stare.  Then Stiles licked her lips and Eliot’s eyes were instantly drawn to the sight.  Even after her tongue retreated back inside her mouth, he continued to watch her lips.  When he finally drags his eyes back up to meet Stiles’, her pupils are blown wide with desire.

“El,” she whispered.  “Please.”  That was all he needed.

Eliot ducked his down to close the scant few inches between their mouths.  When their lips touched it was both electric and coming home, all at once.  He tentatively touched his tongue to her lip, pleading to be let in.  Stiles parted her lips and allowed him entrance.  Unsure, she allowed Eliot to take the lead while she tried to imitate his actions.  It didn’t take long until she felt comfortable in how to kiss him, so she managed to roll them both over so that she was on top of him, with her knees planted on the grass on either side of his hips.

He used the new position to his advantage to be able to touch Stiles.  He gently ran his hands from the side of both of her knees, along her strong thighs, up to the curve of her hips.  Stiles continued to kiss the man beneath her, as his hands continued to trail up her back.  His hands continued up to the back of her shoulders, where he grasped them and pulled her even closer, if that was even possible, than she already was.

Stiles tangled the fingers of her right hand in his long, dark hair that was fanned out around his head.  Eliot began to trail kisses down her neck.  She tilted her head to the side to grant him easier access, baring her neck to the Alpha below her.  The motion, and meaning, caused a low rumbling growl in his chest, and his eyes to momentarily flash red.

“Are you sure about his?”  He whispered just before he nibbled on her earlobe.  Both his voice and his actions sent chills down her spine.

“Yes,” she answered, the sound more breath than voice.  “Please, Eliot.”  Stiles never thought that she would be one to beg, yet here she was.

Eliot pressed his hardening bulge into the warmth between Stiles' legs, causing them both to moan wantonly into each other's mouths. Their mutual arousal only increased as their lips and tongues entwined, their breathing became more frantic and erratic.

They paused, locking eyes, their faces only inches apart. The smell of their arousal, especially the wetness between Stiles' legs, caused the alpha part of Eliot to momentarily take over, and using his wolf strength, he flipped them both over.  With Stiles on her back, he used one hand to lock her ankles behind him as his other hand trailed down her chest, gently cupping one sports bra-clad breast, brushing his thumb over her nipple. At her sharp intake of breath, he broke eye contact to rake over her vulnerable position, glancing back up at her face, her arched neck only drove him to eliminate the clothing between them.

Stiles felt Eliot pause and looked into his eyes, unzipped her sports bra to fully expose her naked breasts to him, then pushed the fabric off her shoulders and arms. Eliot ran his hands down her creamy skin, from neck to hip, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, easing them over the swell of her hips, and discarding them on the ground. He removed his pants and turned his attention back to this strong, beautiful, young woman lying in front of him. His urge to taste her skin overwhelmed him; he started at her neck, kissing and licking, moving gently down toward her small breasts. Massaging one, he nibbled and licked the other, he paid close attention to her gasps and moans as he teased her nipples with his teeth and fingers.

Stiles felt like her body was on fire; she writhed beneath his ministrations, while simultaneously arching into his touch. Her movement caused her clit to brush against his massive hardness.  Eliot paused, taking several deep breaths as he resisted the urge to just plunge into her, knowing he wanted to adequately prepare her for her first time.  He trailed two of his fingers down her side, circled her belly button, then moved down to the warm crevice between her thighs.

Eliot used the rough pads of his fingertips to encircle her clit, wanting to stimulate the nerve endings without causing too much sensation.  He just wanted to tease her for a moment before he tasted her.  The Alpha laid himself down between Stiles’ toned legs and kissed the inside of her right thigh. Eliot slowly kissed and licked up her thigh; he licked at her clit, then slowly swirled his tongue around the sensitive bundle.  Almost without warning he plunged his tongue into her vaginal opening, savoring her intense flavor.

The teen dug her fingers into the dirt and grass below her, hoping to find some purchase in reality.  As Eliot’s tongue moved in and out of her pussy, and up and around her clit, she spiraled closer toward her fast approaching orgasm.  She had masturbated before, but it had never felt like this.  This was a new level of pleasure that she had no idea existed, let alone had ever experienced.  She couldn’t help the moans that escaped her mouth.

“Please El,” she whimpered.  “I’m so close.”  The Alpha began to suck on her clit as he slid two fingers inside her wet channel.  He slowly pumped them in and out of her, while tonguing the bundle of nerves whose sole purpose was to bring pleasure to the goddess beneath him.  Sensing she was on the edge, he reached his other hand up and softly flicked at her sensitive nipple.  That was all it took.

Stiles crashed over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm.  Eliot, and his wolf, preened at the fact that he had been the first and only person to ever give her this pleasure.  He removed his fingers and used the flat of his tongue to wipe up one last taste of her.  

Eliot kissed his way back up her body and, once she was able to focus on his face again, kissed her deeply. Then just to be sure, he looked into her eyes and cocked his head, silently seeking consent even though she’d already given it; Stiles looked up at him and smiled almost lovingly.  Eliot guided the tip of his throbbing cock inside her, pausing at the intense sensation of being warmly enveloped inside her willing body. He knew he wasn't going to last long. Eliot, and his wolf, felt an impulse to protect as well as to breed, so he started to move, slowly at first, pumping his rock hard cock in and out of her wetness with deliberate precision. As his pleasure washed over him, his movements became faster and he leaned back, looking at Stiles splayed before him.  He brought her right leg up to his shoulder, and her left ankle to his mouth; he kissed her ankle while he slowed his rocking motion.

Stiles moaned at the new sensation, the sound was all it took for Eliot to wrap her legs back around him, and change his angle, allowing his pistoning motion to be driven by his powerful thighs. This new angle allowed him to stimulate her g-spot continuously.  He rocked into her a few more times before letting out a roar of pleasure as he came.  The muscles on his neck and arms cording and spasming as he rode out his intense orgasm. The feeling of him cumming inside her sent her over the edge again.

As he came down from the edge, he lay down on his left side, pulling Stiles closer to his body, wrapping her left leg over his hip while her right leg pressed against the front of his left leg.  He needed to hold her close, but he didn’t want to crush her with his mass, his cock still hard and pulsing his seed inside her. Breathless and sweaty, he returned his mouth to hers, licking inside of her mouth to lazily taste Stiles’ panting moans.

“So,” Stiles spoke when she finally caught her breath.  “This changes things between us.”  She rubbed her right cheek on the inside of his left arm where it was pillowed.  “I’m certain that I’m about to show my age when I ask this, but what does this mean for us now?”

“What do you want it to mean?”  Eliot asked as he tenderly traced up and down her spine with his right hand.

“Well, the way I see it we have three options.  The first, that this was just a heat of the moment thing that was a one off.  Second, that this was the beginning of a friends-with-benefits relationship.  Or third, that this was the start of a possible romantic relationship,” she explained logically.

“Which do you want it to be?”  He knew which one he wanted, but he’d be damned if he influenced her in any way.  Stiles took several minutes to really think about which of the three she truly wanted.

“I know which of the three I would prefer, but I’m open to discussion on the other two,” she stated once she’d decided which she wanted.  Her heartbeat telling him that she was telling him the truth.  “What about you?”  Eliot already knew which of the three options he preferred, he’d known for some time now.

“Me too,” he told her.  “I don’t want to sway you one way or the other, so you go first.”  

“Alright,” she said.  “My preference is option number three.  I would prefer if we could try a romantic relationship.”  Eliot leaned down and slowly kissed her; he poured every ounce of feelings he had for her into it.

“That was my choice too,” he told her truthfully.  “I’ve wanted that for some time now, to be honest.”  She placed her left hand on the side of his face.

“So have I,” she affirmed.  “I didn’t say anything because I thought it was just, you know, me being young.  But I’d really like to give us a shot.”  She pressed another kiss to his full lips.

“Me too, little one,” he whispered.  

As a werewolf, especially an Alpha, his refractory rate was nearly non-existent.  He rolled to his back in the grass, pulling Stiles on top of him, and they took full advantage of his enhanced physiology.   

Chapter Text

Now that Eliot had even more reason to stay, he decided he needed to officially claim the territory.  To do that he, as the Alpha, needed to establish his scent throughout it, including the border.  He also needed to check if there were any other weres in the area that already had a claim on it, which is how he found himself running in and around the town of Beacon Hills.  He spent the first five days in the town proper before heading into the Preserve.

It was on the second day in the Preserve that he stumbled across the burnt down house.  After a thorough check of the place Eliot hurried home, cutting directly through the preserve.  He told Stiles what he discovered.

“As I approached it I could smell the burnt, and now rotting, wood, and under that I could pick up what remained of burnt flesh and hair,” he informed her.  “But it was the scent I picked up once I entered the old home that stopped me in my tracks - aconite.  It was faint, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if I wasn’t an alpha, but the scent of wolfsbane is an unmistakable one; and it permeated the entire house.  Everything about the house says one thing: werewolves died in that house at the hands of hunters.”

After learning that werewolves were real, and that Eliot was one, Stiles had reviewed everything she’d learned while earning her doctorate.  She loved the fact that the supernatural actually existed.  So the fact that some humans were so small minded and fearful that they would burn down a house with a family inside it made her both sick to her stomach and so angry that she could barely think straight.  She, and Cobi, set out to research everything they could about the house, the fire, and the family that owned it.

“Okay, here’s what I’ve found so far,” Stiles tells Eliot a few hours later as he came up behind her in the secret room in the library on the third floor that she uses to house all her hacking equipment (except the servers themselves, because those are kept in the basement in a locked and temperature controlled room).  “The house was owned by the Hale family.  Technically it’s still owned by them, but no one is actively taking care of it or paying property taxes on it.  Eleven people died in the fire that took place around six years ago, three family members survived.

“Peter Hale, the uncle of the other two survivors, is in a coma at Beacon Memorial’s Long Term Care Facility.  The younger two, Laura and Derek Hale, immediately moved to New York City and have been there ever since.  Here’s the part that you’re not going to like,” she told him.

“I haven’t liked any of this so far,” he grumbles, more to himself than to her.

“I know, but it gets worse,” she warned him.  He nodded his head that he expected as much.  “Laura, the oldest of the two siblings, hasn’t made a single payment to the long term care facility.  Instead, Derek, who was sixteen at the time of the fire, got a part-time job after school and sent almost all his paycheck to the facility.  When he got to college he went to school full-time and worked full-time, again sending the vast majority of his paycheck to the facility to help pay for his uncle.  The money he sent didn’t cover all the expenses, but the facility let Peter stay and got grants from the county and state to help offset the difference.”

Eliot looked ready to blow a gasket he was so angry.  “I think the Hales were wolves.  I’d like to go to the facility to double check.  Where is the long term care facility and what’s Peter’s room number?”   Stiles had Cobi sent the information to Eliot’s phone as they both headed downstairs to get in Eliot’s truck .

When they arrived at Beacon Memorial’s Long Term Care Facility, Eliot didn’t even need the room number.  He just followed the smell of wolf.  Eliot quickly made his way to Peter’s side to check on his injuries, well, his physical injuries at least.  

“He’s a wolf,” Eliot softly confirmed to Stiles.  “That must mean that Laura became the alpha and she just left him here unprotected.  She made him an omega.  Omegas have the highest risk of becoming feral because they have no pack to help them hold onto their humanity.  Injured wolves also heal faster when their pack is near them.  Which means, she left him here to suffer.  This is not how a pack is supposed to treat each other.”  

‘It’s a good thing Laura is on the other side of the country or I’d kill her for what she’s done,’ he thought to himself.

“Peter,” Eliot spoke quietly to the comatose wolf that sat in the wheelchair as he stared blankly at the wall of windows.  “My name is Eliot Spencer and I’m the new local Alpha.  The girl behind you is Stiles Stilinski.  I swear to you that we will find out exactly what happened to you and your family, and I will help you avenge their deaths.”

The two left then and returned to their home where Stiles hacked into the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department to get access to the case file for the house fire.  It had been officially ruled an electrical fire, but the investigating deputy suspected arson.  However, it was the insurance investigator that made the final determination, so Eliot and Stiles were going to pay the investigator, Garrison Myers, a visit the next day.

Employment records indicated that less than six months after the fire Garrison Myers left the insurance company and became a bus driver for the local transit authority.  Eliot and Stiles had to make sure to catch him when he was home, but no one else was.  That time was just after nine in the morning.  

“Mr. Myers?” Eliot asked when the man answered his front door.  Eliot had his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised in agitation.  The former insurance investigator was suddenly nervous and uncomfortable.  

“Y-yes,” Myers stammered.  “And you are?”

“Concerned citizens,” Eliot’s low voice growled out.  “We’d like to speak with you about the Hale fire.”  His voice and body language left no room for argument, so the older man backed away from the door to let the visitors in.  Once all three were seated in the front room, Eliot broke the silence.  “I’ve been up to the house and it looks like arson, but your report states it was an electrical fire.  I find that hard to believe.  How about you start by explaining why you would cover up the murder of eleven people?”

Myers looked torn between wanting to run away and relieved he was finally able to tell someone the truth.  The relief, it appears, won out.

“My family was threatened.  She knew my wife’s name and where she worked.  She knew my kids’ names and where they went to school.  She even had surveillance photos of my wife and two kids.  She terrified me; her eyes were the wrong kind of crazy.  So I did what she wanted, I submitted the false report.”  Having finally told the truth Myers looked like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

“Who was ‘she’?” Stiles asked kindly.

“I don’t know her name.  But she was in her mid to late twenties, had blond hair and light eyes, with a raspy voice,” he offered.  “I feel terrible about what I did, but I had to protect my family.”  He put his head in his hands.

“We understand,” Eliot reassured him, finally having calmed down after the man explained about his family being in danger.  “If we can narrow down the list of suspects and bring you some pictures could you identify her?”

“Yes, of course,” Myers rushed out.  “The woman that threatened your family tends to stand out in your mind, even after all these years.”

“Thank you for your honesty and your help,” Eliot guided Stiles to the door and out of the man’s house.  They had work to do.

*~*~*

“Fire is mainly only used by two of the hunter clans - the Argents and the Calaveras,” Eliot explained to Stiles as they made their way to the third floor of their home.  “I say we start looking into those two families to see if any of them match the description that Myers gave us.”  Stiles nodded as she opened the secret door in the library that led to her “work” computers.  

“Cobi, run a scan for all known members of both the Argents and the Calaveras, then display all the females,” Stiles instructed her CBI.  All the females were pulled up on the triple screens.  “Filter out all those that were outside their twenties at the time of the fire.”  The pictures continued to be filtered out by hair and eye color until all that remained was the only female that matched all of Myers’ description.  Kate Argent.

“Cobi, text a copy of Kate’s picture to Myers for verification,” Stiles said.  Mr. Myers responded back almost immediately to confirm that the woman in the picture was the same woman that had approached him and threatened his wife and children.

Stiles and Cobi then proceeded to investigate every intricate detail of Kate’s life, while Eliot went down to the kitchen to start on lunch (when stressed he usually either hit something or cooked).  Later that evening Stiles shared with him everything that she and her CBI had discovered.

“So,” she began.  “We checked Kate’s bank accounts and found that six years ago three large payments were made to local arsonists less than a week before the Hale fire.  Their status as arsonists was discovered after running their names through the Sheriff’s Department Database.

“We also discovered that Kate had been arrested four different times since the Hale fire for sexual assault and statutory rape; all four victims were boys between the ages of fifteen and seventeen.  The charges were dropped each time.  But then less than two months later all four families died in a house fire.  Since the crimes took place is different states, no one ever linked the crimes together.”

Eliot felt so many emotions at hearing this.  If this woman had no qualms about seducing a teenager to get information in order to kill an entire pack of law abiding werewolves, he had no illusions that she could and would so whatever it took to kill him and his pack.  Even though it wasn’t official, Eliot still considered Stiles his pack.  His only pack.  He would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

*~*~*

The next day Eliot and Stiles stopped by the long term care facility to visit Peter again and report everything they’d discovered thus far.

“Peter,” Eliot began softly as he crouched down in front of the comatose man that sat in a wheelchair and faced the large window in his room.  “Stiles and I have found out some information about the fire that killed your family.  We discovered that it was Kate Argent that was behind it.  She’s from an old hunter clan.  She threatened the family of the insurance investigator.  We went and talked with him.  I was going to kill him for his help in covering it up, but he was approached after the fire had already happened and Kate threatened to kill his wife and children, and he was completely honest with us.  So I decided to let him live.  I can understand his need to put the safety of his family first.

“Stiles also managed to track down the three local arsonists that were hired by Kate.  One works at the local video store.  The other two were a little tougher to find, but eventually Stiles was able to do so.”  Eliot went on to tell Peter every last detail of what they’d uncovered.  

Just over an hour later the two were walking back in the door to their home.

“How do I officially join your pack?”  Stiles asked the Alpha.  Eliot turned and just stared at his lover, a genuine smile slowly spread across his face.

“Are you sure?”  He wanted this, but he needed to make certain that she knew exactly what she was getting into.  

“Very,” she replied as she nodded her head.

“Then, you need to request membership in the pack, then tilt your head to the side, baring your neck to me.  I’ll accept the request and then drag my fangs across your neck.  It won’t be enough to break the skin, just enough to raise welts, which will then heal into scars.”  He explained to her.

“Well then,” Stiles stepped closer to the man.  “I, Wojownikbieli Stilinski, request of you, Alpha Eliot Spencer, membership in your pack.”  She tilted her head to the right exposing the left side of her throat to the wolf.

“Request granted,” he growled out as he shifted into his beta shift.  Eliot pulled her close and dragged his fangs across the tender skin of her neck.  It stung a little, but there was no blood.  He held tight to her hips as he watched as the welts on her neck healed into scars.  He couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest at seeing his mark on the girl.  His wolf was nearly howling in pleasure at the sight and the reason behind it.  

Eliot leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips.  Though it started off soft and relatively innocent, it quickly became heated and passionate, almost desperate.  He swept her off her feet and into his strong arms and carried her up the stairs and into their newly-shared bedroom.

Across town, under the light of the waxing crescent moon, Peter woke up alone.

Chapter Text

I can remember their screams. The acrid smell of burning hair and flesh and smoke and something else. Something far more horrifying. I could smell fear.

Fear has kept me going all this time. I don't actually know how long it's been, but the fear has become familiar to me, something I can mold and manipulate. At first, I was afraid to wake up to the emptiness of my loss. I didn't want to believe I was all alone, that my pack, my family, my blood, were all gone in the strike of a match.

I wanted to embrace the darkness, to let death take hold. Death never came. First, I thought it was the transfer of power from Talia, my Alpha, that was keeping me alive. I wanted to reject the power transfer, but it never came.

That could only mean one thing; someone was still alive. I wasn't alone. I have family. I have pack! Then I had a terrifying thought,  what if those hunters realize we're not all gone?  What if they want to finish the job? I must heal to protect what's left of my pack... but where are they?

I fear they have been captured, are being tortured. I must regain my strength.  This sleep is protecting my mind. I must be strong enough to save what's left of my family.

I can barely smell my nephew. I love that kid, he's been here. I miss him. Is he all that's left of the Hale clan? Is he the new Alpha?

I'm not strong enough to protect him. I must get stronger. Am I safe in this place? I don't recognize any of these scents. I  smell that there hasn’t been any family nearby in a very long time... has it been years?

I can smell an alpha! He's not alone, why is he here? Is he a threat? Who is that with him?

Pain! Betrayal! I'm alone!

The words of this new alpha and his packmate hurt me, but their story is true. They believe it is true, they're not lying to me. Can I trust them?

Some of my family is alive. I have an Alpha that has abandoned me here; with strangers, defenseless. My nephew is with her. I must reach out to him. I must save him from her. She is dangerous, disloyal and cruel…

But first, I needed to wake up.

I feared the pain, but I used that fear. I looked at my options and realized how important it was to rebuild the Hale pack. My fear of hunters wiping us to oblivion drove me. Derek was the answer. Derek is the answer.

The pain was no longer a deterrent. I knew to endure it would mean survival.  Not just for myself, but for my pack, my blood, my family.

There was so much pain, I squeezed my eyes shut, I swallowed my urge to roar. Then I tumbled into consciousness.

As I cleared my eyes and the fog of my mind, survival took over. I assessed my surroundings, took in any smells and sounds that may not be friendly. The bombardment to my senses gave me a headache.

I could feel the power of the wolf in my veins. I used my training in control, something all Hales went through, to listen to my body. I quieted my mind and just listened to my heart. I slowed my breathing and concentrated, feeling my blood moving through my body. I wasn’t injured. My skin was tight and smooth, but my muscles had lost some strength. I was sure there would have been more atrophy, perhaps that’s a human affliction. My wolf was waking up inside me. He was feeding my body with his strength.

I needed to get to my pack.

*~*~*

“Miss?  Sir?”  Cobi’s voice came through the speakers in the ceiling as Stiles and Eliot got dressed for the day after their morning shower.

“What is it Cobi?” Stiles asked, pausing only briefly in her movements.

“I thought you’d like to know that the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department received a call from Beacon Memorial’s Long Term Care Facility that Peter Hale has disappeared.  I checked the security footage from last night and Mr. Hale appears to have walked out of the building by himself,” the CBI informed them.

“Were you able to track him after he left?”  Eliot questioned as he sped up getting ready.

“Once he entered the wooded area I lost track of him, and he has not re-entered any area with security or surveillance cameras.  I have been continuously monitoring all cameras, including ATMs, since intercepting the call to the Sheriff’s Department.”

“Thank you Cobi,” Stiles said.  She turned to Eliot as he approached her.

“I need to try to track him down,” the Alpha told her.  She nodded her head.

“I know.  I’ll do some more digging into Kate Argent and see if there’s anything that might give us a clue,” Stiles informed him.  He pulled her close and kissed her deeply.  Once the kiss finished he rested his forehead against hers.  “Be safe out there, and do whatever it takes to come back to me. 

“I will,” he promised.  Then, with one final kiss he left in search of the missing werewolf. As he left, Stiles headed to the kitchen to get a drink and a snack, then headed up to the library to continue researching Kate.

*~*~*

It was near the end of the day; Eliot had been out trying to track Peter, and Stiles had been holed up in the library as she and Cobi try to find every available piece of information on Kate.  Eliot was in the kitchen stress cooking when Stiles sat down at the counter with a tablet open to a file folder.

“You’re going to hate what Cobi and I found,” she said without any preamble.  The Alpha sighed deeply, then turned to face the Super Soldier. 

“At least you found something,” he grumbled.

“You couldn’t pick up anything?” she asked.

“A lot of born wolves have the ability to mask their scent,” he explained.  “Once he hit the tree line I lost him completely.  I’ve been having to track the old fashioned way; by what’s been disturbed in nature.”

“That sucks,” she commiserated with him.  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So, what is this information that I’m going to hate, considering I haven’t liked anything about any of this,” he stated as he picked up the tablet that she had slid over to him.

“Cobi and I looked into Kate’s phone records and found that she has been in contact with the same phone number an average of three times a week for the past four years, which is as far back as the records go.”  Eliot glanced up toward the girl, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  “The phone number belongs to Laura Hale.”

And there it was, the other shoe.  The woman responsible for the death of the Hale pack and the current Hale Alpha talked on the phone three times a week for the past four, or more, years.  

“Maybe Kate’s been playing a long game?”  Eliot offered half-heartedly.  Stiles shook her head dejectedly.

“We cross checked Kate’s credit card statements of when she was in New York City with traffic and security cameras and we were able to prove that Kate and Laura not only knew each other but are lovers.”  Stiles motioned for Eliot to swipe the tablet screen to view the photos that were in the file.  

“Texts and emails between Laura and Kate indicate that Laura has been purposely using Derek’s guilty conscience, from Kate seducing him when he was sixteen, to keep him submissive to her and not asking questions about her life and place as the Alpha.  They also indicate that Laura knew about the other four fires that Kate had set and that Laura wished there was a way for her to have been there to help and take the Alpha’s power without her presence giving away Kate’s plans to the local pack or without Derek finding out.”  Eliot gasped.  

“Are you fucking serious?”  She nodded sadly.  “I mean, I know you’re telling the truth, but I just can’t quite wrap my head around it.  Ya’ know?”  Eliot stared unseeing at the tablet in his hands.  “I’ve met some seriously messed up wolves over the years.  Some feral omegas who’d lost all their humanity, some power hungry alphas that didn’t care who got hurt in their quest for power.  But I have never heard of such a completely twisted and fucked up wolf as Laura Hale.”  He was so beyond furious that he couldn’t control the beta shift that washed over him.  

Eliot didn’t think that it was possible to hate someone as much as he hated Damien Moreau.  But he was wrong.  He didn’t just hate Laura Hale, he loathed her with every fiber of his being.  She was a disgrace to the werewolf species as a whole, and a traitor to her own kind and her own family.

“Do you think that she had anything to do with the fire at the Hale house?”  Eliot finally calmed down enough to be able to speak, though his voice was more wolf than human. 

“There’s no definitive proof, but based on the circumstantial evidence, I would say that it is very likely that she knew, at the very least, that it was going to happen.  My personal opinion would be that she and Kate planned it together so that she could become the Alpha.”  Stiles was sickened by the thought.  But everything that she’d found that day led her to that one conclusion.

“Where is she right now?  Cobi?”  Eliot snapped out.

“Ms. Hale’s phone is currently in her apartment in New York City, and security and traffic cameras confirm that she has not left the residence,” the computer-based intelligence informed them.

“Thank you Cobi,” Stiles spoke, knowing that Eliot was too upset to.  “Please keep an eye on her and track all her movements; Kate Argent too.”

“Of course Miss,” Cobi responded.

Stiles got up from her stool, walked around the counter and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s middle.  He turned in her arms and pulled her tightly to him as he leaned back against the counter.  He buried his face in her neck and just held her and breathed her in, trying to calm down both his human side and his wolf side.

*~*~*

Leaving the medical facility was quite easy. I figured that someone would be alerted to my escape, but at least I would have a head start. I needed to regroup, and the only place I could think of safely doing that was the preserve at the outskirts of Beacon Hills. The preserve was part of the Hale territory; it was home to me.

Being on Hale land again, drove my wolf to run. I didn’t have it in me to resist the urge. So I ran.

I ran. I howled. I inspected the entire boundary of the Hale territory. My need to keep myself safe, still unaware of what threats my pack might have in the area, made me reluctant to howl again. This was also what made me hide my scent. I knew of at least one Alpha in Beacon Hills; I still didn’t know what his plans were. Self preservation was driving each decision I made.

Running helped me clear my head and devise a plan. I needed my family back at the preserve. Our pack needs to reclaim our land.

I decided to lure my niece to the area. I needed to do something that would urge her to travel from wherever she’d ended up back to Beacon Hills. The only thing I could think to do was something that would directly challenge her as Alpha.

I knew what I had to do; I had to use a revenge spiral. But where to put it?  What would make sure that she would see it no matter where she was?  It would need to be in the news then.  What would make the news?

My plan was to kill a deer, carve the revenge spiral into its side with my claws, and then leave it somewhere it would get the desired attention.  But where?  Then I remembered that the preserve had one Ranger station not far from our old house.  Yes, that would be the perfect place.

*~*~*

“E, check this out,” Stiles said as soon as the Alpha walked through the door.  Eliot had spent every spare moment trying to track down Peter, but to no avail.  It was as if the older werewolf had just vanished.  Peter had obviously been trained to hide his tracks.  Trained so well that he could do it without having to think about it, considering that right now he probably couldn’t think as logically as he did before the fire.

Eliot shook his head slightly to get his thoughts focused on the tablet that Stiles was trying to hand him.  A news site was pulled up with an article about an animal mutilation.  The article mentioned that the deer had been left disturbingly close to the only ranger station in the Beacon Hills Preserve.  But what truly caught Eliot’s attention was the attached picture, of a deer with a spiral carved into its side.

“I was going to ask if that symbol meant anything to you,” Stiles broke through his thoughts.  “But based on the look on your face I’d say that it definitely does.”  He let out a long, heavy sigh, feeling the weight of his Alpha-hood in a way that he hadn’t experienced, never having had a territory or a pack before now.

“It’s the werewolf symbol for vengeance or revenge,” Eliot told her.  

“Peter?” she asked quietly.

“Most likely,” he admitted, equally as somber.  “I hate that he took off by himself.  I wanted to help him, and now he’s out there by himself, trying desperately to lure either Laura, Kate, or both out to him in the Preserve.”  He dropped into the nearest empty stool and set the tablet on the counter.  He dragged a hand down his face in frustration.  “He’s weak and injured, and shouldn’t be alone.”

“I know.”  Stiles rubbed a hand up and down her boyfriend’s tense back.  “But other than what we’ve been doing, what else can we do?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” he sounded defeated.  “I’ll keep trying to track him, and you keep an eye on the other two Hales and Kate Argent.”

“Then let’s not give up on him just yet,”  Stiles tried to cheer Eliot up.  “Peter survived this long without us.  He’s obviously stronger than we thought.  We just need to keep doing our best to help him in our own way.”

“You’re right,” Eliot nodded, feeling slightly less weight on his shoulders.  “I’m not ready to give up on him just yet.”

*~*~*

“Miss?”  Cobi tried to get Stiles’ attention when she came in from her workout in the side yard.

“Yes Cobi?” the Super Soldier responded as she walked to the fridge to take out a bottle of water.

“There has been a change regarding Ms. Hale.”

“What kind of change?”  Stiles asked once she pulled the bottle away from her lips.

“Based on her bank account, in conjunction with her current GPS location, it appears that Ms. Hale is on her way to Beacon Hills, via a non-stop flight from New York City to San Francisco,” the CBI informed her designer.

It had only been a few days since the article appeared in the paper, with the picture of the deer with the spiral of vendetta carved in its side.  Stiles had figured that it would take at least a week for Laura or Kate to make a move.  Neither Eliot, nor Stiles, had any doubt that it was Peter that had left the deer; most likely trying to lure either Laura or Kate, or both, back to Beacon Hills.  Apparently, it had worked.

*~*~*

Eliot may not have been able to follow Peter’s trail, but he was easily able to follow Laura’s.  Just as he and Stiles had thought, she drove directly to her old house.  From there, she wandered off into the trees; unbeknownst to her, Eliot and Stiles were following a safe distance behind her.  She was either seriously cocky or poorly trained because she didn’t seem to notice them.

The hike through the trees only lasted a few minutes before Peter stepped out from behind a large tree into the small clearing that Laura had just entered.

“I thought that it was you,” Laura all but hissed at the man standing in front of her.  

“And you had to come clean up loose ends, of course,” he replied, voice full of sass.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” were her words, but her tone made it perfectly clear that she knew exactly what he meant.

A snarl escaped Peter’s lips as he spat out a vicious, “Liar!”  Laura relaxed slightly; she was intrigued by the effect she had on her clearly unhinged uncle.  She decided to try and push him to see how much he knew.

“Uncle Pete, surely you don’t think of yourself as a ‘loose end’,” she said with fake concern. “I was merely checking up on our pack lands.  After all, a threat of vengeance is no small thing.  I take it you think you know who was responsible for the house fire?”

“Oh, I know EXACTLY who’s responsible, my dear niece.” Peter replied, he schooled his features into a calm mask.

Eliot and Stiles kept their distance, but to them it looked like a game was being played by both Peter and Laura.

Laura tried for an innocent sounding response, “Oh, and who do you KNOW it to be my dear uncle?”

Peter stood up straight, looked Laura dead in her eyes and replied “You! I know there were hunters involved. I know of Kate Argent and her seduction of Derek. I also know that you were the only one to come out of this horror with any advantage. Just answer one question for me Laura, was it all for the power?”

Clearly taken aback, Laura answered, “You’re wrong Peter. Yes, the power was nice, but more importantly I’m in love with an Argent. Kate and I have been in love since we met. Talia would never hear of it. She was too driven by her hate of their family to ever allow the future Hale Alpha to be romantically linked to an Argent. Her small mindedness sealed her fate.”

“Her Small Mindedness??!!?!” Exclaimed Peter. “She was protecting her family; and with good reason you selfish wretch. They murdered almost the entire pack! If she had given her blessing, would the pack still be alive?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Peter! Of course, I wish the family had survived. I only wanted Talia gone; her control was suffocating me.  All the other casualties were regrettable. But, I’ve moved on.  What’s done is done. I choose to embrace the future of the Hale pack.”

“What about Derek?” Peter continued. “Does he ‘embrace the future of the Hale Pack’? Does he know what prompted the murder of his Alpha, his mother? Does he know you’re in love with the hunter that obliterated his family? Does he know it was YOUR girlfriend that seduced him? Does he know that it wasn’t his fault? Does he know any slight version of the truth that changed his life forever?”

“It was never my intention to hurt Derek.” Laura answered. “I wanted him to survive, but Kate thought we needed something to guarantee his loyalty.  She doesn’t understand family like we do.”

“If you ‘understood’ family, you would have ‘understood’ that Talia would never stand in the way of true love. What you and Kate have will never be real. You’re both too power hungry to ever truly be partners. The fact that Derek still blames himself after six years is proof that your entire relationship is a game. A power play. I pity you Laura!”

Peter noticed two figures step out from behind the trees a ways past Laura; a male and a younger female.  He realized that this must be the Alpha that had visited him in the hospital and provide him with all the information.  The thought made his wolf rumble with approval that the Alpha was here.  Based on where he and his packmate were standing, they were here to help Peter. 

They silently drew closer to Laura, who had all of her attention on her uncle.  Her uncle who was now smirking at her.

“Why are you smiling?”  She snapped.  “I will kill you so that you never get the chance to tell Derek anything.”

“You stupid child,” he full out grinned.  “Did you really think I came alone?”  She quickly turned around to see who was behind her.  She didn’t get a chance to see their face as she saw was the fist just before it collided with her temple.  

Laura stumbled back, but before she could regain her footing she was kicked in the solar plexus by a strong foot, which pushed her back another few steps.  A large knee crashed into her nose, clearly breaking it if the sound was any indication.  Her head snapped up and she listed to the side slightly. Another strike to her other temple and she was sprawled unconscious in the dirt.

“Well that was underwhelming,” Stiles huffed.  “I thought an Alpha would put up more of a fight.”  She tilted her head and appraised the woman at her feet.  Needless to say, she was not impressed in any way.

“Peter,” Eliot stated as he looked at the new awoken Beta.  “I’m Eliot Spencer.”

“You came to visit me in the hospital,” Peter announced.  “Why?”  Peter would give them no information until he could determine their motivation in both visiting him and helping him.

“I’m the new local Alpha,” Eliot held up his hand to forestall Peter’s argument that this was Hale territory.  “It’s been six years since the fire, and there’s been no Alpha and no pack in the area.  The Hale Alpha lived in New York City with no plans to return.  That left the territory available.  I decided to claim it.  

“While out scent marking the territory I came across your old house.  I had Stiles look into the fire to find out if there were any survivors.  There were, and you were in a coma here in Beacon Hills.  So, Stiles and I came to visit you and offer our services in getting justice for your family.  It was obviously hunters that did it.

“The more we found out about everything, the more we wanted to help.  No wolf should ever have to go through what you went through, or what Derek did.  What you are both still going through.  All because of her.”  He poked at Laura’s body with the toe of his boot.

“What do you want done with her?” Stiles asked Peter.  “It’s up to you to decide.”  Eliot nodded in agreement.

“I want her dead,” Peter admitted.  “But if I killed her and took her power, I fear that it would send me over the edge and break what small shred of sanity I have left.”  The other two nodded their heads that they understood.  “However, I wish for the Hale Alpha to remain a Hale.”

“You want Derek to do it,” Eliot stated more than asked.

“I do,” the Beta confessed.  “Although I don’t know why he would want to kill his own sister.”

“We have all the proof it will take to convince him,” Stiles informed him.

“Then all that remains is to contain this . . . I can’t even think of a word strong enough to describe how vile a creature she is . . . this thing until we can convince Derek to become the new Hale Alpha,” Peter stated like he was deciding which ice cream flavor he liked best.

“Any idea how long it will take for him to get here?” Eliot asked.  The length of time it would take Derek would determine where Laura would be kept.

“If she’s cut off all contact, which I’d wager she has, my guess would be two days at the most,” he answered.  Eliot thought for a moment then nodded his head slightly once he’d made a decision.

“We can keep her chained up in the apartment over the garage,” he announced.

“Then let’s go,” Stiles responded.  “Peter,” she turned back toward the man.  “We have plenty of extra rooms if you’d like to stay with us.”  Peter looked stunned.  It took him a moment to find his voice again.

“I’d like that very much, thank you.”  He hadn’t expected them to offer him a place to stay, no matter that they had just told him that they wanted to help him.

Seemingly oblivious to his inner musings, Eliot hoisted Laura’s body onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and they were off through the preserve toward the Spencer pack house.

Chapter Text

Eliot carried Laura back to his and Stiles’ house.  The group was almost there when they had to stop because Laura started to regain consciousness.  Eliot slid her down from around his shoulders and held her upright as Stiles stepped around to face the both of them.  She then punched the current Hale Alpha in the temple knocking her back out again.  Without letting her fall to the ground, Eliot easily picked her back up in a fireman’s carry and the group continued to make their way to the house, and the empty apartment above the second garage.

Eliot carelessly dropped Laura onto the floor of the bedroom in the empty apartment; the younger Alpha was so out of it that she didn’t even make a sound when her head bounced off the floor.  Stiles and Peter watched over her while Eliot hurried down to the main garage for the extra-strong chains that he had picked up the day before.  He was back in less than five minutes and restrained the female Hale.

“I’ll take first watch,” Stiles offered.  Eliot made to protest, but Stiles cut him off.  “No, E.  You and Peter both need to rest, and he’ll sleep better knowing that there’s a friendly Alpha nearby to watch over him.  Besides, she’s completely out of it, and I’m perfectly capable of knocking her back out if she starts to come around.”  

Eliot thought about it for a moment.  A quick glance toward Peter who looked exhausted and more than a little nervous finally made him cave.  With a quick kiss to Stiles, he led Peter down the stairs and into the house proper.  

“Welcome to our home,” Eliot said to the older wolf.  Peter took the time to look around as he was led up what appeared to be a back staircase.  His suspicion was confirmed when the two stepped into the main hallway of the second floor and there was a larger staircase leading down to what looked to be the front door.

“This is the only bedroom that we have set up right now,” Eliot explained as he opened the double doors at the top of the main staircase.  “It was my room when I first moved in, so it might still smell a little like me.”  Peter nodded that he understood.  Eliot gestured across the hall to an open set of double doors.  “That’s mine and Stiles’s room.  Please let us know if you need anything.  There’s a bathroom in your room and the kitchen is yours to raid.”  Both men smiled a little at that.  

“Look, Peter,” Eliot said a little awkwardly.  “I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you coming from me, but I’m extremely proud of your decision out there.  Very few wolves would’ve had the strength to turn down becoming an Alpha.  The fact that you know yourself well enough to know that it would’ve done more harm than good, and the fact that you put your pack’s name above your own personal desires, speaks very highly of you.  So if, for whatever reason, you and Derek don’t become pack to each other, you are more than welcome in mine.”

Peter was dumbfounded.  He knew that his jaw was hanging wide open and that his eyes probably looked like they were about to pop out of his head,but he just couldn’t help himself.  He had not expected any of that.  His wolf was all but rumbling and vibrating in pride, both at himself and the Alpha in front of him.

“Thank you,” Peter finally managed to squeak out.  “That fact that you’re proud of me means more to me than it probably should, considering that I don’t really know you.  As does the fact that you’d willingly take me into your pack.  So, again, thank you.”

Eliot smiled softly and nodded his head to the older man. He took a step back toward his own room.  “Sleep well Peter.  I’ll go relieve Stiles in a few hours, so if you hear me wandering around don’t panic.”

Peter silently nodded and stepped farther into the room.  He quietly closed the doors behind him and looked around the bedroom.  For the first time since before the fire, he felt safe.

*~*~*

Eliot knocked on the door to Peter’s room, “Ready to take watch?” he asked.

Peter responded, “I am.  Is she still unconscious?”

“Yes, we should eat something.” They stopped in the giant kitchen for some sandwiches before going to the apartment.

Eliot informed Peter of their findings regarding the other arsonists, while they settled down for their shift. “So I was hoping you would go with me to find them and deal with them for their crimes against you and your family.”

Peter regarded the Alpha carefully before responding with a heartfelt, “I would be honored.”

Later that day, after Stiles woke from her nap, Peter and Eliot set out to the preserve.  Based on Intel from Cobi, they knew the pattern of which days the two arsonists went drinking out in the preserve.

Peter was still a bit nervous and hesitant as they neared the preserve; Eliot could pick up on this by his scent. As the two continued their hunt, once they had picked up the scent of the two criminals, Peter’s nervousness was replaced by a singular desire to avenge his slaughtered family!

Eliot and Peter stopped stalking as they neared a clearing. As an Alpha, Eliot could make out the scents and heartbeats of the two men as they sat in the bed of their truck drinking, barely saying any words to each other. Eliot looked at Peter, as Peter glanced toward his temporary Alpha, almost as if seeking guidance.

Under his breath, the Alpha murmured, “They’re yours to dispose of, I will assist as you need”. Peter nodded once, and set his focus on the task ahead...

*~*~*

While Eliot and Peter were out looking for the arsonists, Stiles sat watching over Laura.  Stiles was reading from her tablet when she heard the older woman start to wiggle a little as she began to regain consciousness.

“If you’ll behave I’ll let you stay awake,” Stiles informed the Alpha, without ever looking up from her tablet.  All movement ceased almost instantly.  Stiles appeared to be absorbed by what she was reading on her tablet, but in truth is was just the video feed of the room, allowing her to watch Laura without her realizing she was being observed.  In all her years alone, Stiles had learned to be comfortable in the silences, but after a few minutes Laura grew uncomfortable.

“Why am I still alive?”  She blurted out.  Stiles kept her head down toward the tablet, but raised her eyes to look directly at the Alpha.

“Would you prefer to be dead?”  Stiles asked.  “If so, I’m sure I can arrange something.”  She said it so nonchalantly that a chill ran down Laura’s spine.  She somehow knew that the human in front of her could do exactly that.

“No, I’m happy to still be alive,” Laura quickly reassured the younger woman.  “I’m just a little confused.  I figured that Peter would’ve killed me the instant that I was incapacitated.”

Stiles took a deep breath before she allowed herself to react.  She slowly and deliberately turned off the tablet and set it on the floor next to her.  Only then did she allow herself to raise her head and look directly into the eyes of the Alpha.

“Unlike you, not everyone is obsessed with power,” Stiles allowed her disdain for the wolf shine through her voice and her emotions.  “Not everyone gets off on killing their family members.”  Laura’s head flinched back slightly as if she’d been slapped.

“How did you know about that?” Laura hissed.  “No one was supposed to die but my mother.”

“Seriously?  That’s your rationalization?”  Stiles was dumbfounded.  “You disgust me.”  She couldn’t help the sneer that appeared on her lips.  “You may have been able to fool your uncle, but I’ve seen the texts and the emails to Kate.  I’ve seen all of the security camera video footage.  I know that you knew full well who and what Kate was, and what she was capable of.”

Laura stared at Stiles, looking for all the world like a deer caught in the headlights.  In this case, the headlights of an oncoming train; and Laura knew that there was no way to stop it.  

“You . . . How?” Was all she managed to utter.

“I would say that I’m just that good, but the truth is, you’re just that sloppy.”  Stiles gracefully got to her feet and stalked toward the restrained wolf, before crouching down in front of her.  “For instance, I know that you wished you could’ve been there with Kate when she killed the other four families because you wanted the Alpha’s power for yourself.  I also know that you and Kate framed Derek and that you’ve been using his guilty conscience to keep him submissive to you.  That you’ve been using him.”  

Stiles couldn’t help herself.  She punched down at Laura’s outstretched leg and shattered both the bones in her lower right leg.  Not expecting it, Laura couldn’t stop the scream from escaping her mouth.  

“I also know,” Stiles continued, anger intensifying, “that you willingly abandoned your uncle to suffer and torment, to become an Omega.”  Laura thought she was ready for the next hit, but she was still unprepared for the flare of pain as Stiles slammed the heel of her left hand into the chains against Laura’s right ribs, breaking two of them into multiple pieces.

“The last thing I know,” Stiles stood up, towering over the now-injured wolf.  “Is that you are going to die soon.”  Without giving Laura a chance to respond, Stiles swung her right arm out and punch the Alpha in the left temple, sending her back into the depths of unconsciousness.

“If we weren’t keeping her alive just so that Derek could kill her, I might start to worry about permanent brain damage,” Stiles mumbled to herself, she rolled her shoulders back as she wandered back over toward her tablet to sit down again and wait for Eliot and Peter to return.

*~*~*

“Miss?”  Cobi’s voice woke Stiles out of a restless sleep.

“Yeah?” Stiles mumbled as she turned to lay flat on her back in her bed, her arm thrown over her eyes since she didn’t want to open them yet.

“I thought you would want to know immediately that Derek Hale has just purchased a plane ticket that will leave New York in approximately three hours.  The flight is non-stop to Sacramento, set to arrive at 2:47 pm local time.”

“You were right to let me know Cobi.  Thank you.”  Stiles swung her legs off of the luxurious bed and unsteadily climbed to her feet.  “Who’d have thought just watching someone would be so exhausting,” she mumbled to herself.  Then slightly louder, she spoke to the CBI, “Are both Peter and Eliot out watching Laura?”  

“Yes, Miss.  Mr. Hale joined Sir about two hours ago.”

“Thanks.”  Stiles stumbled toward the bathroom, eyes not completely open yet.  “I’m going to jump in the shower and then I’ll take them both coffee.  Ask them what kind they’d like, please.”  

*~*~*

Derek pulled the rental car to a stop in front of his old home.  The sight of it, charred and a mere husk of what it had been, was like a punch in the gut.  He had done that.  He may not have struck the match, but he knew that he was just as responsible as the hunter who did.

As he stepped out of the vehicle Derek took a deep breath.  The first thing that hit him was the smell of the house; burnt, rotting, moldy wood.  The second was Laura’s scent.  She wasn’t the only person that he could pick up though.  There were two other wolves, one of whom smelled somewhat familiar though he couldn’t quite place it, and a human.  

He decided to follow Laura first, and the others if he found no clues.  With all the competing scents he followed Laura’s footprints in the dirt to get her heading.  He inevitably lost her footprints in the forest, but by that time he had a good lock on her scent to follow.  The scent stopped in a small clearing.  All four scents coalesced in the clearing, actually.  He found a small patch of blood; enough to indicate that Laura was injured, but not even close enough to be lethal.  More like that of a split lip or bloody nose, he thought.

All four scents backtracked along the way he’d just come, so he followed them back toward his rental car.  The trail continued past his vehicle and into the forest on the far side of his family’s property.  Even after all these years, he still knew instinctively where the edge of the Hale property was as he reached, then past, it.   At one point, he was certain that he scented Laura’s confusion and slight panic, but one more step onward and it was lost again.  

Derek stopped as he realized that he’d been able to pick up on the emotions of the other three the entire time.  The human was smug, angry, and concerned.  One of the wolves was tired, bitter, and angry - really angry.  The other wolf was annoyed, concerned, and angry.  But other than that one step where she was confused and panicked there was nothing from her.  Which led him to the conclusion that she was unconscious.  She must’ve come around for a second before they could knock her back out, he decided.  But that led him to wonder why they were all so angry; and if he was reading it correctly, all the anger was directed at his Alpha.  But why?

He knew the only way to find the answer would be to find his sister, so he carefully continued to follow the scent trail that the group had left.      

Chapter Text

Derek continued to follow the scent trail as quickly and as quietly as possible.  It took approximately ten minutes before he came to the edge of the trees.  From there, he was maybe fifty yards from the back of a large house.  He strained his ears to pick up any noise or movement on the property, and he could hear four heartbeats over the detached garage.

As he listened, he found one slow and steady heartbeat and figured that would be an unconscious Laura; the other three heartbeats were a room away from her.  Based on the sounds coming from the room, they, the two wolves and the human that were holding his sister hostage, were watching a movie.  Derek decided that now would be a perfect time to sneak into the house itself to find out more about the people keeping his sister.

Derek swiftly moved to lean against the far side of the house from the detached garage.  He followed the side of the house until he came to a small porch wrapping around the front.  He silently jumped the railing and made his way toward the side door.  When he tried the door handle it easily turned, which was equal parts fortuitous and worrisome.  

The room appeared to be unused, which made the unlocked door even more suspicious.  He barely noticed the thought that flitted through his mind that his family rarely locked their doors this far into the preserve either.  Derek moved through the empty room toward the door that led into the main house.  Once there, he was met with a bathroom on his left and a hallway in front of him leading off diagonally toward his right.  He cautiously inched through the hallway to the door.  

He listened to verify that all four heartbeats were still in the other building before opening the hallway door.  As he anticipated, all of the lights in the house were turned off, but he could see well enough with his enhanced sight that it didn’t deter him or slow him down at all.  As he stepped through the door the first thing that he saw was a closet directly in front of him.  When he looked to his left he realized that the front door was that direction, as well as the entrance to the stairs which passed directly above his head.  To his right was a gathering room and the kitchen area.  Spotting papers spread out on the counter he decided to start there.

The first thing that he noticed about the papers on the counter was that they were all in a neat pile.  The second was the newspaper article about the Hale fire, with a hand scrawled note next to the picture: Hunters?  Derek quickly looked to the next paper in the pile to find that it was phone records, going back four years.  There was one phone number that it sent and received calls and texts from several times a week for the entire phone record.  What drew his attention to it was the fact that it was his sister’s phone number that was highlighted.  

Derek quickly moved on to the next set of papers in the pile.  They were pictures of his sister, recent pictures, of her with another woman.  He grew angry that these people had been stalking his sister, until he flipped to the next picture which revealed the face of Laura’s lover: Kate Argent.  Derek pulled out a stool to sit before he fell down.

There was no mistaking that it was Kate and Laura in those pictures, and that they were with each other voluntarily.  Not able to stomach looking at them anymore he moved on to the next set of papers in the pile.  These were printouts of text between Laura’s number and the number from the second set of papers.  A number which, apparently, belonged to Kate Argent.  The texts referenced Derek in very derogatory terms.  He expected it from Kate, but he didn’t expect that Laura would actually be the worse of the two.  But reading through them, she very obviously felt very little affection toward her younger brother, more along the lines of full-on loathing; Kate came across with more indifference, though there was still some hate.

He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what was in the rest of the pile of papers on the counter.  But he was a glutton for punishment, so he picked up the next set which appeared to be printouts of emails between the two women.  They spoke of Kate seducing more teenage boys and then killing their families in a house fire.  But to his shock and disgust Laura expressed that she wished she was there to help and to take the Alpha’s power for herself.  

“Enlightening, isn’t it?”  A soft, feminine voice whispered from near the side door.  Derek had been so engrossed in what he was reading that he forgot to keep an ear out for the other three people in the next building, and was startled as a result.  He stood to face the young woman, who appeared to only be a teenage human.  Derek grabbed up several of the papers in his fist.

“What the hell is this?” He demanded, his eyes burning their bright Beta blue.

“The truth,” the girl replied.  He noticed that her heartbeat didn’t stutter or falter, so she hadn’t lied to him.  Or, at the very least, she believed what she said was true.

“I don’t believe it,” Derek ground out.  The girl narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

“The problem you’re having is that you do believe it,” she stated quietly, yet firmly.  “If you truly didn’t believe it then you wouldn’t be so angry.”  Derek dropped the pages back onto the stack on the counter.

“Who the hell are you?”  He demanded.  The girl offered him a small, but genuine smile.

“I probably should have started with that,” she said.  She stepped forward and offered him her hand.  “My name is Stiles Stilinski.”  He stared at her hand warily for a moment before grasping it in his larger hand.

“Derek Hale,” he offered.  “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

She nodded, “I did.”  She stepped away from him and walked over to the wall next to the doorway and turned on the lights.  He may have been able to see just fine in the dark, but she couldn’t.  She walked back toward the counter and sat on the stool next to the one that he had occupied only moments before.  “Please sit back down.  We have a lot to discuss.”

Derek glanced from her, to the stool, to the papers on the counter, and back to her again, weighing his options.  Information was what he needed most right now, and Stiles seemed the most likely place to get that; so he sat back in the same stool and internally steeled himself for whatever proverbial bomb she decided to drop on him.

“Why don’t we start with you asking me anything you want,” Stiles offered.  “I’ll answer all of your questions with absolute honesty.  No answering around the questions; just the truth.  Sound good?”  Derek thought about it for only a moment before he nodded his head.

“My first question is simple.  Is all of this true?”  He gestured toward the papers.  Stiles answered without hesitation.

“Yes.”  

Derek stared at the stack of papers as he thought about what he should ask next.  “Did Laura know what Kate was going to do to our family?”

“Yes,” she answered.  “She helped Kate plan it.  According to Laura, it was only supposed to be your mother that died, and the others were just collateral damage.  Though, I’m not certain that I believe that.”

“Did she know what Kate had planned for me?”  He asked in a small voice.  Stiles didn’t like the way that he hung his head slightly when he asked this question.

“Yes,” she stated quietly.  “Laura said that it was Kate’s idea, in order to make sure you would comply to whatever they wanted.  But I’m not sure that I believe that either.”

“Is there anything else I should know that isn’t in the papers, or that I hadn’t read yet?”  Stiles didn’t know how someone could sound so broken and so angry at the same time, but Derek managed it.

Stiles considered for a moment.  “There is one thing.”  Her lips turned up into a small smirk and her eyes lit up in happiness.  “Come with me.”

Derek followed behind Stiles as she led him out the side door and across the covered patio to the detached garage.  He suddenly remembered the two other heartbeats; feeling defensive and cautious he followed the human warily.

As they enter the apartment above the garage Derek froze.  He noticed Laura unconscious, then the two wolves, one standing next to a seated wolf. The seated wolf’s scent was familiar, it smelled like home. Realization hit and he subconsciously moved toward the older wolf.

Peter rose to his feet and said, “Welcome home nephew.  Thank you for keeping me safe all this time.”

Derek felt transported back to his insecure teen self; to moments with his favourite uncle, shared secrets and deep trust and friendship. With tears in his eyes he lunged forward into Peter’s open arms, tucking his head underneath his uncle’s chin and wrapping his arms tightly around his torso, they way he used to when he was younger.

Peter breathed in the scent of his nephew’s head and somehow managed to choke out, “You’ve grown so much, Derek.”

Derek stepped back from the embrace, “When did you come out of your coma? What are you doing HERE?”

Peter sighed, “This Alpha, Eliot, and his mate came to me, and told me everything they’d found out about the fire.  I woke up not long after, lured Laura here, and then we waited for your arrival.” Eliot stepped forward.  Derek bristled on reflex, then almost immediately relaxed.  Eliot was in an open stance, his body language conveying calmness.

“It’s great to meet you Derek Hale, I am Alpha Eliot Spencer.  I greet you in peace, as a friend and ally.”

Derek followed his uncle’s lead of trusting this man and shook the Alpha’s hand. He realized that there was obviously more to their plan, he asked, “So what do we do about my sister?”

*~*~*

Laura came back to consciousness quickly, the change in scents and temperature alerting her that she had been moved.  She glanced around to find that she was seated, still chained, in a small clearing in the preserve; her three captors fanned out in front of her.

“Why am I out here?”  She asked the group.

“I didn’t want to have to replace the carpet, because blood stains are a bitch to get out,” Stiles snarked back to her.  Laura wanted to believe that she was joking, but the serious look on all of their faces let her know that she was not.

“So you are going to kill me after all,” she said as she looked at Peter.  He shook his head.

“Not me,” he informed her.  He glanced to his right toward Stiles.  She took that as her cue and took a step forward toward the restrained Alpha.

“When you had a human kill your mother the Alpha spark passed to the next oldest Hale, did it not?”  Stiles asked.  Without giving time for Laura to answer Stiles pressed on.  “So if a human, namely me, were to kill you, then your Alpha spark would go to the next oldest Hale.  Yes?”

Laura stared at the teenage girl in front of her and then threw her head back and laughed.  “You want to make Derek the Alpha?  He’s a broken little puppy; he couldn’t find his way out of a paper sack let alone lead a pack.”

“I think you may have underestimated your brother,” Stiles responded.  “But I suppose that is neither here nor there, at this point.  But I would love for you to clarify a few things for me before you die.”  She glared at the Alpha until Laura rolled her eyes.

“Fine, whatever,” she sighed, giving in to Stiles’ non-request.

“You told your uncle that seducing Derek was Kate’s idea, but I have a hard time believing that,” Stiles began.  “You see, that hadn’t been her M.O. up to that point.  Trapping the family in the house and burning it?  Yes.  But she never seduced the teenage son until Derek; and it’s something that she had continued to do.  Which leads me to believe that it was actually your idea.  Was it?”

Laura glanced at the two male wolves off to either side of the girl; they both look and smell beyond angry.  Stiles kept her steady gaze locked on Laura.  At this moment, the young girl was so in control of her body and her emotions that she was much more intimidating than the two radiating fury.  Fury like they radiated led a wolf to be out of control and make mistakes.  But the girl, in her perfect control, wouldn’t make any mistakes.  A phantom twinge of pain through her shin made Laura remember to not ever underestimate the girl.

“Yes, it was my idea,” Laura admitted.  “I thought it would be a good way to kill a few birds with one stone.  It would distract him, it would make him controllable, and it would hide my involvement with Kate and the fire.”  The absolutely bored way that she stated it made both wolves growl in anger.  It even made Stiles pause before she could collect herself to ask her next question.

“You stated that the only person that was supposed to die was your mother, and that was only because she wouldn’t let you be with Kate.  However, if that were truly the reason then why aren’t you with Kate?  It’s been six years and yet I don’t see a ring.  There’s no engagement or wedding. There hasn’t even been a ‘meet the family’ dinner.  Which leads me to believe, that as much fun as the two of you may have had together and regardless of romantic feelings, that the death of your family had nothing to do with your wanting to date a hunter.  All the circumstantial evidence point to the fact that you did it to become the Alpha.  But why kill all the rest?”

Laura scoffed before she answered, “They never would have accepted me as their Alpha.  Especially not Peter.”  She turned to sneer at her uncle.  “You always were too smart for your own good.”  

“So they had to die so that no one would be left to ask any questions?”  Stiles clarified.

“Exactly,” Laura confirmed as she did her best to shrug while still wrapped in the heavy chains.  

“I was also curious as to whether or not you meant to break the pack bonds and leave Peter to suffer and torment as an Omega.”  Stiles locked eyes with the female wolf and practically dared her to lie.

“Of course I meant to break the pack bond with Peter,” Laura confessed.  “He wasn’t supposed to survive in the first place, but I certainly didn’t want the pack bond there to help him heal.  I was hoping that he would either stay in a coma for the rest of his life, or wake up feral and then Kate and her family would have a reason to come in and put him down.

“Speaking of my girlfriend, I told her that I was coming here and that if she didn’t hear from me every twenty-four hours then she should come find me.  I’ve already missed what I can only guess is several check-ins.  So, it’s only a matter of time before Kate comes for you all,” Laura threatened them, gloating slightly.

“Good,” Stiles responded.  The smile dropped off of Laura’s face.  “That will save us from having to track her down.”  Laura’s gaze flitted between the three people in front of her and she wondered how this trip had gotten so far out of her control.  Then she looked again.  Three people . . . but . . . there were . . .

“Ah, look at that,” Stiles snarked.  “Looks like someone finally counted the heartbeats.”  Laura knew instantly what they’d done and she felt herself start to panic.  “I didn’t know that the blood could drain out of a wolf’s face and make them turn that ghostly white.”

Laura turned toward the sound of the fourth heartbeat and saw Derek’s shoes and jeans as he stalked around the tree to stand in front of her.  For the first time in her life she was nervous to meet her younger brother’s eyes.  Finally, she swallowed hard then tilted her head back to look up at him.

“Derek,” she greeted.

“You killed them,” he growled out.  His anger was much different than the other two wolves’.  His was a cold fury, not the hot burn of hatred.  The coldness only served to anchor him and keep him in control, instead of leading to mistakes that she could’ve used to her advantage.

“You used me, manipulated me, and you killed them all,” he spoke so quietly that Stiles barely heard him.  Slightly louder, he continued, “You made me feel guilty and worthless, all the while you were the one who was truly guilty.  No more.”  Derek stepped forward and grabbed a hold of the chains surrounding his sister and hauled her up until they were face to face.

“You are a disgrace to the name Hale, and you have betrayed your own kind,” he ground out.  “Your reign of abuse ends here and now.”  With no more warning than that, Derek sunk his claws into the side of her neck.  He pushed them through to the other side and pulled them forward until he could close his hand around the front half of her throat.  He yanked his arm back to his right, viciously tearing her throat from her body.  Derek let go with both hands and her body and throat fell to the dirt-covered ground.

Derek turned his head to look over his shoulder toward his uncle.  

“Don’t say it,” Stiles mumbled.

“I’m the Alpha now,” Derek growled as his eyes flashed Alpha red.

Stiles shook her head, “You just couldn’t help yourself.  Could you?”  She asked rhetorically.  Eliot let out a small chuckle at his girlfriend’s sense of humor, twisted though it may be.

Peter stepped toward Derek, who turned to fully face his uncle.  

“I, Peter Edward Hale, request of you, Alpha Derek Hale, membership in your pack,” Peter recited, then bent his head to the left baring his neck toward his would-be Alpha.

“Request granted,” Derek answered.  He scraped his fangs gently across his uncle’s neck; just enough to raise welts that would heal once the pack bond was established.  The bond took almost instantly.  The two Hales embraced again, this time as pack.  Stiles and Eliot stepped closer to each other and Eliot wrapped his left arm around Stiles’ waist, holding her close to him as she leaned into his side.

Chapter Text

Derek kept his uncle, now also his Beta, wrapped safely in his arms for several minutes; both wolves scenting and scent marking the other.  Eventually Derek pulled back and turned to face the other Alpha, his eyes lowered so as not to accidentally challenge the older male.  

“I don’t know how to be an Alpha,” Derek admitted.  “And I certainly don’t know how to be the kind of Alpha that my uncle deserves.”  Eliot studied the young man who stood protectively in front of his uncle and came to a decision.  One he hope that he wouldn’t end up regretting.

“I have a proposition for you,” began Eliot.  Derek glanced up when the man paused and briefly met his eyes.  In them he found understanding and hard-earned wisdom.  He nodded slightly to indicate that he was willing to hear the older Alpha out.  “You move back here, build your family’s estate back to its former glory, agree to join together to become the Spencer-Hale pack, and I will teach you everything I know about being an Alpha.  And as an added bonus,” Eliot glanced at Stiles who smiled and nodded her head.  “Stiles and I will teach you both everything we know about fighting and tactics; which, by the way, is a considerable amount of knowledge.”

Derek studied the man for a moment to decide how serious he was, then turned to his uncle.  The two had a silent conversation that included some hand gestures, some head movement, and very expressive eyebrows before Derek turned back toward Eliot.

“This may seem like a dumb question, but why the Spencer-Hale pack and not the Hale-Spencer pack?”  Derek wanted to know the man’s intention regarding his family’s name.

“Because while you’re learning I’ll be the head Alpha.”  Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Eliot simply continued on.  “Once you feel like you truly have a handle on being an Alpha, then we will be co-Alphas; true equals.  But until that day comes, I’ll be the one that has to ultimately take responsibility for the pack.”

Derek thought through that logic quickly, then looked over his shoulder to his uncle, who offered a small smile and a single nod to his nephew.  Derek returned the nod before turning to face Eliot once again.

“I accept your offer,” the younger Alpha stated firmly.  Eliot held out his hand for Derek to shake.  Both Alphas could feel the pack bonds of the other’s pack member slide into place next to their own member.

A thud as a body hit the ground hard brought Eliot out of his memory of three nights ago.  Since then, everyone in the newly formed Spencer-Hale pack had kept their word.  Stiles and Cobi had transferred all Hale money, including all of Laura’s, and estates into Derek’s name.  With access to the money, Derek brought all the fees and taxes on his family’s property up to date so that it was in no danger of being owned by the county; he’d also met with a demolition contractor to schedule the tear down of the old house.  Eliot spent several hours throughout each day meeting with Derek either up in the library or out in the Preserve discussing the duties and responsibilities of an Alpha.  

Most relevant to the moment, Eliot thought, was that he and Stiles had been nearly merciless in their training of the two Hales in hand to hand combat.  The Hales were not novices, by any stretch of the imagination.  But, like most werewolves, they tended to rely solely on their enhanced strength to win.  As Derek landed in the grass, again, Eliot heard Stiles try to help him understand why he kept getting beaten.

“I know that you’re stronger than I am,” she told him.  “And I’ll use that against you every time.”  She put her hands on her hips as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off.  “You need to be patient.  Wait and watch; find my weak spot and exploit it.”  He stepped forward into a fighting position.  “Always assume that your opponent is better trained than you are.”  

As the two circled each other, Eliot stepped toward Peter.

“That lesson was for you too,” the Alpha said in his quiet rumble.  Peter turned and offered him a small smirk.

“I know.”  The two silently watched Derek and Stiles for a few moments before Peter spoke again.  “I do wonder how she can take the hits that she does and it doesn’t seem to injure or hurt her at all.”

“One,” Eliot replied.  “Just because she doesn’t outwardly react doesn’t mean that it doesn’t cause her any pain.  And two, she’ll explain when she’s ready.  It took her eight months to tell me.  Of course, it took me that long to tell her that I was an Alpha werewolf, which is what allowed her to feel safe enough to tell me about her.”  Eliot leveled his gaze at the saner-by-the-day Beta.  “Just give her time.  Give her the chance to get to know both of you well enough to trust you with her secret.  All I can tell you is that it’s a lot bigger than werewolves and hunters.”

Peter directly met Eliot’s eyes.  To some it might seem like a challenge, but Eliot could see that Peter was trying to gauge how serious the Alpha was, and also trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle that was Stiles together.  After a moment Peter looked curiously toward Stiles, where she helped Derek get back to his feet again.

“You ready?”  Eliot asked Peter as he stepped back and settled into a fighting stance.  Peter immediately stood and copied the stance.

“Probably not,” the Beta answered cheekily.

*~*~*

It was two more days of training before Cobi alerted the pack that Kate had entered Beacon Hills.  A plan had been discussed and agreed upon; all that was left was for Kate to fall directly into their trap.

*~*~*

Derek was inside the old Hale house, going through his morning workout routine.  His bag, with clothes strewn half out of it, was next to the sleeping bag in the corner of the front room.  He stopped mid pull-up when he heard three people approach the front door; by the smell of aconite on them they were definitely hunters.  Derek quickly stepped behind the staircase to be out of sight, yet still have good access to an exit through the kitchen if it became necessary.

The front door was kicked open by one of the hunters, and the three sauntered inside with their weapons at the ready.  

“No one home,” stated the first hunter, an older male with slightly greying hair that only added to the air of danger around him.

“Oh, he’s here,” Kate replied in her low, husky voice.  “He’s just not feeling particularly hospitable.”  The second hunter, younger than his two companions, stepped forward to be next to them.  

“Maybe he’s out,” he offered.  “Burying a bone in the back yard.”

“Really?” Kate scoffed.  “A dog joke?  We’re going there and that’s the best you got?”  She shook her head with wry amusement.  “If you wanna provoke him, say something like, ‘too bad your sister “bit it” before she had her first litter'.”

An angry growl resonated from the back hallway under the stairs, and the second hunter crept toward it to check it out.  He was forcefully thrown into the wall by the door and fell to the floor, slightly stunned.  Derek then stepped out from where he’d been hiding and leapt across the stairs to knock down the older hunter with a kick to the chest. Kate grinned as if this was all some big game of cat and mouse to her.  Little did she know that she was the mouse, and not the cat she thought she was.

“You would know all about whether or not my sister wanted a litter, seeing as you were her girlfriend for the past six and a half, seven years.”  He didn’t even need to look at the other two hunters to pick up on their confusion; he could smell it, even over the anger radiating off of the woman in front of him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”  Kate responded angrily.  Derek chuckled.  

“I don’t even need to listen to your heartbeat to know that was a total lie.”  He motioned to the other two hunters.  “And they know it too.”  

“Okay,” Kate tried to verbally back peddle.  "Look, maybe we can help each other out.  I know that your sister was in town less than a week ago.  And now here you are, all angry and vindictive.  Which means, that she’s probably dead.  But, here’s the part that might really kick you in the balls . . . we didn’t kill her.”  Derek stared at her with the most unimpressed look he could.  “You think I’m lying?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he snorted.  Kate looked at him with mock-sympathy in her cold eyes and “tsked” at him.

“Sweetie, well . . . why don’t you just listen to my heart and tell me if I am.  Okay?”  A staring contest ensued as she steadied herself in his older and non-submissive presence.  “We.  Didn’t. Kill. Your. Sister.” She leaned into whisper in his ear as he struggled not to flinch from her being so close to him.  “You hear that?  There’s no blips or upticks.  Just the steady beat of the cold, hard truth.” Kate stepped back a few steps and turned to face him again.  

“Why aren’t we helping each other out?  You might as well admit what you’ve been guessing all along, which is . . . the new Alpha killed your sister.  And all you have to do is tell us who he is, and we’ll take care of it for you.  Problem solved, everybody goes home happy.”  He stared at her with a bland expression on his face, and she tilted her head and a calculating look crossed her features.  “Unless . .  you don’t know who he is either.”  She chuckled evilly.  “Wow.  Guess who just became totally useless?”

“You?”  Peter asked as he stepped into the room from the far door that Derek had entered.  Kate, and the other two hunters, spun their heads toward the new occupant.  

“Peter?”  Kate’s shocked whisper escaped her lips before she had a chance to stop it.

“The one and only,” he sneered at the huntress.  Kate quickly recovered herself and squared her shoulder toward him.

“It was you,” she stated confidently.  “You lured Laura here and killed her.  You’re the new Alpha.”  Peter smirked and cocked his head to the side as if he was thinking.

“Yes, I lured her here,” he admitted.  “But I’m not the one that killed her.”  He flashed his Beta-blue eyes at her.  “I’m not the Alpha.”  Kate’s head spun back toward Derek, a look of confusion on her face.  

Before she had a chance to ask anymore questions, a knife flew across the room and embedded itself into the neck of the older hunter.  As he grabbed his neck, Kate looked to the door where two more people were standing; a young girl, with a look of hatred that could give Kate a run for her money, and a slightly older male, with the shining blood-red eyes of an Alpha.

At seeing her stunned and confused look, Derek chuckled cruelly.  “You didn’t actually think that I would be dumb enough to stay in my family’s old home, or be by myself.  Did you?”  Her dumbfounded expression didn’t falter as she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened.  “Oh, you did.”  He grinned as he and the other three members of his pack stepped forward.

Another knife landed in the throat of the second hunter, and he fell to the ground next to the first.  Kate watched in horror as they both bled out and choked on their blood at the same time.  When she finally looked back up, she was met with the Alpha-red eyes of Derek.

“You,” she breathed out.  He took a step forward and grabbed her around the throat with his right hand.  When she raised her hand with the electric taser, he caught her wrist with his left hand and squeezed until her wrist bones all shattered as she dropped the taser.

“Yes, me,” Derek admitted.  “I found out the truth about everything.  She didn’t deserve to be a Hale, let alone to be the Hale Alpha.”  He glanced sideways toward his uncle who looked at Kate like a starving man would at a juicy steak.  “However, I’m not going to kill you.”  Derek stopped the hold he had on her wrist and took a half a step back.  “I got to kill Laura, so I’ve promised my uncle that he could kill you.”

Before she could process what he just said, she was flung sideways.  She tried to scream when claws pierced her side and into her lungs, but no sound came out.  The other three members of the Spencer-Hale pack gathered around while Peter took out his anger on the huntress.  It didn’t take too long before his semi-sanity slipped and he lost control; he tore her head from her body and dropped both to the dusty floor.

Derek wrapped an arm around his uncle’s shoulders and guided him toward the door, as Stiles and Eliot went to retrieve their knives from the throats of the other two hunters.  Stiles pulled out her phone and took a quick picture of the bodies.  Once the pack was safely home, Cobi would send it anonymously to Kate’s father, hopefully luring him to town so that the pack could finish what they’d started.  Only then would the Hales truly be able to move on.

Chapter Text

Stiles made her way into the Theater Room on the ground floor of her home.

“Cobi,” she spoke to the silent room.  “Please place video call to my godfather.”  It had been just over a week since Peter dealt with Kate, and each day Peter seemed to be gaining a little more sanity and stability.  

“Of course, Miss,” the CBI replied through the speakers in the ceiling.  It took only a moment before looking back at her from the large theater screen was the face of her godfather, Director Nick Fury.

“Uncle Nicky,” Stiles grinned cheekily at the older man, who shook his head and sighed.

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”  His tone was that of exasperated fondness.

“If I stopped, you’d wonder what was wrong with me,” she pointed out.  “Think of it as my own personal code letting you know that I’m not being forced to call you against my will.” He raised his eyebrow at the teen’s comment, wondering why she would ever be put in such a position.  Then he thought better of following that line of logic and gently shook his head.

“What’s up kid?”  He asked, partially to distract himself from the thought of someone using his goddaughter to get to him and partially to get on with the conversation.  As much as he liked to talk to her, he wasa busy man.

“I need some advice,” she stated, suddenly serious.  Her swift change in mood caught his attention.  He turned to look fully at the screen and study the teen.  It had been more years than he cared to admit since he’d seen the girl in person, having to spend his time overseeing agents and organizing saving the world.  What he saw in his goddaughter was the stance of a fighter; someone who’s been highly trained and knew exactly what her body could do.  He wondered when, and more importantly why, she had come to be that way.

“I take it that it’s not what to do about some boy you like.”  It was more of a statement than a question, but it had the desired effect to break the sudden seriousness around the girl.

“As if a silly teenage boy would know what to do with me,” she laughed out.  “I could only wish that it was something so trivial.”  She studied the man she had respected her entire life, the only man, that from the time of her birth that, had not let her down. And wondered how best to broach the subject.  “If I were to say the word aconite, what would your response be?”

The Director didn’t miss a beat when he replied, “I’d ask what’s going on that involves werewolves, and how did you manage to get caught up in it?”  Stiles let a small smile of relief slide onto her lips; she wouldn’t have to try to explain the fact that the supernatural world actually existed.

“And if I were to say Argent?”  She asked, hoping that once again he knew what she meant by her cryptic questions.  Nick’s eye seemed to narrow.

“Hunter,” he responded succinctly.  “And depending on which Argent, willing to kill anyone and anything to get at his target of any werewolf in existence.”  

“Well, that’sthe one that I’m dealing with - Gerard.”  Nick visibly flinched at the name, rubbed his hand down his face, then let out a long sigh.

“Dare I ask what you’re in the middle of?”  He asked semi-cautiously.

Stiles turned her head to the right and pulled the neck of her plaid vest over a little to allow Cobi to zoom in on the pack mark on her throat.  She kept her eyes on her godfather to gauge his reaction, which was only a slight widening of his good eye.

“When did that happen?”  He asked, sounding curious rather than upset.  Stiles silently let out the breath that she had unknowingly been holding.

“A few weeks ago,” she informed him.  He nodded his head as he took in her answer.  “Gerard is in town looking for payback for the death of his daughter, Kate; and he’s openly declared war against our pack to get it.”  Nick blinked a few times as he processed that information.

“There’s a lot of information in that one sentence.  Such as, Kate Argent is dead?  Are you certain?”  

Stiles nodded her head as she answered, “Yes.  Our Beta wolf killed her, as payback for her killing his entire family slash pack six years ago.”  She waited for him to ask the rest of his clarifying questions.

“That answered my next question as to why Argent decided to target your pack.”  Nick was silent for a moment as he thought.  “May I speak with your Alpha?  I’d like to speak with them for a couple of reasons.”  His gaze grew slightly more serious, and all she could do was nod her head.  Before she could turn to call for her one of her Alpha, she heard the door behind her open wide.

“Director Fury,” Eliot stated as he stepped up beside her on her left, crossing his arms over his chest.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“Eliot Spencer,” Nick Fury sounded almost like he should’ve known.  Stiles was quickly looking between her godfather on the screen and her boyfriend next to her.  The two men simply stared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to break eye contact.  Stiles solved that by smacking Eliot hard on the front of his right shoulder.

“You never told me you knew my godfather, you great big jerk,” she all but shouted at him.

“It never seemed relevant,” he replied as he rolled his shoulder to loosen it back up after all the muscles tensed at the unexpected hit.

“Never seemed . . .,” she turned to face his fully with her hands on her hips.  “You and I will have a very long talk about this later mister.”  She raised her eyebrow and glared at him to let him know how serious she was about the talk.  He responded by trying, and failing miserably, to not smile at her.

“Yes, ma’am,” was his smug reply.

She turned back to face the front of the room.  “Allow me to introduce the Alpha I’m not ticked off with at the moment,” Stiles said to her godfather as she motioned to her right.  “Derek Hale. And our Beta wolf, his uncle, Peter Hale.  Guys, this is my godfather, Nick Fury.”

“Gentlemen,” Nick nodded his head in greeting to the two Hale men, who mimicked the motion.

“Sir,” Derek responded.

“Stiles, are you telling me your pack has two Alphas?” Nick asked.  Stiles nodded her head.

“Officially we were two separate packs that joined together,” she informed him.  

“How does that work?” the Director seem genuinely curious.

“Derek’s new to being an Alpha, Director,” Eliot spoke up.  “For right now, I’m the Alpha taking ultimate responsibility for the Spencer-Hale pack.  But as soon as Derek feels like he’s ready then we’ll be equal co-Alphas.”

Nick nodded his head slightly that he understood.  “So now, Alphas, how has Gerard declared war on your pack?”

Stiles pulled out the stool that she was standing behind and took a seat at the small counter at the back of the room.  The wolves copied her movement and soon the entire pack was sitting for what was sure to be a long conversation.

“He brought in a not-so-small army of hunters,” Stiles informed him.  “He’s also let a feral Alpha loose in our territory, and the body count is rising quickly.  From a purely tactical standpoint, I’ve got to give him props.  He knew that we wouldn’t be able to do nothing about the Alpha, and that once we left the safety of our home he’d have the army of hunters there to try to take us out.”

“This is where we could use your advice,” Eliot said as he leaned forward on his elbow.  “How do we deal with the rogue Alpha without walking directly into Gerard’s trap full of hunters?”

Nick sat back in his office chair as he thought through the situation.  How did a pack of four deal with a feral Alpha and a pissed off hunter army?  Without knowing the terrain, it had been more than a decade since he’d set foot in the town, or the strengths and weaknesses of his team and the enemy he would probably not be of much use.  However . . .

“To be completely honest, there are too many variables that I don’t know to be of much use.  But,” he continued when he saw Stiles’ shoulders droop in defeat.  “What I can do is send you two of my best tacticians to help.  Not only are they great at tactics, but they’re also highly trained field agents.”  Stiles perked up.

“Barton or Coulson?”  She asked, suddenly excited.  Fury raised an eyebrow.  “What?  Romanoff was the obvious choice, which leaves the only question - Barton or Coulson?”  Even her pack now looked at her strangely, as if she’d suddenly started speaking another language.

“And just how do you know which of my agents would be the best to send to you?”  It was supposed to be a question, but it really sounded much more like a demand for information.  Now it was Stiles turn to look confused.

“How would I not know?” She rebutted.

“Well, you didn’t just google ‘SHIELD agents’ and get the information.  So how did you?”  He full out demanded this time.  She still looked more confused than anything.  It was Eliot who finally figured it out.

“He doesn’t know it was you,” he told his girlfriend. Understanding instantly appeared in her eyes, which then immediately narrowed at the screen.

“Who else would be sending you anonymous information from inside Hydra’s computer system for the past eight years?”  She nearly yelled.  Eliot placed his hand on her forearm to help calm her down.  Fury’s good eye opened wide.

“Those emails came from you?”  Stiles rolled her eyes, dropped her head into her hands, and shook her head.  “Right, not important right this second.” He straightened up in his chair as if taking back command of the conversation.  “What is important is that I’m sending Romanoff and Coulson to you.”

“I’ll send you the coordinates of our house,” Stiles informed him.  “The yard is large enough to park a quinjet.”  Nick raised an eyebrow at that statement, but chose not to say anything.

“You and I can talk more later about those email you’ve been sending me,” he informed her.  Then he softened his gaze a little.  “I’m glad that you knew that you could come to me with this.”  She smiled at him, then her smile turned into a shit-eating grin.

“Of course.  You’re Uncle Nicky.”  Director Fury let out a long suffering sigh and shook his head in fond exasperation, though he was starting to question the fond part.

“They’ll be there in less than five hours,” he stated then ended the call.  Stiles merely chuckled at her godfather’s antics.

“Well this certainly changes things into our favor,” she stated as she stood up.  The three men just looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

“It’s only two more humans that he just put into the crossfire,” Derek said agitated.  

Stiles vehemently shook her head.  “Nope.  I mean, yes they’re human, but they’re the best of the best.  Not to mention, we’re mostly dealing with humans.”

Peter looked like he was considering her words.  Eliot looked torn, but then again, he didn’t like unknowns of any kind.  And Derek, well, he didn’t really have a resting bitch face.  No, he had a resting murder face, and it was in high gear at the moment.

“I still don’t like it,” he nearly snarled.  

Stiles held up her hands in an attempt to soothe and appease him.  “How about you all agree to reserve judgement until you meet them?”  She glanced at the three men around her, who ultimately all nodded.  “Good.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have two more bedrooms I need to get furnished in the next five hours.”  She exited the room and went upstairs to determine exactly what she would need to order.

Chapter Text

The pack made their way out to the side yard when they heard the sounds of the quinjet land.  When the ramp at the back of the jet lowered, the four members began to walk across the yard to meet the new arrivals.

“Agents Coulson and Romanoff.  Welcome to the Spencer-Hale pack territory and pack house,” Stiles greeted.  While custom dictated that the Alpha offer the greeting, the small pack decided that since Stiles was the point of contact in regards to SHIELD that she should be the one to greet the agents.  “Please allow me the honor of introducing our pack.  Alpha Eliot Spencer,” she motioned to the Alpha who shook each of the agents’ hands.  “Alpha Derek Hale,” she motioned to the Alpha on her other side, who shook hands with the agents.  “And Beta Peter Hale,” she motioned to the wolf that stood on the far side of his nephew.  He too shook hands with the two agents.  

“And in case Nick forgot his manners, my name is Stiles Stilinski.  I’m Nick’s goddaughter.”  The two showed surprise on their faces, though they managed to hide it almost immediately, but not quick enough for Stiles to miss it.  She smiled and chuckled lightly.  “I see he may have forgotten to mention that part.”  

“Miss Stilinski,” Agent Coulson stood a little straighter.  “Thank you for greeting us and for allowing us on your territory.” He nodded his head in acknowledgment, first to Eliot and then to Derek, as that was the order in which they were introduced.  “My name is Agent Phil Coulson and with me is Agent Natasha Romanoff.  As we are not here in any official SHIELD capacity, please feel free to use our first names.”  Natasha nodded her head once in agreement.

The two groups stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments before Stiles, being Stiles, broke the tension with a clap of her hands and a grin on her face.  

“Now that the boring formal stuff is over with, let’s head inside and figure out how to defeat a feral Alpha and an army of hunters.”  She turned on her heel and started back toward the house, so she missed the stunned and confused looks that quickly passed over the features of the two agents.  Eliot shook his head and sighed at his girlfriend’s antics, then motioned for the two agents to walk ahead of him and follow Stiles.

Stiles led the group up the back stairs to the library, where she sat on the far side of the long table.  Peter sat next to her on long side of the table.  Eliot sat next to her at the head of the table and Derek sat at the other end of the table opposite him. Phil sat directly across from Stiles, next to Eliot; and Natasha took the remaining seat between Phil and Derek.

Once seated, Eliot finally spoke up. “First, please allow me to apologize for the manner in which my girlfriend dropped that informational bomb on you.”  He chuckled and shook his head slightly, sending an affectionate smirk to her.

“What?”  Stiles looked genuinely confused.

Phil’s lip hinted at a smile, but otherwise remained straight-faced.  “Thank you Alpha Spencer.”

“Eliot, please,” the Alpha insisted.  “We’re not terribly big on formalities here.”

Phil nodded once.  “Eliot, then.  What exactly did Miss Stilinski mean by an army of hunters?”

“Let me guess,” Stiles interrupted.  “Nick didn’t actually tell you why he was sending you here.  Did he?”

“He informed us that we were to meet with, and advise, a small werewolf pack in northern California for a few days.  He said nothing about hunters, feral Alphas, or a goddaughter,” Phil informed her.  Stiles laughed ruefully.

“That sounds like him.  Why tell your people information that they may need when you can compartmentalize?”  She shook her head and her shoulder shook in silent laughter at her godfather.  That got a small smile out of both of the agents.

“That sounds like him,” Natasha said, speaking for the first time since the two arrived.

Eliot slid a thin tablet to each of them.  “Gerard Argent is in town and looking for payback.”  The two agents looked through the information on the tablets as Eliot spoke.  The pack went on to relay all of the information that they had learned about the fire, Laura’s death, and Kate’s death to the agents.

“That brings us to the present,” Eliot continued.  “Gerard brought nearly thirty hunters into town with him for the funeral.  He also brought in a feral Alpha werewolf.  And the cherry on top of everything is that he’s been diagnosed with cancer and given less than six months to live.”

“Meaning he has nothing to lose,” Natasha stated, following Eliot’s train of thought.  “A man with nothing to lose is even more dangerous.”  

“I take it that you now see why I would call my godfather for advice,” Stiles supplied.  “Against any one of these issues we’d probably be okay.  But when they’re all compounded together, we’re out of our depth.”

Phil and Nat nodded that they could definitely understand, as they stared down at their tablets, flipping through the information, lost in thought.

“I’d like to see what each of you can do in hand to hand combat, to know where your skillsets lie,” Phil finally spoke.  He looked directly to Eliot, then briefly to Derek, as he spoke.  The two Alphas stared at each other for a moment, seeming to hold a conversation with their eyes, before they both nodded and rose from the table.

*~*~*

The group gathered in the side yard, the same place that the pack usually trained.  Eliot, once he had realized that Natasha was the assassin Black Widow, had wanted to see her and Stiles spar.  So before anyone could suggest anything else, he decided to use a bit of psychological play on the agents.

“I think the ladies ought to spar with each other, while we men plan out the real fighting,” he said, trying desperately to keep a straight face.  Stiles just rolled her eyes at him, knowing that he would never say something that sexist without a reason.  Especially since she’d managed to kick his ass on more than one occasion.  When Stiles glanced at Natasha she figured out Eliot’s plan; the agent was silently fuming.

“Why don’t we show them who’s really going to be doing all the heavy lifting when it comes to the fighting,” Stiles suggested to the furious agent.  Natasha didn’t reply verbally.  She just took a few steps away from the men, got in a fighting stance, and locked eyes with Stiles.

“You’re up to something,” Peter whispered to Eliot.  Derek looked confused, knowing that Eliot held Stiles, and her fighting skills, in the highest regard.  So to hear him say something so outrightly sexist was out of character for him.  

Phil noticed the interactions of the wolves.  “You know who Natasha is, don’t you?”  Phil asked Eliot, who smiled his crooked smile and nodded.  “Then you know the damage she’s capable of doing.”

Eliot nodded again.  “I do.  I also know the damage that Stiles is capable of doing.”  Eliot looked back toward to the females who were testing the waters with each other.  “I couldn’t resist the chance to see them fight each other.  I’ll apologize to your agent when they’re done.”  Phil looked confused before turning to watch the fight taking place a few feet from him.  

Round and round, back and forth, hand and feet would strike and block.  Neither woman was able to gain the upper hand as the fight continued on.  It was approximately twenty minutes in and Phil was stunned.  He’d never seen anyone last this long against Romanoff.  Not the highly trained agents, not even the few supernatural creatures that they’d faced.  He had no idea how the teen was able to manage it.  

Peter leaned over to Eliot and whispered, “Is it me or do they move the same?”  Eliot studied the techniques of the two women for a moment.

“It’s not just you,” he replied.

Natasha couldn’t believe it, she was starting to tire.  She’d never had this much trouble taking down anyone; except once, two years ago.  The more that Natasha paid attention, the more that Stiles reminded her of Winter Soldier, just before he had shot her through the lower left abdomen.  When a punch from Stiles landed just above the scar from that incident, the sheer amount of power with which she was hit confirmed to her that there was definitely something Winter Soldier-like about the girl.

The men watching were all stunned.  However, Eliot was actually sort of surprised that Natasha had lasted as long as she had against Stiles.  But he could tell that even the assassin was starting to get worn down.  The Hales had seen Stiles spar against Eliot, but those fights were nothing compared to this one.  This one got meaner and rougher the more it went on.  Phil watched as the young girl got more and more serious, and dug deep within herself, focusing more and more, her hits coming harder and faster.

Natasha had little doubt that unless she pulled some trick out of her sleeve that she was going to be beaten.  So she thought about every move she knew, and finally she found the opening to use one of the closing moves she’d thought of.  When Stiles stepped forward with her right foot, Natasha used that against her.  She stepped on Stiles’ thigh with her left foot and swung her right leg around her neck.  Then used Stiles’ momentum and her own weight falling backwards to flip Stiles forward to land on her back.  Natasha kept her leg wrapped around Stiles neck, cutting of her air supply.  It took less than a minute before Stiles tapped out, which ended the sparring match.

Natasha released her leg from around the teen, but other than that neither woman moved.  Both too exhausted to stand up.  Eliot walked over to Stiles and crouched down next to her to check her over.

“You okay?”  He asked.  She didn’t smell like she was in any major amount of pain, but he wanted to double check.

“I don’t know if I can move,” she laughed tiredly.  “I’m just going to take a nap right here.  Okay?”  She closed her eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths.  Eliot chuckled at her.

“If you’re this tired, can you imagine how she feels?”  He mentioned.  She rolled her head toward him and opened one eye.  He smirked down at her.

“Please tell me she’s still sprawled on the ground too,” Stiles mumbled.  “It will make it all worth it.”

“She is,” he informed her.  “Phil and Peter are checking her over and taking her pain.”  Stiles winced at that part.

“Did I hurt her very badly?”  She asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“Nah,” Derek answered as he crouched down on her other side.  “Just some bumps and bruises.  I think it’s more that Peter just wanted an excuse to touch her,” he whispered conspiratorially.  That got a small laugh out of her, and out of Eliot.  The low growl that she heard from a few feet above her head had her full out laughing.

Chapter Text

It had taken nearly twenty minutes, and all three wolves taking the women’s aching pain, to get the two females back on their feet.  

“Are all of you as good as Stiles?” Natasha asked, hand pressed against her tender ribs.  She knew that she was going to be covered in bruises from this sparring session, but being able to let herself go a little was worth it.

“Eliot is,” Derek answered since Eliot was still checking over Stiles.  “Peter and I are nowhere near that good.  We’re not terrible, but we’re certainly not the kind of good that they are.  Their kind, and your kind, takes years or a lifetime of training, not just a few weeks.”  Derek glanced over to his uncle to find him staring at the redheaded agent with undisguised admiration and, dare he say, adoration in his bright (and mostly sane) eyes.

“Well, unless Coulson wants to be the one to spar with the two of you,” she looked to the older man who shook his head.  “Then I say that we can be done with this part for now.”   

The group turned and headed into the house.  Eliot stopped in the kitchen for two ice packs as the others made their way back up to the library.

*~*~*

The pack and the agents were in the middle of trying to plan strategy and tactics when Cobi alerted Eliot that he had an incoming phone call from Alec Hardison.  Eliot left the library and headed to his bedroom to grab his cell phone.

“What?” He bit out once the phone was next to his ear.

“We need you over at the pub. We have a job,” Hardison replied, used to Eliot’s less than friendly tone.  “Everyone’s here but you.”  

“I can’t make it for this job,” Eliot stated through semi-clenched teeth.  He hated not being able to be there for his team, but his pack and territory came first now.

“Uh, Eliot,” Hardison sounded slightly confused.  “We don’t exactly have the type of jobs that we can call in sick.”

“Really?”  Eliot snarked.  “I hadn’t noticed.  You said everyone’s already there?”  

“Yeah, we were just waiting on you.”

“You do realize that I don’t live in Portland, don’t you?”

“What?” The hacker sounded as if he didn’t believe his team’s hitter.

“Put Nate on,” Eliot’s voice left no room for arguing.  Except that Hardison was built to argue with Eliot.

“Listen Eliot,” he began, but was immediately cut off.

“Damn it Hardison!” Eliot growled.  “Put Nate on the phone now,” he ordered, the Alpha bleeding through into his voice.  This time Hardison didn’t argue.  Eliot could hear the phone being passed over to the older man with Hardison grumbling about Eliot’s bad mood.

“What’s up?”  Nate’s voice came over the phone, calming the Alpha slightly.

“I can’t make it,” Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose, more an action to calm himself than anything.  “I’m neck deep in something where I live.”  He waited a split second before he thought of something.  “ You know that I don’t live in Portland, right?”

Nate chuckled as he walked out of the team’s common room into the crowded pub, where the team would be less likely to overhear him.  “Of course I do.  I also know what you are.”  He left his statement hanging in the air for Eliot to do with as he pleased.  He heard his hitter let out a breathy laugh.

“You wouldn’t be much of a mastermind if you hadn’t figured it out by now,” Eliot joked, suddenly feeling less stressed than he had when talking to the hacker.

“Just have one question,” Nate paused, allowing Eliot to say that he wouldn’t answer any.  With no argument he continued, “Alpha or Beta?”

“Alpha,” he answered succinctly.  “I’m smack dab in the middle of a war between a hunter clan and my small pack.  I can’t leave my territory right now.  I’m sorry.”  He truly did feel awful about it.

“Don’t worry about,” Nate reassured him.  “You need to protect your pack and territory.”

An idea occurred to Eliot.  “Do you need me or just hitter muscle?”

Nate thought about it for a moment.  “We could probably make do with just muscle.  Why?”

“I just remembered that Quinn told me that he’d ‘pinch hit’ for us again if we ever needed him.  You’d just have to pay him.  And if this one’s not a job that pays, let me know and I’ll pay him.”

“Nah,” Nate told him.  “This one comes with a paycheck for all of us, so you won’t need to pay him out of your pocket.  What’s his number?”

“I’ll call him and explain everything,” Eliot assured him.  “Is it alright if I give him your number?”

“Yeah, of course,” Nate replied.  “Just tell him that we could use him here as soon as possible.”

“Will do.  I’ll call him right now.  And for the record, he’s a Beta.”

Nate laughed.  “Good to know.  Thanks for the heads up.  Hey, Eliot,” Nate paused.  “Be careful.”

“Always am Nate,” the Alpha said, a small smile in his voice.

The hitter ended the call on his phone.

“Cobi, call Quinn on my phone please.”

“Of course, Sir,” the CBI replied.  Eliot lifted the phone back up to his ear as he heard the call ring through.

“Eliot Spencer,” Quinn’s smirk could be heard clearly through the phone.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need your help,” Eliot knew he sounded defeated, but he couldn’t quite help it.  Quinn laughed.

“Did that hurt?  Asking for my help?”  Quinn sounded smug, which slightly irked the Alpha.

“More than you can possibly imagine,” Eliot admitted.  

“You’re going to owe me another favor,” the Beta wolf teased.  “And you still haven’t made good on the first one yet.”

“Quinn,” Eliot growled.  

“Alright, alright,” Quinn could tell that he was about to push the Alpha too far.  “Just promise me that I don’t have to work with that idiot hacker again.  What was his name?  Anarchy?”

“Chaos,” Eliot spit out like it was a swear word.  “And no, I’m not cruel enough to make you have to do that again.  I’m stuck in the middle of war between Gerard Argent and around thirty of his hunters, a feral Alpha he brought in to reek havoc, and my small pack of four.  I can’t leave here to go help Nate and the others.  Will you go?  There’s a paycheck in it for you.”

“Holy shit, man,” Quinn breathed out.  “Yeah, I’ll go.  What the hell did you do to piss off old man Argent?”

“It’s a really long story that I’m not really in the mood to get into right this second.”  Quinn could hear how tired Eliot sounded, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  “If we survive I’ll tell you all about it.”  Even when Quinn was actually beating up on Eliot he’d never sounded this defeated, and it did something to the wolf inside Quinn.

“Tell you what, man,” Quinn offered.  “I told you once that I was your Huckleberry, and I meant it.  I’ll go help Nate and your team and then I’ll come help you and your pack.  Your team still in Boston?”

“They’re up in Portland, Oregon, now,” Eliot informed him.  “Are you sure you want to get mixed up in this?”

“Will I get to kill hunters?”

“Definitely.”

“Then I’m in.  I just finished a job in Vancouver so I can make it to your team in a few hours.”

“Thanks, man.  I really do owe you another favor,” Eliot told him.  “There’ll be a room waiting for you when you get here.  I’ll text you Nate’s number so that you can coordinate with him.”

“Sounds good,” Quinn said.  “Question.  Where are you?”

“Beacon Hills, California,” the Alpha answered.  “It about a hundred miles north of San Francisco.”

“Alright.  Sounds good.  I’ll be down to help you and your pack as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Quinn.  Just a heads up, Nate knows what we are.”

“Good to know.  Try to stay alive until I get there,” Quinn couldn’t help but joke.

“I’ll do my best,” Eliot chuckled a little, feeling lighter than he did before the two phone calls.  They ended the call and Eliot had Cobi text Quinn Nate’s number, then headed back upstairs to the library.

Chapter Text

Looking back, the entire situation was sort of anticlimactic, if Stiles was completely honest with herself.  One well timed email (as suggested by the Phil) containing all the information on Kate and Gerard to Chris and Victoria that led to an inner-clan war (which ultimately ended in Gerard’s death); a few well placed sniper bullets to take out the Alpha (as suggested by Natasha); and it was all over.  

The pack was grateful that it wasn’t more difficult than that, but a few of them (or maybe all of them) were rather let down that there was no actual fighting involved.  But they wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; this could’ve ended with their deaths.

So, less than a week after their arrival, the two SHIELD agents boarded their jet and headed back to DC, having made some new friends and contacts in the Supernatural world.

Quinn made it down to the pack two days before the agents left.  The day after their departure, Quinn submitted to Eliot and officially became his Beta and a member of the Spencer-Hale pack.  He fully moved into the pack house a week later, claiming the bedroom next to the laundry room.

The pack continued to train in the aftermath of the Argent Debacle, as they’d taken to calling it, with Quinn helping them learn his type of fighting style so that they were comfortable with it as well as theirs.  After Gerard’s death all of the Argents and their hunters quickly left town, so the pack was able to freely venture back into the community.  The Hale house was torn down and preparations were made for a new house to be built over the foundations of the old one.  The internal layout would be different, but the outer shape would stay the same.

Things continued on this way for almost a month before the call came.

*~*~*

“Miss,” Cobi interrupted the pack as they ate lunch.  “There is a video call coming in from Director Fury.  Shall I put him through to the Theater?”

“Yes, please,” Stiles replied as she stood up from her stool.  With a quick glance to Eliot, who shrugged, she headed toward the aforementioned room, with her pack right behind her.  “Cobi, is there anything new going on at SHIELD?”

“Nothing to bring to your attention,” she responded.  “There is one project that is not labelled and has no current information on it, however.”

“Something that Nick doesn’t want me to know,” Stiles mumbled.  She stood behind the counter at the back of the theater, flanked by her Alphas, and felt an odd sense of deja vu as Nick’s face appeared on the large screen at the front of the room.

“Uncle Nicky,” Stiles smirked at her godfather.  The lack of reaction from the usually annoyed man had her standing up straight.  “What’s wrong?”

“We found him,” Nick stated without preamble.  Seeing her confused look he added, “In the ice near the Arctic Circle.”  He could watched the wheels turn in her head and knew the instant that she figured it out.

“You were able to recover his body?” Her voice was small, suddenly sounding her age.  Both Alphas took a step closer to her in support, with Eliot wrapping his arm around her waist.  No one in the pack understood what the two were talking about, but all they needed to know was that it affected a member of their pack.

“Turns out that it was a rescue, not a recovery,” the director answered vaguely.  Stiles felt her knees give out.  She knew that Eliot held her up as Derek pulled out the stool for her to be placed upon.  

“He’s alive?”  Her voice was barely above a whisper.  She was afraid that if she spoke too loudly that she might suddenly wake from this wonderful dream she was having.

“He’s alive,” Nick confirmed.  “He just regained consciousness about an hour ago.  I was thinking that I could send him to you while he recovered; now that things over there have quieted down.”

All she could do was nod; her thoughts were racing.  The wolves didn’t like that she had collapsed, but her scent was that of hope and optimism, not fear or anger, so they were willing to stay out of it for the moment.

“Very good.  I’ll have Romanoff fly him out to you, then if it’s okay with you, she’ll stick around to assist with his transition.”  Nick studied his goddaughter, who appeared lost in her head with a disbelieving smile on her face.

“Agent Romanoff is always welcome here,” Peter replied for the pack, a smirk on his face and a gleam in his mostly sane eyes.

“Good to know.  They’ll be there in a few hours.”  Nick watched Stiles for another moment.  “You going to be okay kid?”  Stiles looked up and met his eye and nodded, a huge grin overcoming her features.  “Good.  I’ll talk to you soon.”  He ended the call, Stiles was still grinning and staring off into space.

“Little one,” Eliot spoke quietly so as not to startle her.  “Who’s coming with Romanoff?”

She turned her head and looked him dead in the eyes.  “My great-grandfather.”  She watched as his eyes widened in understanding.  She just nodded confirmation before he could even ask for it.  He stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug, she hung on as tightly as she could.  To her it felt as if he was the only thing that was real, the only thing that kept her tethered to reality.

Quinn couldn’t take it any longer, “Will someone please explain what the hell just happened?”

*~*~*

Just over three and a half hours later the pack heard the distinctive engines of the quinjet as it landed.  They made their way out to the side yard.  Stiles gripped Eliot’s hand so hard she had actually broke a few of the smaller bones; not that he was going to tell her that.  She was obviously, and understandably, freaking out about her great-grandfather coming.  Truth be told, he was rather nervous about the whole thing too.  The Hales just wanted to know that the big deal was. Neither Stiles nor Eliot would tell them, stating that they didn’t want to have to tell the story more than once that day, so they would wait until the other two got there first.

As the ramp on the back of the jet lowered, Stiles heart rate skyrocketed.  All three wolves turned their heads to watch her to make sure she wasn’t about to have a heart attack.  But she didn’t notice, her eyes were firmly fixed on the back of the jet where two people were exiting.  Peter was the first of the Hales to notice the man and realize who he was.

“Is that really . . .” his question drifted off as he started to put the puzzle pieces together in his mind.  “Oh my god,” he breathed out once he’d figured out where Stiles got her strength and speed.

“What,” Derek growled at his uncle.

“That’s Steve Rogers,” he hissed back.  “Captain America.”  Derek’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline as he glance back and forth between the young girl standing next to him and the man walking toward them, a reaction that was copied by the newest Beta.

Eliot stepped forward to greet their guests; and since Stiles still had a death grip on his hand, she ended up stepping forward with him.

“Captain Rogers, welcome to the Spencer-Hale pack house.  I’m Alpha Eliot Spencer,” he stated formally, then offered his hand in greeting.  The captain shook it cautiously.

“Werewolves?” The captain queried; not unkindly, more to clarify.

“Yes, sir,” the alpha replied.  He then tilted his head to look around the tall blonde.  “Welcome back Agent Romanoff.”  He smiled and nodded his head in greeting, she did the same in return.

“Please allow me to introduce my pack,” Eliot spoke again to the captain.  “This is Stiles Stilinski, my co-Alpha Derek Hale,” Derek stepped forward and offered his hand to the man.  “His uncle Peter Hale.” Peter then stepped forward and offered his hand to the captain.  “And our newest member, Quinn.”  Quinn also stepped forward and shook the Captain’s hand.  “Why don’t we head inside and we can talk?  Are either of you hungry or thirsty?”  He asked as he turned and walked next to Steve, with Stiles still breaking bones in his hand.

“I’m fine for now, thank you,” Steve responded.  

“I’m good,” Natasha replied from where she walked next to Peter, who carried her bag for her.

Eliot nodded in acknowledgement.  “You’re probably wondering why Director Fury sent you here of all place,” he said conversationally to Steve.

“It crossed my mind,” the Captain responded.

“We’ll head into the theater and explain,” the Alpha stated, leading them to that particular room.  Stiles had spent the last several hours locked in her secret room in the library putting together a slide show/program with Cobi to explain everything.

“Please, take a seat everyone,” he said as he walked down to the front of the room, leaving Stiles at the counter in the back to get everything ready.  Derek and Peter sat on the couch farthest from the door on the row just in front of the the counter.  Natasha and Steve followed them in that row and sat on the couch closest to the door.  Quinn sat on the far couch in the front row, directly in front of Peter.  Once everyone was seated they looked toward Eliot to begin.

“As of right this moment, there are three people on the planet that know what we’re about to share with you; two of them are standing in this room, and the other is Director Fury.  There is one other person who knows a little of it, but he doesn’t even know half of the information,” Eliot relayed, thinking of the Sheriff.  “The information that you’re about to hear is so classified that it’s not even written down on paper anywhere.”  He looked all of them in the eyes to make sure that they understood the severity of what they were about to be told.  He then glanced toward the Hales.  “You wanted to know Stiles’ secret.  Well, here it is.”  Eliot nodded to the back of the room.  As Stiles began to speak, Eliot left the front of the room and headed toward her in the back.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and the screen came to life.  “It all started back in 1944.”  Stiles went on to tell the five the same story that she had told Eliot, only with visual aids this time.  It took more than thirty minutes to get through all of the information, with questions being asked both for clarification and to try to dispute the information.  But in the end, no one was able to actually refute anything she said or showed them.

The lights slowly came back up to full strength, but the five people on the couches just sat there stunned for a few moments.

“You’re a Super Soldier?”  Derek asked to clarify.  Stiles nodded sheepishly.  “Well, now I don’t feel so bad about you kicking my ass all the time.”  He winked at her to let her know that they were still friends.  Peter and Quinn just grinned.

“I knew it,” Natasha said as she stood up and turned around to face Stiles.  “When we were sparring I kept thinking that you reminded me of the Winter Soldier.  He was the only person that I wasn’t able to beat.”  

Stiles shrugged.  “At least you were able to walk away from your fight with him,” she offered.

“More like was flown away in a medical chopper to the closest ER,” Natasha joked.  “I wasn’t his target so he let me live, but he still shot me through the stomach.”  She pulled up the hem of her shirt to show the occupants of the room the scar on her abdomen.  “But you’re right.  It could’ve been much worse.”

Steve had sat silently while everyone made their comments, and now that they were done, he continued to sit silent and still, as if he were still frozen.  Eliot motioned for the others to leave the room.  He kissed Stiles on the cheek and motioned for her to take Natasha’s place next to Steve on the couch.  The two sat in silence for what seemed to Stiles like forever, but was more like five minutes.

“Please say something,” she whispered as she wrung her hands together.  Steve’s head snapped up and he looked at her, studying her face.

“You’re my great-granddaughter,” he stated, his voice sounding small and timid.

“Yeah,” she answered, sounding equally as timid.

Before she could react, Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.  He buried his face in the crook of her neck and finally allowed himself to feel safe.  He was with his family now; his and Bucky’s blood.  He was safe enough to feel completely overwhelmed, both at what he’d lost and what he’d gained, and for the first time that he could remember, Steve allowed himself to cry.

Chapter Text

The first evening that Steve was at the pack house was not as awkward as he feared it might be.  The pack was open and friendly.  Even the two Alphas; they may not have said as much as the others, but they had easy smiles and exasperated fondness for everyone at the table.  It was evident that Natasha was comfortable around them, although she was slightly more hesitant around Quinn.

As stories and adventures were shared around the dining room table, it was explained to Steve how Natasha knew the pack and that Quinn was a new addition that she had only known for a few days.  They told him how they’d become a pack.  While he was aghast at the terrible trauma that both Hales had been through, he was proud of all of them for being able to work together and bring some justice and closure to the emotional wounds that had been inflicted.  

He wanted to be upset that his great-granddaughter had taken a life, but he also understood, as he was certain that she did, that as a Super Soldier they were literally built to do the dirty work for others; to do the things that others wouldn’t or couldn’t do in order to protect their own.  So, in a weird way, he was proud of her for embracing her heritage.  Not that he wanted her out randomly killing people, but knowing that she was capable and willing to protect others sat lightly on his shoulders.

Peter insisted on giving up his room to Steve, and taking the empty room on the first floor.  Steve tried to argue, but he was out voted by everyone, including Natasha.  When he woke up sweating and near hyperventilating from a nightmare that night, he wasn’t sure if he was glad for it or not.  Before he had a chance to process where he was there was a light knock on his door before it was eased open and Quinn slowly entered.

“Hey,” Quinn whispered.  “It’s just Quinn.”  He wasn’t sure how good the Captain’s eyesight was in the dark.  He made his way closer to the bed and sat on the far side of the bed, facing Steve.

“Sorry I woke you,” Steve said ducking his head in embarrassment.   He had not only watched Bucky fall from the train in his nightmare, but had seen him hit the bottom of the canyon.  Not a pretty picture.  Steve wasn’t sure he didn’t want to rush to the bathroom to vomit.  Having Quinn to talk to was keeping that at bay, at least.

“Don’t apologize,” Quinn reassured him.  “Every single person in the house has nightmares.  We got to the point that we created a schedule and each night one of us is ‘on call’ to be the one to check on the person.  Tonight is my night.”  The Hitter shrugged as if it was no big deal.

Steve took a moment to process that.  Everyone had nightmares?  But they all seemed fine earlier today.  He turned his head to ask Quinn about that, but the younger man had a knowing look on his face.

“You want to know how we all acted okay during the day if we all have such bad nightmares that we had to create a schedule for someone to always be available.”  Steve nodded.  “We may not have been in World War Two, but we’ve all been through some shit.  Every single one of us has PTSD.”  Steve was confused at that term.  It must have showed on his face because Quinn quickly elaborated.  “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  I think you guys used to call it Shell Shock.”  Understanding lit Steve’s face at that term.

“Even Stiles?” Steve asked.  He didn’t want to think about something having happened to her.

“Even Stiles,” Quinn confirmed.  “The event that caused the PTSD for all of us is different, but the effect of trauma is the same, no matter what.  Even for werewolves, and even for Super Soldiers.”

Steve stared down at his hands gripping the blanket as if they held all the answers to every question he ever had.  Quinn gave him a few moments to let him stew inside his own mind before trying to distract him.

“So, if you and Natasha are going to stick around for any length of time we can always add you to the nightly schedule.”  Steve snapped his head up and searched Quinn’s face trying to decide if he was serious.  “Monday night is Eliot, Tuesday is Stiles, Wednesday is Derek, Thursday is Peter, and Friday is, obviously, me.  We rotate Saturdays and Sundays.  But with you two here, everyone could just have one night.”  By this time Quinn had turned around and was sitting on the bed next to Steve, his back against the headboard, his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, hands clasped loosely in his lap.

Steve thought about it.  He knew that the best way to forget your own troubles was to help someone else.  But he didn’t know if he could help these people as just Steve.  Captain America was the one that helped people.  Steve Rogers was the little punk from Brooklyn that always had to be rescued by Bucky.  

“Now, granted,” Quinn interrupted Steve’s self-recrimination.  “Your shift wouldn’t be until next weekend.  I mean, you’ve got to give yourself at least a few days to recover.”

“Why?”  Steve was confused why he’d have to wait.  The soldier in him didn’t like waiting, even if the man in him wasn’t sure he wanted to do it.

“My momma used to say that if you don’t give to yourself first, then you’ve got nothing inside of you to give to others.  I’m pretty sure that even Captain America could use a week to process everything, and that applies even more to Steve Rogers.”

Steve turned his head and stared at the man that sat next to him with his head tilted back against the wall and his eyes closed.

“When you’re here you’re allowed to just be Steve.  You don’t have to pretend with us.  Just so you know,” Quinn stated matter-of-factly.  Steve sat back against the headboard, mimicking Quinn’s position.  The two stayed in silence for several minutes before Steve spoke again.

“Is Quinn your first name or your last name?”  Steve asked out of the blue.

“Last, but since I don’t like my first so I just go by my last,” Quinn answered.

“What’s your first name?”  Steve queried, trying to distract himself.

“Fenrir.  I went by Fen as a kid, but that’s just not me anymore.  Ya’ know?”  He waited a bit and spoke just slightly louder than he had been.  “And if anyone in the pack calls me anything besides Quinn I will kick their ass.  Or, at least, ask Stiles to do it.”

Steve turned a confused look to the man sitting next to him.

Quinn shrugged.  “Wolves have sensitive hearing.  I’m just covering my bases in case any of them are awake.”  Steve nodded, indicating that it made sense.

The two stayed like that for quite a while.

“You going to try to get some more shut eye or are you up for the day?”  Quinn asked, not having moved.

“Sleep, I think.”

“Alright.  If you change your mind you know where my room is.”  Quinn leaned sideways and bumped his shoulder against Steve’s before standing.  He was almost to the door when he heard his name.

“Thank you,” Steve said one he’d turned around.

“My pleasure,” Quinn replied with a soft smile before he left the room and closed the door behind him.   Just as he’d anticipated Stiles was coming out of her door at the same time.

“He’s fine,” Quinn told her as he pulled her in for a hug, resting his chin on top of her head.  “Well, not fine .  I mean he’s as messed up as the rest of us.  But he’ll be okay.  We’ll all make sure of it.”  

He placed a kiss on top of her head then turned her around and directed her into the waiting arms of Eliot.  The Alpha nodded his head in thanks to his Beta before leading Stiles back to bed.

*~*~*

The next week consisted of Steve, well the entire pack really, watching a video each day that covered each decade.  The first day covered up to 1949, the next from 1950 to 1959, and on it continued.  Cobi and Stiles created the videos for Steve to get caught up, but everyone found them very interesting and informative.  

The day would start with breakfast, then they would all move to the theater room to watch that day’s video.  After the video would be sparring/training.  Natasha helped teach the Hales and Quinn while Eliot and Stiles worked with Steve.  The pack would then have a late lunch then do whatever they individually felt like doing.  Dinner would served around seven each evening, and then the pack was off to bed only to start the whole thing over again the next day.

It was on day six that Stiles approached Steve.  She looked rather sheepish and unsure, not a look Steve had ever seen on her before.

“You okay, kid?”  He asked her as she neared him.  She shrugged a little.

“I have a weird thing to ask you,” she hedged.  “Since you’re the closest thing I have to a dad or father figure, would you be okay with me calling you Papa instead of Steve?”  In the week he’d been there he’d never really seen her look her young age.  Until that moment.  He wrapped her in his strong arms, hers immediately wrapping around his waist.

“I would be so very honored to be your Papa, kiddo,” Steve answered, his heart bursting with love for the young girl in his arms.  Before he could say anything else, however, Cobi’s voice sounded through the speaker near them.

“Please pardon the interruption, Miss, Master Rogers,” the CBI sounded truly contrite.  “But there is a video call coming in from Director Fury and he said it was urgent.”

The two Super Soldiers pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before Steve placed a soft kiss on her forehead.  The two turned and headed toward the theater room to talk with her godfather.

Chapter Text

Stiles was stilling trying to wrap her head around the fact that everyone in the house had stated that they were coming with her when the quinjet landed.  She hadn’t gotten used to the idea of people choosing to be with her, choosing to watch her back; but her pack, her family, had stated in no uncertain terms that they were joining her.

“Little one,” Eliot had drawled.  “Just because you can do this alone doesn’t mean you have to.”

Stiles shook her head to clear it so she could focus on the reason her godfather had asked her to come to New Mexico in the first place; Norse gods.

When the pack, plus Steve and Natasha, exited the jet they were met by Agent Coulson and Director Fury.  Stiles stepped forward and gave her godfather a quick hug, since she hadn’t seen him in person since her mother’s funeral eight years ago.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he said to her as she stepped back.  

“Of course Nick,” she responded with a happy smile.  “It’s the least I can do for all the help that you’ve given both me and my pack.”  

He turned and greeted all the others, who in turn greeted Phil.  

“So, Uncle Nicky,” Stiles grinned as she readjusted her hold on her duffle bag.  “What’s all this about Norse gods?”
*~*~*

Stiles circled around the object, carefully examining it and the designs on it.  After she tried, and failed, to pick it up she turned to Nick, who was standing up on the walkway with everyone else that had arrived with her.

“It’s Mjölnir,” she stated, as if that explained everything.  “How did Mjölnir end up here and where’s its wielder?”

“I was unaware that a Midgardian could recognize an Asgardian artifact solely by sight,” a smooth British voice echoed around them.  Stiles looked to Eliot who froze for a moment to locate the origin of the voice and then turned his head sharply to his left.  Stiles followed his line of sight, as did the others.  A pale and slender man stepped forward out of the shadows, with a small smirk on his otherwise handsome face.

“Neat party trick with the echos,” Stiles called up to him, placing her hands on her hips.

“I assure you, I have much better . . . tricks . . . in my repertoire,” the man had nearly rolled his eyes as he said the word “tricks.”

“I have absolutely no doubt about that,” Stiles responded.  “Loki.”

Before anyone could blink he was standing before her with a genuine smile on his face.  “You know me?”

“There’s are only two Æsir that would sound so condescending toward us Midgardians.  And since you have both of your eyes . . .” She responded.  Loki laughed outright.

“Oh, I like you,” he nearly grinned.  A look that she returned in kind.

“So,” Stiles got serious for a moment.  “If Mjölnir is here and you’re here, would I be correct in assuming that Thor is here somewhere too?”  He offered a small smile and a cocked eyebrow for an answer.  So she turned toward her godfather again.

“Would I be correct in assuming that you have a very pissed off guest somewhere, Nick?”  All eyes turned toward the director.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled to himself.  “Remind me why I called you.”  Unfortunately for him, she heard him clearly.

“Because I’m the closest thing you have to an expert, especially one with the proper clearance,” she snarked back at him, a shit-eating grin on her face.  The pack all smiled at her teasing demeanor.

“Follow me,” Nick sighed and turned toward the makeshift offices.  The rest of the group followed.

*~*~*

Instead of taking them to Thor, Nick took them all to a large conference room.  There they met Doctors Selvig and Foster, and their intern Darcy Lewis.  Once everyone was seated Nick began what Stiles internally thought of as story time.

“Loki has apparently been on Earth for a little over a month,” he tilted his head toward the Æsir.  “Less than a week ago the oh-eight-four”

“Unidentified object,” Stiles interrupted to explain to her pack that looked confused at the term.

“Right,” Nick acquiesced.  “The unidentified object landed on Earth and we’ve been here trying to figure out what it was.  Loki was kind enough to let us know what it was and therefore what, or in this case who, to expect to follow it.  Yesterday, the ‘who’ showed up.”

“Thor,” Stiles filled in for the others.  She turned to Loki.  “I have several questions.  But let’s start with the easiest.  Why are you here on Midgard, and apparently have been for more than a month?”

Loki shifted slightly in his seat before he looked her directly in the eyes.  “To make a very long and personal story short, Odin and I fought, I relinquished my crown, asked Heimdall where I could blend in so that I could start over, and he sent me here to Midgard.”

“Did the disagreement have anything to do with what is happening here now?”  Steve asked tactfully.

“It’s possible,” Loki admitted.  “Odin was preparing for Thor’s coronation to become King of Asgard.  I informed Odin of my opinion that Thor was not ready to rule; that he was too interested in battle and glory, and paid little to no heed to the ramifications of his actions.”  Loki rubbed his forehead as if trying to stave off a headache.  “Odin claimed that I wanted to throne for myself.”

“Did you?” Eliot asked point blank.

Loki glanced at the Alpha.  “It is difficult to cause mischief if you have to be responsible for an entire realm.”  The Æsir shrugged his shoulders as if that answered the question.  To Stiles mind it did.  Loki continued on with his story.

“I stated to Odin that if Thor took the throne with the mindset he had at that time then Asgard would be weakened, and all the other realms would sense that weakness and descend up it without hesitation.  I noted that his love for his eldest son had blinded him to the truth of the matter.  When Odin insisted that Thor was to be coronated anyway I stated that I wanted no part in the downfall of Asgard that was sure to follow.  I then referred to him only as Allfather and Your Majesty, and I left.

“I spoke with my mother on my way to the Bifröst and informed her of all that had transpired in the throne room.  Seeing as she indicated that she agreed with my assessment, I would venture that she had something to do with the Allfather casting Mjölnir, and therefore Thor, here to Midgard.”

Director Fury turned to Stiles as if seeking some sort of corroboration.  “Odin is the only one that would have the power to remove Mjölnir from Thor’s possession.  He would also be the only one that would be able to keep it from being wielded by anyone, up to and including Thor,” she assured.  “Mythology states that Mjölnir would always return to Thor’s hand, and seeing as it is currently stuck in the mud and not flying through the air to get to him, I would say that Thor is no longer able to wield his signature weapon.”

“You are conversant in Midgard’s myths about the Æsir?”  Loki questioned thoughtfully.

“I have a PhD in Mythology and Folklore,” Stiles informed him, somewhat offhandedly.  “I know about more than just the Æsir.  Which begs the question, if the Æsir and Norse mythology are real, are other mythologies real too?”  Stiles immediately got lost in her thoughts, her pack just shook their head and smiled, used to such behavior from her.

“Has anyone had a chance to ask Thor about any of this yet?”  Eliot asked the director.

“He’s not cooperating,” was the reply.  “We’ve sent several people in to speak with him, including myself, but he has adamantly refused to answer any of our questions.”

“Has Loki been allowed to try?” Steve asked.  Loki looked at the man with something akin to shock on his face.  Though if it was shock at the audacity of the idea or at the thought that someone had thought he might be capable of succeeding where the others had failed, was difficult to tell.

“To be bluntly honest,” Fury replied. “We weren’t certain that we could trust the two of them together.  For all we knew Loki could be playing us in order to have access to Thor.”

Loki did not look offended at that statement.  “It was a reasonable precaution Director Fury.  One for which I do not fault you.  However, though my moniker has been God of Lies and Mischief, in this particular case every word I have told you is the truth as I know it.”  Fury raised an eyebrow as if he wasn’t sure he believed it.

“Director,” Eliot interrupted the man’s thoughts.  “I know that it’s possible that his physiology is different from ours, but according to his scent and his heartbeat, Loki’s telling the truth.”  Nick took a moment to glance to each werewolf at the table, who all nodded in agreement.

“Very well,” the director sighed.  “We’ll let Loki talk to him.”

Chapter Text

Eliot, Stiles, and Steve stood in the observation room with Agent Coulson and Director Fury.  They watched as the door to the interrogation room opened, allowing Loki to enter so that he could speak with his older brother.  The blond prince didn’t bother to look toward the door when it opened, thinking it was only another mortal come to ask him more pointless questions that he refused to answer.

“Tisk, tisk, brother,” Loki taunted as he shook his head in an over-exaggerated disapproval. His voice caused Thor’s head to snap to attention, his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and curiosity.  “I thought I was the God of Mischief, but you seem to have out mischiefed even me.”  Loki gracefully lowered himself into the chair across the table from his brother.  “What have you done?”

“Loki,” Thor whispered, as if speaking too loud would make his younger brother disappear.  “How came you to be here?”

“Me?” Loki raised an eyebrow.  “Might I remind you that I am not that one that has been detained.  I am here of my own choosing.”  He met Thor’s eyes and saw the confusion, and a small amount of fear, there.  “You, however, are not in this realm by your own choice.  Are you?”

Thor studied his brother for a moment; he found only curiosity, not malice.  “No, brother.  Father stripped me of Mjölnir and exiled me until I proved worthy of it.”  He paused a moment as if trying to organize his thoughts.  “I do not recognize this realm.  Where are we?”

“We are on Midgard,” Loki answered.  “Might I enquire as to the events that led up to the Allfather’s decision?”  If Thor noticed that Loki did not refer to Odin as his own father he gave no indication.  

“You were there, brother.  You know what happened,” Thor stated partially disheartened, partially embarrassed.

Loki tilted his head as he studied Thor before shaking his head in resignation.  “In fact, dear Thor, I was not.”  Thor’s head jerked upright; shock and hurt clearly evident on his face.  “I have not been in Asgard for quite some time.  I am glad to know that my presence was missed and noted by you.”  The dark haired Æsir almost sneered at the blond across from him.

Thor looked taken aback by both the words and the tone used by Loki.  “Why would you not attend my coronation?”

This time Loki did sneer.  “Not everything is about you Thor.”  Loki took a deep breath before he continued on.  “However, we are not discussing my absence from the Asgardian court, we were discussing the events that led you here to Midgard.  What, pray tell, happened?”

“As my coronation commenced, the Jötnar attacked Asgard to attempt to retrieve the Casket of Ancient Winters.  They somehow managed to gain entrance into the treasure vault by means of a portal.  We were wholly unprepared for such a cowardly attack.  Many of our people were killed before we could drive them off.

“Angered that my coronation had been interrupted I led a small unit of warriors to Jötunheim to challenge King Býleistr.  We were out numbered remarkably quick.  Father arrived soon after with the army to end the battle.  Once back on Asgard, Father accused me of being reckless and irresponsible.  He claimed that I was unworthy to wield Mjölnir, and that until I was worthy I would not be king, but that I would be cast out.”

“Please assure me that you took more than Lady Sif and the Warriors Three with you when you decided to make war on Jötunheim,” Loki rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“I had no need,” Thor defended.  “They are the most legendary warriors in all the Nine Realms.”

Loki desperately wanted to bang his forehead on the table as he had seen Darcy do on more than one occasion.  He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it until this very moment.  

“Be that as it may, do you truly not see the folly in leading your miniscule army of five, mighty thought they might be, against all of Jötunheim?” Loki questioned.  He was learning that he was more correct in his initial impression of his brother’s ability, or distinct lack thereof, to rule than he had originally thought.

“You dare question me?”  Thor spat out.  “You who could not even bother to present yourself at the coronation as is proper for a prince?”

“Dear dim-witted Thor,” Loki suddenly sounded so very done with the entire conversation.  “I renounced my crown and left Asgard, of my own volition, never to return.”

Thor looked shocked.  “Why would you do such a thing?”

“As I informed the Allfather, you were not ready to be king.  Allowing you to take the throne would be the downfall of Asgard, and I refused to stay and watch it happen,” Loki stated evenly.  Thor looked as if he’d been slapped.  “Though, I must thank you for proving me correct, and on a much grander scale than I could have ever imagined.

“Allow us, however, to focus on the matter at hand,” Loki continued as if he hadn’t just insulted his brother in nearly every way possible.  “Did Odin tell you how to become worthy to wield Mjölnir?”

Thor glared at Loki.  “What do you care?  You want the throne for yourself.  You’ve always been jealous of me.”

Loki sighed heavily.  “I have no desire to be king, you fool.  If I did, I would only have had to wait on Asgard for you to be exiled as you have been.  Nor would I be sitting across from you now; I would have headed back immediately and gloated over the Allfather that I was correct.  Instead, here I sit in this ridiculously small room, trying to ascertain if there is anyway to rectify your predicament.  So I will ask you again, did Odin tell you how to become worthy to wield Mjölnir?”

Thor sat for a moment as he thought over what Loki had just said.  He was correct that Loki wouldn’t have had to do anything to gain the throne, merely wait for Thor to be found lacking, as he apparently had been.  But instead, he was here with him on Midgard, trying to help.

“He did not say,” Thor finally admitted, his head bowed in defeat.

Loki stood to exit the room.  “Then might I suggest that the first thing you should do is to learn that all actions and choices have consequences and to accept responsibility for yours.”  Loki turned and strode out of the small room.  He entered the observation room just as quickly.

“Did you get the answers you desired Director?”  Loki asked sounding nonchalant.  But the occupants in the room could tell that he was actually hurt and angry.

“Yes, thank you,” Nick offered his hand to the god in sincere appreciation for what must have been a difficult conversation.  Loki tentatively shook the director’s hand, surprised and pleased by the gesture.  “Your friends are still in the conference room I believe.”  Loki nodded his head and left to find them.

“Was he telling the truth?”  Nick glanced to Eliot.

“According to his heartbeat, yeah,” the Alpha answered.  “But like I said, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that their physiology is different and therefore there might not be any change in his heartbeat if he lied.”  

“Director, if I may?” Phil interjected.  With a nod from Fury he continued.  “Based on body language and micro-facial expressions, I agree that Thor told Loki the truth.  Or at least the truth as he knows it.”

Nick, and the others present, studied the large man on the other side of the glass.  “I agree.  But that doesn’t mean that we should just release him.”

“How did Loki and the others come to be here?” Stiles suddenly asked.

“There was a few days between the hammer impacting Earth and SHIELD getting here to cordon it off.  He told us that he heard about a hammer that couldn’t be lifted, came to check it out, discovered that it was Mjölnir, and figured that Thor wouldn’t be far behind.  Apparently, he had decided that he liked Midgard and that he didn’t want anything bad to happen if his brother showed up ready for a fight.”

“Who exactly are the others?  How are they involved in all of this and how are they involved with Loki?”  She asked, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“Doctors Selvig and Foster are astrophysicists studying astronomical phenomena; Miss Lewis is Doctor Foster’s intern,” Nick explained.  “Apparently they were out in the desert getting some readings when a ‘localized phenomenon’ occurred.  They drove toward it and suddenly there was a man in front of them and they hit him with their van.  When he immediately stood, he appeared unharmed and he started talking about things that made no sense to them, so Miss Lewis used her taser on him to knock him out.  Long story short, he’s been with them ever since.”

“I take it that the ‘localized phenomenon’ was the Bifröst?”  Stiles asked as the group continued to watch Thor through the one way glass.

“Yup,” Nick affirmed.  

“You anticipating trouble now that you know who he is?” Eliot asked, indicating the man on the other side of the glass.

“I always anticipate trouble,” Nick replied.  “Which is why I’m hoping your pack will stick around for a few days.”

Eliot looked down to Stiles who shrugged as she answered him in Hebrew, “He helped us when we needed it. Shouldn’t we return the favor?”  

“Let us talk to the pack, but I don’t see why we couldn’t,” the Alpha told the director.

“Let me know for sure,” Nick responded before he left the room.  The others, including Phil, headed back to the conference room they were in before.  

Darcy sat next to a blank faced Loki, as she rubbed her hand up and down his back in a gesture of support and comfort.  Quinn was reclined in his chair with his feet up on the table, as he talked to Peter, Nat, and a man with dark blond hair who was armed with a bow and quiver full of arrows.  Derek and the two doctors were missing from the room.

“Hey boss,” Quinn smiled as they entered.  Eliot rolled his eyes at the name, but much to his chagrin the nickname was starting to grow on him.  

“Get your feet off the table,” Stiles reprimanded Quinn.  “You’re not allowed to get away with that at home; I’m not about to let you get away with it here.”  He quickly set his feet on the ground.  “Thank you.  Now, who’s your friend?”

“This is Agent Clint Barton,” Quinn told her, ignoring the chuckling coming from the man about Quinn responding to her so fast.  “Agent Barton, this is Alpha Eliot Spencer, Stiles Stilinski, and Steve Rogers.”  

“Holy shit,” Clint was immediately on his feet.  “Nat just told me, but I thought she was full of it.  It’s an honor to meet you.”

Stiles leaned over to Nat, “Он хорошие люди?”  (He good people?) Natasha didn’t miss a beat in her reply.

“Он мой лучший друг и партнер. Вполне заслуживает доверия.”  (He's my best friend and partner.  Completely trustworthy.) Stiles smiled and nodded.

“Where’s Derek?” Eliot asked the room in general.

“He went to make sure that the jack booted thugs leave Jane and Erik alone,” Darcy piped up from her end of the table where she was still trying to comfort Loki.

“Can you not call us all jack booted thugs?”  Clint sighed heavily, obviously having tried to fight that battle before.

“Your Men-In-Black wannabe’s stormed into our labs and took everything we had.  Everything.  Including my iPod.  I can call you all jack booted thugs if I want.”  She sat back in her chair obviously done with her tirade.

The pack members all cracked a smile at her outburst, but the SHIELD agents looked less than thrilled.  Stiles thought she should try to find some sort of compromise.  

“Is there anything relating to the research that Doctors Foster and Selvig are doing on your iPod?  And I mean anything,” she asked Darcy.

“Nope, just music,” the intern replied.

Stiles turned to the senior agent.  “Phil, can she please have her iPod back?  I’ll even check through it first if you want.”

Phil studied her for a moment.  “Can Cobi access it?”

“If I could set it next to my phone and turn on its wifi, yes,” she answered.

“I’ll return it on the condition that Cobi does a thorough sweep to make sure that there is nothing about the research on it.  If there is, it’s back to being ours.  Agreeable?”  He asked both Stiles and Darcy.  

“Agreed,” Stiles replied.

“Who or what is Cobi?” Darcy asked in response.

“Cobi is short for Computer Based Intelligence,” Stiles informed her.  

“You have an AI?” Darcy nearly screeched.  

“No, I have a CBI,” Stiles answered smoothly.

“Please don’t get her started on the difference,” Quinn nearly begged.  Stiles flipped him off.

“It’s me and Cobi, or SHIELD will go through it with a fine toothed comb and there’s no telling when you might get it back,” Stiles stated.  Darcy huffed.

“Fine, go ahead and scan it.”

Stiles looked to Phil.  “I’ll go get it for you,” he told her before he left to do just that.  Stiles sat next to Darcy, with Eliot and Steve not far behind.  In less than twenty minutes Phil walked back in the room and handed Stiles the device.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and laid it on the table next to the iPod that was now powered on with the wifi active.

“There is no research of any kind on the device,” Cobi said through Stiles’ phone less than one minute later.

“Thanks Cobi,” Stiles smiled at her phone.  Phil nodded to Stiles who immediately slid the iPod over to Darcy.

“You’re most welcome Miss,” Cobi replied.  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“See if there’s a motel or something close by and get us all rooms.  Let’s say for a week.”  Stiles leaned back in her chair a little.

“I will give you an update as quickly as I can,” came the response from the phone.

“Thanks,” Stiles spoke as the screen on her phone went dark.

“We all still jack booted thugs?” Clint asked with a smirk, his arms crossed against his chest, once again seated by Quinn.

“I amend my previous statement to be that there are no thugs, jack booted or otherwise, in this room,” Darcy announced with finality.

“Oh, you and I are going to get along great,” Stiles grinned at the older female.

“Oh dear god, there’s two of them,” Quinn complained as he head thumped on the table.

Chapter Text

The pack had stayed in the one local motel, they’d needed to rent out damn near the entire thing, and spent most of their time with the group of people that Stiles had started to affectionately call Team Science at their lab.  

Derek had become a permanent shadow around Dr. Foster once she had her equipment and notes returned to her.  His degree in mathematics helping him not be completely lost by the formulas lying about the lab.  Stiles quizzed Loki on the similarities and differences between what is known on Earth about the Nine Realms in reality.  Steve never strayed far from Stiles’ side, which was a surprise to no one.  Stiles, along with Darcy, spent time each day telling Loki and Steve about modern human culture and technology.  Clint, Natasha, Quinn, and Peter spent time discussing some of their past jobs, as well as various weapons and training.  Eliot spent his time checking the perimeter, speaking with Phil or Nick when they would stop by the lab, or staying near Stiles.

Six days after Loki spoke with Thor, the world, as humans knew it, came to a screeching halt.  Making their way down the center of the main street were a dozen Jötnar.  The pack (and by extension Steve), the agents affiliated with the pack, and Loki met them two blocks away from the lab.  The temporarily larger pack let Loki be their unofficial spokesperson.

“What business have you in Midgard?”  Loki asked authoritatively.

“We seek vengeance against Prince Thor,” one of the Frost Giants answered.  “We know he is near this place, and he has much for which he must answer.”  Loki studied the Jötnar in front of him for a moment.

“Might I know your name?”  Loki asked, both wanting to know the answer and hoping to buy SHIELD time to do whatever they might do to help.

“I am Helblindi, brother to King Býleistr of Jötunheim.  Why stand you in our way mortal?”  The large blue Jötunn was angry at the interruption of finding his prey.  Before Loki could out himself that he was not mortal Eliot and Steve stepped up on either side of him, arms crossed against their chests defiantly.

“Because you had the audacity to think to invade our realm Jötunn,” Eliot snarled, his eyes flashing Alpha red.  Out of the corner of his eyes, Loki noticed the rest of the pack and agents stepping up into the line that Eliot and Steve created.  Stiles, Quinn, then Clint just past Eliot on Loki’s left.  Derek, Peter, then Natasha just past Steve on Loki’s right.  All the wolves had their eyes glowing Alpha red or Beta blue.  It was a sight to behold.

This caught Helblindi by surprise.  He’d be under the impression that Midgardians did not know of other realms.  Nor were they able to have eyes like some of these mortals did.  The shocked flinch of his comrades let him know that he was not the only Jötnar caught unawares.  Helblindi took a moment to truly study the mortals facing him.

Each one of them a warrior in their own right.  They all held themselves differently, meaning they had differing skillsets, but there was no mistaking the set of their shoulders and the tight-leashed calm behind their eyes.  The Jötnar would win this battle, of that he had no doubt, but it would not be anywhere near as easy as he had originally thought it would be.  

The mortals of Midgard were famed for being weak, easily crushed and ruled over.  But this small force gave him pause, that maybe the mortals had come a long way since the last time another of the realms had visited.  Helblindi knew that he would have to rethink his strategy.

“We came not to invade, Midgardian,” Helblindi spoke to all of them, though he locked eyes with the red-eyed male who’d spoken.  “We came only to retrieve that which was cast aside and left for us to punish.”

“How did you know Thor was here on Midgard?” Stiles asked suddenly.  Something about the way the Jötunn had worded that made her think that something may be rotten in the state of Denmark, or Asgard as the case may be.  “And what do you mean by left for you to punish?”

Helblindi, in his towering height, glared down at the small female.  She was young, this much he knew, but she composed herself in such a way that he would not underestimate her in a fight.  “My king and brother, Býleistr, was contacted and it was made known to him that Thor was on Midgard.  Also, a way to find his hammer, Mjölnir, was provided.  Our king was told that if we were able to find the prince that he would be ours to do with as we please.”

Stiles glanced down to the asphalt, her mind turning over every word that was said, as well as every word that was not.  She tilted her head toward Eliot then toward Loki, back to Eliot, though he knew that she wasn’t really seeing him, then back to Helblindi.  She blinked a few times before she spoke.

“Did Odin say ‘the prince’ or did he use Thor’s name?” she asked carefully.  Loki gasped as he realized what she was asking.

“I do not recall disclosing that it was Odin who sent the message,” Helblindi was suddenly cautious.  This young mortal appeared to be of quicker mind that he had ever heard a Midgardian being credited.  The look she cast his way was one that transcended realms, one of impatience and incredulity.  “He said ‘the prince’ could be found near Mjölnir and taught us to locate it.”

“And no one thought to ask why Odin would not only allow, but send, his sworn enemy after his own son?”  She demanded.  “And that Thor’s name was never mentioned?  Didn’t it dawn on any of you that Odin has two sons?”

Helblindi stopped and stared at the girl, trying to parse out exactly what she was saying.  Could this be a trap? Or a way for Odin to openly declare war on Jötunheim?  But if so, why?  Why go to all the trouble?  He cocked his head as he met the female’s eyes, she blinked but did not look away in fear or disgust.  Remarkable.  Maybe Midgard had more to offer than any other realm realized.

“I would that you would speak plainly, young warrior,” he voice now its usual gentle timbre.  

“I believe that the whole thing is a set-up,” she stated.  “I think that Odin sent you here to kill his son, whom he most likely labelled as disobedient, wayward, disloyal, or something along those lines.  And as long as you killed him Asgard would not retaliate.  Am I close so far?”  Helblindi nodded, eyes wide with surprise.  “The part that Odin failed to mention is that Thor was not the son he meant.”  She glanced over Eliot’s shoulder to get Loki’s approval before continuing on.  With his miniscule nod she went forward.

“Meet Loki,” she motioned to the male in the middle, the one who had originally spoken.  

“Dark Prince Loki?”  Helblindi sucked in a breath.  This situation was more precarious than he’d known.

“I am no longer a prince,” Loki interjected on his own behalf.  “I resigned my crown and left Asgard some time before Thor’s coronation.  I believe that my young companion is trying to say that Odin was hoping that you would kill me trying to get to Thor.  Then once Thor was directly threatened or endangered, Odin would bring the wrath of Asgard down on you here, and on all of Jötunheim, for daring to hurt the crowned prince and heir.”

Helblindi and his compatriots actually took a step back they sucked in a breath so hard.  “Odin would dare such a thing?”  

“I could think of no reason, until this conversation, as to why Thor ended up in the same place that I did.  I came to Midgard because it would be easy to blend in and start anew.  I wound up in a far out of the way town, in a sparsely populated area of the planet.  What are the odds that Thor would randomly end up in the same place?”

“I want to be the first to say that Odin is a douchebag,”  Stiles stated matter-of-factly.  Her pack shook their heads and chuckled.  Eliot and Steve added a pinched bridge of their noses to the head shaking.  “What?  He is.”  She defended her statement.  “Not only is he trying to have his son killed and start an inter-realm war, he decided to do it by pitting brother against brother.  That’s just low.”

The entire group, regardless of home realm, now stared at her as if she’d grown a second head.  

“Explain, little one,” Eliot growled as he took stepped up to her so that he was all that she could see.  He figured that she’d have an easier time talking to “just him.”

“In the Prose Edda it is stated ‘“ Loki's brothers are Býleistr and Helblindi ", and several Eddic texts use the Loki- kenning "brother of Býleistr".’”  She looked over Eliot’s shoulder to see a slack-jawed Loki.  “Is this one of those times that our mythology doesn’t match up with reality?  I really should have known better than to trust a guy named Snorri.  I mean, seriously.”  

She risked a glance at Helblindi who looked like he was having trouble breathing.  The other Jötnar kept glancing from their leader to Loki and back, with the occasional look directed toward her.  The silence was so awkward and loaded that Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.

“Did I say something wrong?”  He voice broke and she suddenly sounded all of her sixteen short years.  Eliot quickly wrapped his arms around her.  

“No little one,” he whispered.  “I think you just caught them off guard and they need a minute.”  He smoothed the few hairs back that had escaped her ponytail.  She nodded as she clung to him, arms wrapped around his waist.

“How came you by this knowledge?” Helblindi asked, voice soft and overly controlled.  Stiles eyes shot to Eliot’s for direction; he nodded for her to answer.  She stepped slightly away from her Alpha so that she could turn to face Helblindi.

“There are stories, what we call mythology, about all of you,” she answered.  “I studied all of the different mythologies in school.”  He nodded that he understood what she’d said.

“During the last great war between Asgard and Jötunheim, my mother gave birth to a son.  He was much smaller than most Jötnar, but Býleistr and I immediately fell in love with him.  He should have been ours to watch over, protect, and guide as he grew.

“Unfortunately, our father, Laufey, decided to he would make a better sacrifice in our temple than a son.  Býleistr and I begged him; swore that we would raise him and that father would never have to see him.  But our father, our king, was not to be deterred.  The instant that the battle was over Býleistr and I ran to the temple, but it was empty; our infant brother was no longer there.  

“We attempted to console ourselves by saying that he was truly with our gods, even though we knew in our hearts that this was not the truth.  We never spoke of our younger brother, no one did.  But I wonder . . .”  He trailed off as he slowly stepped toward Loki.  

Everyone tensed.  It was no secret the touch of a Jötunn would freeze the skin off of anyone without Jötunn blood.  When he stopped in front of Loki, Helblindi held out his hand to the smaller male, but made no move to touch him.  He left it up to his possible younger brother to decide.  Slowly, with shaking hand, Loki laid the palm of his hand atop the palm of the large blue hand.  The gathered group held their breath.  

They all watched as Loki’s hand turned blue; the same blue as the hand beneath his.  The blue began to change the color of all of his skin, starting has his hand and moving up his arm.  It took mere moments for Loki to be completely blue, with what looked to be tribal markings on his skin; his eyes so completely red that it would make an Alpha jealous.

“Brother?” Helblindi’s voice broke.  Loki looked up at his newly discovered elder brother, eye wide with fear, confusion, hurt, and betrayal.  The elder could tell that the latter emotions were not directed toward him.  

Finally Loki took a step back and withdrew his hand.  It took him a moment to find his voice, time which he used to shift back to his Æsir visage.  When Helblindi openly flinched at the sight Loki spoke.  “Please understand, Helblindi.  I was raised to hate all Jötnar; taught that they were mindless beasts who would kill without hesitation.  The Jötnar were the monsters under the bed of every Æsir child, including myself.  That hatred runs deep; and now it includes hatred of myself for being one.”

Stiles stepped up to Loki and placed one hand on each of his cheeks, trying to force him to look at her and meet his eyes.  When he finally did her voice was soft, yet unyielding.  “Never be ashamed of who and what you are.  If you have to hide it to protect yourself that’s one thing.  But never be ashamed.”  

Before he had a chance to react, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a tight hug.  He hesitated for only a moment before he returned the fierce hug.  He silently sobbed as she held him, surrounded by the others as if they were torn between wanting to protect him and wanting in on the hug.

The hug finally broke when all the wolves turned as one to face back down the road they’d walked up.  It seems that SHIELD had finally decided to take part in the fiasco that had been about to take place in the middle of Main Street.  Too bad for them that they were too late.  And they, unfortunately, chose the exact wrong weapon to try to wield.  Loki place himself between Stiles and the incoming group.  She, of course, rolled her eyes and stepped out to the side of him.

Loki greeted the lead figure amongst the newcomers somewhat disdainfully, “Thor.”

Chapter Text

Thor stopped in the middle of the street, about fifteen feet away from the gathered group of individuals.  Coulson and a handful of SHIELD agents flanking him, with Jane and Darcy behind them next to the buildings.

“I have been told that you came for me,” Thor bellowed, glaring at Helblindi.  “Here am I.  Let us end this.”

“Thor, no,” Loki spoke up.  “Things are not what they appear to be.”

“Did these Jötnar not come to kill me?”  The God of Thunder demanded.

“They did,” Loki admitted.  “But there was much information missing from all sides of this dispute.  Allow me to enlighten you and your compatriots?”  

“Did father not name you Silvertongue, brother?” Thor retorted.  “Why should I believe anything you have to say if you will not fight our enemies?”  Thor seemed to be getting angrier and more obstinate by the second.

“Your father, Thor, not mine,” Loki informed him calmly.  It was the resigned tone, as well as the words that caused to blonde to look at him completely for the first time since Thor had entered the street.

“We have been lied to our entire lives,” Loki stated succinctly.  “I am not your brother, Thor.  In truth, only moments ago I discovered that I am not even Æsir.”  He let his Jötunn show through his skin and eyes.  

Thor gasped and stepped backwards away from Loki, his hand reaching out unconsciously to call for Mjölnir.  “What trickery is this?”

Loki hung his head.  “‘Tis not trickery, but the truth.  I was taken from a temple on Jötunheim during the War.  I have been raised to hate my own kind, my own nature.”  He allowed his skin to the same hue as the Æsir facing him.

It came as no, or very little, surprise to the original group when Mjölnir landed in Thor’s hand.  He stared down at it, and his hand, with confusion and disbelief marring his normally handsome features.  The SHIELD agents behind him were also surprised at the entire turn of events.

“I reached for it out of reflex,” Thor muttered, mainly to himself, but Loki all the non-humans heard him clearly.

“Now, why would you suddenly be worthy of Mjölnir?  Have you done something different in the last few days?”  Loki tried to lead Thor to the answers, knowing that he’d never believe if he was directly told.

“No,” Thor answered.  “In fact, I reached for Mjölnir as soon as I was told we were coming here, but nothing happened.  Why now, only moments later?”  It almost sounded like a rhetorical question, but the pack knew that if they wanted to avoid a battle, which they now did, that the question needed to be answered.

“The only thing that’s changed,” Steve stepped forward in full Captain America mode.  “Is that you’ve laid eyes on the Jötnar.  Now why would that have such an extreme effect, do you think?”

Thor looked from his hammer to Helblindi, over to Loki then surveyed the entire assemblage in front of him.  “I know not,” his voice was unsure, then he stared at his brother Loki and began to get angry again.  “I am certain that you once again have all the answers.”

“And once again, you would be mistaken,” Loki retorted pointedly.  “It has only been through diplomacy and communication that truth has come to light.  However, from that truth many more questions have arisen.”

Stiles glanced back and forth between brothers before she shook her head and sighed heavily.  “Thor, Odin has lied about everything.  He set this entire thing in motion to have Loki killed, then have you be threatened by the Jötnar so that he has an excuse to start another war.”

Thor looked as if he’d been struck.  “My father would never.”

“Well, he did,” she spat back at him.  “So you can just deal with the fact that your dad is a raging bag of dicks.”

Thor took a menacing step forward as thunder clapped loudly overhead.  “Have a care how you speak child.”

He suddenly glanced around when he heard the deep growls of the . . . creatures in front of him.  He’d never seen any mortal like them.  They had sharp fangs, deadly claws, and menacing glowing eyes - some blue some red.  He knew, without understanding how he knew, that the two males with the red eyes were more dangerous than those with blue.  

“I strongly suggest you take a step back, Æsir,” Eliot snarled as he took a step forward next to Stiles.  Thor did so, though it was more out of surprise of the creatures than an actual desire to obey any command given to him.

“Now that you have your hammer back,” Steve tried to reign the confrontation back in before a fight broke out.  “I suggest you return to Asgard and simply ask Odin if there is any truth to the information that has been presented.  If there is, than you’ll know.  If there’s not, then no harm done.”

“The harm, as you say, is that she insulted the King of Asgard, Ruler of the Nine Realms,” Thor accused.

“Not my king, and he has no say in the affairs of Midgard, let alone rules it,” Stiles retorted.  Thor and Stiles locked eyes, neither wanting to be the one to submit first.  After nearly an entire minute of tension-filled silence, Loki looked up and spoke to the sky.

“Heimdall, would you please open the Bifröst and return Thor to Asgard?”

The stand off only ended when the bright white light disappeared and Thor along with it.

“Anyone else?”  Stiles snapped at the SHIELD agents across from her.  Phil raised both hands to show that they were empty and that he was no immediate threat.

“It seems like we missed a few things,” he said as he cautiously stepped toward the extended pack and Jötnar.  “Perhaps we could go back to Doctor Foster’s lab and you all can get me up to speed.”

Eliot let out a long, heavy sigh, “That sounds like an excellent idea Phil.”

Chapter Text

Stiles stood on her front porch and watched as the U-haul truck and suv pulled up the long driveway.  It was just shy of six weeks since the Jötnar came to New Mexico.  No one had heard from Thor, or Asgard, in that time, which all involved were counting as a good thing.  

The conversation with the Jötnar, and a few trusted SHIELD agents (read: Coulson, Barton, Romanoff, and Fury), back at the lab had been interesting.  Fury was now trying to figure out how to add global protection from an alien invasion to his to-do list. Coulson was concerned about how to fight against (both strategy and training) an enemy that was not only physically larger, but whose touch could possibly kill a human.  Romanoff didn’t seemed too fazed by any of it, though internally she was reassessing her own skills to know how to counter not necessarily the Jötnar themselves, but any enemy that might have their level of capabilities.  Barton, though the agent in him took note of every piece of intell provided, the young kid/circus performer in him thought the whole thing was just way too cool.

It was revealed that the Jötnar came to Midgard by means of a Way that was located in northern California.  Once they’d located it on a map, Stiles actually fell off her chair laughing.  (Though it was also possible that the day finally caught up to her and she was in shock, as well as found humor in the revealed location.)  It turns out that less than a mile into the preserve from either Stiles’ property or Hale property there was a gigantic old tree stump that the druids had named a Nemeton.  With Stiles unable to answer why she found that so funny, Cobi relayed that the word Nemeton was an old Gaelic word meaning World Tree; just as Yggdrasil was the old Norse version of World Tree.  The fact that it was literally in the pack’s backyard just added fuel to the humor-fire in Stiles’ mind.  

The group decided that the majority of the pack would head back to Beacon Hills and check out the Nemeton and decide how best to guard it, and make preparation for the additional people they would be housing.  Derek and Quinn offered to stay behind in case Thor or anyone else showed up again, though no one in the pack actually believed that was why either wolf offered to stay behind.  Jane’s grant would soon come to an end, as well as Darcy’s internship (and therefore her Political Science degree), so Stiles offered both of them jobs  (Erik had already agreed to go work with SHIELD).

For Jane, she agreed to build a brand new lab that the astrophysicist could customize anyway she wanted.  It also came with room and board, a regular paycheck, health insurance, a 401k plan, and a travel expense account.  For Darcy, Stiles offered room and board, health insurance, a stipend while she studied for the LSAT (including covering the cost of any prep classes she may want to take), all tuition, books, and fees to Berkeley's Law School, transportation to and from the university, and a guaranteed job as legal counsel for Voin Enterprises when she graduated.  Loki was offered room and board, and a regular paycheck in exchange for his assistance in guarding and protecting the Nemeton.  

Stiles had spoken in private with her godfather and arranged for Clint and Natasha to be (semi)permanently assigned as liaisons and “guards” to Loki, Steve, and Jane.  Needless to say, everyone that would end up in Beacon Hills was very happy with the arrangement.   

Now, the six that had remained in New Mexico pulled up the drive.   Off to the right side of the drive (her left), just inside the yard, she observed the construction crew that was building what from the outside would look much like a pool house or recreation building, but on the inside was Jane’s new state of the art lab .  Elsewhere on the property, Stiles could hear other construction crews building the five two-bedroom cottages that would be tucked into the trees and hidden to the casual observer.

Derek drove the suv, with Loki in the front passenger seat, and Jane and Darcy in the back seat.  Quinn followed in the U-haul truck with Clint in the passenger seat.  It was going to be close quarters in the house for a couple of weeks until the first cottage was completed, then the others would be ready at a rate of about one a week for the following month.   The lab would be ready for Jane in about two weeks as well.

Natasha had already moved her stuff down into Peter’s room on the first floor.  Quinn was going to move into the apartment over the garage with Clint.  Loki and Darcy would take Quinn’s old room, and Jane would share with Derek.  

*~*~*

Two days after everyone was settled, Stiles called a pack meeting in the Theater Room.  She showed the newcomers the video of her bloodline so that there were no secrets in the house.  

“Now that everyone’s here,” Stiles hedged.  “I was hoping that we could go rescue my grandfather.”  Steve immediately hugged her.  

“Thank you.  Yes, whatever you need I’ll do it,” he rushed out.

“He’ll still be brainwashed,” Natasha broached carefully.

Stiles nodded, resigned.  “I know. I thought that maybe Loki or the Alphas could help.”  

The three readily agreed to help anyway they could.  Starting with Loki helping to ease the broken insanity in Peter’s mind, which they would do in private after the meeting.

“I’d like to officially join the pack,” Steve stated, first to Eliot and then to Derek.  “This is the closest to a real home that I’ve had since my Ma died.  My family is here,” he tipped his head toward Stiles.  “And I don’t ever want to leave.”

“You’re certain?” Eliot asked as he stepped toward the Super Soldier.

“Yes,” came the resolute reply.  Eliot met eyes with Stiles and nodded.

“Then repeat after me,” Stiles said.  “I, Steven Grant Rogers, request of you Alpha Eliot Spencer, membership in your pack.”

“I, Steven Grant Rogers, request of you Alpha Eliot Spencer, membership in your pack.”  He tilted his head to the side in mimic of Stiles’ actions.  

“Request granted.”  Eliot shifted into his Beta-shift and dragged his fangs across Steve’s pulse point on his neck.  He then stepped back, shifted back into his human visage, and offered his hand to the newest member of his pack.  “Welcome to the pack,” the Alpha said as Steve shook his hand.  

Then the unexpected happened.  Natasha stood up and looked directly at Derek.

“I’d like to join as well,” she stated.  Everyone in the room was frozen in shock, especially Clint, who never thought he’d live to see the day that Natasha ever willingly bound herself to anyone or anything.  Then again, he never thought she’d be in an actual relationship with a somewhat sane werewolf, so he was beginning to rethink what he thought he knew of her.

“You’re sure?”  Derek verified as he stood.

“For the first time in my life I have found a place that I feel at home, that I belong,” she informed him, and the rest of the room.  “I’m choosing to not give that up.”  Derek nodded and she shuffled across the front of the couches to reach him.

She began without prompting.  “I, Natalia Romanova, also known as Natasha Romanoff, request of you, Alpha Derek Hale, membership in your pack.”

“Request granted.”  Derek shifted and dragged his fangs across her neck.  Then stepped back and, as Eliot had done, offer her his hand.  “Welcome to the pack.”  She looked at his hand then stepped forward and kissed him on both cheeks.  

“Cпасибо,” she whispered in Russian.  “Я не буду препятствовать вам вниз.”  ( Thank you.  I won’t let you down. )  Stiles whispered the translation so that the others in the room would know what she said.

“I know you won’t,” Derek replied.  “But I’m still learning how to be an Alpha so it’s possible that I might let you down.”

“The fact that you can admit to not knowing everything, and admit to the fact that you may make mistakes, means that you cannot let me down,” she told him.  “I will stand by you and protect you while you learn.”

Before Derek could respond, Jane nearly jumped to her feet.  “I want to join too.”

“Me too,” Darcy announced as she stood looked between Derek and Eliot.  “Does it matter which Alpha does it?”

“Not really,” Eliot answered.  “We’re all one pack.  I think Natasha wanted Derek to do it since she’s dating his uncle.  I would also guess that Jane would want Derek to do it since they’re together.  However, if you’re worried about what could happen if the pack ever split, then if you want to stay with Jane I’d suggest that you have Derek do it.  Not that I think that there will ever be a reason to split the pack, but I thought you’d like all the information.”

She thought about it and nodded.  “You won’t be offended if I choose Derek?”  She really liked Eliot and she certainly didn’t want him mad at her.

“Not in the least,” he reassured her.  “Like I said, we’re all one pack.”

“Then I’d like Derek to do it,” she decided.

“If Nat has found a home here and is willing to swear allegiance to this pack,” Clint remarked.  “Then I trust her judgement and would like to join.  Eliot, since you’re the Alpha that made Quinn pack, will you do the same for me?”

“It would be an honor,” Eliot replied.

One by one the three human became members of the Spencer-Hale pack.  The new members all ended up with small scar lines on their necks that let the supernatural world know that they are part of a pack.

“May I ask a question?”  Loki turned and looked at Eliot and then Derek.  They both nodded.  “Would you use their submission, because that it sure what it was, to subdue or subjugate them?”

“Never,” Eliot answered first.  “It was merely a way to create a pack bond.”  Seeing the confused look from not only Loki but the others that had joined he continued.  “Pack bonds are difficult to explain.  Humans can’t feel them, though they may be influenced by them, through an instinctual “feeling”.  Wolves and other supernatural being can feel an actual connection to their pack members.  It’s like a glowing thread that runs to and from each member.  Wolves know the instant a pack member dies because losing that bond is like losing a limb.  I don’t know if you’d be able to feel it or not, to be honest.”

“Could you use it to control them?”  Loki tilted his head as he pondered.

“The Betas much more so than the humans,” Eliot openly admitted.  “There are some Alphas that do just that, but that’s not how Derek and I want this pack to operate.  We both want this pack to be a family; a safe place for every member to be able to be themselves without fear of rejection or judgement.”

Loki considered all the information before he made his decision.  “Then I, too, would like to officially join the pack.”  He looked to Derek.  “Would you be willing?”

“It’d be an honor,” the younger Alpha replied.  They both moved so that they met at the side of the room.

“I, Loki Odinson, known also as Loki Laufeyson, request of you, Alpha Derek Hale, membership in your pack.”  He then tilted his head to the side and exposed his neck.

“Request granted.”  Derek dragged his fangs across Loki’s neck.  He stepped back and watched as the welts healed into thin red lines.  He then offered his hand to the newest member.  “Welcome to the pack.”

Loki pressed one hand into his new Alpha’s and the other to his sternum where he could feel a warm glow start to glow brighter.  He found that as he concentrated on that glow that it was actually ten individual strands wound close together.  He smiled as he met Derek’s eyes.

“I can feel them,” the Jötunn breathed.  He turned to Eliot.  “I can feel everyone.”  

“Wonder if it’s because he’s the grandfather of all werewolves?” Stiles mused out loud.  Everyone’s eyes immediately landed on her, practically demanding an explanation.  When she finally noticed the pack staring at her, she withdrew into herself.  “I did it again, didn’t I?”  She nearly whined to Eliot.

He wrapped her in his strong arms.  “Just explain what you mean, little one.”

“Well,” she began.  “From what I’ve gathered from Derek and Peter, werewolves, or at least the Hale bloodline, claims to be direct descendant from the first werewolf, who was the son of Fenrir.”  Loki gasped.  Stiles met his eye with an apologetic look.  “Mythology states that Fenrir is Loki’s son, who was born a giant black wolf.  Based on that information, Fenrir would be the father of all werewolves and Loki would be the grandfather.  It would also explain why the Alpha of the Hale line could fully shift into a large black wolf.”

Stunned silence followed.  Darcy was the first to react.  She stood and slowly approached Loki.

“The way you reacted suggests that the part about Fenrir being your son is true.  Is it?”  She gently probed.  At first, all Loki could do was nod dumbly; he couldn’t think clearly enough to find his voice.  Finally, he was able to explain.

“I fathered Fenrir when I was young; the equivalent of your early to mid teenage years,” he confessed.  “I met a beautiful Ljósálfr when Odin took Thor and I to visit Álfheim.  Her name was Angrboða.”

“Angrboða was a Light Elf?”  Stiles interrupted, confused.  When Loki met her eye, she saw that she was not the only one confused.  “Our mythology interprets the fact that she was ‘a giantess’ as meaning she was a Frost Giant, a Jötunn.  Though, if she had been you would’ve already known that you were a Jötunn.  Nevermind, carry on.  Sorry to interrupt.”   Loki smiled softly at her.

“I found out a not long after Angrboða gave birth.  Although Fenrir could never be officially claimed as my heir, due to being both illegitimate and not fully Æsir, I loved him anyway.  And now that find the irony of the statement as I am not Æsir either.  I took Fenrir everywhere with me, teaching him all I knew.  I helped him learn how to shift his form wolf to Æsir.  In that form he looked very much like Derek, only with ice blue eyes instead of Derek’s green.”  Loki got lost in thought for a few moments.

When it was clear that Loki wouldn’t continue without prompting, Darcy did so.  “How did Fenrir end up being the father of werewolves?”

“Of all the realms I’d shown him, Fenrir loved Midgard best.  When he was nearly the same age I was when I fathered him, he decided to explore Yggdrasil on his own.  He must have come here to Midgard and fathered several children with a human female.  Thus beginning a new race of supernatural beings.

“Not long after that, maybe a decade or so, a prophecy was brought to Odin’s attention.  It stated that Fenrir would kill Odin and usher in Ragnarök.  So, Odin had Fenrir captured and imprisoned.”

“ Please tell me our mythology is wrong and he’s just in a nasty, dirty dungeon somewhere,” Stiles practically begged, her eyes full of tears.  The tears overflowed when Loki met her eye with tears staining his own face.

“I truly wish I could, young one.”  His voice was harsh and broken, yet soft and full of anguish.  “I believe you know what happened to him.”

“I fucking hate Odin,” she growled, startling everyone.  Eliot rubbed a hand up and down her back to try to calm her.

“What did he do this time?” Eliot asked gently.

“He tricked Fenrir and bound him,” Stiles recited.  “First with Gleipnir, which was a ribbon forged from six mythical substances.  The more Fenrir struggled to be free the tighter it became.  In response to which he bit off the right hand of Týr, who had agreed to place his hand in Fenrir’s mouth as a show of good faith that the god’s would release him.  

“When it was decided that he could not break free, they took a cord called Gelgja, meaning fetter, hanging from Gleipnir, inserted the cord through a large stone slab called Gjöll, which is Old Norse for scream.  The gods fastened the stone slab deep into the ground. After, the gods took a great rock called Thviti, which is Old Norse for hitter or batterer, and thrust it even further into the ground as an anchoring peg. Fenrir reacted reasonably violent; he opened his jaws very wide, and tried to bite the gods. Then the gods thrust a sword into his mouth. Its hilt touched the lower jaw and its point the upper one; by means of it the jaws of the wolf were spread apart and the wolf gagged. Fenrir, it was said, ‘howled horribly,’ saliva ran from his mouth, and this saliva formed the river Ván, Old Norse for hope.  There Fenrir will lie until Ragnarök.”  Tears streamed down her face, as Eliot held her tight.

Darcy had her arms wrapped around Loki as he sobbed for his son.  

“Do you know where he is?” Eliot softly asked Stiles.  

“No,”  she replied.  “I doubt he’s on Earth.  Loki, do you know?”  It took a few moments before he could answer.

“I do not.  Odin made certain that I would not be permitted to know and so that I could not release him.”  Loki managed to choke out.

“How long ago was this?” Natasha asked quietly.

“Nearly three thousand of your years,” Loki answered.  

Natasha immediately stood and walked out of the room.  No one said anything about it, merely sharing the stunned silence as a pack.  Offering Loki whatever silent support they could.  Natasha returned a few moments later, once again composed, although her eyes were as red and bloodshot as the other occupants of the room.  

Finally, Loki sniffed one last time, wiped his face with his hands and turned toward Stiles.  “I cannot do anything to release my son from torment and return him to my side where he belongs, but I will do everything in my power to make sure that your family member is freed from his torture and captors, and returned as whole as possible here where he belongs.”

Stiles crawled over the back of the couch in front of her and landed in Loki’s lap.  She proceeded to hug him as tightly as she could.  No words were spoken, not by them nor by any other pack member.

Chapter Text

The pack spent the next few weeks getting everything ready and organized so that they could rescue Bucky from Hydra.  Stiles and Natasha spoke to Fury about borrowing weapons and body armor from the San Francisco SHIELD office, which Natasha and Clint then picked up.  Quinn and Eliot took everyone over to the Hale property (construction on the house had been put on hold indefinitely), where a makeshift shooting range had been set up, and taught them the basics.  For Steve it was a more a refresher, allowing him to get a feel for the weight and kickback of modern handguns.

Eliot got Hardison to send down a bunch of his special com units that were sensitive enough to pick up sound based on the vibration in the wearer’s jaw, which Stiles and Cobi then upgraded and tweaked the frequency.  Stiles was certain that she heard Eliot grumble, “Damn it Hardison!” at least three times during that conversation.  Jane, Darcy, and Loki got a crash course in first aid, including teaching Loki all the in’s and out’s of the human (and werewolf) body.  Peter and Natasha moved out to the first cottage, freeing up the bedroom on the main floor.

Once the pack felt that they were prepared enough to take on the Hydra base, the discussion of when to go began.  Steve, Peter, and Loki were the most vocal advocates to leave immediately, not wanting Bucky in Hydra’s custody one second longer than absolutely necessary. While Stiles, Natasha, and Eliot argued that they should try to wait until Hydra activated the “defrost” sequence themselves.  

“Cobi and I can activate the sequence from here and have all their systems show that the tube is still operating within normal parameters.  But I can’t control the whether or not an agent will walk through the room and see that the small window in the door to the cryotube is de-icing.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to risk his life like that,” Stiles argued.

“But it could take years for them to need him,” Steve countered.  “Do you want to leave him in there that long?”

Back and forth it went for almost two days.  Just as Darcy spoke up to suggest they compromise, Cobi interrupted.  “Please excuse the interruption, but I thought you all might like to know that the defrost sequence on Sergeant Barnes’ cryotube has been activated.  The process will be complete in just under nine hours.”

Stunned, no one moved for several seconds before everyone was scrambling to get ready.  It took less than twenty minutes before they were walking up the ramp changed,  armed, and ladened with three coolers full of food and drinks for the trip there and back.  As the pack headed toward the quinjet to fly to Russia, Stiles instructed the construction foreman to finish the day then have everyone take the next three days as paid days off.  

The flight there took around eight hours, and by the time they arrived everyone was antsy for the mission to be completed already.  It had been agreed that Jane and Darcy would stay on the jet and assist Cobi in coordinating and working the coms; both women were armed with the same smaller caliber pistols that they’d been practicing with for the past few weeks, on the off chance a Hydra agent managed to get to the jet.  

Cobi had already rerouted Hydra’s sensors and radar so that there was no indication of the quinjet approaching the compound/base.  With no one inside alerted to their presence, there were no agents outside any of the three entrances.  The team split up into three groups:  Clint, Natasha, and Peter took the North entrance and worked their way south to the center; Quinn, Derek, and Loki took the South entrance and made their way north; Stiles, Eliot, and Steve walked right in the front door and made directly for the main chamber with the cryotube.

Despite the fact that there were nearly hundred and twenty Hydra agents and scientists against the nine pack members, the pack decimated the opposition in a comparatively little time, leaving a trail of bloody bodies in their wake.  Peter took a bullet to the right thigh and a couple in the flak jacket, Derek took one in his left bicep and one in the back of his flak jacket, but other than that there were no injuries sustained by the pack; both bullet wounds were healed by the time their group rendezvoused with the others.

They met up in the chamber with the ‘tube, bodies littering the floor.  Just as the last pack member entered (Clint up on the balcony of the second floor), the ‘tube beeped twice and the door unlocked.  Steve didn’t hesitate to open the door the rest of the way and watch as the man known as the Winter Soldier opened his eyes for the first time in years.  

He looked at the bloody group assembled in front of him and cautiously stepped out of the ‘tube, his cargo pants the only clothing he wore.  He quickly surveyed the room and noticed the bodies scattered around.  He made to step away from the group when a small voice stopped him.

“Please,” the young woman whispered.  

He turned and studied her; there was something familiar about her, but he was uncertain if he knew her.  She held her hands out to her sides, palms forward, showing that she held no weapon.  That made him realize that the only person in the room with a weapon in their hands was the archer leaning against the railing across the room above them, but he didn’t have it drawn to aim.  He looked back at the girl that had spoken.  

“Do I . . . know you?”  His voice was harsh from non-use.  She offered a small, soft, genuine smile; that helped him relax minutely.

“You knew my mother when she was my age,” the girl answered, keeping her voice quiet.  “I’ve been told that I look almost exactly like her.”  She tilted her head as if trying to decide what to say next.  “You saved her, you know.  You rescued my mother.  From here.”

He studied her, trying to remember, but there was nothing.  Just emptiness.  As he watched her, a folder was slid into her hand from behind her.  She smiled sweetly and quickly opened the folder, which she then immediately handed to him.  He cautiously took the folder and looked at the first page.  On the left side, there was a paper with a picture attached.  The female in the picture did look nearly identical to the female standing in front of him.  Under the picture was what appeared to be a pedigree chart.  The female in the picture was identified as Female #3 and, according to the pedigree chart, her dame was Female #2 and her sire was Winter Soldier.

“Зимний солдат,” he whispered ( Winter Soldier) .  He looked down to his left shoulder to the star there.  “I am Зимний солдат.”  He met the girl’s eye, confusion suffusing him.  “She is my daughter?”  The girl smiled sadly.

“Yes, she was.”

“She is not now?”  The man known as Зимний солдат did not understand.

“She died eight years ago,” the girl informed him gently.  “The things that Hydra . . . these people,” she motioned to the dead bodies in the room, “did to her caused her brain to stop functioning.  She died when I was eight.”

He turned that statement over in his too empty mind for a few minutes.  The people in the room let him.  “If you are her daughter and she was mine, what does that make you to me?  I feel like that should mean something.”  

“It means that I am your granddaughter and that you are my grandpa,” the look on her face showing that she was trying to not be hopeful.  But he could read her body language and he knew that she was truthful in her statement.

“Mine?” He asked carefully.  He couldn’t remember, but he was certain that he had never been allowed to have anything for himself before.

Her answering smile let up her face.  “Yes.   Your granddaughter.”  She shuffled forward a step toward him.  “My name is Stiles Stilinski.”  She held forward her hand for him to shake.  He tentatively shook her hand.  He couldn’t explain it, but he felt safe with her.  Maybe it was because she was his, maybe it was because her body language all screamed ‘truthful’ to him.

“We’d like to take you far away from here,” she told him, not having let go of his hand.  Almost as if she was afraid that if she let go he’d disappear.  He was kind of worried about the same thing, if he was honest with himself.  “Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

“With you?”  

He sounded scared and almost child-like, Stiles decided.  Which she supposed made some sense.  He was wiped before being put into to stasis and hadn’t been given any orders or mission when he awoke.  He was a blank slate right now.

“Yes, with me,” she reassured him.  “You can stay with me for as long as you want.”  He gripped her hand a little tighter.  “Would you like to hold on to that folder?”  She nodded her head toward the folder he held in his left hand.  He had forgotten that he had it.  He closed it and held it out to the girl Stiles.  

“If you’d like to keep it you may.”  He glanced up to meet her eyes, trying to determine if she was serious.  When he saw she was he immediately pulled the folder to his chest.

Stiles stepped next to him and switched which of her hands held his so that she could intertwine their fingers.  It made him feel safe.  “Would you like to come home with me?  With us?”  She indicated the group surrounding them.  He looked down at her, unsure about the others.  “They’re my family.  They will help me keep you safe.”

“Safe?”  He sounded as if he had no idea what that meant, at least as more than an abstract concept.  She supposed he might not.

“You’ll never have to go back in there,” she motioned behind her to the cryotube, “ever again; and no one here will ever intentionally hurt you.  Ever.”  She promised.

With her holding his hand he felt as if he could really look at the people around them, the people she claimed were her family.  He studied each of them.  Most of them he had no impression of ever having known them.  The red headed woman pulled at his non-existant memory some, but it was the large blonde man that made him pause.  Pictures flashed through his head, but not all of pictures matched the man in front of him.

“Did you . . . used to be . . . smaller?”  He was unsure if he was allowed to ask, but the pictures in his head were confusing.  The man’s face showed relief and joy.

“Yeah, Bucky,” the man answered.  “I used to be smaller.”

“Who is . . . Bucky?”  he queried, feeling the name on his tongue.

“You are,” the man responded gently.  “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.  Your friends called you Bucky, which was the shortened form of Buchanan.”  

The familiar woman eased forward, stopping more than two arm spans from him.  She held forward another folder.  Stiles took it for him, then opened it so that he could read it.  It was about him.  A picture of him in his cryotube and one that was black and white photo of him in some sort of uniform.  The paper underneath confirmed what the tall man had said.

“Bucky,” he tested the name again.  He wasn’t sure it was his, but he decided he liked it and wanted to keep it.  Stiles closed the folder and tucked it in his hand next to the first folder, so that he got to hold on to both.  He glanced to the tall man again.  “Friend?”

“Best friends,” the man answered.  “My name is Steve Rogers.”  The name triggered more pictures in his head.  Some with words attached to them.

“Steve,” he Bucky tried it out.  “Stevie.”  Seeing the genuine smile from the man, Steve, he felt as if he could try the word that was in his head.  “Punk.”  Tears began streaming down Steve’s face, but he was grinning from ear to ear and nodding.

“Yeah, Bucky,” he managed to choke out.  “You used to call me Punk.”  

“Do you feel like you could come with us now?” Stiles asked, bringing his attention back to her.  “We have a long flight ahead of us to get you home.”

“Home?” Bucky looked between Stiles and Steve near frantically.

“We live in the same house,” Stiles assured him.  “You don’t have to choose between us.  I promise.”  Bucky breathed a little easier at that.

“Safe at home?  With both of you?” Bucky asked, head swinging between the two people he knew.

“Yes,” Stiles answered.  “Safe at our home with both of us.  With all of us to help keep you safe.”  Bucky glanced around before looking down at her and nodding his head once.  

She gently tugged on his arm as she led him toward the door.  Some of the people walked in front of them, while some followed behind them.  Everyone was silent as the pack made their way out.  They stopped by the doors of the chamber in front of a locker labelled “Asset.”  He stumbled back a few steps, pictures and words rushing through his mind.  But Stiles’ free hand resting on his arm brought him back to the present moment.

Inside the locker was socks, boots, and some sort of leather uniform top.  The other went to guard the door as Stiles and Steve helped quickly put the rest of his clothes on.  Then they headed out of the room, Stiles’ hand back in Bucky’s.  The trip through the building showed him more dead bodies.  He couldn’t understand why he felt relief at the sight, but he did.  The archer joined the group down at the end of the corridor.  It didn’t take long until the group emerged into the morning as the sun was trying to breach the December darkness.

They walked for about a quarter mile until the came to a strange looking plane.  Stiles sensed his hesitation and informed him that it was their quinjet and much faster than a regular plane.  As the back of the jet lowered he discovered that there were two women waiting inside.  A quick analysis showed that, though they were armed, they were no real threat.  Not to someone of his skill, anyway.

Stiles led Bucky to the middle of a row of seats off to the side of the main area.  She sat, urging him down next to her; Steve took the seat on his other side.  The archer and familiar women walked to the cockpit and prepared the jet for takeoff.  

“I need my hand back for just a moment so that I can do my seat belt,” Stiles whispered to him.  She could tell that he had to force his fingers to open and release her hand.  She showed him how to do the five-point harness so that he could do his own.  Steve quietly suggested that he tuck the folders next to him in the seat so that he could do his own.  Once Bucky’s seat belt was secure, he clutched the two folders to his chest again with his metal hand and gripped Stiles’ hand with his flesh hand.  

The lift off was smooth and it didn’t take long for the jet to be at cruising altitude.  Clint and Natasha made their way back from the cockpit, announcing that the autopilot was engaged and it would be approximately eight hours until they landed.  Clint walked directly to one of the coolers and started pulling out water bottles and tossed them to members of the group.  

He tossed a bottle slightly off to the outside of Steve, so Bucky didn’t feel like it was aimed at him.  Steve then handed it to Bucky, who looked down at his hands then shook his head.  Steve didn’t believe that Bucky didn’t want a drink, but knew that he didn’t want to let go of the either the folders or Stiles’ hand.  So, Steve opened the bottle, took a sip, then held the bottle to Bucky’s lips.  He drank several large swallows before he pulled away.

“Thank you,” he whispered to Steve.

“You’re very welcome,” Steve replied just as quietly.

“Bucky,” Stiles drew his attention.  “We know of a way that could help return your memories to you.  It could also, hopefully, remove all the trigger words from your mind.  It might be painful, though not as painful as the chair.  But we won’t do anything without your permission.”  

He stared at her, not sure that he heard her correctly.  They had a way to give him back to himself?  They could make it so he couldn’t be controlled by handlers ever again?  And it would hurt less than the chair?  He may not remember much, but he could recall with perfect clarity the pain of wipes in the chair.  So far, everything these people had said to him had been the truth, the folders and his own shattered memories corroborating the truths.

“How?”  Bucky was almost certainly going to do it, but he wanted to know the particulars.

“An Alpha werewolf can press their claws into the back of your neck,” Stiles explained.  “This allows them to access all your memories.  They can then find and unlock the memories that Hydra tried to steal from you.  They can also remove the memories that contain the trigger words.  Loki,” she motioned to the regal looking man with dark hair longer than his, “is a gifted healer with his magic so he should be able to smooth all the rough edges of your mind and make sure that any trigger words that are found will have no effect.”

“You know an Alpha werewolf?”  Bucky felt that they were hard to find.  Stiles pulled the edge of her flack jacket and showed him the left side of her neck.  There he saw the light scars indicating she’d been claimed by an Alpha and made part of pack.

“I know two,” she grinned.  

He looked around and noticed that two of the men had eyes that glowed Alpha red.  Two other men had eyes that glowed Beta blue.  Bucky turned to Steve, unsure of how he felt about his granddaughter being part of a werewolf pack.  It was then that he saw Steve copy Stiles’ motion and uncovered his own pack marks.  Confused he looked to the only other person in the jet that he felt any sense of connection with.  She offered a small half smile then showed him her matching pack marked neck.

“Are you all part of a pack?”  He watched as everyone whose eyes weren’t glowing showed their marks.

“We’re all part of the same pack,” Steve offered.  Bucky immediately met his eyes, questions on his tongue.  “We know it’s unusual for there to be two Alphas in one pack, but it works for us.  No one is saying that you have to join.  We just wanted to let you know that we trusted our Alphas enough to become pack; to become family with each other.”

Bucky tried to think through what Steve had said.  So far no one had forced him to do anything.  He was asked to do things, options were suggested, but no one had made him do anything.  Which gave some validity to Steve’s statement.  But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to know what he really wanted until he had access to all of his mind.

“Which Alpha?”  Bucky asked Stiles.

“Me,” the male next to Stiles answered immediately.  “I’ve seen a lot more of the ugly of this world than Derek.  I’ll be able to ignore what I see better, so that I can focus on uncovering your memories without being caught up on what’s in them.”  Bucky looked at the folders in his hand as if they held all the answers.

“Do it,” Bucky stated meeting Eliot’s eyes.

“Since I’m about to see inside your head, I feel like I ought to introduce myself first.  My name is Eliot Spencer.”  The two men nodded to each other in acknowledgement.  “While Loki and I are inside your mind, the other three wolves will come over and help take as much of your pain as possible.”  Eliot easily read the surprise on Bucky’s face.  “We don’t want you in any more pain than is absolutely necessary.”

Pack members started to shuffle around.  There was just enough room behind the row of seats for Eliot and Loki to stand behind Bucky.  Quinn and Peter sat at his feet, pulling up his pants a little so that they could touch his skin.

“I need to move so that Derek can sit here,” Stiles gently informed Bucky.  When he tightened his grip on her hand so continued.  “Steve and I will stand right in your eyeline in front of you.  That way you can see us both the entire time.  I’m not leaving you, I promise.”  He gradually released her hand and nodded.  

She and Steve made their way around the Betas and stood directly in Bucky’s line of sight.  Derek sat next to Bucky and took his hand.  Steve suggested that Bucky place the two folders in Steve’s seat so that he didn’t accidentally crumple them.  He grudgingly set them in the seat next to him.  He locked eyes with Stiles then nodded his head once.

Eliot pressed his claws into the back of Bucky’s neck.  His eyes went wide, in pain or fear Stiles wasn’t sure.  She saw the black veins running up the arms of all three wolves seated around her grandfather.  Loki had his hands on top of Bucky’s head, his eyes closed as he concentrated.  Though he never uttered a single sound of pain, the expression on Bucky’s face was that of tremendous pain.  Stiles gripped Steve’s hand in a crushing grip, which he returned just as fiercely.  Tears freely fell down her face.

It took more than an hour before Eliot pulled his claws out and Loki pulled his hands away.  The two gingerly climbed over the row of chairs and collapsed next to each other.  Darcy rushed over to check on Loki.  Derek stood and let Stiles sit back down between Bucky and Eliot.  She didn’t know who to check on first.  Steve crouched in front of Bucky, his vacant gaze following the movement, though unseeing.  Stiles decided to hold Eliot’s hand while facing Bucky.

After what seemed like eternity, though was probably less than a minute, Bucky focused on Steve.

“I remember,” he whispered.  “I remember everything.  Before the fall, after, becoming the Winter Soldier, training Natalia in the Red Room,” he glanced up at the woman across the jet who smiled softly.  “I remember every mission, every kill.”  His tears fell unapologetically.  “But, Stevie, I remember you.  I remember us.”

Steve launched himself at Bucky.  He remembered that they were more than just best friends.  Bucky remembered that they were everything to each other.

“I said ‘to the end of the line’ Buck,” Steve whispered in his ear as they held each other.  “And it’s not even close to the end.  Not by a long shot.”

There was not a dry eye in the jet as Steve and Bucky held each other for the first time in sixty-five years.

Chapter Text

After Steve and Bucky held each other, Steve finally pulled back and sat in the vacant seat next to Bucky; he picked up the file folders and tucked them vertically next to Bucky in his seat, and grasped his metal hand tightly.

“Let me introduce you to everyone?” Steve gently asked.  Bucky nodded; he wanted to know the names of the people, the pack, that had rescued him.

“Well, you’ve met Stiles and Eliot,” Steve motioned to across Bucky’s body to the people next to him.  “Next is Loki then Darcy Lewis.”  Loki nodded his head regally and Darcy offered a small wave and a soft smile.  “On the other side of the jet is Dr. Jane Foster, Alpha Derek Hale, his uncle Peter Hale, it seems you already know Agent Natasha Romanoff.”

Bucky offered a tiny smile, “She went by a different name when I knew her - Natalia Romanova.”

“Once she left the Red Room she changed it to the American version,” Clint stated as he shrugged a single shoulder.  Bucky nodded as if that explained everything, to him it kind of did.

“Next to her are Agent Clint Barton, and Quinn.”  Dr. Foster had offered the same greeting as Darcy, while the others nodded their head in acknowledgement.

The return flight was long, but a much more relaxed atmosphere than the flight there.  Food and drinks were passed around and Bucky asked a lot of questions, mainly directed to Steve.  But no one took any offense, as Steve was really the only one that he knew.

“Buckle up folks,” Natasha eventually called over her shoulder from the cockpit.  “We’re about to land.”  Everyone that needed to, which was all of them except Bucky, strapped in.

“Miss,” Cobi called over the loudspeaker, causing Bucky to look around in panic.  Stiles gave his hand a squeeze.

“Sorry,” she apologized.  “I forgot to introduce you to Cobi.  She’s our Computer-Based Intelligence that helps take care of us and keep us safe.  Дед, meet Cobi.  Cobi meet my Дед.”  ( Grandfather. )

“It is an honor to meet you, Master Barnes,” Cobi greeted.  He nodded, still confused.  “Miss?”

“What’s up Cobi?”  Stiles responded.

“There is a Sheriff’s Department cruiser headed toward the property.  Based on the way the driver was watching the quinjet descend it appears as if it’s trying to find its landing point.”

“Do I want to ask who?” Stiles sighed.

“The driver appears to be the Sheriff, Miss,” Cobi confirmed.  All the wolves growled; while Eliot also flashed his eyes, wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder and pulled her close to him.  Bucky noticed that everyone seemed on edge, even Steve.

“Of fucking course it’s him,” Stiles grumbled.  

Bucky was very confused.  “What is wrong with the Sheriff?”  His eyes pleaded with Steve.

“He’s Stiles’ biological father,” Steve ground out.

“Then shouldn’t he be welcome in the pack?  I thought pack was family.”

“He started ignoring her and hasn’t spoken to her since she was seven years old.  He neglected and abandoned our granddaughter, even though Hydra might easily be looking for her.” The blonde spat through clenched teeth.  

Bucky was stunned.  Now that he had access to all his memories, he vividly recalled sneaking Female #3 out of the complex to the American soldier, who promised to watch over her.

“‘My name is John Stilinski, and I’ll take her to northern California if you ever get a chance to come look for us.’”  Bucky turned to face his granddaughter.  “Is that the man?”

Stiles nodded as she answered, “Yes, he did get my mom to safety, but she got sick when I was seven because of all the experimenting that Hydra had done on her.  Once she got sick, he was either working, taking care of her, or sleeping; usually doing the latter two while drinking or being drunk.  Once she died, he’d work as many double shifts as possible and then drink heavily when he got home.  I moved out just before I turned twelve and I honestly doubt he’s even noticed.”  She sounded so . . . resigned and defeated.  It broke the heart that he only just realized that he still had.

“Cobi,” Stiles interrupted his train of thought.  “Has he turned up the driveway yet?”  Distantly, they felt the jet touch down on the lawn.

There was a brief pause before the answer, “He just did, Miss.  Is there anything that I can do to assist?”

“Nah,” the teen replied.  “You helped a ton by giving us a heads up.  Just be on standby in case we need you.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Okay then,” Stiles slapped her hands against her thighs.  “He speaks Polish and Russian fluently, so don’t use either of those to try to communicate with each other in secret.”  She deftly undid her seatbelt harness and stood.  Eliot was standing less than a second later.  The rest of the pack followed quickly.

The rear ramp was lowered and the pack made their way out, Natasha and Clint first.  It was decided that since it was a SHIELD jet that the SHIELD agents would be the first out.  Peter and Quinn grabbed the three coolers to take back into the house, then followed behind Eliot and Derek, who were just behind the agents.  Steve, Bucky, and the other three females bringing up the rear, Darcy and Jane on the outsides with Stiles in the very middle.  The pack kept walking and met the Sheriff about halfway.  Peter and Quinn had set the coolers down a few steps before the pack stopped.

“Sheriff,” Natasha greeted coldly.  “Is there something you need?”  John flinched back slightly at her tone.  Most people try to get on his good side, so he wasn’t used the blunt and obvious distaste directed at him from the pretty red head in front of him.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat.  “I wanted to know if that plane of yours coming and going was something that will be happening much in the future.”  He crossed his arms to try to look intimidating.  It might’ve worked if the woman hadn’t taken one look at his posture and softly snorted.

“Unless you’re the FAA, our jet is none of your business,” the stocky blonde man next to the red head spoke.  He also crossed his arms across his chest, but even John could see through his uniform that his biceps were nearly twice the size of his own.

“If the military is going to house a base of some sort in my county, which could endanger the lives of the civilians under my protection, then it very much is my business,” John stated, nodding his head once as if you say, “So there.”  

“We’re not military,” Natasha tried to refrain from rolling her eyes, but decided it wasn’t worth it.  “Do we look like military?”  She spread her arms wide indicating the others.  

John took that moment to really look at the assembled group.  They were dressed in tactical gear, armed to the teeth, but the energy they projected was so much more intimidating than any military group he’d ever seen, and that included Special Forces.  Then he looked them in their faces, instantly stopping when he recognized the young man next to and a step behind the red head.

John gasped.  “Derek?  Son?”

Chapter Text

The immediate silence was so complete that no one even dared to breathe for the space of several heartbeats.  Natasha was the first to regain the use of her mouth and her words.

“Do you mean ‘son’ in the sense of a young man or as in your biological child?” Considering that she wasn’t a wolf, Natasha certainly knew how to growl out her words.  Her question seemed to wake the others out of their frozen stupor.

The Sheriff took a small step toward Derek and spoke in a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would make the image of the young man disappear.  “My biological son.”

Derek looked gutted, he felt like it too.  Instinct had him step away from the older man, which drew low growls from the other wolves on his behalf.  But the Sheriff didn’t seem to notice, he was to focused on his newly-announced son.  

“How?” Derek gasped.

“I was on leave from the Army in San Francisco,” John relayed.  “I met your mother.  She said that she wanted a child from me, but nothing else.  Not money, not my name, not my involvement.  Sometime during our two weeks together she mentioned that lived in Beacon Hills.  So, when it came time to settle down with Claudia, my wife, I had to choose here.  

“I spoke with your mother and she made me promise that I would stay out of your life; with that promise she let me stay and watch you grow up.  And look at you now.  You’re a man, son.”  He sounded so genuine and so proud, it made Stiles slightly nauseous.  

Derek’s quickly turned his head over his shoulder and his wide, panicked eyes met Stiles’; hers were just as wide and though not as panicked.  It was seeing her packmate, one of her Alphas, her newly discovered big brother about to panic that spurred her into motion.

“How the fuck dare you?!”  Stiles near-yelled as she made her way through the pack to stand next to Derek.    John looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Claudia?”  He breathed out.

“Try again asshole,” Stiles snapped back.  He really looked her over for just a moment before understanding registered in his face.

“Stiles.” The girl in question wasn’t sure that her father could sound so resigned and disappointed if he’d tried.  She lifted her chin in defiance, adjusted her stance to that of a fighter, rage glowing in her eyes.  She noticed out of the corner of her eyes that the rest of the pack reacted the same way, even Derek.  She caught flickers of red in his eyes and realized that not only are his Alpha instincts telling him to defend and protect her, but so were his newly awakened big brother instincts.

“You’re on private property and you need to leave,” Stiles ground out.  “This is your only warning.  After this you will trespassing and you will be arrested.”

John turned his full glare toward her.  “Listen here, young lady.  You have no right to speak to me that way.”

“I will speak to you however I damn well please, John,” she spat his name as if it was a curse word.

“Go sit in the back of the cruiser,” he demanded.  “I will take you home, where you will remain, once I’m finished here.”

Stiles barked out a harsh laugh.  “Fuck.  You.”  Almost before she could blink, John was swinging his left arm to backhand her across the face.  His wrist was caught by a wolfed-out Derek.  

“Don’t touch her,” he growled through his fangs.  The utter fear on John’s face as he rushed back several steps was entertaining.

“When I asked you to take care of and protect my daughter, I rather thought you’d take that to mean not just her but her daughters as well.”  The sheer terror on John’s face as Bucky slowly stalked forward toward the Sheriff was priceless.

“Not only have you ignored and abandoned me most of my life, but you abandoned Derek when he needed you most.”  Stiles couldn’t wrap her head around the audacity of her father.  “Now, granted, neither one of us have ever needed you , but we certainly could’ve used each other.  And since I didn’t know I had an older brother, I didn’t know that he had an uncle that I could’ve been visiting for the past six years.”  She turned and looked at Peter.  “I’m sorry, Peter.  If I’d have known I would’ve been there for you, I swear.”

“I know, my dear,” Peter answered as he stepped up next to his nephew.  John did a double-take at seeing the formerly comatose patient.

“Peter Hale?”  The darker side of Stiles’ personality enjoyed how lost and confused John seemed by everything that had happened since he stepped out of his cruiser and onto the lawn.  “You went missing from the hospital.  Where have you been?”

“Why, dear Sheriff,” Peter drawled in an overly-sweet tone.  “I’ve been living here, in your daughter’s house.”

“She lives with me.”  The Sheriff sounded truly confused.

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles mumbled, though not at all quietly.  “I haven’t lived in your house for almost five years.  Not that you noticed me even when I did live there.”

“I hate to interrupt this douchebag getting his ass handed to him,” Darcy spoke before anyone else could comment.  “But I’m pretty sure that the currently drunk Sheriff knows way too much for the safety of the rest of us.”

“You make a very good point, Darcy,” Natasha brought the conversation back around to her.  “Does anyone have any suggestions?”

“Now wait just a minute,” John tried to reason with the pack, but they were having none of it.

“Anybody have their phone on them?” Stiles called out to the pack.

“I do,” Jane piped up from the back.  She pulled her phone out of her pocket as she, Darcy, and Steve stepped closer to the rest of the pack.

“Cobi, call Nick on Jane’s phone and put it on speaker, please,” the teen asked her CBI.  There was no verbal response but there was soon the sound of ringing coming through the small speaker.

“Fury,” was the gruff answer.

“Uncle Nicky,” Stiles offered, though not her normal cheery voice, which had Nick’s hackles up in an instant.

“What’s wrong?” He demanded.  He couldn’t see that all the blood had drained out of John’s face, but the pack could.  

“Long story short,” she informed.  “Derek is my older half-brother by my father.  Said father showed up here when the jet landed.  He tried to backhand me.  He now knows about me, werewolves, and the fact that our mission today was a success.  Therefore, as Darcy so eloquently put it, the currently drunk Sheriff knows too much for our safety.  We were just about to start discussing ideas of what to do with him.  You have any suggestions?”

Nick had to take a moment to wrap his head around that boatload of information before he could speak.  “That was just way too much information to process at once.  So, I’m just going to skip to the end part about coming up with ideas in regards to the ‘currently drunk Sheriff’.”

“SHIELD prison?” Clint offered helpfully.

“Even if he was in solitary confinement, with only a camera with no sound capabilities, he could still pass on information to whoever brought his meals,” Natasha argued.

“And with there still being as many Hydra members as there are amongst SHIELD’s ranks, that a scary prospect,” Stiles added.

“We could kill him,” Quinn stated off handedly.  John actually stepped back when no one spoke up to argue against the idea.  

“I could,” Eliot hesitated, “remove his memories.  Not something I particularly want to do, but it is an option.”

“I think that there’s been too much removal of memories already,” Steve stated as he walked to stand behind the Sheriff, effectively cutting off his escape route.

“We could ‘feed him to the fishes’,” Darcy offered, in a terrible New Jersey accent.

“We’re not the mob, Darcy,” Jane sighed lovingly.  “Is there seriously no place on this entire planet that we could put him where he wouldn’t be able to pass on anything he knows?”

Stiles eyes instantly met Loki’s.  “There may not be anywhere on this planet, but we happen to be standing less than a mile away from access to another planet.”

“You want to take him to Jötunheim?” Nick asked for clarification over the phone.

“It makes the most sense,” Loki answered.  “The already know about werewolves, and they know that Derek is my great-grandson, many times over.  My brothers would also not care about Super Soldiers as they are part of our pack, our family.  I am certain that they would help us.”  

Nick though for a moment before he replied, “I’ll have an arrest warrant faxed over to the Sheriff’s department.  Barton and Romanoff, what IDs do the two of you have with you there?”

“I have FBI, NSA, and CIA,” Clint supplied.

“Same,” acknowledged.

“Alright, the warrant will be through the NSA.  Make sure he’s not able to speak when they get there.  Once they’ve seen him, then you can take him through to Jötunheim.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Clint stated.  “We’ll make sure Steve and Bucky are out of sight too.”

“Good idea,” Fury agreed.  “I don’t to have to explain their presence to anyone that doesn’t absolutely need to know.”

“Agreed,” Stiles supplied.  “Thanks for your help Nick.”

“Anytime kiddo.  I’ll get this arrest warrant sent over as quickly as I can.  Agents, arrest the Sheriff and take him into custody.”

Natasha stepped around the Sheriff, removed his handcuffs from their holder on his utility belt, and cuffed his hands behind his back.  “Done,” she informed Nick.  “Thank you Director.”

“Well done.  Fury out.”  Nick disconnected the call before anyone could say anything to him.

“Let’s go inside and see if we can round up some duct tape,” Natasha suggested as she tugged on the Sheriff’s arm leading him toward the house.

Chapter Text

“It’s a big ass tree stump.”

It was telling that no one could argue with Quinn’s statement.  Because the Nemeton was a huge tree stump in the middle of the Preserve.  

“I have to admit that I’m underwhelmed,” Clint added needlessly.  

With a roll of his eyes, Loki made his way to the in-ground door to the root cellar beneath the tree.  When he opened the door he actually stumbled back a step, which caught the pack’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” Eliot asked first.

“Nothing is wrong, per say,” Loki told him, and the others.  “I was merely surprised by the amount of power in there.  I was expecting enough power for one Way, but I would estimate that most, if not all, realms have a Way under the Nemeton.”

“You keep saying ‘way’ like it should be capitalized,” Derek pointed out.  He knew he wasn’t the only pack member that had noticed.

“It is,” Loki answered.  “A Way is a place in the universe where the energies of two realms meet and crossing Yggdrasil is nearly instantaneous.  A Way allows travel without making use of the Bifröst.  The only place that I have ever heard that had access to all Nine Realms was guarded by the Norns.  If any found out about this unguarded convergence of Ways, there could be much unrest within the Nine Realms.”

“But the Jötnar traveled this way both coming and going.  Wouldn’t they have noticed?” Darcy pointed out.

“Possible, but unlikely,” Loki replied.  “Just as none of you noticed any difference, they would not have either.  It is through my seiðr that I was, and am, able to sense the power contained here.”

“How many Ways are there here?” Stiles wanted to know.

Loki carefully walked down the stairs into the root cellar.  The pack could hear him mumbling in a language that none of them recognized.  Minutes passed and then a bright white light flashed from below.  Eliot and Derek both moved to check on Loki when he stepped back up the stairs, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“What happened?” Derek demanded, still worried about his pack member and great-grandfather.

“I had to take down the illusion spells, thus the bright light,” Loki explained.  He looked around and saw all the worried looks.  “I am unharmed, I swear.  I am merely, I believe the phrase is, in shock.  There are eight doors down there.  This should be impossible; a convergence of Ways between all the realms here on Midgard.”

“Now that we know it’s here we’ll have to be extra diligent in patrolling and securing the area,” Eliot stated.  “But for now, do you know which door leads to Jötunheim?”

“I do,” Loki sounded, and looked, a little more grounded and stable.  “They are marked.”

“Good.  Then let’s go see your brothers,” the older Alpha suggested/ordered.

It had been several hours since the Sheriff had been arrested.  While Steve had taken Bucky upstairs to his room to shower, change, and for both of them to be out of sight; Stiles, Darcy, and Jane had driven Eliot’s truck into town to purchase heavy winter outerwear for everyone; while the remainder of the pack waited at the house for the Sheriff’s department to come pick up the now ex-Sheriff’s cruiser, utility belt, and badge. John was still wearing his department issued coat to keep him from immediately freezing to death the instant he set foot on Jötunheim, though the coat was not nearly as nice as the coats that the pack now had.

Stiles giggled to herself when every time she recalled what her pack and told her the deputies’ responses had been.  They had tried to pretend to be offended that their Sheriff had been arrested, but they were too happy and relieved to hide it very well.  Peter told her that John’s face looked so very betrayed by their responses.  She was sure that it made her a bad person for enjoying it, but she was too done with John to really care anymore.

Loki led the way, with the Sheriff toward the middle of the group, and Steve and Bucky bringing up the rear.  The extreme cold of the planet cut through each of them, except Loki, stealing their breath momentarily.  Loki waved his hand over the group and suddenly the air ceased to be so frozen.  They were by no means warm and comfortable, but they were at least able to breath easier.

Loki, now shifted into his Jötunn form, led the pack and prisoner from the cave in which they found themselves.  A few steps into the journey Bucky spoke up from the back.

“I hate the cold.”

“I know,” Steve confessed.  “I’m sorry that you have to endure it again, but we didn’t, I didn’t, want to leave you behind.  Not when we just got you back.”

Bucky took a hold of Steve’s hand, as best he could with the thick gloves.  “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but with the pack.  I was just stating for the record that I prefer my cold to, ya’ know . . . not be.”

Steve smiled softly at his old friend.  “I agree.  The winter back at home is wet and cool, but nowhere near what it was like growing up.”

“Good.”  The two walked hand in hand, though they continued to scan their surroundings for potential threats.

“Speaking of not liking the cold,” Stiles randomly piped up.  “Do we have any idea why Hydra pulled their Asset from cryo?”

“Yes,” came Natasha’s immediate response.  “I found a file indicating that he was to ‘question’ a biochemical engineer in Pakistan.”

“I assume by question you mean intimidate and interrogate,” Stiles responded.

“I mean extract the information by any means necessary,” the redhead replied.

“Thought as much.  We should let Nick know when we get back.  If Hydra thinks he knows something, Nick may want to keep an eye on him,” the younger woman suggested.

“Agreed,” Natasha stated.   

The rest of the trek was made in silence.  The snow on either side of their small path came up to Stiles’ mid-thigh, though only to the knees of her two grandfathers.  The journey took less than twenty minutes to reach the outer walls of the castle.  The group was met with minimal resistance, some Jötnar actually bowed slightly as the pack passed them.  Doors were automatically opened, leading them, ultimately, to the throne room where King Býleistr and Prince Helblindi met them with wide smiles.

“Brother Loki,” Býleistr greeted.  

Loki smiled softly, and nodded his head in respectful greeting.  “King Býleistr.”  The king’s smiled dimmed somewhat.

“Helblindi informed me that you were raised to hate our kind, but you are our brother; and as such will never bow to me any more than he does, nor will you ever need to stand on such ceremony.  So, please, little brother, call me Býleistr.” The king had stepped forward as he spoke, ending his speech directly in front of Loki.  He placed a hand on the younger’s shoulder and was pleased when it was not met with a flinch, derision, or a rebuke.

“Now,” the King looked directly into the eyes of his long lost brother.  “What brings you and your friends here?  What hospitality can the courts of Jötunheim offer to its lost prince and his Midgardian comrades?”

“In order to understand what we have to ask you I believe that we would need to begin the story at the beginning,” Loki informed his brothers.  Fur covered seats were offered to the pack, though Bucky remained standing over John, who was sitting on the icy floor.

The tale started with Loki being raised on Asgard, headed toward the werewolves being his descendents (especially the Hales), wound through Stiles’ bloodline and upbringing, brushing over Loki’s arrival in Midgard, mentioning the fact that they are all a pack, touching on Bucky’s rescue, ending on the Sheriff’s reveal of being Derek’s biological father.

The pack concluded the story with the request that John be imprisoned on Jötunheim, since werewolves and Super Soldiers were well hidden secrets on Midgard/Earth.

The two royal Jötnar glared at the human seated on the frozen floor.  “Any that Loki now considers family, we will also consider family.  Meaning that any offense to them is an offense to us and to the throne of Jötunheim.”

John’s already wide eyes open even more in fear.  For the first time, John looked scared instead of just annoyed.  He tried to scoot away from the group, but a harsh metal hand on his head held him still.  

“We would be more than willing to keep this degenerate in our dungeon for you,” Býleistr informed the pack.  “Though I cannot guarantee how long he will be able to survive the blissful cold of Jötunheim.”

“Whether he lives or not is not really high on our priority list,” Derek admitted.  “It is only that none of us wanted his blood on our hands, and he knows too many secrets to be kept in a prison on Earth.”

“We understand Nephew,” Helblindi told the Alpha.  “We’ll make sure that justice is met.”  The prince motioned to a few of the guards who bodily dragged the former Sheriff away through a door at the far end of the Throne Room.  The human tried to wiggle away and to scream, but the duct tape over his mouth prevented more than muffled sound, and to the strong Jötnar guards he was as weak as a child.

Once he was out of sight, Stiles turned to the royals, “Thank you for your assistance.”  She bowed her head in respect; for their title, for what they’d agreed to do for the pack, and due to being  Loki’s older brothers.  

“You are most welcome, young one,” Býleistr responded.  “I am most honored that you all chose to allow us to help you, and to trust us with your secrets.  We will strive to remain worthy of that trust.  However, I know that the climate of Jötunheim is not very hospitable to you all.  Though you are welcome to remain, and you are most welcome anytime, I feel that now would be the time to walk you back to the gateway between our realms.”

“Thank you Býleistr,” Loki spoke.  “As you can imagine, Sergeant Barnes in not overly fond of the cold.”  

“Of course,” the King answered as he led the pack and Helblindi out of the castle.  “I would like to arrange to come visit Midgard some time, if you are agreeable Brother.”

“We both would,” the Prince spoke from Loki’s other side.

“We are still in the process of expanding our home, so if you could wait until that is finished that would be much appreciated.”

“Of course,” the both agreed immediately, delighted that Loki hadn’t turned them down outright.

The brothers spoke fairly easily the entire time.  The pack was followed and flanked by the royal guard, though the guards seemed to be there for the pack’s protection and not protection from the pack.

With as well as things had gone on their first foray to another realm, as Stiles stepped through the Way back to the Nemeton, she had the beginnings of an idea she’d like to run past the pack that could change all of Yggdrasil itself.

Chapter Text

It had been eight long weeks since the pack’s trip to Jötunheim, and they’d all been very busy.  Everyone had moved into their cottage, with the exception of Steve and Bucky who chose to remain in the house close to Stiles.  Stiles and Derek had been getting closer since they found out that they were siblings.  Stiles had started to refer to Peter as Uncle Peter, and Derek had started to refer to Steve and Bucky as Papa and Дед (Grandfather), respectively.  

Jane’s lab had been finished and she and Derek had finally gotten everything up and running to her specifications.  Derek had quickly realized that while his degree in Mathematics was helpful, if her truly wanted to be of assistance to Jane in her research that he would have to further his education, so he started an online Masters of Mathematics program offered by MIT that he could take one class at a time.

After a long conversation with Darcy, it was decided that she would focus more on International Law instead of business, allowing her to use her Political Science degree more.  Thankfully, Peter offered to also attend law school with Darcy; with him already having an MBA it made a lot of sense for him to focus on Business and Contract Law and become the legal counsel for Voin Enterprises.

Natasha had been acting as the face for Voin Enterprises.  For some reason, people took her more seriously than they took Stiles.  Not to mention that Natasha’s ability to read people came in very handy to get the best response from whomever she was meeting with.  For example, just last week Natasha was able to wine and dine a few of the bigwigs at Berkeley and Berkeley's Law School, and after a few million dollars in donations to the alumni fund and the college of law itself, Darcy and Peter were admitted to the school (assuming they pass the LSATs), and would be able to study from home at their own speed.  So they would read the book for the class then have to visit the campus to take the cumulative final in the testing center, then they would be able to move on to the next class.  Which means that instead of the three years that it normally takes to get through law school, they should be done in about a year and a half.

Stiles had decided that Voin Enterprises should get new offices, so she found an abandoned bank in downtown Beacon Hills that was ten stories tall. It was currently undergoing renovations so that on the ground floor there was a reception desk, the Seshat Foundation, and a small coffee shop/cafe/bakery that would be open to the public as well as the offices. (It was a second location of a local shop that wanted to expand, but didn’t know if they could afford to.  So, Stiles (through Natasha) offered them the first year rent free and they could customize the space anyway they wanted on her dime, with a more than reasonable rent starting the second year if they chose to stay.  Of course, they accepted.)  The second floor housed both property management companies; residential on one side of the floor, and commercial on the other.  The third floor was the first of seven floors dedicated to Athena Technologies; housing their offices, a large conference room, and a large lab on half the floor.  In the center of the lab would be a glass office/break room that would be overseen by the lab manager for that particular floor (There would be a lab manager for each of the other R&D floors as well.  Darcy had pointed out that scientist are terrible at taking care of themselves when they get on lost in a Science!binge.).  The top level of the building would house the corporate offices of Voin Enterprises, which would include two large conference rooms, and a break room/kitchen.

Stiles had also purchased an abandoned warehouse in the industrial area of town, that was several stories tall, where she and Bucky could work on new ‘toys’ for the pack.  The first of which was them trying to build their own quinjet based off the blueprints that she’d taken from SHIELD (once they had one full size one built, they wanted to try a smaller one to fly to Berkeley and back).  The second was earpiece that would be permanent (surgically implanted), have Cobi, and a latent gps signal that could be turned on if the pack member was missing or in some kind of trouble.  Stiles also wanted to create better body armor for all of them, so that was pretty high on her to do list.  She ordered as much adamantium and vibranium as she could find on the black market.

Just over a week after getting back to Midgard Bucky had asked Eliot to make him officially part of the pack.  He was also shown the same videos that Steve had been to catch him up on the 21st Century.  Bucky finally decided that he wanted to study both Auto Mechanics and Mechanical Engineering, so Stiles got him a new identity (James Rogers) and enrolled him on online classes through NYU.  During the day they worked at the warehouse, and in the evening and weekend he studied.  Stiles decided that she wanted to learn Mechanical and Electrical Engineering so they were enrolled in the some of the same classes, although she didn’t have to take any general education classes that he will have to take.

Steve had decided to work on his art and try to sell it under his new name: Steve Barnes.  He also started learning more about architecture and drafting to see if that it something that he’d be interested in pursuing.

Eliot had wanted to open his own restaurant for years, so Stiles purchased a closed restaurant two doors down from the new Voin Enterprise building, and that was being remodeled to his specifications.  He would eventually hire and train other chefs, but for now it would be his baby.  He did contact Nate and asked if he had any suggestions as someone who owned a restaurant, but after listening to what Eliot had planned didn’t have much advice to offer other than, “Don’t let Hardison brew your beer.”

Loki had been splitting his time between assisting Jane, and Derek, in the lab by teaching them everything he knew about Yggdrasil and the Bifröst, and learning everything about every healing method known to man.  He’d read all the anatomy, physiology, biology, and genetics books that he could get his hands on.  He also watched every kind of medical procedure that he could; from dental to vision, from arthroscopic surgery to obstetrics.  He had decided for himself that he would become the pack healer/doctor.  His use of seiðr made him just that much more effective.

Stiles was still trying to design a cottage that would be big enough and cold enough for Loki’s brothers to come visit, but the necessary cold was throwing a wrench into the electrical and plumbing designs.  She was hoping her online classes would help her solve those problems.

Quinn and Clint were on guard duty for the Nemeton and the large complex being built around it.  One of the first things that Stiles did after coming back to Midgard was to hack in the federal land ownership database and transfer ownership of that area of the preserve to Voin Enterprises, with easement rights through the Hale property (which reach farther back into the preserve than Stiles’ land did).  Loki had put the illusion back up so that under the Nemeton looked like the root cellar again so that no construction worker would see what it really was.  

Due to the sheer size and intricacy of the complex, it would take more than a year to finish.  Once it was done, there would be a housing unit/apartment for up to ten representatives (or actually one delegate and multiple assistants) from each of the nine realms, including Midgard.  The conference table would have ten sides, with one used by a moderator/mediator (which is where Darcy and her degree came in).  The side for Jötunheim would have several cooling fans, and the side for Muspelheim would have several heaters.  The other sides should be fine with the humans' room temperature.  The goal for the complex was that there would be a forum for all the Realms to address their grievances and concerns that would not immediately end in war, and would hopefully end in peace throughout Yggdrasil (although as long as Odin sat on the throne of Asgard Stiles didn’t think that would be possible).

On top of all their other chosen duties, the pack still trained daily; even Jane and Darcy had to learn basic self defense by learning Tai Chi.  Jane was finally convinced when they showed her study after study that having a physically fit body benefitted the brain and made it run more efficiently.  Since Tai Chi could be taught as a slow moving meditation, which when done faster was a very effective martial art, the pack decided to teach that to Jane and Darcy.  Darcy also started doing Yoga with Stiles and Natasha every morning.

Derek and Peter were rapidly improving their skills and finding which techniques work best for them.  With all of the different fighting styles within the pack, everyone had something they could teach and something that they could learn.  When Clint found out that hunters like to use arrows, he spent a lot of time with each member, wolves especially, in evading and catching his arrows (“If you can catch mine you can definitely catch theirs”).  Eliot taught knife throwing, while Bucky taught knife combat.  Natasha, Clint, Quinn, and Steve helped continue firearms training.  Bucky and Clint had begun to teach Stiles and Peter how to be a sniper/sharpshooter, since they were the only ones patient enough to sit still like sniper should.

*~*~*

Eight weeks back on Midgard and Clint approached Eliot.  “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” the Alpha responded and led the archer up to the third floor library.  After they both got comfortable, “What’s up?”

“I’ve spoken at length with Quinn, he’s answered every question that I’ve had and several that I didn’t even think to ask.  But now I know for sure; I want to become a werewolf.  I’d like for you to give me the bite.”

Eliot was surprised, to say the least.  Of all the topics for Clint to bring up, Eliot had not thought that this would be it.  “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this.  You said that you’ve talked this over with Quinn, but I need to ask you a few questions.  I need you to be completely honest with me.  Your conscious mind may have decided, but it’s possible that your unconscious mind my still have questions or concerns.”

Clint nodded.  “I understand.  Ask away.”

“Are you aware that the bite could kill you?”  Eliot asked first.

“Yes,” Clint answered succinctly, with no change in his heartbeat.

“If your body rejects the bite, it will be excruciating.  Your internal organs will begin to boil and melt, you’ll cough up black blood.  Are you willing to risk that?”

“Yes.”  Again, no aberration in his heartbeat.

“That means that Quinn will most like choose to kill you to put you out of your misery.  Is that a task that you would willingly ask of him?”

“I would never willingly ask Quinn to do that, but it is something that he has volunteered for and agreed to do.”

“It will probably take a few weeks to get control of your shift, but during the full moon is a whole other story.  Are you prepared to have the wolf take over completely?”

“Yes.  I know that it will take time to learn control, especially during the full moon, but I trust this pack to be able to keep me from doing anything stupid or hurting anyone.”

“I’m going to ask this one time.  Are you certain that you want to be a werewolf?”

“Yes.”  There was no hesitation in Clint’s answer, nor was there any uptick or stutter in his heart.

“Alright then.  However, this decision doesn’t affect just you and me, this affects the entire pack.  So, after dinner I’ll call a pack meeting and we’ll allow them to take a vote.  Are you willing to live with their decision?”

“I am.”

The two made their way back downstairs and didn’t mention it the rest of the day.  During dinner Eliot asked for a pack meeting to be held in the theater room after dinner.  The prospect of Clint becoming a wolf was put to a vote, and as Eliot suspected, they unanimously supported his decision.  It was decided that since the full moon was next week, Eliot would bite Clint two days after that to give him the most time to get accustomed to his new form before his first full moon.

Chapter Text

Steve stepped into the Theater Room and closed the door behind him.

“Cobi, could you please connect a video call to Director Fury?”  The Super Soldier asked the computer.

“Of course, sir,” Cobi replied.  “Please stand by.”  It only took a few moments before Nick’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello Director,” Steve greeted.

“Captain.  Is everything okay there?”  Nick had never received a video call from the pack that wasn’t initiated by his goddaughter and the fact that she wasn’t in the room worried him more than he cared to admit.

Steve offered a small smile.  “Yes, sir.  Everything’s just fine here.”  He reassured the Director.  “I just wanted to speak with you about the packet of information that you sent me; about the Avengers Initiative.”  

Nick sat back in his chair, relieved that nothing was wrong, per say.  But the look on the Super Soldier’s face didn’t bode well for the conversation ahead.

“I’m not going to like what you have to say, am I?”  Nick cut to the chase.

“That depends on your perspective,” Steve confessed.  “I think it’s good news, and you might take it either way; possibly both.”

“Go on then,” Nick encouraged the technically-older man.

“As far as the world is concerned, Steve Rogers died in that plane crash.  If anyone asks, you found his body and he was finally laid to rest in a private ceremony.  But you have his shield back.  You should pass it on.  Pass on the mantle and title of Captain America.”

Nick took a deep breath.  It was basically what he’d expected as soon as he’d seen Rogers’ face.  Truth be told, he hadn’t anticipated Steve suggesting creating a new Captain.  That actually had possibilities.

“I’ve spoken at length with the pack about this decision and it was unanimous that we’d still help however we can, but from the shadows.  I’m the only person in the pack that’s ever worked in the spotlight, but even I never liked it.  We’re a pack of trained mercenaries, spies, assassins, and supernatural beings.  We feel more comfortable, and work better, in the shadows and behind the scenes.”

Nick thought for a few moments before he spoke.  “I can’t pretend that I’m not disappointed that you’re turning down the spot in the Avengers Initiative, but I do understand your reasons for doing so.  I can admit that I’m glad that Stiles will have you around to watch her back; not that she’ll need it, but it’s still reassuring.  What about Barton and Romanoff?”

On cue, the doors to Theater Room opened and in sauntered the two agents.

“Director,” they greeted the man in unison.

“Agents,” Nick acknowledged.  “Have you made a decision about the Avengers Initiative?”

“We have, Director,” Natasha answered, then turned her head slightly toward Clint.

“I respectfully decline the offer,” Clint stated sounding slightly nervous.  “I, also, hereby tender my resignation, effective immediately.”

“As do I,” Natasha added before Nick had even had a chance to react.

Nick was stunned into silence.  Not only was he losing Captain America, but he was losing the Black Widow and Hawkeye.  How had this happened?  They were two of his most loyal agents, and they were now willing to leave SHIELD and stay with a werewolf pack in the middle of nowhere California?  He shook his head to clear it before he was able to speak.

“May I ask why?”

Instead of answering with words Clint flashed his now Beta Blue eyes toward the large screen.  Nick was so surprised that he actually sucked in a gasp of air.

“How?” He nearly demanded.  All he knew was that it better have been consensual, or whoever did wouldn’t live to see tomorrow.

“I asked for it,” Clint answered succinctly.  “I’ve already made it through my first full moon, and Eliot and Derek are impressed with my control.  But I can’t leave now.  This is my pack, my home, my family. My duty is to stay here and help protect them and our territory; which, in case you have forgotten, includes eight trans-galactic doorways.  I’d say that’s fairly important.  Wouldn’t you?”  Clint ended on a sarcastic note.

Nick scrubbed his hand down his face then turned his attention toward the female on the screen, not bothering to answer Clint’s rhetorical question.

“That explains Barton, but what about you?”

Natasha squared her shoulders toward the Director on the screen.  “I may not be a wolf, and with my version of the Serum the bite would most likely be rejected and end up killing me, but everything else that Clint said applies to me as well.  I still have red in my ledger, but I have finally found a family that doesn’t judge me because of it and many of them understand because they have red in theirs as well.”

“What if I assigned you both permanently to the Nemeton?” Fury asked in a last ditch effort.

“If you assigned us to the Nemeton, it would first have to officially exist,” Natasha explained.  “Right now it doesn’t officially exist so that the wrong people don’t try to come in and take control of it.  Currently, you have unrestricted access to it, but that might change if others found out about it.  At least let us finish the complex around it and get the council set up first before you make it officially exist.”

Nick buried his face in both his hands for a moment while he thought.  He hated the fact that they were right.  There were still too many Hydra agents inside SHIELD to make the Nemeton an official thing.  Also, he needed to keep his goddaughter safe and unknown to Hydra, the same for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.  

Nick let out a heavy sigh.  “Fine.”  He really hated to admit defeat.  “I accept your resignations, effective immediately.”

“I’ll reimburse SHIELD for all their gear,” Stiles piped up as she walked into the Theater Room, with the rest of the pack following her.  “Also, I’ll pay for the quinjet that’s here, because we are totally keeping that.”  She grinned at her godfather.

“Kid, that’s a twelve million dollar plane,” Nick huffed in disbelief.

“Cobi, you heard the man,” Stiles called as she tilted her face toward the ceiling.  “I need twelve million put into whichever department pays for the quinjets.  Make sure the transaction is anonymous and untraceable.  Also, put another two million into the weapons and gear budget, and an additional five million into the personnel training budget.”

Nick stared, gobsmacked, at his goddaughter, unable to respond or utter a word.

“Transactions complete, Miss,” came the reply from the speakers in the ceiling.

“Thank you Cobi,” Stiles chirped.  She then turned her mega-watt grin toward the large screen.  “Does that cover all the costs?”

Nick nodded dumbly before his finally shook his head to clear it.  “More than covers it, kid.”

“Perfect,” she responded happily.  “I really didn’t set out to try to take your agents from you Nick.  But I’m not sorry that they’re here and part of our pack.  And like Papa said, we will still be willing to help, just from the shadows.  We’ll also make sure that the Nemeton is safe and that no one can use it, to either come in or go out, without our permission.”

Nick nodded his head, resigned to the fact that this was how things were going to be now.  “Alright,” he sighed.  “Is there anything else?”  The pack all shook their heads or responded in the negative.  “Then I’ll talk with you all later.”

“Bye Uncle Nicky!” Stiles called out, a grin on her face.  Nick couldn’t help but have his mouth twitch into a small smile.

“Bye kid.”  He then ended the call without any fanfare.

“So,” Stiles drug the word out to make it several syllables long.  “You three are unfettered from any and all official responsibility now.  How do ya’ feel?”  She looked between her Papa, Clint, and her Aunt Nat (she’d been calling Peter her uncle and jokingly called Natasha by Aunt Nat, and when the older women smiled at it Stiles decided to keep calling her that).

“Free,” Nat responded almost immediately.  “For the first time in my life I feel utterly and completely free.”  She looked as if the weight of the world was no longer on her shoulders.  Peter wrapped her in his strong arms and she tucked her head under his chin.

“Same,” Clint added.  Quinn slipped his hand into Clint’s and the two men smiled knowingly at each other.

“Natasha’s right,” Steve stated.  “Free is really the best way to describe it.  For the first time in my life, I get to just be myself.” He pulled Bucky to him and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.

Stiles looked around the room at her pack - her family - and she knew that no matter what the world, or the universe, threw at them that they would get through it because they had each other.  She finally looked forward to the future knowing that she’d never be alone again.

*~*~*

THE END