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Peter turned back towards the teen, the mangled keys hanging limply from his fingers. “Do you want the bite?”
“What?” Stiles did a double-take, confusion furrowing his brow.
Peter paused, the idea making more sense the longer he thought about it. “Do. You. Want. The. Bite?”
He reached out and snagged Stiles’ wrist. He could smell the sharp tang of fear muddled with the boys’ confusion as he pulled the wrist closer to his fangs. Stiles took a half step forward when Peter tugged lightly. He could hear the boy’s heart beating hummingbird fast. It was something he’d noticed peripherally, like hearing the refrigerator running.
“No,” Stiles stuttered. “I don’t want to be like you.”
Peter’s ears twitched, a small, feral smile pulling the corner of his lips up. “You know what I heard right then? Your heart beating slightly faster on the words ‘I don’t want’.”
Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, embarrassment like bitter lemons stinging Peter’s nose. The wolf frowned as he leaned against the car, watching the teen. He didn’t want Stiles to be forced into this. He needed the teen to willingly submit.
“Why?”
“Why?” Stiles parroted, clutching his wrist to his thin chest.
“Yes, why? You’ve obviously thought about it and to be quite honest, I like you a hell of a lot more than your friend McCall.” He looked Stiles up and down, for once free of the leering and innuendo even as he took a deep breath. “I was aiming for you in the woods that night,” he said with an easy shrug. “With your quick wit and loyalty, you’d be an amazing wolf. And just think, no more being second place to McCall, or anyone else. You’d be better than them.”
“And a murdering psychopath,” Stiles quipped back angrily as he remembered Laura’s torn body.
Peter grimaced. “Not my finest hour, I will admit; but think of it Stiles, if you and my nephew really want to keep me in line, wouldn’t it be easier if you could actually restrain me? If you were able to sense my intentions?”
Stiles narrowed his eyes at the older man. He sounded sincere, but then again, he’d ruthlessly killed his nurse without a change in his tone either.
“Derek doesn’t trust you,” Stiles said. “I don’t trust you.”
Peter nodded in understanding, “That’s because you’re smart. You don’t trust until you have all the details, but you do believe. You make intuitive leaps faster and more accurately than anyone I’ve ever met. More importantly, you have no problem getting your hands dirty should there be a need.”
“Explain.”
Peter sighed. He tapped the trunk of the car and raised a single eyebrow. “Other than the issue with my…methodology, you didn’t have an issue with me getting rid of the nurse…”
“She was a murdering hunter who was poisoning you. That isn’t right,” Stiles objected.
Peter smiled at Stiles. “Exactly.”
He grimaced, he really hadn’t meant to kill his niece, he just felt Alpha and pain and was let loose like a wild animal. He couldn’t do much about that, not right now, but he could move forward. “I did something horrible with Laura and I will have to deal with Derek over that, but I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.”
“So, you didn’t mean to kill your niece for her powers? Because it sure as hell looks like it from where I’m standing.”
“Look, I like you Stiles, but you don’t have the faintest idea what I’ve been through,” he growled warningly.
Stiles took an aggressive step forward. “Really? You didn’t feel betrayed and abandoned? You didn’t think, even once, ‘why did they leave me here to die’? Because I know they left you here under your real name.”
Peter’s eyes flashed and he snarled, pushing himself off the car angrily. “Don’t test me, Stiles.”
“Dude, all I do is test people. You should realize this before anymore talk about sharp fangs and my delicate skin.”
“What do you want me to say? That I am beyond pissed at them? That they left me here to rot - to die – and that for six years I’ve been locked inside my own mind replaying the worst night of my life? Is that what you want?!”
Stiles stared him straight in the eye and said, “Yes.”
Peter flinched back as if he’d been slapped. “What?”
“I want you to acknowledge that what happened sucked and that Laura and Derek fucked up. I want you to acknowledge that some part of you wanted to hurt them. But Peter,” Stiles took a step closer to the older man; Peter looking like he’d been kicked in the teeth with every word Stiles uttered. “You have to let it go. Laura was nineteen. Derek was sixteen. She had no idea what was happening and ran away terrified the hunters were going to come after them. Derek had suffered through weeks of abuse and then the fire…knowing she got the information from him… you can’t blame him for not fighting against Laura. A terrified, traumatized kid would have put all his faith and trust, whatever he had left by then, in his big sister.”
Peter swallowed back a quick retort, one of the words catching his ear. “What do you mean, traumatized?”
Stiles blinked, “Uh…you don’t know?”
“Know what, Stiles?” Peter said on a growl.
“Kate. She posed as a teacher at the high school. Came on to him while he was still dealing with Paige’s death. She seduced him. Raped and abused him all while telling him she loved him. Total Stockholm Syndrome.”
Peter took a wavering step backwards. Part of him wanted to shake Derek until his teeth rattled and part of him wanted to pull him into a hug and never let him go. He wondered, briefly, if Laura had felt the same way. Taking a shuddering breath, he glanced up at the teen. Stiles had come closer - was within striking distance, if he’d been so inclined - but there was something about the boy that made Peter’s wolf…not sane, but a little calmer.
“How do you know all this?”
Stiles dipped his head and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground. “I might have, possibly, hacked into my dad’s files.” He glanced up, eyes flashing with a faint orange flicker that Peter sucked in a sharp breath at. “And I’m not an idiot. I see how Derek reacts to touch. How he doesn’t trust anyone, even when he should. Classic abuse victimology. That and he told me. Well, he told me a few things, not that exactly, but a little about Paige and what blue eyes means and his devastation at loosing Laura, his fear for losing you and even that stupid ‘we’re brothers now’ comment to Scott.” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Scott’s never going to see him as a brother, not while he thinks killing you will make him human again.”
He turned calculating eyes to Peter, who seemed positively enthralled with how Stiles had connected the various threads. “It won’t, will it? He’s going to be a wolf from now on, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Peter said succinctly. “Killing me would only pass along the Alpha Spark, which would make his wolf harder to control.”
“Does an Alpha always look like you do? All twisted and stuff?”
Peter chose not to take the comment as insulting, even though it kind of was. “No. I have…issues. The poison is still in my system.”
“You’re still a psychopath.”
Peter shrugged. “I’d considered myself more borderline at the moment.”
Stiles snorted, even as the tension bled slowly out of him. “Which one are you missing?”
“I can distinguish between right and wrong; I just don’t care. I suppose, technically, I’d be placed within the fanatic’s category.”
“So, if you killed everyone involved in the fire (minus Derek, because I will kick your ass if you try to blame him again), would you chill the hell out?”
Peter hummed thoughtfully. He could just lie to the boy, but this verbal sparring was the most fun he’d had in years and he found that he really didn’t want to. “You realize most would lie to you, correct?”
“And you realize I’m the son of a cop and exceptionally well-versed in knowing a bullshit answer when I hear it, right?”
Peter barked out a laugh, amused at the bravado despite himself. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Am I mad at Derek, yes. Do I want to kill him for being so stupid? No.” He sighed deeply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “There were five adults in the Pack and none of us figured it out. That means we’re just as negligent as he was. Probably more, since he was so young.”
“And Lydia? Or the others? Are you going to go around biting anymore dysfunctional teens, because that’s like shooting yourself in the foot, dude.”
“Well, McCall was a mistake, as I said. Miss Martin was a strategic move, should my dear nephew manage to kill me, but as long as that doesn’t happen, I have no intention of hurting her again.”
“Why did you?”
“You haven’t figured out what she is yet?” Peter asked surprised.
Stiles gave him a flat look. “Not exactly been quiet enough for me to research with homicidal Alphas and murdering Hunters running around trying to kill me, you know.”
“Ah, well, I suppose I can give you a pass. She’s a banshee.”
Stiles blinked, staring off into the parking lot. “Huh. That, actually makes a lot of sense.”
“She’s immune to the bite, but it would still activate her powers.”
Stiles grimaced even as he shot Peter a pissed off glare. “And that required you to maul her? You couldn’t have just done what you were going to do to me?”
“Miss Martin didn’t stand still.”
“Not good enough, Hale.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine, she ran, okay. She screamed and she ran.”
“Why would…” his eyes widened in understanding. “Prey. Your wolf saw her as prey.”
“Yes, though it’s not something I’m proud of.”
“Shit. And Jackson?”
“I didn’t bite him,” Peter said surprised.
“No, but you clawed the hell out of him, dude. He’s in the hospital with Lydia,” Stiles gave Peter a confused glance. Watching in concern as the older man stood up straight.
“He’s not.”
“Uh, yeah, he is. They both look like mummies.”
Peter snatched Stiles’ wrist and dragged him back towards the elevator heading into the hospital.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“I need to see them. They shouldn’t still be injured.”
“And I’m coming along, why? Also, you know Derek’s going to find you if you stay here.”
“Do you care about me after all, sweetheart?”
Stiles gagged; his face overly exaggerated in horrified disgust. “Don’t call me that. And no, not about you, I just don’t want to get in the middle of another fight between you and the Sourwolf.”
Peter chuckled, “Oh Stiles. I do so enjoy how your mind works.”
“Why does that not feel like a complement?” the teen muttered, jerking on his wrist to no avail. Sure, he could scream, but for some reason, he didn’t fear Peter the way he had. The dude was nuts, no doubt, but Stiles was pretty sure that was just his baseline personality.
“What did you do, before?” he asked as they quickly moved through the halls, avoiding cameras and nurses much easier than Stiles had ever been able to thanks to wolfy senses.
“Hmmm?”
“In the Pack, there’s like a hierarchy and jobs and stuff, right? So, what was yours?”
Peter paused by Lydia’s room and glanced over his shoulder. “I was the Left Hand.” He watched as all the blood drained from Stiles’ face. “I see you’ve come across that in your reading.”
Stiles nodded hesitantly. He cleared his throat a few times before he finally asked, “Are you really crazy or is it just part of the job?”
Peter tilted his head like a puppy as he thought about what Stiles was really asking. “That’s a bit of a chicken and the egg sort of thing,” he finally answered, pushing the door to Lydia’s room open and pulling Stiles in behind him.
He dropped the boy’s wrist and turned to the young banshee. The teen was right, her wounds were excessive and not healing. He frowned; they should have started healing by now. He leaned in close to sniff her neck, then her IV, grimacing when he caught the taint of propofol, the drug would induce and sustain a coma, but he knew it interfered with some supernatural abilities. He turned off the drip and lifted a small wrist.
“What are you doing?” Stiles hissed, coming up beside him swiftly; hands up like he’d push Peter away.
“The drug is interfering with her healing. I need to bite her again to fix it.”
“Peter,” Stiles warned, his voice dropping to a low growl even a wolf would be proud of. “If you’re lying…”
“I’m not. It was never my intention to do…” he waved at Lydia’s prone form, “this. This is beyond even my cruelty.”
His eyes flickered between the banshee and Stiles’. He waited, watching Stiles bite his lower lip and then blow out a breath. The boy slipped around to the other side of the bed and picked up Lydia’s hand, holding tightly. There was that strange little flicker of orange in the amber eyes when he locked eyes with Peter and nodded.
Peter didn’t hesitate. He bit cleanly, and if Miss Martin had been awake, she’d have felt very little pain, as he drained it even as he pushed his intent to heal through their bond. He didn’t remove his connection, even if he could get Stiles on his side, which was seeming more likely every minute he didn’t call his nephew, he wouldn’t give up an ace in the pocket. The banshee was his divine move after all.
Stiles watched Peter like a hawk. Why he was going along with this craziness, he hadn’t the slightest idea, but there was something inside him pushing for him to try and fix Peter. Well, maybe not fix him, but temper his more destructive tendencies. Especially now that he knew he’d basically been the Hale Pack’s in-house assassin; of course he was going to be a bit off-center being raised to do that job.
After a few minutes the worst of the cuts seemed to be a little less raw looking. Peter’s fangs slid free. He removed the largest of the bandages, three deep claw marks across her stomach, and watched as they slowly knit back together. He used his claws to remove the stitches as the skin healed.
“She’ll be okay now?” Stiles asked worriedly. Peter could smell the boy’s cautious optimism, his hope and a lingering scent of, not arousal, but definite interest, when he looked at the girl and wanted to roll his eyes. Teenagers.
“She’ll heal. I’m going to remove a few more of the stitches, before the skin heals over, then I want to see Jackson.”
“He’s down the hall,” Stiles answered easily as he brushed the hair out of Lydia’s face. Peter wondered if Stiles even realized he was doing it.
It took just moments to finish and move on to Jackson, who was in an odd sort of in between state, neither unconscious nor conscious. Peter could see his eyes flickering between yellow and gold as the teen tracked their movements across the room.
“Shit,” Stiles muttered sharply. He quickly crossed the room, going straight to Jackson’s side and placed his hand on the boy’s forehead. “Jackson?” he muttered softly. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to get your doctor?”
Peter watched as the faint impression of scales slid up Jackson’s throat as the teen tracked him and their disappearance at Stiles’ touch. Considering the two boys loudly proposed to hate each other, it was more than telling. Peter stepped closer, the scales becoming more obvious. He laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.
“Jackson,” he said slowly. “If you can understand me, your transformation is going wrong.”
“Wrong?!” Stiles yelped, turning to Peter, even as his hand clenched protectively on the boy’s hair.
“Yes, it happens sometimes.”
“Why? And what does it mean? Can you fix it?”
Peter pursed his lips. “There are normally only two things that happen when a person is bit, or, in this case, clawed. They either become a wolf or they reject the bite and die. But sometimes, there’s an issue within the recipient. The bite brings forth who the person really is. If there is confusion over this, sometimes the person transforms into something called a kanima.”
“And that is?”
“Basically, a giant lizard that can be controlled by someone stronger than it. But,” he cut off Stiles impending panic attack quickly, “but we’ve caught it in time. Another bite will solidify the wolf in him and we won’t need to worry about Jackson losing himself.”
“Do it,” Stiles said quickly, then held up a hand. “Wait.” He turned to Jackson, leaning in until he was dangerously close to slit yellow eyes and a cheek covered in scales.
“Jackson, can you hear me?” when the eyes closed and opened again slowly, Stiles continued. “I know this isn’t great, man, and tomorrow you can go back to kicking my ass, but for right now, I need you to trust me. I think I know why it didn’t work right and you need to know that is not on you. You’re an ass, sure, but David and Claire love you. They’ve been here constantly.” Those yellow eyes flickered to gold for several long seconds as Stiles spoke.
“Trust me, Jax,” he whispered. “Just this once, trust me and let Peter bite you. Let him finish the transformation and then you can go home and things will be back to normal.”
Jackson held his eyes for a few more minutes before he sighed softly, the tension draining out of him. Stiles never looked away. “Do it,” he told Peter, who had a contemplative look on his face as he thought about what Stiles had said.
His fangs slid in easy, with just a minor twinge of pain from Jackson, though the teen did lean slightly into Stiles’ hand where it lay against his cheek. Peter knew the bite would take correctly this time.
When the wounds started to close, Jackson opened his eyes enough to nod to both men before he fell asleep, his heartbeat slow and steady.
“Come on,” Peter said softly, not wanting to wake the boy. He could feel the two new bonds in his chest and knew his wolf was more settled because of it.
“Where now?” Stiles said faintly, letting the other man pull him along again. God, he was exhausted.
“Home. Well, your home. We still need to deal with Derek and McCall after all.”
Stiles groaned. “You remember my dad’s the Sheriff, right? And you’re supposed to be in a coma?”
“Well, miracles happen, I’m sure the Sheriff would be please to see one in person.”
Stiles let out a hysterical giggle. “No. No way, we’re not going to my place.”
“We are,” Peter said, prodding the teen into the passenger seat of the car he’d shoved the body into.
“There’s a dead body in your trunk,” Stiles hissed, trying to push back. “We are not driving that to my house!”
“Well, I destroyed your keys, though I suppose I could hotwire it.”
“No! No, hotwiring Roscoe. God, what is it with you Hales and trying to destroy my baby?”
He shoved himself free of the wolf, then immediately turned around and started scrubbing at the doorframe with his shirt sleeve.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting rid of fingerprints. Both of ours,” he grimaced, moving to the handle and then to the trunk. “When they find this thing, the first thing they’re going to do is run the tag and check for prints. I don’t want to have to lie to my dad about why mine are on it.”
“Huh, very smart. Alright, when you’re done, we’ll go,” he said dismissively as he walked over and hopped into the passenger seat of the jeep. Stiles growled under his breath.
After using the extra key he had hidden in the spare tire, he grudgingly took them back to his place. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else he could go and Lord knew where Derek had gone off to.
“Okay, look,” he said after locking his bed room door. “I appreciate what you did for Lydia and Jackson and I get you wanting revenge, but you cannot just run around killing people.”
“Of course, I can,” Peter said blankly. “I’m the Alpha.”
“That doesn’t mean shit when the cops get involved!” Stiles snarled, flopping himself onto his bed. “My dad is already connecting the dots. He knows the two men you murdered were involved in the fire. And Scott and I might have thought it was Derek who killed Laura at first, but that was before I figured out who she was. I finally, finally, got dad to clear Derek for that, but if you keep killing off obvious suspects, he’s going to go back to the top of the Most Wanted list and that man’s resting bitch face is way to murder looking to survive that again.”
Peter chuckled as he took a seat in the wingback chair in the corner of the room. “You know Stiles, I can’t decide if you like or hate my nephew.”
Stiles’ face went crimson and his scent turned a twisted mess of arousalfearmortification. “I don’t hate him, but he is kind of an ass. Like someone else I know,” he said pointedly.
Peter smirked, now the boy’s reaction to the banshee made sense. He was attracted to both and he definitely had a type – terrifying, gorgeous, and intelligent. Well, he could have worst taste, Peter thought amusedly.
“Alright then, what do you suggest?”
Stiles hopped up and grabbed his laptop from the desk and then flopped back onto the bed. “So far, you’ve killed Garrison Myers and Todd Avery. Myers was the insurance agent that signed off on the ‘faulty wiring’ ruling and Todd Avery was a clerk at the District Attorney’s that pushed for the then Sheriff to drop the case. Do you know who else was involved?”
Peter nodded, “Two men, Reddick and Unger who Kate had set the fire, and Adrian Harris.”
“My a.hole chem teacher?” Stiles asked surprised.
“He told Kate how to start a magnesium fire.”
“Oh shit,” Stiles whispered, horrified. “Is that why it was such a disaster? Because you can’t use water on magnesium.”
Peter’s lips curved up in a snarl. “And it burns at over 2000 degrees Fahrenheit.”
“That explains the notes in the fire report,” Stiles muttered to himself. “So, Harris, Unger and Reddick, and Kate, those are the ones left?”
“Yes.”
Stiles bit the nail of his thumb. “I know Harris’s schedule. He’s gone right after school unless he’s given out a detention.”
“Mr. Harris will not be a problem,” Peter said easily. “The hardest part of dealing with him is making sure you won’t be implicated.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Because the person most often in said detention is you and everyone knows how much you hate him.”
“Because he’s a douche.”
“I’m not arguing with you, Stiles, I’m just saying that when we kill him, you need to be somewhere else and quite visible.”
“Wait, if we know all this, why are we killing him? I can plant the right information for my dad and he can arrest the jerk.”
“For the same reason you can’t be involved. There’s a known bias, so if the Sheriff was called in by his son…”
“Then the evidence will look tainted, yeah, okay, I get that but…”
“Stiles, I don’t think you’ve quite grasped that these people will die. I am going to kill them one way or another.”
“Then what is the point of even telling me all of this?” Stiles huffed.
“Because you’re smart. If there is a way to do this without getting you or the Sheriff involved, I need to know it.”
“Yeah, but why? Why do you care if we’re involved or not?”
Peter stood and walked over to the teen. He stared down into Stiles’ whiskey-brown eyes, his own flaring a vibrant red and waited.
Stiles stared at Peter, the red-glow of the Alpha eyes disconcerting. He didn’t know what Peter was waiting for until he heard the scrape of the window opening and Derek’s deep growl.
“Derek, no!” he yelled, shoving himself between Peter and Derek, his hands out to try and stop the beta from ripping Peter apart.
A bright flash of orange light flared up, slamming the wolf into the wall and pinning him there even as Stiles was thrown backwards into Peter, who caught the boy with clawed hands. Peter pulled Stiles behind him, his red eyes running over the boy looking for injury. There was a faint line of pink across his left cheek, but nothing too worrying.
“What the hell?!” Derek snarled, pushing against the bonds of light.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” Peter said cautiously, ignoring his thrashing nephew.
“Peter?” Stiles’ voice wavered, fear spiking his scent with a bitter burnt sugar smell that had both wolves’ noses wrinkling in distaste. “What’s happening to me?”
Peter lifted Stiles’ chin with two fingers. The teen’s eyes were a vibrant, glowing orange. The scent of burnt rubber and petrichor filled the room.
“You’re a Spark, darling.”
“A what?”
“A Spark. A magic user.”
“I…” Stiles looked to Derek, who had stopped struggling and was now staring at him with a look of confusion and awe. “No, I can’t be. I’m just me, the human side-kick to Scott and Derek and you.”
Peter snorted. “You were never just the human side-kick, Stiles. I’ve watched you all. Scott couldn’t wipe his own ass without you telling him how. Miss Martin and Jackson would still be dying in the hospital if you hadn’t gotten me to them in time. And Derek…” Peter glanced at his nephew, a frown furrowing his brow. “Well, we obviously need to talk.”
“What the hell, Stiles?” Derek spat. “You knew he was the Alpha and you still went after him?!”
Stiles’ orange eyes flashed. “Don’t even start, Derek! He dragged my ass off the field to show me his dead nurse! I didn’t willing walk myself into the wolf’s den, asshole.”
“Now, now, boys,” Peter said, pressing a hand against Stiles’ chest to get him to back down. “First things, first, Stiles, you need to make your eyes stop glowing.” He tilted his head in thought. “And maybe release Derek while you’re at it.”
“Only if he stops blaming me for shit I had nothing to do with.”
“You’re the one who got me arrested!” Derek yelled.
“And I got you released too! So, I’m sorry I found you in a compromising position and let Scott tell my dad, but maybe if you used your fucking words and stopped trying to bash my head against the wall every five seconds, I might actually be able to apologize and tell you that I got kidnapped…again!”
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant by releasing Derek,” Peter muttered when his nephew’s body was picked up and slammed into the wall once more before the bonds disappeared.
Stiles flicked them both off before throwing himself into his wingback chair and crossing his arms defiantly. Derek might be hot, but he was a total ass.
Peter wasn’t sure if Stiles realized he’d muttered that last thought out loud or not, but by Derek’s bright pink ears and the sudden spike of embarrassed arousal, Peter knew he was in for an angst-riddled future with these idiots in his Pack.
“Alright, nephew, we obviously need to discuss a few matters…”
“Like why you killed Laura?!”
Peter huffed out a long-suffering sigh and resisted rolling his eyes. He knew without Stiles’ commentary that such a move would not be helpful.
“As I told our little Spark. I wasn’t in my right mind when I fought Laura.” He held up a hand to stop the rant he knew was coming. “I’m not going to say I didn’t know it was her, or what I was doing, but I wasn’t exactly understanding what I was doing either.”
Derek’s face contorted in confusion before he finally glanced around his uncle to look at Stiles with one brow raised in inquiry.
The teen snorted. “Dude was out of his mind in pain and wolfsbane and mistletoe. He felt an Alpha but didn’t realize it was Laura until they were already fighting, then his wolf got pissed because you all left him here to rot after the fire without any bonds or support. So, he didn’t know, but once he did, he didn’t stop,” he shrugged. “He’s also not sure if he’d have stopped if he’d been drug-free, so he can’t give you those assurances, but he’d like to think he would.”
Derek gave him another look.
“I’m not sure. I think he’d have stopped, if he’d been like he is now. He stopped Jackson from turning into a kanima and kick-started Lydia’s banshee abilities to heal her earlier tonight, so I think he’s doing better, but he still plans on killing everyone involved with the fire, so who knows.”
Derek turned wide eyes to Peter. “Kanima and banshee?”
“Yes. Apparently, I scratched Jackson too deep and he was starting to turn.” Peter turned towards Stiles. “Now that I think about it, it was only because of you that I was able to complete the Pack bond properly.”
Stiles scrunched up his face. “What?”
“Your eyes glowed with both of them. When I had to push my intent with Lydia and when you told Jackson to trust you. He only submitted to me because of you, Stiles.”
Stiles went bright red under the wolves’ scrutiny. “No way, dude, I had nothing to do with that.”
Peter smirked. “So, I’m just imagining you telling Jackson that everything would be fine once I bit him?”
“No…but,” Stiles hedged.
“Jackson hates you,” Derek put in.
Stiles threw him an unimpressed glare. “Yes, I know, thanks for reminding me.”
Derek huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just meant that he has no reason to trust any of us, let alone someone he says he hates, but he did.”
Peter grabbed Stiles’ computer chair and flipped it around to sit on it backwards. “You mentioned David and Claire…who are they?”
Stiles groaned, thumping his head back against the chair and exposing the long pale column of his neck. Peter caught the burst of arousal from Derek even as he heard the subvocal growl and the grinding of his teeth. It took a lot to not smirk at the other wolf when he felt Derek’s eyes on him. Stiles, of course, seemed oblivious to his nephews’ discomfort.
“David and Claire are his parents…well, his adopted parents. It was this big thing in elementary school. Jackson found out and became a raging douche, but it’s all because he’s completely freaked they’ll leave him too.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his buzzed head.
“I can’t really blame him for that. I think I’ve seen Claire once since we started high school and the only time David gets involved is when he has to threaten to sue one of us for some perceived slight. They buy him whatever he wants, but they aren’t interested in him as a person. This is the first time I've seen them acting like they care about him at all.”
“You seem to know a lot about his home life,” Peter inquired softly. Derek shot his uncle a look at the tone, before he settled on the edge of Stiles’ bed.
Stiles shrugged. He glanced at the pair and then away, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the wall. “BH is a small town, you know? We all grew up together. Jackson, Lydia, Scott, and I. There were some others too. Kids who went to PreK and Elementary with us. Danny didn’t show up until 4th grade, but Erica Reyes and Isaac Lahey were in our group back then as well.”
He glanced at Derek and then away, staring a hole in the floor as he muttered quietly, “Cora started in 5th grade with us. It was the first week and Jackson had just found out about being adopted; he made a crack about my mom and she punched Jackson in the face. Broke his nose.” He smirked before the smile faded. “She got suspended and then the fire happened and…”
“And she died,” Derek muttered quietly. “I’d forgotten she’d been suspended.” He looked up at Stiles, a small almost smile on his face making it seem softer and younger than it had been. “You were her first non-family friend. She was so pissed off on your behalf.”
Stiles gave him a weak smile, his eyes wet. “She was cool. Aggressive when all the other girls were getting into boys and makeup.” He chuckled wetly, “she kicked a soccer ball so hard it got stuck in a tree.”
Derek smiled sadly at the memory.
“Anyways, Jackson and I were tight once, and then the adopted thing happened and he turned on everyone. I guess he figured if his own parents thought he was disposable, what did everyone else think? It just sucked because with my mom getting sick, things were really bad at home,” he rubbed his throat unconsciously. “And it wasn’t any better with Scott. His dad is a Fed, but he’s an asshole too. Used to hit Melissa and Scott. My dad got him on domestic abuse and helped Mama McCall file a restraining order and then a divorce.”
Stiles blew out a breath. “Lydia’s parents were fighting all the time too, so it was just like this massive year of shit for the entire town. By the time things chilled the fuck out, Scott and I were on one side and Jackson and Lydia were on the other. We never seemed to be able to bridge that distance and now all this crap.”
“What happened to your throat?”
Stiles gave Derek a startled look, hand rubbing at a faint line of crescent shaped scars under his jaw. “What?”
The wolf pushed himself off the bed, hesitantly reaching out to place his own finger tips along the lines. “What happened here?”
Stiles swallowed harshly, his scent spiking with embarrassment, fear, and pain. “Nothing.”
Derek gave him an unimpressed look, his grey-green eyes full of concern. “They’re fingernail marks.”
“Don’t,” Stiles warned, his scent going dark and brittle.
“Stiles,” Peter said carefully, standing and crossing to kneel before the teen. “When you said your mother had been sick, you didn’t mean cancer or injury, did you?”
“I need you both to just stop. I can’t…” Stiles felt the panic attack licking up his spine and knew it was going to be bad if the two men didn’t back down now. “Please.”
Derek pursed his lips in agitation, anger making his eyes flicker blue. He smoothed his finger over the marks. They were years old – more remembered pain than physical - and if there was one thing Derek knew, there was no way to draw emotional pain, which is what he suddenly realized Stiles must have in spades. Now that he thought about it, he never heard the Sheriff or Stiles talk about his mother. Stiles talked to Scott about her, or Melissa, but not where the Sheriff could hear him.
Stiles reached up and boldly wrapped his fingers around Derek’s wrist. His eyes tormented and bitterly sad. “Leave it, Derek. It’s over.”
Derek flicked his eyes to Peter who looked as frustrated as Derek felt.
“I know your entry into our world hasn’t been easy,” Peter said, making Stiles snort and role his eyes. “But you need to understand that a Pack is like a family and that, regardless of how we got here, we,” he pointed to Derek and himself, “do care about you.”
“You,” Stiles said, pointing at Peter. “Tried to maul me and Derek regularly uses me as a stress relief ball against my own walls. Forgive me if I’m a bit hesitant to tell you my life story.” He scoffed at the two even as he pushed himself deeper into the chair.
“And yet you have constantly thrown yourself in front of all the nightmares in this town, plotted to kill me with Derek, harbored him from your father, the Sheriff, taught your idiot friend how to be a werewolf without eating his hunter girlfriend, stopped me from becoming the type of problem that gets everyone killed, and offered up two of your childhood friends to be in my Pack.”
Stiles scrunched up his face in annoyance. “So, I’ve got poor impulse control, what of it?”
Peter facepalmed, the move making Stiles snicker and Derek smirk. Peter growled lightly at the pair. “What that means, little Spark, is that you are thinking like Pack.”
“But I’m not,” Stiles said. He shot Derek a hurt look. “Derek said I wasn’t Pack.”
Derek groaned internally, he knew that was going to come back and bite him on the ass. “I just meant you weren’t a wolf. That as a human, you didn’t have to deal with this.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“What.”
“First, punctuation, it’s a thing, Sourwolf. And second, my best friend since literal diapers is a baby wolf with brand spanking new anger issues. Of course, I’m going to be involved. Add in Lydia and Jackson and I don’t have a choice. You two have no idea what chaos a bunch of teenagers with insecurity issues is going to do. If I’m not involved, this shit will be a thousand times worse.”
“Really?” Derek asked sarcastically.
“Dude, I know you’ve been creeping at the school, has Scott eaten anyone?”
“No, but his control sucks.”
“Because he was bitten like less than a month ago and no one tells me shit. No, let’s break this down,” he said, glaring at Derek to shut him up when it looked like he was going to argue.
“The entire sum of all werewolf knowledge that you’ve told us is 1) the bite is a gift, 2) the full moon fucks with your control, 3) killing Peter will fix shit – which LIE - thanks for that btw, 4) hunters are bad, and 5) you and Scott are ‘brothers’ now.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been faking it with fanfiction and Google, Derek. While trying not to get eaten, mauled, or generally put into intensive care from all your furry asses using me as a chew toy. Oh, and I’ve had the absolute pleasure of watching the girl I was in love with get shredded while telling me just what a piece of garbage I am and seeing my father look at me like I’m a lying liar who lies, because that’s what I’ve become so he doesn’t die.”
“Now Scott, he doesn’t do well with change, or critical thinking if I’m being honest, but he’s the most optimistic person on the planet and thinks rainbows and unicorns are like humanities’ default or something, even after the shit his dad pulled. I’m more of a pragmatist, with a healthy dose of sarcasm, paranoia, and general teenage angst. Of the two of us, I’m the one best able to role with the punches, because life has been one big fuck you to me since I was eleven years old.”
“Stiles, I…” Derek started.
“Nope, not done yet, Stiles still has the talking stick. Then there’s Lydia, who is wicked smart, like seriously, Mensa-level, but keeps acting like a dumb blonde to fit in with the ‘cool’ kids because she’s terrified she’ll be left alone and Jackson, who’s a raging asshole to mask feeling all pathetic and freaked out for the exact same reason. Honestly, Jackson’s only redeeming feature is Danny, who is universally loved by the entire student body, the teachers, and the town.”
He glanced at Peter with narrowed eyes. “Do NOT bite, Danny. We like Danny and he’d make a great wolf and at some point, that might be necessary to deal with Jackson, but he won’t benefit from the bite, so don’t do it.”
Peter raised both hands in supplication, but his lips were smirking. Stiles was thinking like Pack, even if he didn’t think he was. Speaking of which…
“Other than Derek’s inane, though well-meaning comment, is there another reason you doubt you’re Pack?” Peter asked.
“Um, not a wolf?”
“Not necessary. As I said, Lydia is a banshee, but she’s now Pack. Also, there were humans in our Pack before and you’re not exactly just human, now are you Little Red?”
Stiles sputtered at the name, flailing in the chair as Peter rose fluidly. “What the hell, Peter?!”
“Please, what did you expect wearing a red hoodie all the time? Besides, I wasn’t even the one to come up with the name, was I, nephew?”
Derek’s ears flamed bright red as he studiously avoided looking at either of them. Stiles groaned, “Et tu, Sourwolf?”
Derek shrugged, lips twitching when Peter tossed the aforementioned sweatshirt at the boy hitting him in the face.
“Fine, whatever, I’ve been called worse,” he grumbled.
“I’m serious though, Stiles,” Peter pressed, settling back in the computer chair. “Why wouldn’t you be Pack?”
Stiles blew out a breath. “I don’t know, man. I mean, I kinda thought I was Scott’s? When Derek said I wasn’t, Scott said I’d always be in his, that we could be a Pack of two and I just thought that made sense, because it’s just been us for so long but now…”
“Now he’s focused on Allison,” Derek muttered darkly. He leaned back against the wall; his arms crossed over his chest and a frown of concern on his face. He didn’t like the idea of Stiles getting shoved out of both Packs, even with magic it made him an easy target for practically everyone trying to hurt them.
“It sucks and I still think if shit went down, he’d come for me, but…”
“But you know you’re not his priority anymore,” Peter noted.
“Yeah,” he scrubbed a hand over his shaved head. “I know you only considered me as a way to get to Scott,” he flung at Derek, watching as the wolf bodily flinched from them like he’d thrown wolfbane laced knives, “But I’m not fucking helpless and I don’t need any charity. I’ve managed to keep us alive so far and I’ll keep us alive, even without your help.”
Derek whined, actually whined at the taunt. “That’s not…I’m not…I never wanted you involved in this!”
“No shit,” Stiles muttered darkly. “That has been abundantly clear, even with your shit communication skills.”
“You don’t get it!” Derek snapped, taking an aggressive step forward. “You’re human, you break and everyone was trying to kill us. Scott is all over the place and I can’t protect you if I’m trying to keep him from getting us all killed!”
Stiles sat in the chair completely silent and still while Derek took ragged breaths, his eyes flickering. Honey brown eyes jumped to Peter who nodded faintly. Taking a deep breath, Stiles slowly unfurled himself from the chair and crossed to Derek. He raised a tentative hand, pausing when Derek tensed. Slowly he wrapped long fingers around Derek’s bicep.
“Derek, has this whole thing been about you trying to protect me?”
“Maybe.”
Stiles’ face went infinitely tender, his tone softening so he didn’t spook the older man. “You realize my dad’s the Sheriff?”
“Uh…”
“I’m not helpless, Sourwolf. I carry the bat because I’m at school all the time and I can’t legally carry a gun there, but I was taught how to shoot in Elementary school.”
“You trip over air, Stiles,” the wolf grumbled.
“And make a kill shot 9 times out of 10. The two are not mutually exclusive, Sourwolf. I’ve got ADHD, my brain is literally twelve steps ahead of anything I’m doing, so coordination in anything other than extreme stress, not really my strong suit.”
“And during ‘extreme stress’?”
“Hypervigilance and focus. You do not want to see me after a dozen energy drinks and coffee, it’s not pretty, but man do I get shit done.” He gave Derek a little smile. “I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe, Der, I really do, but I haven’t been safe since my mom…” his smile dropped.
Derek screwed up his courage. He lifted a hand to brush his fingers over Stiles’ throat.
“Yeah.”
“I’m not going to be able to keep you safe.”
“I know, but Derek, that’s okay. I’m going to get hurt. I’m going to bleed and get broken sometimes, because that’s life. Will the addition of werewolves make that a bit more likely, sure, but so will being in a town full of supernatural shit and not having a clue as to what’s going on and worse, not having anyone there to help me.”
“Of course, his chances will be exponentially better with an entire Pack looking out for him and proper training of his Spark,” Peter chimed in.
“I’m still not sure I trust you,” Derek groused, angling Stiles further away from Peter.
“Then it seems like you’re in good company, nephew, since Red here isn’t sure either.”
Derek looked at Stiles, one brow raised. Stiles shrugged. “I don’t, not 100%, but he’s your family and I’m willing to try if you are. I’ve also still got that recipe for self-igniting Molotov cocktails from Lydia if he goes darkside again.”
“Wasn’t he talking about killing a bunch of people when I showed up?”
“Yeah, but they’re all assholes who were involved in the fire, so I’m not actually against that, just the method and timing.”
Derek sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m the only adult in this Pack?”
Stiles felt a burning in his chest, his lips pulling up in a blinding smile as he gazed at Derek. “Does that mean I’m Pack?”
Derek gave him a shy smile. “Do you want to be?”
“Hell, yes!” he shouted, jerking when the bond snapped into place behind his ribs. It was like a sharp tugging mixed with the worst heartburn imaginable and made him stagger slightly against Derek.
The wolf rumbled his pleasure, even as he steadied the teen against his side. A pair of red and blue eyes glowed in the room, matched only in intensity by a pair of orange eyes. Stiles felt the immediate shift in energy as Peter crossed to them, his hands coming up to curl around the pair’s shoulders.
“That was the Pack bond?” Stiles asked breathlessly. He felt a bit dizzy at all the connections. “What’s that noise?”
“Noise?” Derek asked while gently rubbing a soothing hand up his spine. He felt a little dizzy himself with the new connections.
“Like a buzzing or static. I can hear it in my head.”
“Fascinating,” Peter said, leading the two towards the bed. He pressed Stiles down against the headboard, Derek crawling in beside him a moment later when it was clear Stiles couldn’t sit up on his own. “Can you feel the bonds?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “They’re silver? And maybe red?” he rubbed at his sternum absently, missing the startled look both wolves gave him.
“Can you isolate them to tell who they are?” Peter asked excitedly.
“Um…” Stiles closed his eyes as he tried to grasp each thread individually. There was Jackson, who was oddly the clearest for him to see. He felt the overwhelming exhaustion from the other teen and a hint of fear and longing. Peter was also clear, with a faint edge of crazy lingering along with the absolute certainty of the deaths he was plotting. Stiles very much doubted he’d ever be ‘normal’ by most people’s standards and realized very quickly that his primary role was going to be to keep Peter sane. Because that wasn’t a daunting task or anything.
Lydia was a thin cable of connection. Not friends, but not enemies. She hadn’t been awake in the hospital, hadn’t been able to consent like Jackson could and it showed in the Pack bond. It was weird, that in this mental place he could feel cold around her and smell death. Not the gross dismembered body type of death though, more like how the morgue smelled – faintly antiseptic and cold with a sickly-sweet smell underneath. Scott’s bond was stronger, but felt one-sided and it took him longer than he cared to admit that it was because Stiles had a connection to him, but Peter did not. The Pack, did not, and that was what was causing the imbalance.
The strongest bond was also the most confusing, because it wasn’t the same silvery-blue that the others had. This one was silver, with red twisted into the bond, and it belonged solely to Derek.
“What does it mean?” he asked the wolf beside him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve been doing this shit your entire life, you’ve got to have some idea why our bond is like that.”
“I…maybe, but it doesn’t matter right now,” Derek hedged, squirming at the unimpressed look.
“It doesn’t matter because you don’t want it too or because I’m jailbait and my dad is the literal law?”
Derek blew out a breath. “I can’t, Stiles, not right now.”
“So, jailbait, fine, I can wait, but don’t think we won’t be talking about this again, Sourwolf.”
“Great,” Derek said sarcastically.
“You got something to say, Petey?” Stiles snarked at the laughing Alpha.
“I’ll take your answer to mean that yes, you can see and identify the Pack bonds and that means that you have the potential to be an Emissary.”
“A what?”
“Peter, no,” Derek warned, a growl to his voice.
“An Emissary is typically a magic user in the Pack. Their job is to help ground the Pack and remind them of their humanity, along with helping with inter-pack issues and magical aspects such as wards.”
“They also become an even bigger target than regular human pack members,” Derek snarled worriedly, unconsciously pressing closer to the teen.
“Considering all I’ve managed is to flash my eyes, I doubt I’m much of an Emissary.”
“Your Spark acknowledges the bond, sweetheart, and you were able to not only see, but access them, all without training. Once you have some of that under your belt, the possibilities are endless and while you don’t have to be an Emissary, it would be our honor to have you as such.”
Stiles stared at Peter for several minutes before turning to Derek. “Is he shitting me?”
“No, he’s telling the truth,” Derek said surprised. “He actually thinks this is a good idea.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, nephew,” Peter pouted. “Your little mate has proven his loyalty, intelligence, and ruthlessness repeatedly to me. I'd be stupid not to want him as our Emissary.”
Derek outright growled at Peter for that, his eyes flashing, even as his scent turned horribly embarrassed.
“Oh, we are so going to talk about this later,” Stiles muttered under his breath. “I have to ask though, why did you need to bite the others, but not us? Like, I can feel you and Derek, but you didn’t bite me.”
Peter leaned back, a proud smile on his face. “I had already formed a bond via claws and fangs with the others, the same with Scott, although he has actively rejected me.”
“That’s why I can feel him connected to me, but not to the Pack?”
“Exactly.”
“But you didn’t bite me.”
“No. Regardless of Derek’s earlier commentary, there was a bond between the two of you, though it was tentative.”
“Almost dying a bunch of times does that to a guy,” Stiles quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
“When Derek said you weren’t Pack, that put the bond under strain and might have broken it, had he continued to push you away.”
Stiles didn’t look or say anything to Derek, just rubbed his hand over a denim clad knee. He understood why Derek had said and done what he did, even if he didn’t agree with it.
“When the two of you acknowledged that you were Pack, that the bond was there, it solidified into what it was supposed to be and since Derek and I share a familial bond, the connection was there as well.”
“But that just means we’re Pack, that doesn’t mean you’re our Alpha,” Stiles argued.
Peter tipped his head in acquiescence. “True, not in the way a bite would. Although, as a Spark, the bite wouldn’t affect you the same way.”
“Oh?”
“Like our Miss Martin, you would be immune to such.”
“Well, that’s good,” Stiles joked. “Can you imagine an ADHD werewolf? Shit, that would not end well for anyone. Wait, does that mean you have to bite Derek?”
“No, a verbal acknowledgement and hand on his throat would be enough. The same for you, Little Red.”
“Huh,” he glanced at Derek, who raised a brow. “I know, dude, but you said it yourself, more bonds equal a more stable Pack, right?”
Derek grunted, his nose scrunching like he bit into a lemon, Stiles was correct, but he was still raw over Laura.
“Trial?” Stiles suggested.
Derek blinked, head tilted in contemplation, that might work.
Stiles nodded to their silent conversation and turned back to Peter who was watching them with amusement. “Okay, so Derek and I will consider you our Alpha on a trial basis. If you can prove to us you aren’t planning on turning around and killing us over the next month,” he glanced at Derek who raised his chin slightly in agreement. “Then we will officially sign up. We’ll also work on getting Scott on board, but you are going to have some serious groveling to do with everyone, including him, and I’m going to need some practical assistance with his whole Romeo and Juliet nightmare or I might just shoot him myself.”
Peter felt the bond solidify a little more. He wasn’t going to tell the pair that they were already in too deep, that the more they trusted him, the more he became their Alpha in reality. He wasn’t stupid after all.
“I think I can manage that,” he said instead.
“Fine, consider yourself on probation. Now, as much fun as this has been, I need you both to go away. My dad will be home in an hour and I’ve got homework to deal with and possibly incriminating blood stains to wash out.”
Peter stood easily. He reached out to grip Stiles’ shoulder, scenting him and solidifying his claim a little more. It would also help ease the shakiness caused by the imbalanced bonds. “You should eat something, then sleep, it will help.”
Stiles nodded. He figured as much.
Reluctantly, Derek crawled across Stiles and off the bed, it was still uncomfortable for him to even acknowledge the fledgling bond, but Peter’s reminder made him conscious of the side-effects the teen was probably still feeling. He grimaced as he rubbed a hand over Stiles shorn hair and down the back of his neck.
“Don’t look so put out, Derek,” Stiles sighed out, sadness flooding his scent.
“That’s not…” Derek growled in annoyance. Reaching out he took Stiles’ face in both hands and leaned down to rub their cheeks together, his dark scruff pinking the area. “Scent is important,” he grumbled, “but you’re still sixteen and I can’t.”
Stiles blew out a breath, thoroughly chastised. “I’m sorry. I get it, I do. I just kinda wish you didn’t look like I’d run over your puppy when you do it.”
Derek looked startled for a moment. “I didn’t realize,” he muttered, dejectedly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve scented anyone, even Pack.”
“But…”
“I never told her. I couldn’t. I was afraid she’d leave if she knew.”
“Oh, Derek,” Stiles said. “I swear to you, she wouldn’t have.”
“We’ll never know now.”
“Maybe not, but I can promise I won’t, just don’t push me away again. I can take a lot, but I don’t think I could take that.”
Derek was silent for so long Stiles wasn’t sure he’d actually respond.
“I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to be anything but angry and alone. I’ll probably screw this up.”
“Probably, but so will I. I’m not expecting miracles, Derek. This entire Pack is made up of assholes who haven’t the slightest idea how to work together. All I ask is that you try and if you can’t get the words out, give me a sign that you need a break. Don’t up and disappear on us.”
“I’ll try.”
Stiles gave him a small smile. “That’s all I ask.”
“I should go.”
“Yeah.”
“You have lacrosse tomorrow.”
“Also, a yes.”
“Then I’ll see you then.”
“Try and come up with a reason Uncle Creeper is awake in the meantime, okay? And maybe find a place to sleep that isn’t condemned?”
Derek rolled his eyes as he crossed to the window. Peter had left via the front door, like a civilized crazy person.
“Yes, dear,” Derek snarked before jumping through the frame.
Stiles barked out a surprised laugh. “Sourwolf’s got jokes,” he cackled. “Huh, maybe this won’t be a complete disaster after all.”
He grinned as he changed clothes and scrubbed the blood out of the hems of his pants.
In all honesty, it probably would, but he didn’t feel as alone anymore and he didn’t feel forgotten. He was a part of something bigger now. He was Pack and that suddenly meant everything. For the first time since his mom got sick, he felt like he was a real participant in his life and as crazy as it was probably going to get, he was surprisingly looking forward to it.
This year might not be as bad as he thought after all.
-end-