ohanahoku-ao3

[ohanahoku-ao3]

New One Shot

New Teen Wolf fanfiction, featuring Kid!Spark!Stiles <3 Hope you'll all enjoy! Teaser below~

“And sleepwalking, which I used to do a lot as a kid…”

“What do you sense, Stiles?” Claudia asked, her voice as soft as a wolf’s footstep.

The boy blinked once, twice, and thrice before answering. “A girl,” He whispered, “A girl who can hear everything.” He turned to look at her, and Claudia started, seeing tears run down his face. “She’s so scared, Mommy.”

“Oh, my baby,” Claudia murmured, reaching up to wipe his tears away. “It’s just a dream, sweetheart.” He nodded slowly, leaning into her touch. A moment later, he slumped against her, sleeping deeply as she held him.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2024 Day 19

Really happy with this one. Hope you all enjoy! <3

Teen & Up - Gen, F/M - Teen Wolf

The Day His Eyes Turned Blue

     It happened at an abandoned cabin in the woods, a place Peter would always remember because he couldn’t forget. He’d never forget the deep, earthy scent of the dirt floor and the logs that made the walls, nor how that scent became so intwined with the blood of the innocent lives he’d killed. Though, they were hardly innocent at all.

     Someone had been misfortunate enough to witness Talia shift, or rather, Talia had been careless enough to get caught on tape doing so. Thankfully, the video was never uploaded online, but those who were shown it were just as dangerous. There were seven of them, three women and four men. Highly religious, self-righteous, and fueled by panic, they had taken Talia by surprise.

     They may have gotten away with it if it weren’t for six-year-old Derek having seen the whole thing. The pup had hidden himself when he realized what was happening, thank the moon. Peter shuddered to think of what could have happened to the pup if he’d tried to fight them. Instead, Derek hid, and as soon as they were gone, he booked it home.

     “They took Mom!” Derek shouted as he burst into the house, and Peter was out of his room in a heartbeat, meeting Derek at the bottom of the stairs. He picked the snot-faced pup up as Derek sobbed and hid against his neck as he told him what happened.

     Peter rubbed his back and listened, lips pressed together, and brow furrowed. His tone was even and comforting as he pulled Derek back, looked him in the eyes, and asked the only question he had that Derek hadn’t answered already. “Did they hurt you?”

     Derek sniffled, falling quiet for a moment before shaking his head. “I just want Mommy back.”

     Peter eased at the reassurance that Derek hadn’t gotten hurt. “I’m going to get her back. It’ll be okay,” He reassured him, wiping his tears and scenting him gently before handing him over to his sister-in-law, Hannah. They were the only ones home at the moment; Hannah was human, and Peter didn’t have the time to wait for backup. The weatherman was calling for heavy thunderstorms that afternoon, and if Peter didn’t leave now, he’d risk losing their scent. “Send word to the others. I’ll be back with Talia.”

     “Uncle Peter!”

     Peter froze at the door, twisting to look at Derek as the pup clung to his leg, having thrown himself out of Hannah’s arms. “What is it, pup?” He asked, setting a hand on Derek’s head.

     His nephew stared at him with teary eyes and a trembling lip. “Don’t die.”

     Peter smiled, letting his eyes glow gold and his teeth sharpen his grin. “I won’t,” He promised, ruffling Derek’s hair as Hannah pulled him back gently. The door closed behind him, and Peter set his jaw as he started running. He had an alpha to save- a sister to protect.

     An hour later, Peter had tracked the group to an old, long-abandoned cabin in the woods outside of Beacon Hills. The sun had set, and rain had just started to drizzle down as Peter crouched outside the cabin, listening through the window. He scoffed quietly at the fact that they didn’t have a guard posted outside. Such amateurs.

     “We have to kill it. We can’t have this abomination roaming the streets of Beacon. It’s too dangerous. What if it kills someone? Or worse, what if it makes us into monsters too?”

     “I agree. It’s the merciful thing to do. I’m sure she’d rather die than turn into that horrifying beast.”

     Peter’s lip curled in distaste at the ignorant remarks. His sister was no ‘it’, and she’d certainly never been human to start with like they seemed to think. They were purebloods, after all. He slowly eased himself up, peering through the window into the candlelit room. The group was gathered in a circle as they started discussing who should kill her. His sister was lying on a cot, trussed up and barely awake. They must’ve given her an elephant’s dosage of tranquilizers to keep her docile like this, but he could still see the blaze of red embers in her gaze as she glared at her captors.

     “The women shouldn’t need to do this.”

     “I agree. But that still begs the question, which of us should take the shot?”

     It was one man who spoke up to put the question to rest, and Peter’s fury tripled at the words.

     “All of us. It’s our duty to do so, and four bullets or eight will be better than one or two. A monster like this might not die quickly.”

     Peter barely held back a growl as they all agreed, and he watched as the group shifted, the women pulling away as the men readied their guns. Before any of them could pull the trigger, Peter let out a roar, jumping through the window in an explosion of glass as he took out the fledgeling hunter closest to him.

     A misfire hit the wall behind him, and Peter snarled as he lunged for the next man. In such close quarters, their rifles were mostly useless, and Peter had taken out all seven of them in a matter of minutes. They weren’t all dead, but their threat was neutralized for the moment as Peter moved to his sister’s side. She stared at him with a question in her eyes, and Peter answered as he slashed through her bindings carefully with his claws. “Derek is fine. Came home to get me, and Hannah’s watching him now.”

     Talia coughed and spat at the ground when he took the gag out of her mouth before nodding and exhaling in relief. “Thank goodness. I was worried they might have hurt him.”

     “How did this happen?” Peter asked, and Talia nodded toward the small table in the corner. He turned to see the camcorder resting atop it and scowled. “You have to be more careful,” He scolded, helping her up. She was a bit unsteady but managed to keep her feet under her as he guided her toward the door.

     “This is not my fault,” Talia hissed defensively, cutting her eyes at him.

     Peter kept his tongue and ushered her through the door, only to freeze as a woman spoke up behind him.

     “You won’t get away with this…” She wheezed, one of her ribs possibly broken. “We’ll find you, and we will kill you. You and your kids, Hale!”

     Peter growled loudly, his eyes blazing gold with fury. His teeth ached as his fangs filled his mouth again, and he looked at Talia as the woman behind them kept threatening their pack, their pups.

     Talia’s eyes were blazing red as their eyes met, but she made no move to shut the woman up. Nor did she order Peter to leave it be. All Talia did was close her eyes and turn away from him.

     It wasn’t permission, per se, but it was as good as she’d give him, and Peter couldn’t let a threat to the pack persist, especially if his alpha wouldn’t take care of it herself. With a loud roar, Peter turned back around, rushing the woman who spewed such filth about their deaths.

     Ten minutes later, Peter walked out of the cabin, a clawed and bloodied hand grasping the camcorder at his side. Rain poured down over him, steadily washing away the blood trail that followed his footsteps. Her red eyes met the new, blue glow of his own, and her lips downturned at the corners. “That was unnecessary,” She murmured.

     Peter scoffed, brushing past her. “Didn’t see you stopping me.”

     Talia was silent as she fell into step behind him, and a few minutes passed as they trudged through the mud and rain before she spoke up. “Things will be different from now on.”

     Peter glanced back at her, and his eyes were back to their regular blue, but the gaze he leveled on her was just as intense as the fury that lit his eyes so shortly ago. “Then so be it.”

*****

     “Mommy!” Derek flung himself at his mother when they got home, and Peter’s chest squeezed as Derek’s face lit up with a broad smile as Talia bent down to hug him before standing back up, letting Derek’s attention turn to his uncle.

     “Thank you, Uncle Peter!” He said, jumping at him, seemingly unaware of his wet clothes and the blood that still stained them. “You saved her!”

     Peter smiled, hugging his nephew close. “Of course. That’s what I do, pup,” He told him, his eyes raising to the pack as he caught the whispered news Talia gave the others. Incensed but not backing away, Peter let his eyes blaze blue as they stared at him. “I’ll always save my pack.”

     Talia frowned, and some of the others avoided his gaze uneasily, but Hannah met his eyes and nodded at him. She understood, maybe better than any wolf. After all, a human’s eyes never betray their secrets.

*****

     In the bullpen of the BHPD, a young deputy stared at the files in front of him, the dental records of seven missing persons that matched those of the half-destroyed skeletons found in the ruins of a cabin that burned to the ground. It was ruled an accident, a hunting trip gone wrong because there was no evidence pointing elsewhere. The details didn’t match up, though. They told no one where they were going, and not a single one of them managed to escape the tiny cabin before it burned. He picked up one of the files, frowning at the picture that featured the tibia of one victim, with four deep gouges in the bone.

     An unplanned trip, a single-room cabin trapping seven people inside, and unexplained bone trauma? There was definitely something deeper going on there. If only he had some lead to follow…

     “Hello?” Noah answered his phone as it rang and smiled, putting the case out of his mind as he closed the file and shuffled them all into a pile on his desk. “Yeah, I’m on my way home, Claudia. Alright, I’ll see you soon. Yes, I’ll pick up some curly fries… Right, love you too.” He chuckled as he hung up, shaking his head fondly at his wife’s pregnancy cravings. He grabbed his jacket, found his keys (why were they in his coffee cup?), and said goodnight to the receptionist on his way out.

     Hannah Hale waved him goodnight, and Noah left, leaving no one behind in the quiet station to notice as Hannah sat at his desk and opened the files. She bit her lip as she found the photo of the claw marks, glancing around cautiously as she slipped it into her purse and set the file back down, shuffling it under some of the others.

     Clocking out as the late night shift took over a short while later, Hannah ducked into an alley next to the parking garage and pulled out the photo with a lighter, setting it ablaze and letting it flutter to the ground as she watched it burn to nothing.

     Hannah wasn’t a wolf by bite or blood, but she was still a Hale, and she’d do whatever it took to protect her pack.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2024 Day 18

For all my Haven lovers out there, this one's for you! <3

General Audiences - F/M - Haven

Happily Ever Audrey

     Paige smiled as she watched Nathan rock back and forth in the kitchen, James in his arms, giggling over the old love song Nathan crooned along with the radio. She still couldn’t quite believe how lucky she had been to meet Nathan on that first day in Haven, now almost six months ago. It was like fate, meeting him. He loved pancakes and cozy mornings where all they did was cuddle in bed. He was shy, the strong and silent type she always fell for. He had always wanted to be a father, and he was wonderful with James, treating him as his own.

      Nathan was everything she could have hoped to find in a husband, and Paige loved her new life in Haven. Really, she did. But sometimes… sometimes she felt like she was missing something.

Something to explain why the pancakes he made tasted so familiar the first time she had them or why falling in love with him felt like falling for an old friend. Something that would explain why sometimes Nathan nuzzled into her side with such desperation and awe that it was as if he’d never felt another person’s touch. Something to explain why James looked more and more like Nathan as he grew.

     Yes, Paige felt like she was missing something so intrinsically important that the lack of knowing ached in her chest, twisting her heart into knots until it threatened to burst with each beat.

     It rarely happened when she first arrived, in those early days when people stared at her and stumbled over her name as if they’d never met a single mother and couldn’t wrap their heads around something as simple as ‘Paige.’

     It happened more often now.

     Most had no issue with her name, but occasionally, someone would slip, even Nathan. They’d call her by another name… What was it? She could never seem to remember after the fact. Still, she could remember being called Agent something-er-other, even though Paige had never been involved in law enforcement… Or had she?

     Nathan had left his gun out on the table one day, stripped down as he had been meaning to clean it before the sound of James crying from his crib called him away. Curious and knowing that the gun was currently unloaded, Paige had picked it up. Immediately, a wave of deja vu came over her. She felt stronger with the gun in her hand, confident with the weight and feel of a weapon in her grasp. Without thinking, Paige started cleaning the gun with expert movements,  the smell of the solvent familiar and soothing. In record time, she reassembled the firearm, her arms coming up automatically as she tested the sightline.

     “Parker?”

     Nathan’s voice had Audrey lowering her arms into a more relaxed stance as she turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and her heart jumped into her throat. “Nathan-”

     James shrieked where Nathan held him, reaching out and attempting to dive towards his mother. Paige set the gun down quickly and rushed to catch the babe. “Hey, now, don’t scare us like that, tiger!” Paige scolded as she perched him on her hip.

     “Hey.” Nathan grabbed her elbow gently, drawing her gaze to him. “Are you…?”

     “Am I what?” Paige asked, her brow furrowing as Nathan’s eyes searched hers for something he apparently didn’t see. His eyes were infinitely sad for a moment before the look vanished, replaced by love and understanding that put a smile on her face despite her confusion.

     “Are you hungry?” Nathan asked, turning his attention to James as he offered him a finger to grab. “Because James and I are starving. Ain’t that right, big guy? Yes, yes, it is. Woke up from a nap, fussy and hungry…”

     Nathan’s admittedly endearing baby talk had Paige rolling her eyes as the bemusing moment blurred away, put out of her mind.

To be continued in later chapters on Ao3...

[ohanahoku-ao3]

You ever come back to a story after a long hiatus and fall in love with it again, but then drown in grief knowing that you still don't have the time you want to properly work on it?

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2024 Day 17

Wrote this at 3 in the morning, so enjoy this rough cut of a one shot. :D

Teen & Up - Gen - DCU (Nightwing, Batman)

Transmission From a Ghost

     A screen flickered on in Titan's Tower, provoking shouts of incredulity and confusion.

     The window monitor in the Watchtower turned on suddenly, the picture blocking out the view of Earth below and drawing stunned gazes as voices called for others to come quick.

     The Batcomputer illuminated a dimly lit Batcave, invoking choked gasps and tears from those gathered inside.

     Transmitted across all these screens, a familiar face stared at his audience through the camera. Unmasked, with tears shining in his blue eyes, Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, smiled weakly at them. “H-Hey, everyone…”

     By the time those two words were spoken, people were already scrambling to lock onto the transmission and track it, unsure if the person on screen was real or just a trick. Oracle's fingers flew over her keyboard, and Tim played support from a secondary computer in the cave. Cyborg was trying to trace the call, while Raven had taken to trying to locate Richard through magical means. Multiple technicians at the Watchtower were also trying to locate the video’s source.

     “You're probably all wondering if I'm real, huh?” Dick asked on screen, reaching up to gingerly touch the red staining his temples. He glanced at the blood on his fingertips and grimaced. “Not sure how to prove I'm not, considering everyone knows who I am now, but I guess it ultimately doesn't matter…”

     In the cave, Jason cursed, clenching his fists as he noticed how pale Dick's face was, in a way that definitely spoke to a lack of health rather than a lack of sun. “Making any progress there, Tim?”

     Tim grimaced, shaking his head. “Video's heavily encrypted, it's gonna take a while.”

     “Unacceptable. Work faster,” Damian demanded, but his voice lacked its usual vitriol as it cracked, the young boy close to tears as he stared at the screen.

     “So, yeah, surprise, I'm not dead. Not just yet, anyway…” Dick's shoulders had slumped slowly as he spoke, and now he leaned back against the wall behind him, a shaky exhale parting his lips. “Guess that'll happen soon.”

     “What's he saying?” Beast Boy asked nervously, looking around at the other Titans, his dread building when he saw Roy's grim look.

     Dick's eyes drifted to the side of the camera, looking thoughtful. “Honestly, though, I'd prefer it happen. A ghost has to pass on eventually, right?” He mused, his gaze distant as he blinked slowly.

     Tim swore sharply, the clacking of his keyboard growing frantic. “Dick, don't give up yet. Just hold on, we'll find you.”

     “Todd?”

     Jason raised an arm, letting Damian press in close as his littlest brother sought comfort. “It's okay, habibi. We'll find him. He'll be okay. This is live, right, Tim?” He asked sharply.

     “Yes, that's definite.” Tim nodded.

     Dick's eyes gained a little clarity after a long pause, and he blinked quickly, focusing back on the camera. “Sorry. Man, I was gonna be better for this. Okay, okay. Facts first. I never actually died, well, only briefly. Batman thought it was a good opportunity to take advantage of, though.”

     Jason growled angrily at the bitter mention of Bruce, who was still off traveling as he tried to regain his memories. “That bastard-”

      “He sent me on an undercover mission. There's this group, they're called Spyral, and they're dangerous, really dangerous.” Dick's voice had grown deadly serious, and his eyes were hard as steel as he stared at the camera.

     “Supes, did you know anything about this?” Flash asked, looking at their leader.

     Superman shook his head, glancing at Wonder Woman, who also shook her head. “No, Bruce never mentioned it.” His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fist.

     “They want to unmask all heroes, to destroy the league, and control world order. They'll brainwash you, or kill you. Take you apart piece by piece and sell you… I still don't know all their plans… And I won't be able to now… They know I'm not on their side… Never was…”

     Starfire covered her mouth as she watched Dick gag and cover his mouth, visibly fighting back the urge to vomit. He failed after a few seconds, hunched over off-screen as they all listened to him throw up.

     Hearts broke as Dick's heaves turned to sobs. “I never was… I wanted to save them, I just couldn't-” Another round of sick splattered to the floor, and Dick dissolved into whimpering cries.

     “Tim.” Jason's voice was like sharpened glass as he held Damian close, leaving the way Damian's shoulders shook unmentioned.

     “We're getting close.” 

     Dick's cries slowly petered out, and his face was red and puffy when he faced the camera again. “God, I'm a mess,” He mused, one side of his mouth lifting in a mockery of his usual smile. “This isn't how I wanted to do this… Sorry, guys.”

     “I’m gonna kill Bats when I see him.” Oliver Queen murmured, wincing as Dick's breath rattled through him, his chest aching for the boy he watched grow up.

     “As I was saying, you've gotta be careful. Spyral, they're dangerous, and now that you know about them, they'll be bolder. Didn't want to risk this before, but… Batman stopped answering my check-ins over two months ago…”

     *Crack*

     Superman pulled his fist out of the crumbling wall, gritting his teeth angrily. That was weeks before Bruce lost his memory.

     “And since they figured me out, well… it's best to let you know, I think.” Dick glanced nervously off camera before looking back, smiling a little. “I don't have much time left. I can hear them coming.

     “Jason, Tim, I'm sorry. Making you lose me twice isn't fair, but I had to warn you. Be safe, okay? Keep each other safe,” Dick implored, pleading with the camera.

     “To everyone else, it was an honor fighting by your side. Titans, we had a good run. I am so proud of all of you.

     “Little Wing, Babybird, I love you. Don't go too hard on Bruce, okay?” Dick tensed as a door slammed open, and then the camera angle tipped as the device fell over. Everyone watched in tense silence as Dick was dragged away by multiple people with spirals for faces. The camera swiveled around to a faceless person and then shut off.

     “Got it!” Tim and Oracle shouted in tandem just milliseconds before the transmission ended. Tim immediately sent the coordinates to the Wachtower, and they all waited with bated breath as Flash and Superman received them.

     Five minutes later, Barry's voice crackled over the comms. “We've got him. Nightwing is secure.”

     Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but Jason and Tim shared a look over Damian's head, instinct telling them that the ordeal was far from over.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

@achillmango I love it! Thanks for tagging me! <3

Ok I hate it but I promised you guys so there you have it

Silver's not dead btw I was trying to show that the memory of his teachings lead Jim to- nevermind you got it

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2024 Day 16

Wound Cleaning ~ "No, I can't feel anything."

Teen & Up - Gen - Haven

Numb Fingers

     “DUKE!”

     Nathan leapt over the metal fence that stood in his way, rushing desperately to Duke, who lay on the pavement, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth bared in a hiss. Duke’s one hand clenched in a fist against the road, while his other spasmed over the gunshot wound in his stomach.

     Nathan spat a curse as he placed his hands over Duke’s stomach and pressed down hard, trying to stop the flow of blood that was already turning the pavement red below them. “Don’t move, don’t move,” He ordered, one hand leaving his side as he grabbed his phone and called the incident in. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital. You’re gonna be okay,” He assured Duke as he went back to focusing on stemming the blood flow.

     Duke let out a strangled breath, his eyes now open and dilated as he tried to meet Nathan’s eyes. His mouth gaped open and closed like a fish as he struggled to pull in a breath through the pain. His bloodied hand gripped tight onto Nathan’s jacket, and he pressed his lips together, finally managing to draw a breath in through his nose. “Nate, ex- exploding… bullets.”

     The choked reminder forcefully rebooted Nathan’s brain as Duke’s hand fell to the ground. He watched with wide eyes as Duke’s own slipped shut, his head lolling back against the road.

     They didn’t have time to wait for an ambulance to take Duke to the hospital. If the bullet wasn’t removed, and quickly, Duke’s stomach would burst from the inside out. Nathan had to get the bullet out now. Nathan looked around for someone to help him, but no one was there. Audrey was still missing, after all. His breath was coming faster now, and Nathan stared down at his hands where they pressed against the body beneath him. Duke’s chest heaved, his body twitched, and Nathan swallowed back the taste of bile creeping up his throat. He couldn’t even feel Duke’s body moving under his hands; how was he possibly going to find the bullet?

     He had no choice, though. He was running out of time, unsure how many of the seven minutes it would take the bullet to explode were left. “Okay, okay.” Nathan took a deep breath to steady himself, glancing up at Duke’s slack face. “Sorry, Duke.”

     With no further warning, Nathan pushed two fingers into the wound, grimacing at the squelching sound the movement made. He couldn’t feel the bullet, couldn’t feel the warm blood coating his fingers, nor the way Duke’s body flinched away from the pain. At a loss of what else to do, Nathan curled his fingers and dragged them out of Duke’s body, pulling forth a gush of blood, but no bullet. He cursed under his breath, muttered a useless threat to the troubled man who had shot Duke, and pushed his fingers back in. This time, he twisted them a different way, curling and pulling them out. More blood spilled over Duke’s side, but still no bullet.

     The strong stench of blood made Nathan’s stomach churn, and he held his breath as he pushed his fingers back in, willing himself not to be sick as he kept trying. He moved his fingers this way and that, searching for the bullet that was sure to go off any second now.

     A sob wrenched its way out of his throat as his efforts yielded no bullet, and he grit his teeth as he forced himself to push his fingers in deeper. He had to get the bullet out. He couldn’t lose Duke again. He wouldn’t.

     Never had Nathan hated his curse more. His eyes were stinging hot, tears threatening to obscure his vision when, on the eighth try, the bullet came out, lodged between his numb fingers. Nathan gasped at the sight of the slippery projectile, wrapping his fingers firmly around it as he stood and checked his surroundings. Nathan reeled his arm back and threw with all his might, letting the bloodied bullet fly forward. It landed in the yard of an empty house with a For Sale sign in the front and exploded.

     Nathan shielded his face from the bright expansion of flames, a look of horror painting his face as he lowered his arms and saw the large crater left behind by the tiny bomb. That could have been Duke.

     “Duke!”

     Nathan rushed back to Duke’s side, slamming onto his knees with no regard for the damage it could cause. His hands pressed once more against Duke’s side, his eyes searching Duke’s face and chest desperately for a sign that Duke was still alive. It was slow, but Duke’s chest rose with an inhale, and Nathan clocked the subtle movement of Duke’s eyes behind their lids.

     Duke was still alive- For now.

     Sirens wailed, and soon, Nathan was being pulled away from Duke, forced to place the life of his friend in the hands of the paramedics. He followed them to the hospital, refusing to wait in the appropriate room as he stood in the corridor outside the surgical room, watching through a window as Duke lay on the table. IVs ran into both his arms, and a tube was placed down his throat when Duke stopped breathing. Twice, Nathan watched as Duke’s body lurched off the table as they defibrillated him, restarting his heart.

     In the end, Duke made it. The gunshot wound had been nasty, made worse by Nathan’s necessary but damaging actions, and he’d lost a lot of blood, but he was alive. At length, he would wake up, and Nathan could finally relax. But for now, Nathan refused to leave his side, letting Dwight deal with the troubles for once.

⁍⁍⁍⁍⁍⁍⁍

     Two days later, Duke woke in a hospital bed, glancing blearily at the white everything and huffing a crackling chuckle. “Well, guess I’m not dead.” He saw Nathan somewhat belatedly and stared at the man slumped over the bed, dozing. More alert now, Duke noticed his state immediately, the dark bags under his eyes, the furrow of stress on his forehead even as he slept, and the scabbed-over crescents on his arms where he had gripped too tight and hurt himself without realizing.

     Duke sighed in exasperation. He was touched that Nathan apparently cared more than he let on, but appalled by the lack of care his friend showed himself. “Audrey, you better come back soon. This idiot needs you,” He told the empty room, looking heavenward as if he knew she was out there, somewhere, listening. “And so do I, okay?”

     His eyes dimmed when the expected silence answered him. “I’m so tired, Auds. Just come home, please.” He closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

     “I miss her too.” The quiet whisper had Duke opening his eyes again, looking at Nathan, who stared back with a small, relieved smile. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

     Duke hummed, tipping his head in a slight acknowledgement. “Thanks to you.”

     Nathan shrugged one shoulder as he shifted to lean on the arm of his chair. “Audrey will kill me if I let you die before she gets back.”

     “Right,” Duke murmured, playing along. “It’s not as if you care about me personally, after all,” He rasped.

     “Nope,” Nathan agreed, a corner of his mouth lifting in a grin as he got up and fetched Duke some water, helping him drink it.

     “It’s only for Audrey’s sake that you didn’t run away from me when I was a human bomb,” Duke surmised, sounding and feeling a bit better without the dryness in his throat.

     “Course.” Nathan nodded, sitting back down.

     “Of course,” Duke echoed, his lips twitching into a smile as the light banter lifted the oppressive atmosphere. He settled back against his pillow as he closed his eyes, already tired. “Of course.”

[ohanahoku-ao3]

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Tag Game -Let's Get to Know Each Other!

I was tagged for this game by @whoviankendokaqueenbeewithbooks Thanks for the tag, these games are so fun! :D

Just a warning, I got a little rant-y in my answers. Please don't take them too seriously, I'm just passionately opinionated about some things. xD

Relationship Status: Single and Not Looking to Mingle ;P

Favorite Color: Blue! Love a darker, vibrant blue with a touch of turquoise in it specifically. <3 But every shade of blue is gorgeous!

Lipstick or Chapstick: Chapstick. I never wear makeup. It's too much of a hassle.

Song Last Listened To: Currently listening to a new song, Close Behind by Noah Kahan. But if you want to know the most recent song I've specifically selected to listen to from my playlist it was My Love is Sick by Madds Buckley. (It gives me such strong, angsty Nightwing vibes, definitely wanna write something based off it!)

Last Movie Watched: Mirror, Mirror. A much better Snow White than the current one. xD Not that it's a cinematic masterpiece, but it was a favorite of my early teen years.

Top 3 Shows (at the moment) (I'm sticking to just live-action shows to make it easier to choose.)

1. Leverage (I'm pretty sure this show will always be my favorite, it has been for years, and the only reason I've never written for it is because I could never do it justice.) (Also, it should be noted that I hate Leverage Redemption. It hurts my very soul, and if I ever do write for Leverage, it would be to rewrite the sequel and fix it.)

After that it is so, so hard to choose. So hard! But for #2 I'll say it's tied between Teen Wolf and Merlin. Teen Wolf because I like the darker vibe of the show mixed with the humor from the characters, but it can't fully beat Merlin because I don't love the main character of Scott that much. I feel like he never got any character development, and in my eyes Stiles will always be the main star of the show. Merlin because I love Merlin's character, he has some great, albeit heartbreaking, character development, and also because I love Medieval Fantasy and dragons and knights and all that jazz. But it also can't fully claim spot # 2 over Teen Wolf, because the show just had so much more potential that the writers didn't flesh out. (And side characters that I loved that never got the screentime they deserved.) Also, it has a sad ending, which is tragically beautiful, but after 5 seasons, I really wanted the happy ending Merlin deserved.

For #3 I'd say Stranger Things for now, we'll see if that changes once the fifth season finally comes out. (I swear if they kill Steve or Dustin I'm rioting.)

(I'd also like to note that Doctor Who would be the true #2 show if I could only pick the early seasons with Christopher Eccleston and David Tenant, but if we're considering the whole show, I just can't. The writing got so horrible after David left, and I can't stand the directions they're going in now with the two-person split. It's just my opinion, but I think the writers have really sacrificed the story for fan service, and I think that's extremely sad. Just my opinion though.)

Top 3 Characters: (This one is also so hard! They fluctuate with my mood, so these are the current ones.)

Dick Grayson. I'm so obsessed with him right now. (I've got three WIPs I'm writing, and my main fics are suffering for it.)

The Doctor (Specifically the 10th Doctor. He's so angsty and dark and fun-loving and hurt. I love him so much. <3)

Stiles. I can't get enough of his sarcastic sass and intelligence and bravery. (While I don't always write him as a human, I love that in the show he was the everyman character.)

Top 3 Ships:

The Doctor/Rose. To say I bawled my eyes out over story is a severe understatement. It gets me every time I think about it, even just writing this is making my eyes water.

Kyo/Tohru. They're so cute, and I'm obsessed with their story. (Fruits Basket is my all-time fave anime.)

Parker/Hardison. I love their dynamic and the almost immediate one-sided attraction that slowly blossomed into love on both sides. I love a good slow burn that lets you see how the couple grows together as opposed to whirlwind romances that feel so... thin and baseless.

Books I Am Currently Reading: I'm actually not reading any currently. But I recently read two awesome fics that I highly recommend. The first being Organic Failure by Content_Scrapbooker and Once More With Feeling by Rosie_the_Fanfic_Reader. They're both Dick Grayson stories, and they are awesome!

Top 5 Musicals: (This list is a bit rushed, but pretty accurate, I think.)

Phantom of the Opera

The Music Man

Les Miserables (Haven't seen this one, but I love the music.)

Singing in the Rain

Mary Poppins

And that's me! If anyone wants to play, you're welcome to join, I'd love to get to know you! But for now I'll tag @sternenblumen @clotpolemerlin @content-scrapbooker

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Stuff of Legends

Words: 143 Tagging: @flashfictionfridayofficial

You are the stuff of legends.

Please, do not ever let anyone tell you otherwise. You are brave and strong, kind and loving. So what if you get angry sometimes? Do you not think, that those whose names echo in history did not get angry too?

You are the stuff of legends.

You are a star that is shinning, bright and mighty upon earthly firmament. So, please, do not dismiss yourself. Do not make yourself to be less, because you are magnificent.

You are the stuff of legends.

But some people forget, that not all legends names are written down, some names are passed down by word. Because the legend they left behind is kindness in an unkind word. So, please. Be the stuff of legend: loving and kind, fierce and bold when needed. And wise enough to know how to be each.

~ Ely C. Winters.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 15

This one's a little different, guys. It's a formula for an animatic based on the song She Used to Be Mine by Sara Bareilles. It focuses on Post-Spyral Dick Grayson lamenting his life and grieving his childhood and the person he could have been. Italics are the lyrics, hope you enjoy!

Teen & Up - Gen - DCU/Batman/Teen Titans

He Used to Be Mine

It's not simple to say

A weary looking Dick Grayson puts on his suit and mask.

Most days I don't recognize me

Approaching the window of his apartment, his reflection is briefly seen on the glass before he opens the window to the fire escape.

That these shoes and this apron

Focus shot on his hand gripping one of his escrimas, cuts to a shot of the symbol on his chest.

That place and its patrons

Nightwing looks towards the Gotham skyline in the distance, the Batsignal flickers on as he watches.

Have taken more than I gave them

Scene flickers to similar shot featuring young Dick in his family’s colors, staring at the Big Top circus tent as the bodies of his parents are carried out, covered in sheets.

It's not easy to know

Cuts to a shot of Nightwing’s face close up, eyebrows scrunched and mouth downturned.

I'm not anything like I used to be

Cuts to a picture of young Dick’s face, smiling and happy.

Although it's true

Young Dick’s smile fades to a horrified stare.

I was never attention's sweet center

Camera zooms out to show Dick kneeling on the trapeze platform, one hand reached out towards his parents’ bodies. Scene freezes in black and white as the front page of a newspaper.

I still remember that girl

A colorful magazine is thrown onto the newspaper, a picture of young Dick posing at the circus with a smile on his face. One of the taglines reads ‘Haly’s Child Star- What Future Awaits Him Now?’

She's imperfect, but she tries

Start of more flashbacks, begins with young Dick at the Youth Center getting beaten up, already with a black eye, he swings at the bully and misses.

She is good, but she lies

Dick alerts a guard to the bullies going after a black kid, cuts to him with the kid, the kid has a question mark over his head, Dick’s hands are up in a defensive pose. A speech bubble shows the Romani flag crossed out as Dick denies his heritage.

She is hard on herself

Dick swings a punch, glass breaks, Dick is seen standing over a sink, staring at himself in the cracked mirror.

She is broken and won't ask for help

Blood drips from his knuckles, Dick pushes away from the sink and stalks out of the bathroom as another kid walks in.

She is messy, but she's kind

Dick spits blood onto the floor as one of the guards hovers over him worriedly. He looks up at her and smiles reassuringly, one of his teeth missing.

She is lonely most of the time

Dick sits at a table and looks up as Bruce walks into the room.

She is all of this mixed up and baked

Side by side image of Bruce and Dick facing each other, their black hair transitioning as a gradient into gray, faded images of their parent’s deaths.

In a beautiful pie

Dick is pressed against the window of Bruce’s car, eyes sparkling as Bruce smiles behind him. Cuts to a picture of little Dick standing in front of Wayne Manor.

She is gone but she used to be mine

Dick sits at a table with Bruce, a wide grin on his face as he decorates cookies with Bruce, they’re both splatted with bright, colorful frosting. In the background, Alfred smiles as he watches them.

It's not what I asked for

Young Dick stands alone in the imposing halls of Wayne Manor. He peeks into Bruce’s office and sees him enter the secret entrance through the clock.

Sometimes life just slips in through a back door

Dick peeks around a corner in the Batcave, eyes wide and awed as he sees Bruce pull on the cowl.

And carves out a person

Quick succession of shots of Batman in action, ending shot freezes.

And makes you believe it's all true

The shot of Batman distorts into a same posed shot of Robin, then shuffles through shots of him pulling off similar moves. (With some added ~flair~ of course!)

And now I've got you

Shuffled photos show Dick start a flip/kick as Robin, in the middle of the flip, his uniform changes into his uniform as Slade’s Apprentice (complete with swords), as he lands the kick, his uniform switches into the Nightwing uniform.

And you're not what I asked for

(Flashbacks over.) Nightwing stands stoic next to a classic CRASH sound burst. Camera closes in on him. His posture is rigid, his face is set in a deep frown with his brow furrowed. (Eyebrows angled down, not up.)

If I'm honest, I know I would give it all back

Nightwing approaches Red Hood on a rooftop, holding his hands up and stepping away as Red Hood wordlessly points a gun at him..

For a chance to start over

Switches to a scene of Dick trying to talk to Tim, reaching a hand towards him. His shoulders slump as Tim walks away.

And rewrite an ending or two

Nightwing watches with despair as Batman and Robin patrol together.

For the girl that I knew

Nightwing closes his eyes, a tear dripping down his face, half the screen shows a little memory bubble of Dick holding Damian on his shoulders, Dick grinning as Damian laughs.

Who'll be reckless just enough

(Imaginings of a different Reality) Robin (Dick) fights with the Titans, blocking a shot that would have hit Starfire.

Who'll get hurt

Dick backs away from Mirage as she melts away the illusion of being Starfire in his bed.

But who learns how to toughen up when she's bruised

Dick sits on a couch, holding a cup of cocoa, a small, sad smile on his face while Wally and Kori try to cheer him up, Roy sits nearby, holding a newspaper with the headline ‘Catalina Flores, FBI Agent, Imprisoned.’

And gets used by a man who can't love

Nightwing stands in the Batcave, eyes wide as he stares at Batman, the Batcomputer’s screen is filled with intel on Spyral.

And then she'll get stuck and be scared

Dick shakes his head, refusing the mission, backing up as Bruce steps forward and his shadow falls over him.

Of the life that's inside her

Dick flies back from a kick to his stomach, hitting the wall of the cave hard and doubling over as he coughs.

Growing stronger each day

Dick continues to shake his head as he straightens up. Batman’s frown deepens.

Till it finally reminds her

Shuffles through multiple pictures of Batman hitting Dick. His costume tatters, Dick’s mask falls off.

To fight just a little

Dick lays on the ground, dirty and bruised and bleeding. His hand clenches into a fist.

To bring back the fire in her eyes

His face tilts up to glare at Batman, his disheveled hair covering one eye. A cold blue flame burns in his visible eye.

That's been gone but used to be mine

Dick screams his refusal, “NO!” at the ground, pushes himself up and launches at Batman. Shuffles through scenes of them fighting, Dick gaining the upper hand.

Used to be mine

Batman lays on the ground, unconscious with his hands bound. Dick’s knees buckle where he stands a few feet away. Tim catches him as he falls, eyes wide and worried as he calls for Alfred.

She is messy, but she's kind

(Back to Reality) Nightwing, dirtied from patrol, helps a victim to their feet, smiling.

She is lonely most of the time

Nightwing walks home along the rooftops, a lone figure backed by the moonlight. Entering his apartment, he finds Damian waiting for him.

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

A question mark forms above Dick’s head as he peels his mask off, and Damian huffs “Tt,” as he walks forward and hugs his brother.

She is gone but she used to be mine

Dick’s eyes well with tears as he hugs him back tightly, the animatic ending as their image fades into one of them hugging with Damien as Robin and Dick as Batman.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Merlin: I won't say "I told you so." Merlin, 0.2 seconds later: I told you so.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

This is awesome! It could also give further reason as to why the druids saved Leon's life by letting him drink from the cup. It's possible some of those druids had been saved by his father and recognized him. Maybe they brought him back as a thank you to their now dead ally.

Also, also! What if his father had instilled in Leon those same beliefs? What if Leon also recognizes that what Uther does is wrong? What if Leon actually knows about Merlin's magic, but turns a blind eye to it just like his father did? Never even acknowledging it for fear that they may be overheard. But he still does his best to direct people away from Merlin when he knows Merlin is up to something?

What if Leon laughed off Merlin's joke about the crossbow because he knew about the countless times that Merlin saved Arthur and trusted that Merlin had Camelot's best interest at heart?

One of my little headcanons for bbc merlin's is that Leon's father was Uther's first knight and he was more loyal to his oath to the people than the Crown. So when Uther sent out his knights to round up sorcerers and raid Druid camps, he would constantly turn a blind eye and let people get away because he knew what Uther was doing was wrong but he couldn't fight back against Uther because the other knights were following his orders and he would've been outnumbered, locked up, and killed along with the "magic sympathizers" that were also executed with magic users and then there wouldn't be anyone in the ranks helping out those being hunted and attacked.

Anyways, he remained as Uther's first knight throughout the entire Purge to help as many people as he could. When word got to Uther about a sighting of Balinor near this small village called Ealdor, he was sent out as Uther still had unwavering trust in him so he went out to Ealdor and he DID find Balinor hiding in Hunith's home but he pretended he didn't see him and spared his life which led to Emrys's birth.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Surprise! Tumblr just got turned into an epic fantasy RPG, just like [your favorite appropriate media franchise]. And the Tumblr RPG's plot needs to have all of its characters covered, in roles both large and small.

That means that you are assigned to a stereotypical RPG role inside our new fantasy world. Spin this wheel to find out what you are now doing for a living.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

King Arthur and his Slutty White Shirt 👑 Ko-Fi

[ohanahoku-ao3]

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2024 Day 13

I'm so excited to share this with you guys! Please enjoy a heaping dose of Peter Hale whump in honor of Whumptober. <3 (Mark this for later if you're short on time, this one's 9000+ words long!)

Teen & Up - Gen, F/M - Teen Wolf

Haunting Memories of the Left Hand (Subscribe to the series this will become here!)

     Stiles paced the floor, occasionally looking at Scott or the visiting fae emissary from Chicago as he listened to the woman inform them of the threat she’d been brought in to help them take down.

     “The fae that’s been targeting Beacon Hills is a Moderatorem Memoriae. Literally, a controller of memories. She targets you by forcing you to relive your worst memories. If you’re not strong enough to fight back, you get stuck in those memories until you lose yourself to them completely. You’ll essentially be placed into a coma until, eventually, your mind won’t be able to take it anymore, and then…”

     “And then what?” Scott asked, his arms crossed as he stood over the fae sitting on his couch.

     “You’ll die. The strain on your mind and the stress of your heart will break you.” The fae, Kalmia, said softly, her hands folded in her lap. “The person targeted suffers greatly before the end. I haven’t encountered this fae before, but I have heard of her. She killed eight people in Cincinnati three years ago.”

     “Great! We love a serial killer who can get inside your head,” Stiles muttered, pulling on his knuckles. Catching Scott’s concerned gaze, he shook his head and waved off his concern as the alpha’s phone rang. Stiles turned to keep pacing as Scott answered the call, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He brushed his thumb over the backwards S behind his ear, breathing out slowly as he reasoned that it wasn’t the same threat. The fae was messing with people’s memories, not possessing them.

     “We’re on our way.” Scott’s voice took on a serious tone, and he hung up before stalking towards the door. “She’s going after Peter. We need to hurry.”

     Stiles’ eyes widened, and he rushed to follow Scott with Kalmia close behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     They were too late. By the time they reached Peter’s apartment, the beta was lying on the floor, eyes open and glassed over, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

     “Peter!” Lydia was the first to reach him, kneeling down and cupping his face. “Peter, can you hear me?”

     “He can’t hear anything in this state,” Kalmia said as she watched the banshee try to wake him up, feeling a bit stunned at how fast the fae had worked.

     “Then how do we fix him?” Malia asked, growling as she looked around at the broken furniture of her father’s home.

     “His heart’s beating really fast,” Derek murmured, his eyes a little wide as he watched Lydia check Peter’s pulse.

     “I said how do we fix him?” Malia snarled, grabbing Kalmia’s wrist and flashing blue eyes as she fixed her with a glare.

     “Whoa, easy. She’s here to help, Malia,” Scott interjected, putting himself between them and making Malia let go.

     Kalmia rubbed her wrist to ease the ache out of it. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect it to be this bad,” She murmured, moving closer to Peter warily. “Her aura is entwined with his in a way that’s… not natural. It’s happening faster than I thought it would.”

     “But you can help him, right?” Stiles asked as he moved to Peter’s side.

     “It’s… possible,” Kalmia said, slowly kneeling behind Peter’s head. She placed a delicate hand on his temple and inhaled sharply, her thin lips almost disappearing as she pressed them together. She didn’t stand a chance at helping him with the rogue fae’s energy so deeply ingrained in his. However, there was another way. “To be more precise, you may be able to help him,” Kalmia said, looking up at them. “If Peter is stuck in his memories and unable to break free himself, then as his pack, you may be able to help him snap out of it. However, there’s a good chance it won’t work.”

     “What do we have to do?” Stiles asked.

     Kalmia was a bit startled by his question, glancing at the others as they all shifted forward, eager to help their packmate. She didn’t expect them to be so willing without knowing all the details. “I’d have to create a mental link between you and him. It would place you in his memories with him, giving you a chance at pulling him out of it. It’s not easy. Depending on the memory and how entrenched it is, he may not even be aware that you’re there, and even if he is, he may not recognize you.”

     “We’ll figure it out.” The statement came from Scott as the alpha stepped forward, his voice a near growl as Peter whined. The sound drew their attention, and they looked down to see the beta’s eyes flicker distressed blue.

     The sight tugged on Kalmia’s heartstrings, but she couldn’t let them submit to her magic without warning them of the danger it posed. “You don’t understand,” She told them, looking up at the group of wolves. “It’s dangerous! If something goes wrong, you could all die trying to save him!” Kalmia protested, trying to impress the severity of the situation on them. She wasn’t willing to try if they wouldn’t regard things seriously. “I won’t sacrifice your lives for a si-” Kalmia’s voice died out as her eyes went wide, incredulous, and just a tad frightful as the wolves growled at her, their eyes red and blue and scorching with the anger they held.

     “Death is the least of our worries,” Lydia assured her, her red lips splitting in a smile as Kalmia turned to her.

     The banshee’s grin was just as sharp as the wolves’ fangs, and the fae couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her at the sudden change of atmosphere. Kalmia had been aware of the dangerous aura of the pack when she arrived, but the sudden threat of violence in the air was suffocating.

     Kalmia’s head snapped towards Stiles as he kneeled down next to her. His eyes were colder than the bluest ice, and though they didn’t glow, the fae could see the murky sheen of spilled blood, the distinct glint of steel, and the shadows of a thousand horrors in their depths. Her heart quickened in her chest, abruptly aware that this pack was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Staring into the human’s eyes, she could see raw energy twined with his soul, the bright gold twisting through metal and shadows and blood.

     “Now, tell us what we have to do,” Stiles told her, and Kalmia could only nod in answer. If they wanted to save Peter, then there was no time for the questions lying on her tongue, nor for the fear instilled by this unusual pack of wolves and banshee and human- n̵o̸t̷-̵h̸u̷m̷a̷n̶  h̵̖̎ȕ̶̹m̸̤͝ȧ̴̫n̵̨̾- other (̵̮̍̇s̴̛͎̥͒͊p̶͓̆ͅḁ̶̆̈́ȓ̷̡̨̞̓̐k̶̯͓̍̌?̸͉͚̃̅͌)̶̹̻̽̂ .

     “Grab hands, all of you, plus Peter,” Kalmia instructed once she found her voice, watching as everyone settled on the floor around the fallen wolf. Stiles and Lydia grabbed Peter’s hands, then Malia and Derek’s, respectively, and Scott finished the link as he reached out for his betas. She then placed her hands on Peter’s head, fingers gently caressing his temples. “I’ll keep the connection open as long as I can.” She promised before closing her eyes and letting her energy flow into Peter, suffusing his aura and spreading through him to the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     Derek found himself on the edge of Beacon Hill's cemetery, looking out over the tombstones that were vaguely obscured by morning fog. He glanced around, half expecting his pack to be with him, but there was only Peter. His uncle sat on a bench, staring out at the yard with a distant look on his face.

     Unsure how to approach the situation, Derek stayed quiet as he moved to the bench and sat down. He caught Peter's brief glance, but his uncle showed no recognition as his gaze returned silently to the headstones.

     Derek followed suit, his stomach sinking as he realized who Peter must have been mourning. Was he prepared to help his uncle grieve the alpha they'd lost in Derek's mother? He wasn’t sure if he could. Peter’s relationship with Talia had always been strained, nothing like Derek’s own relationship with her. If he tried to help, would he just make it worse by saying something wrong?

     He chewed on these thoughts for a little while before deciding that if Peter didn’t recognize him, maybe it would be possible to do more listening than speaking. He’d be less likely to trip up that way. He shifted, and the bench creaked beneath him, drawing Peter’s attention. “What were they like?” He asked, glancing at Peter. “The person you’re here for.”

     Peter stared at the side of Derek’s face, his gaze burning for a couple of seconds, making Derek tense, wondering if he’d been recognized. Then the eyes looked away, and Peter answered in a quiet voice. “Kind.”

     The answer caught Derek by surprise, his head turning towards Peter automatically, stunned by the grief he found in Peter’s eyes.

     “And strong. She was so strong, even when she was dying. She faced it so bravely…” Peter's voice cracked and trailed off, and Derek swallowed hard as he processed the words.

     He hadn't been home the night of the fire. He didn't have any idea of what really happened that night to his family, how they had reacted and fought to escape. What had his mother looked like as she watched their family die? How hard had she tried to make it out? How quickly did she succumb when faced with the death of their pack?

     “It was my fault, really. And I don’t… I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it,” Peter murmured, sounding distant again.

     Derek’s chest squeezed painfully tight, and he flexed his fingers to keep from popping his claws out. He knew how that felt all too well. After all, it wasn’t Peter’s fault that Talia and the pack died. He had survivor’s guilt, sure, a question as to why he lived when they didn’t make it. But in reality? It was Derek’s fault that his family had been massacred. He’d let his guard down and Kate Argent in. Derek was the one to blame, not Peter. 

     “I was young and brazen, but that’s no excuse,” Peter continued, and something about those words gave Derek pause. Yes, Peter had been younger, but what did that have to do with his survival? “I killed her and let others take the blame, too ashamed to admit it was my fault.”

     Derek’s veins were filled with ice, frozen slush pumping through his heart and spreading to his hands as a realization slowly crept up on him. They weren’t talking about Talia, were they? They were talking about-

     “What was her name?” Derek asked, trying not to get ahead of himself.

     His heart shattered all the same as Peter slowly met his gaze and answered. “Paige.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     When Malia opened her eyes, she was standing in what she slowly recognized as the Hale house. Not the charred, ruined house of her timeline, but one before the fire had desolated it. It was bright, decorated with warm browns and deep greens, mimicking the woods that she’d always felt so comfortable in. Scents pervaded the home, filling it with active, happy pups and busy, mildly stressed adults. There were human scents, wolf scents, and even some scent she couldn’t place, something other that made her nose twitch and almost tingle. She was tempted to follow that scent and discover what it was, but instead, she strode in the opposite direction, following the two scents that had caught her attention most. They were scents that screamed angry-alpha-submit and betrayed-beta-defiance.

     She wasn’t surprised when she found Talia and Peter in the study, nor was she surprised that they were arguing.

     “For the last time, Peter, stand down!” Talia roared, eyes glowing red as she looked up from her desk.

     “Not until you tell me!” The weirdly young Peter shouted back, eyes glowing a vibrant yellow as he bared his fangs in clear disregard for the alpha’s orders. Malia wondered how old he was and why she was seeing such an early memory, having assumed she'd be seeing the Hale fire or the day Peter died. “You took something I didn’t give you, Talia! And I want it back!” Peter’s fist came down on the desk he was leaning over, his chest heaving and his body trembling, and Malia froze when she saw the barely healing claw marks on his neck. The realization of what they were arguing about threw her for a loop, the young beta never having given serious thought to her father’s reaction when he found out his memory had been taken.

     She stepped forward as the shock wore off, intrigue overriding her concern as she stayed silent. She knew she was meant to be helping him, but she couldn’t help wanting to see the scene unfold. Deep down, a part of her had always believed Peter wanted to forget her, that somehow Talia’s little parlor trick wouldn’t work unless Peter, on some level, hadn’t cared about her, and this was her chance to find out.

     Talia growled lowly and stood up, prompting Peter to back up a step, his posture suddenly wary. “I took nothing without your permission. You begged me to take the memory away, Peter. You were a sniveling mess, insisting that I do so.”

     Malia scoffed, unable to picture Peter sniveling and begging at Talia’s feet. “I can’t believe she expects you to believe that.” She raised an eyebrow at Talia, who continued to ignore her as they both had since she walked into the room.

     There was no scathing retort from Peter, though, and Malia looked at him, shocked to see the slight uncertainty on his face. It didn’t last long, but it was there for just a few seconds before Peter’s lips thinned. “I don’t believe you. I would rather die than give up my memory, even if it hurt me,” He stated, posturing as he crossed his arms and straightened up, meeting Talia’s gaze.

     Their eyes no longer glowed, but the staredown was still intense as it stretched for a few moments before Talia answered quietly. “But if it hurt your pack? Would you still refuse?”

     Peter’s eyes widened, and he shuffled back half a step as his arms dropped down to his sides. Peter looked incredibly vulnerable as Malia watched her father flounder in a moment of confusion and dawning belief. Still, he wasn’t wholly convinced as he clenched his fists and flashed his eyes again. “If I find out you’re lying, Talia… You won’t like what I do,” He threatened, his whole body tense as the alpha stepped around the desk and moved to put an arm around him.

     Malia bared her teeth and snarled at the way her wretch of an aunt touched her father, mocking him with false affection. “I’m not lying, Peter. But I understand your mistrust. I’m sorry it had to come to what it did,” Talia murmured, and Malia felt sick at how Talia’s heart beat steadily throughout the lies. How long had Talia been gaslighting Peter like this? How often had she lied to be able to do it so well without a trace of stuttering in her heartbeat?

     “Just answer me this: Did I forget something or someone?” Peter asked, and his expression crumpled with grief when Talia simply remained silent and pulled him into a hug. Her heart skipped just briefly over his use of the word ‘someone’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     When Scott opened his eyes, he was in a forest, surrounded by nothing but trees and moonlight. It was quiet until it wasn’t, and Scott’s feet turned automatically toward the sound of screams, the alpha running with sure footsteps towards a howl of a wolf that screamed for its alpha. He skidded to a stop on the edge of a small clearing, and his heart stuttered at the horrifying sight of a small girl surrounded by hunters. There were guns and arrows aimed at the child’s neck and chest, and the men holding the weapons smiled wickedly at the fearful golden eyes that the girl flashed in fright. “Come on, girlie. Scream for Mama to come rescue you.”

     Scott growled at the words of the assumed leader, and he rushed forward before they could threaten her further, teeth and claws gleaming in the moonlight as he tackled the man. Scott’s head spun as he landed on the forest floor, disoriented as he pushed himself up and turned, half-lying on the floor as he stared up in confusion at the man he’d just phased through. He couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t save her. He could only watch in horror as the girl refused to scream, smart enough to recognize a trap but too scared to hold out for long as one of the men grabbed her hair and put a gun to her temple. The girl let out a terrified howl that Scott felt down to his soul, a desperate call for her alpha that had Scott keening and scrambling to his feet to try again.

     One of the men in the circle went down with a shout, and a stray arrow embedded itself into a tree. Scott stared with wide eyes at the unfamiliar yet unmistakable young Peter that had taken the man down, flinching as Peter turned towards him and lunged. He dodged just in time, and Peter took down another hunter with a slash of claws. The shock wore off as the hunters started yelling. They were all trying to land a bullet or arrow on Peter’s body, but the beta wasn’t letting them. Scott had never seen Peter move so fast as he dodged bullets and arrows, even catching one arrow and lodging it in the neck of a hunter who was swinging at him. It was over in a matter of minutes, leaving only Peter, the girl, and the man holding the gun to her head. Said hunter stared at Peter with wide eyes, stunned at the quick and brutal takedown of his partners.

     “B-Back off,” The hunter stuttered, and now that he was focusing on him, Scott noticed his youth. He couldn’t be any older than Peter, who looked to be in his early twenties, yet his hand didn’t shake where he held the gun. “I’ll shoot her if you get any closer.”

     The girl whimpered, eyes still glowing yellow, but she looked up at Peter with such implicit trust that Scott felt a distant pang of guilt for being surprised at the display.

     “And then you’ll be dead,” Peter countered, flicking blood from his claws before pausing, producing a low growl. Inexplicably, Scott felt himself relax a little and realized with shock that the sound was meant for the girl, to calm her more than to intimidate the man, though the hunter definitely looked spooked. The girl’s eyes stopped glowing as she eased a little, and Peter continued. “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to drop the gun and let her go because that’s the only way you don’t die. Then you’re going to go running back home and tell whoever’s left of your people that if any of you step foot on Hale property again, you’ll be dealing with the alpha next time. And if I can take you down so fast, just imagine what she could do.”

     The hunter’s face paled slowly, and without a word, he tossed his gun down and pushed the girl at Peter. The beta caught her as she stumbled forward and growled angrily at the hunter, who had already turned tail and started running.

     Scott sighed, relieved that the girl was now safe. Even as he glanced at the bodies cooling on the ground, he couldn’t muster up his usual hatred for killing. Not when his relief was so tangible that Scott could taste it, a copper tang similar to blood. He turned from the bodies to watch as Peter knelt down and scooped the girl into his arms.

     “Cora,” Peter murmured reverently as he pressed his lips to her forehead, one hand cupping the back of her head. He tucked her into his shoulder. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” He scolded, and Scott had to smile at the sight of Peter acting like a worried parent. Peter shushed Cora as she started to cry, reassuring her as he turned them towards the Hale homestead and started walking.

     Scott’s smile faltered before settling with a look of pride on the alpha’s face as he stared at the way Peter was holding Cora. Peter held the girl so carefully, with his one clean hand pressing her close to him, and with his other arm, he held her weight up, supporting her from beneath with his bloody left hand extended out, ensuring that not a drop of blood got on the young girl. The position screamed protectiveness so loud that Scott completely missed the shadow emerging from the right until the figure was directly next to him.

     With a battle cry, the young hunter rushed at the pair, dagger in hand, and before Scott could blink, Peter reacted, hand dropping from Cora’s back and reaching behind him. He pulled the hunter’s gun out of his waistband, and with cold eyes that would someday glow in frigid blue, Peter pulled the trigger. The hunter dropped in his tracks, the back of his head nothing more than a jagged hole where his brain used to be.

     Scott stared at the body in shock before looking back at Peter, who was swallowing convulsively and looking a little green. Cora whimpered, starting to cry again, and Peter snapped out of it. He dropped the gun and held her tighter as he tried to calm her, his feet carrying them away quickly as they left Scott and the dead hunters behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Stiles noticed the heat before he even opened his eyes. He heard the screams and the crackle of flames, and he knew exactly what memory he had stepped into. At a quiet gasp to his left, Stiles reached out, interlocking his fingers with Lydia’s and squeezing them tight as he steeled himself to open his eyes.

     The sight was just as horrible as he expected. Three werewolves tried to reach out into the open air through the barred windows of the Hale basement, their skin blackened and burning as they screamed. Stiles’ stomach rolled, and they turned away from the sight to see Peter holding a young Cora in his arms, trying to shield her from the heat and smoke, struggling to breathe even as he murmured reassurances to her. There were burns on his hands, and his sleeves were half gone as if he’d reached directly into the fire.

     “He’s watching her,” Lydia observed, following Peter’s gaze to Talia, who was raging against the mountain ash barrier that kept her from opening the gate that led to the escape tunnel. The alpha roared, reaching toward the bars and howling in pain as she strained to reach the gate, pushing at the barrier with her hands. For a brief, foolish moment of hope, the duo held their breath along with Peter, and then Talia fell back, unable to hold out against the barrier.

     She was no true alpha, after all, and for all that Stiles and Lydia mourned the Hales for their pack, neither held the alpha in esteem.

     “We have to snap him out of it,” Lydia said, watching as Peter hauled Talia off the ground and passed Cora to her.

     “How?” Stiles asked. “That witch’s mojo is all over him,” He told her, gesturing and glancing at Lydia once and then again as she first raised one eyebrow, then both. “Oh. You can’t see that?”

     “First off, you know the fae consider witch to be a derogatory term, and I’m only letting you get away with it because this one deserves it. And secondly, no, Stiles, I can’t see that.” Lydia shook her head, smiling exasperatedly at him, despite their morbid surroundings. 

     Her boyfriend shrugged, scratching the back of his head sheepishly as he always did when they discovered something odd he could do that the others couldn’t. “I mean, he’s practically wrapped in her… aura or whatever. Not sure if we should try touching him.”

     “Then we won’t. But we can try talking to him,” Lydia said, letting go of Stiles’ hand and walking over to the gate where Peter was psyching himself up to try the barrier. “Peter. Peter, can you hear me? It’s Lydia.”

     “And Stiles! I’m here too,” Stiles chimed in, walking to Peter’s other side. “Come on, Zombiewolf, time to wake up, buddy, okay?”

     Peter continued to ignore them, shaking his arms out and glancing back at the other wolves in the basement, a look of desperation overtaking his features as he faced forward again. “I can do this. I’m the alpha. Just… be an alpha, and I can do this.”

     Stiles and Lydia shared a look of realization at the whispered words, and Lydia averted her eyes first, biting her lip as Stiles sighed heavily. Both knew of Peter’s obsession with being the alpha, but the wolf had long since lost the mindset, accepting that he didn’t need to be an alpha to protect his pack, to protect himself.

     Insight told them that this was a pinnacle moment that had led to Peter’s obsession, a moment where he was doing all he could to save his pack. It was this moment that got stuck on a loop in his head for the next six years before Peter woke from his coma, and if they didn’t stop this soon, Peter might not wake up this time.

     Peter reached forward, crying out as he hit the barrier, his face twisting in pain. But he didn’t pull back, his body one long line of tension as he persisted, grunting as he clenched his teeth.

     “Peter, stop this! This isn’t real!” Lydia shouted, waving a hand in front of his face.

     “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work,” Stiles murmured, though a moment later, he joined in, calling Peter’s name repeatedly as the wolf continued to ignore them.

     Peter’s eyes glowed a bright yellow as they watched, and he roared, fangs bared and spit flying. The beta pushed harder against the barrier, and they watched in shock as the barrier ballooned out around his hands, his fingers managing to grasp the metal bars. Peter gasped, but it wasn’t a sound of hope or surprise. It was a sound of pure agony, and Peter’s body trembled, fine muscle spasms jerking his body as he tried to hold out. But it was too much for the beta. Somewhere between a moment and a growl, he flew back with a cry, landing on his back.

     “Peter…” Lydia’s voice was a mere wisp of sound, an echo of grief and pity.

     “Did he just- You saw that right?” Stiles asked, gobsmacked as he stared down at their Left Hand.

     “I saw it,” Lydia whispered, her voice shaking as she watched Peter’s form curl in on himself. “We have to stop this.” She shook the shock off as Peter struggled to his knees. “Now.”

     “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow.

     Lydia nodded, a slight grin overtaking her lips. “I think so. I might not be able to howl like Scott, but I can scream.”

     As Stiles watched, Lydia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He wondered what sound she chose to focus on, Peter’s heart or his own? Hearts were her preferred choice, after all. They were a reassurance that her pack was right there, grounding her with a comforting sound she could only ever hear when she screamed. And scream she did, calling Peter’s name in the shrill screech of a banshee.

     The sound blasted through the room, and as Stiles watched, the greenish hue of the magic clinging to Peter flickered and writhed beneath the onslaught. “It’s working! Again!” Stiles shouted, flinching just a bit and covering his ears when Lydia let loose a second, louder scream.

     But it worked! The green flickered again, fading momentarily as Peter’s eyes suddenly cleared and caught them. “Lydia?” He panted, blinking hard and turning to look at Stiles. “Stiles?”

     “Yes! Yes, we’re here, Peter! You’ve gotta come back to us, okay? This fae trapped you here, well, not here, but like a memory of being here, and-”

     “It’s not real!” Lydia interrupted. “It’s just a memory, Peter. You’ve got to fight this!”

     Peter’s brow crinkled, and he opened his mouth to reply, only to scream instead as the green aura surrounding him surged back to life. It enveloped him completely and pulsed outward, forcing Stiles and Lydia against the gate.

     A disembodied voice screeched in their ears. “You can’t save him! I won’t allow it!”

     Stiles and Lydia reached for each other and screamed together as the magic overcame them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Paige.”

     Peter murmured the name, and suddenly the world surrounding Derek shifted. Vertigo overcame him as the young man found himself on his feet, staggering forward to lean against a tree. The cemetery was gone, the headstones replaced with familiar trees, and the foggy morning replaced by waning moonlight filtering through the dark of night.

     Nausea rippled through his stomach, and Derek swallowed a mouthful of copper-tinged spit as he pushed back the urge to vomit. “Okay, I definitely don’t wanna do that again,” He mumbled, pushing himself off the tree as he looked around to gain his bearings. Rustling leaves drew his attention to the left, and he turned, his chest constricting as his eyes lit on the figure approaching him.

     A young Peter walked forward, eyes trained determinedly ahead of himself and arms gripping Paige’s crumpled form tightly. Moonlight slipped between the branches and glistened on the wet trails streaming down Peter’s face. Derek had to look away for a moment at the sight, unwilling to feel sorry for his uncle when it was his fault that Paige had died. He didn’t want to face this, to acknowledge the night he’d tried so hard to bury in their past. But it was like a magnet drew his eyes back to the man. He'd never let himself think of what happened during the aftermath when Peter left to bring Talia back and took Paige's body from him. But now, watching Peter kneel and lay Paige down on the ground, he thought maybe he should have. Because Peter was not okay.

     His uncle, who had been so stoic when he took Paige from him, who had so calmly lied to his mother that neither of them knew why Ennis had targeted Paige, was now crying over said girl. The tears kept coming, and Peter's breaths wheezed through his chest as he stumbled back from Paige's body and fell to his knees. The tremble in his lips grew more pronounced as he stared at the girl's body, and finally, he broke. Great, heaving sobs wracked his body.

     “I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!” Peter gasped, hands coming up to grip his hair and pull, an odd grounding motion that Derek had never seen him use before. Peter was always so calm, cool, and collected at all times. But like this, screaming and sobbing into the empty air, mourning a girl that he hardly even knew, Peter's horror couldn't be hidden away. His guilt, remorse, and terror were plain as day, and Derek’s breath caught in his chest as his uncle started begging the universe to turn his eyes blue, to let the blame fall on him instead of Derek. Peter pounded his fists on the ground and dug his claws into the dried leaves, screaming his admission of guilt as if he'd been the one to bite her as well as the one to snap her spine.

     Peter howled into the dirt, a sound of pure grief and mourning, and Derek couldn't take it anymore. His tears mirrored Peter's as he knelt down in front of him and gripped his shoulders. “Peter! Snap out of it! I forgive you! I do, I forgive you! It was both our faults, not just yours. We were both just stupid kids,” Derek sobbed, and when Peter didn't react, Derek's voice rose to join his uncle's as they howled for the death of their packmate who'd never been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Malia flung her arms out to balance herself as the memory suddenly stretched and shifted around her, leaving her in a familiar den that smelled of home and loneliness and blood. Warmth dripped onto her lips, and Malia reached up to touch them, her fingers coming away bloodied. “That's concerning,” She murmured, wiping at her bloody nose with her sleeve before ignoring it to focus on the people in the den.

     Peter stood at the den's entrance, staring at Malia’s past self. A stone settled in Malia's stomach, and she winced as he recalled the memory.

     “When were you going to say something? When was anyone going to say something?! I found out from a freaking piece of paper, and now you just expect me to accept this?” Malia asked in the memory, seething as she bared her teeth at the intruder in her den, at her father. “Well, it's not that easy, Peter,” She spat the name like a derogatory term, which, for a father who simply sought reconciliation, it likely felt like one.

     Malia watched with a grimace as her past self went on her tirade. The anger from then still echoed faintly in her chest, but it was merely a whisper of the past, long since resolved and mostly healed, at least on her end. Maybe not on Peter's, though, she thought as he opened his mouth to reply, only for past-Malia to trample over his attempt.

     “I don't want to hear it. You were never there for me, and I have a real father who, at the very least, tried!” Past-Malia shouted, stalking forward and shouldering her way past him. “You'll never be my dad!” She sneered. “Feel free to show yourself out.”

     As past-Malia walked out, present-Malia watched with regret as Peter's face drained of color at the words. At the time, she hadn't stuck around to ensure that he left and had just assumed that Peter had gone shortly after her departure. That didn't seem to be the case, though, and Malia stared as Peter sank to his knees. His eyes were glazed over, and his chest was barely moving, her father hardly breathing as he gazed into the distance.

     “Peter?” Malia called, unnerved at the sight of her father shutting down. She'd never seen him do this, but it reminded her of Stiles’ panic attacks, the ones where he went quiet and tense, and his eyes tracked the shadows and ignored everything else as he counted fingers and ran the shaking digits over the mark behind his ear. This was like that, in the way that Peter seemed lost and far away, but he wasn't moving his hands, nor trembling the way that Stiles did. His body was still as a corpse instead, face pale, and breathing nearly nonexistent.

     Malia hated it. It tightened a knot of worry in her chest, and she didn’t know what to do. “Peter,” She called again, kneeling in front of him. Her hands hovered over his shoulders, unsure. Stiles hated being touched during his attacks, but this was different, and she was growing more scared by the second. “Dad, please,” She whispered, gripping his arms and ignoring the guilty tears that welled in her eyes. “I'm right here, Dad. I'm right here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The dark woods around Scott winked out of existence in a flash of light, and Scott’s vision blurred, his knees going weak beneath him as he sank to the floor of the study he suddenly found himself in. Scott shook the dizzy spell off, blinking heavily until he could bring the room into focus.

     In front of him, Peter stood with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched, a classic defensive posture that looked out of place for the young man. Talia stood by the corner of her desk, an angry look on her face as she lit into Peter.

     “-the stupidest thing you could have done! Your fingerprints were all over the gun, Peter! If my contact at the sheriff’s office hadn’t managed to pull those prints before they reached anyone important, we’d have a right mess on our hands,” Talia ranted, seething at her younger brother.

     “I messed up, I know,” Peter admitted, rage coloring his tone, but his voice stayed quiet to not further anger the alpha. “I should have brought the gun back-”

     “You shouldn’t have used the gun at all! Seven men dead, Peter. Their families are clamoring for justice, and I’m stuck in the middle of it, trying to keep the peace!” Talia shouted.

     Peter growled, unable to help himself as he bared his teeth at her. “Justice?! If those hunters had followed their own code, their people wouldn’t be dead. They had no business coming after us! They didn’t even have the spine to fight us directly. No, they targeted Cora. They targeted a child, Talia, your daughter, in case you’ve forgotten, and if you had been the-”

     “Peter!” Scott cried for his beta as Peter went down in a heap. The beta lay on the floor, stunned, hand pressed against his jaw where a dark bruise was already forming from the vicious backhand that Talia had dealt him.

     Scott moved without thinking, putting himself between Peter and Talia. He growled loudly at the woman, but Talia went on without care, reminding Scott that this was just a memory.

     “Don't you dare talk as if I don't care about my daughter! I am her alpha and her mother, and if I could’ve been there, I would have!” Talia snarled.

     “But you weren't,” Peter murmured, prompting Scott to look back and see the beta's eyes glowing yellow with barely contained fury. Peter's lips were curled in a sardonic smile as he stared at the floor. “No, you were off with that quack of an emissary, doing God knows what, instead of being here where you were needed.” Condescension dripped from his voice like poisoned honey, a tone Scott had to assume he’d mastered at birth by how well Peter used it. “You’ve let that druid convince you that balance is more important than your pack, Talia. So what kind of alpha does that make you?”

     Peter looked up at Talia with the end of his question, and as Scott turned, he saw the blow coming this time. He saw the way Talia’s eyes burned red, her fangs dropping and claws extending as she raised her hand, ready to slash and hurt her  No, his beta. She was going to hurt his pack, and Scott reacted like any alpha should.

     His eyes were crimson flames as he dropped his fangs and roared, the sound a pure melody of protective rage as his claws flicked out, ready to fight the apparition.

     Talia froze. Anger still twisted her face, and her hand was inches into what would have been a devastating blow. But she didn’t react or move to acknowledge Scott, and the young alpha snarled in furious confusion, itching to fight and protect.

     “Scott?”

     Peter’s voice had Scott whirling around, the red fading from his eyes as Peter stared up at him with blue eyes that were much too young. Tears pooled in Peter’s waterline and slipped slowly down his cheeks as Peter sat up and glanced slowly between Talia and Scott. The look of unsurety on his face rocked Scott’s perception of his beta, and Scott immediately crouched down in front of Peter. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here, Peter. She’s not going to hurt you again,” He told him, but Peter seemed conflicted, still partially stuck in the memory and disbelieving that Scott was real.

     Grasping for a way to reassure Peter, Scott recalled how Peter had growled to soothe Cora. It was a low sound, more of a rumble than a growl, and Scott leaned into the memory of it and the way he’d relaxed instinctively at hearing the sound. He inhaled, thinking hard about wanting to comfort his beta in the same way, and breathed out, trusting in the instinct that took over as he rumbled softly.

     Peter jolted a bit at the sound before immediately calming, his eyes slowly gaining focus as his alpha reassured and called to him with the low rumble. It was a sound that promised help and safety, the sound of a packmate who cared, an alpha claiming that he was there and always would be. Peter’s eyes closed, the beta swaying forward as his head came to rest on Scott’s shoulder.

     “Alpha,” Peter whispered quietly as Scott pressed a gentle hand against his back.

     “I’m here,” Scott answered, offering his beta a smile as Peter pulled away with a slight flush to his ears.

     The beta cleared his throat, ignoring the evident embarrassment as he met Scott’s gaze. “The fae that did this…”

     “She won’t get away with it,” Scott said, his hand sliding from Peter’s back to his arm. “We’re going to save you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Stiles was in a hospital chair, slumped onto his mother’s bed as he idly watched her breathe. Up and down, her chest rose and fell, gradually growing more slow and shallow with every passing moment. Stiles knew what was coming. Intuition, or maybe just instinct, told him it wouldn’t be much longer. She’d been having such a good day, but Stiles had seen right through the false hope it gave his father. He knew it would be the last time she opened her eyes, the last time her smile warmed from the sight of them. So he stayed. His father left to go to work, despite Stiles begging him not to leave, and Stiles remained by her bedside as she fell asleep, keeping watch. It was the least he could do, to be there as she slipped away for the last time, to ensure that she wasn’t alone at the end, even if she wouldn’t know.

     So Stiles sat there, tears dripping from his eyes onto the blanket as he held her hand and watched as her breath began to stutter and fade. He sat there and refused to look away, refused to close his eyes as the EKG grew louder and louder, beeping faster and faster until it stopped altogether. Her chest fell in one last exhale, and Stiles screamed as the aides rushed to his side and tried to pull him away. “No! No, I have to stay with her!” He cried, trying to pull away. He twisted desperately to get away from them and froze as he saw his reflection in the mirror.

     A filmy green aura wrapped around him in swathes of light, and Stiles abruptly remembered Peter, the fae, and the wave of green energy that had overcome him and Lydia. The light flickered as he remembered, and he glanced down at his hand, recognizing the feel of Lydia’s clasped in his. It seemed that the fae’s magic couldn’t extend to others as strongly as it did to the original host. Stiles could feel it now, the energy fading around him the more he focused on the present and not the past. “Lydia!” He called as she flickered into a semi-transparent image in front of him. “Lydia, it’s not real!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Lydia never liked feeling helpless. She hated it, in fact. It’s what drove her to excel in school, even as she played the dumb blonde for Jackson. It led her to join Scott’s pack in the early days because even if she hated her newfound abilities, they were useful. Lydia could use them to help, and in Beacon Hills, they could use all the help they could get.

     But she couldn’t help now. Now she could only struggle to hold Stiles upright as the urge to scream welled in her chest and crept up her throat. Stiles stumbled and fell, and a name formed on her lips. Lydia screamed the name of her best friend.

     The world faded out as she screamed, and Lydia heard the worst sound she’d ever experienced, the sound of a friend dying. It was pierced flesh and dripping blood, desperate, whispered words, and the last rasping breath as Allison’s heart stopped beating. It echoed in her ears, promising to haunt her for the rest of her life as she collapsed against Stiles.

     Allison was gone, and with her went Lydia’s light as the world darkened with gloom around her. Sound came back, but the light stayed away, smothered by the dark whispers that buffeted the banshee’s ears. So much death, so much suffering. So much… Stiles?

     “Lydia, it’s not real!” The sound of Stiles’ voice seemed to bounce off the walls surrounding her, and Lydia sat up, her eyes wide as she stared at the unconscious boy next to her. “It’s the fae, Lydia. These memories aren’t real!”

     The fae… Peter! He’d been taken by the fae, and they were helping when she attacked them. Lydia had been blown back with…

     “Stiles!” Lydia called for her boyfriend, glancing around and jolting when she suddenly felt the hand in hers. She stared hard into the air next to her, and a wavering vision of Stiles appeared, flickering between a younger and older vision of himself. “Stiles?”

     “I’m here, Lydia! The fae can’t keep this up. She’s weakening. Just focus on breaking the illusion. It isn’t real!” He called, squeezing her hand hard.

     “It’s not real,” Lydia repeated, squeezing his hand back. It felt real, though. Oh, it felt so real, and she could still hear the whispers, the screams. “It’s not real,” She said again, hearing Stiles echo it beside her. It buoyed her faith, and Lydia raised her voice defiantly. “It’s not real!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “No!” With a loud shriek from the fae, the memory wavered and then winked out of existence with a flash of light. The fae’s magic released them, and Stiles and Lydia stumbled forward, still holding hands. Stiles caught himself first and steadied Lydia, looking her over worriedly. “Are you okay?” He asked, as her legs shook beneath her.

     “I’m fine,” Lydia breathed, ignoring the dizziness as she focused instead on the blood dripping from Stiles’ ears. “Are you?” She asked, reaching up to touch the blood and show him the liquid staining her fingertips.

     Stiles paled as he stared at the blood, his body stilling as he swallowed hard. “Okay, that’s not good. We need to finish this.”

     “Good idea,” Lydia said, nodding. Their time was running out, and they could only hope the others were still okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Back in the apartment, Kalmia breathed in and out slowly, feeling her energy start to wane. She wouldn’t be able to hold their link much longer. She wasn’t sure if she should as she glanced at the pack. There was blood coming out of ears and noses, faces much paler than their normal hue, and breaths straining to enter and exit their lungs. They wouldn’t last much longer, and neither would Peter with the way his body had started to seize and tremble as his heart beat faster and faster.

     She would have ended the connection by now if it were up to her. It would be better to save the pack than let them all die for a single beta. But they would disagree, she knew. They would rather die than lose their packmate, she thought, remembering the fierce protection they’d all displayed toward the wolf. If it were her troupe, would she be willing to go to the same lengths to protect her fellow fae? She wasn’t sure, and it made her sick with shame to realize that the answer may be no.

     This unusual pack, so strange and different, showed more loyalty to each other than Kalmia had ever known or experienced. It was odd to see, yet so inspiring, and so the fae closed her eyes and focused on putting all she could into keeping the link open. As long as they didn’t give up, neither would she.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “You have to scream again!” Stiles said, raising his voice as he and Lydia watched Talia begin to succumb to the smoke. The alpha coughed and lost her grip on Cora as she passed out.

     “Talia!” Peter choked on her name and grabbed Cora before the surging fire could claim her, holding her close to his body as he moved towards the stone wall, as far from the flames enveloping his dying sister as he could.

     “The fae’s energy is waning!” Stiles shouted over the roar of the fire. “She can’t keep this up much longer!”

     Lydia nodded, moving to stand over Peter as the beta lay on the ground, facing the stone wall and coughing hard as he shielded Cora as best he could against his chest. Flames leapt forward, and Peter cried out at the same time that Lydia called his name, their screams mingling in the air as Stiles watched the green aura surrounding Peter flicker and writhe.

     “Keep going, it’s working!” Stiles shouted, covering his ears as Lydia continued to shriek. But it wasn’t working as well as before. The fae’s magic was weakening, but Peter was too caught up in the memory as the fire enveloped his right side. His tortured screams rivaled even Lydia’s, and Stiles couldn’t stand it any longer as he listened to his friend howl in pain. With no thought to the consequences, Stiles rushed to Peter’s side and grabbed him. The second his hands encountered the green light, Stiles cried out in pain. It felt like it was searing his flesh, burning with the heat of a thousand suns. But he didn’t care. Stiles was far too angry at this point, and he wouldn’t let Peter be stolen from them.

     He rolled Peter over, shocked eyes meeting his as Stiles gripped Peter’s head. Peter’s hands moved to grip Stiles’ wrists as Cora faded away, and Stiles’ anger swelled by the fear in Peter’s teary eyes. Lydia’s screams were washing over them, making the green energy wane even as it continued to burn Stiles, flooding his entire being with agony. Peter mouthed his name, and Stiles pressed their foreheads together, letting loose a rage-filled shout that made Lydia shudder.

     “Get out of him!”

     Instantly, the green aura was flooded with a golden glow emanating from Stiles’ body, the warm light suffusing the room until everything around the three of them faded out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     As Derek raised his voice and howled, he felt Peter stiffen beneath him, the beta’s howl cut off with a grunt of pain. “Peter?” He stopped howling and looked down at his uncle. There was no answer aside from a second groan of pain, and then Derek heard it, the sound of a banshee’s cry. It pierced the air around them, followed by a familiar voice that Derek had never heard so angry.

     “Get out of him!” Stiles’ voice rocked the woods, and Derek’s eyes widened in alarm as they were swallowed by golden light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Recognition flickered in Peter’s eyes, and he breathed her name. “Malia?”

     Then the clarity was gone, and Malia caught him as Peter doubled over with a cry of pain. “Dad? Dad?!” She called, her heart beating fast. Was this it? Were they losing him?

     A scream filled the air, and Malia’s tears slipped down her cheeks as she heard Lydia shriek her father’s name. He was dying.

     “Get out of him!” The shout raged through the den, and Malia shut her eyes and clutched Peter tight as a bright light enveloped them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “We’re going to save you.”

     The words had hardly been spoken when Lydia’s scream penetrated the thick walls of the study. Scott glanced up and grinned before looking back at Peter. “I told you.”

     Peter nodded, eyes wide and awed as Stiles’ voice followed the banshee’s.

     “Get out of him!”

     Peter huffed at the angry shout, finally cracking a familiar grin as Scott laughed and warm light washed over the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Peter’s apartment filled with golden light as the mental link broke, and Peter sat up with a jolt and a gasp echoed by those around them as they all came back to themselves.

     Stiles was the first to meet his eyes, and he pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!” He shouted, slinging an arm around Malia next to him. “We did it!”

     Relief spread through the group as Peter's heart rate slowly returned to normal parameters, leaving the beta feeling as though he'd run a marathon.

     “Oh, thank goodness,” Lydia breathed, tipping forward to rest her forehead on Peter’s shoulder, prompting the man to exhale loudly as he leaned his head against hers.

     “Let’s never do that again, hmm?” Peter murmured, weary as he glanced around at the others, a tired chuckle leaving his lips as they laughed and moved to welcome him back to the land of the living.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Three days later, Kalmia stood at the bottom of the staircase in Derek’s loft, her bag in hand, and smiled at the unusual pack she’d come to have a special fondness for over the last few days. She still couldn’t quite believe they’d managed to save Peter, but her relief that they were able to do so was palpable as she watched Peter and Malia spar while Stiles sat on the couch and threw popcorn at them, heckling them with a grin. Lydia lay on the sofa with her head in Stiles’ lap and a book in her hands, while Derek and Scott were discussing plans for renovations to the loft over by the windows. But there was no mistaking the occasional glance towards Peter that both the wolves and the banshee made. Something fundamental was shifting inside the pack, Kalmia could sense it, and it piqued her interest.

     It was tempting to stay, but…

     Derek noticed her first, nudging Scott to look her way.

     Scott turned and clocked the bag before sending her a friendly smile. “Ready to head out then?” He asked, garnering the attention of the others. The sparring and heckling stopped, and Lydia sat up.

     “I’m afraid it’s high time I get home. My troupe will be expecting me,” Kalmia said with a polite smile to cover the doubt in her words. Would they be expecting her? She hadn’t heard from them aside from their confirmation that the Moderatorem Memoriae had been delivered to the Court. It wasn’t unusual; her troupe had never been heavily affectionate towards one another, but after observing this pack, she realized the distance at which her troupe held each other felt wrong. It wasn’t even that the pack was blatantly tactile or verbose with their affection. No, it was more the little things that had Kalmia’s heart questioning her troupe’s bond. It was the way no one had pushed Stiles for answers about the golden light or insisted Peter discuss the painful memories he’d had to relive, but rather left it up for them to talk about when they were ready. It was in the way that they showed they were willing to wait, the small smiles and nudges when one or the other got lost in their head. It was in the way the pack couldn’t hide their worry, in the concerned glances they directed at Peter’s back or Stiles’ shaky hands. There was so much love suffusing their bond that Kalmia could almost see it radiating from them. It left her to wonder what it would feel like if that bond extended to her as well…

     Lydia hummed, standing up to come to her side, linking an arm with her. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you back. However…” The banshee raised an eyebrow at Scott, who glanced back at Stiles, turning back to her when Stiles nodded. Interesting… did they just-?

     “We want you to join our pack.”

     Kalmia blinked out of her musings, her mouth opening in a surprised ‘o’. Were they serious?

     “We mean it,” Lydia told her, squeezing her arm before pulling away to face her properly. “You’ve proven yourself by helping us save Peter, even when it put you in danger along with us.”

     A blush flushed the fae’s cheeks at the reminder of how she’d fainted once Peter woke up, her energy reserves drained to the point of exhaustion. She had been unconscious for a solid twenty hours before she woke up in a guest bed at Derek’s loft.

     “And we could use someone with your magical expertise,” Stiles added, standing behind Scott now, his gaze carefully focused on her as the others turned towards him. “In case something like this ever happens again.”

     Kalmia didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that he wasn’t referencing the attack on Peter, at least not wholly. It was an amazing opportunity, but…

     “I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I have to go back.” The words felt like sand in her mouth, gritty, unpleasant, and tasting of regret. Why did she say that? “However, I hope I’ll have the opportunity to come back and visit sometime.”

     They didn’t look surprised, in fact, Scott seemed almost pleased by her answer. Behind him, Peter nudged Stiles with a smirk, some tension draining from the young man’s shoulders as he glanced away and back at her with a smile.

     Scott nodded and extended a hand to her. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”

     A bit of that warmth that she imagined filling their bond brushed against her with the reassurance, and Kalmia accepted his hand with a smile.

     Two hours later, sitting in the plane heading home, Kalmia looked out the window at the clouds and closed her eyes. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it felt as though she were taking a little bit of their warmth back with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Somewhere in the continent of South America, Cora Hale stared down at her phone, eyes wide with shock and her chest tight with hope as she read an unexpected text.      With determination filling her, Cora rushed to the pack leader of her town. She had plans to make and bags to pack because finally, finally she had a chance at coming home.