#stiles is just very guilty

[patolemus]

Stiles sits in the front row at the funeral.

He’s next to Mellisa, who hasn’t been able to stop crying since she got the news. Stiles’ dad had organized the whole thing, talking with the funerary home and picking up the coffin and the arrangements. He’d only asked Melissa what she wanted on the headstone.

Raphael had showed up the day after. For the first time in his life, he’d looked a mess, hair everywhere and clothes wrinkled as he stormed into the house asking what had happened to his son, tears already gathering in his eyes before he even got a look at Melissa’s face. Stiles hadn’t made fun of him. Stiles hadn’t said anything at all. Raphael sits on Melissa’s other side now, and she grips his hand tight enough it turns white. He hasn’t been back for five years.

God, Scott hadn’t seen his had for five years, and now he’s dead. Scott’s dead.

Stiles thinks it still hasn’t sunk in. He’s in the middle of his best friend’s funeral - it’s closed casket because his body was so mangled up that the EMPs could barely recognize him. Stiles had heard his dad on the phone with one of his deputies talking about it, before he’d realized just whose body they were talking about - and it still hasn’t clicked that Scott won’t be coming out of his casket, that this isn’t some kind of sick practical joke for getting him out of bed the night before school started.

Stiles is not crying. He hasn’t cried once since hearing the news. His dad is crying, sitting on his other side. Scott’s like a second son to him.

Was. Scott was like a second son to him. Was because he’s gone now. Because he’s dead.

Scott’s dead.

His best friend since preschool is dead. His brother is dead. The kindest, most caring person in the world is dead. Stiles goaded him into going to the preserve to look for half a dead body - and God, he’s such an asshole. A dead body? What was he even thinking? - and now Scott doesn’t even get to show his face at his own funeral because whatever killed him barely left any of him to bury.

If only he’d stayed. If only he’d told his dad Scott was with him that night instead of leaving him there. But no, Stiles hadn’t wanted Scott to get grounded because he dragged him out of bed, so he’d kept quiet. Even when he’d seen the pair of red eyes and that— that thing in the corner of his eye. Stiles hadn’t said anything. He thought they’d laugh about it at lunch the next day.

Now Scott’s dead.

Scott is dead.

And Stiles knows exactly what did it.

(He’s going to fucking kill it.)

[camellcat]

Liam Dunbar fucking LOVES Sonic The Hedgehog. End of thought that is all

[hedwig221b]

several sentence sunday monday

Thanks for the tag, @endwersed!💗 I'm shaking with the need to share this wip that I've been writing for @hotgirlstiles and as it won't see the light until I finish it, I thought I'd treat all of you lovely kittens with this piece

Carefully, he inspected Stiles’ face since the omega refused to meet his eyes. “Do you want a second date?”

Stiles was silent for as long as he could afford, and then murmured a quiet and guilty, “No.”

Sharp satisfaction splashed upon Derek’s insides like burning acid.

“Want me to reject him for you?” he asked with his head inclined.

Stiles stiffened with one steak lifted above the plate. He turned his big eyes at Derek.

“You’ll do that?” he asked in awe-filled disbelief.

Derek clenched his teeth so as not to blurt out all the things he was ready to do just for that gaze alone.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Stiles bloomed with a breathtaking smile. For the first time that day, it was completely genuine, fresh like the first rays of sunshine on the morning dew. His eyes shined and his cheeks went pink with pleasure.

Derek couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

“Thank you,” said Stiles with a true shyness this time trembling in his voice.

Unable to speak, the wolf nodded.

He wanted to run again. Not away, but just run to expel the energy, the rage, and elation that built in him from being near Stiles. All his senses were on edge, strung tight like a cord, ready to snap and take.

How much would Stiles fear him were he to know how close Derek was to wolfing out? Would he run? Would he scream when Derek inevitably chased?

The tips of Derek’s fingers shook with restraint. He clenched them into fists.

He didn’t talk much after that, closer to his wolf than usual. He couldn’t tear his gaze — most certainly intense and uncomfortable — from the now relaxed omega. Derek waited until Stiles took the first bite before taking his own — something that was easily missed by the omega who hardly knew any of the werewolf traditions and what it meant when the alpha steps aside and let you lead.

Stiles crawled under his skin where the fur lay hidden, waiting for a chance to burst and growl. He went further, through Derek’s muscles and his veins — his very flesh — to settle there as if he owned the place.

Derek tasted the food that the omega made for him — god if only he knew — and hungered for the taste of the future with him.

He wasn’t alone in that hunger, though. Oh, no. Those filthy vermin wanted Stiles, too. In fact, one of them sat not even an hour ago across from Stiles, just like Derek did now, and fantasized about the same things.

Yet, Stiles came back to him. He came back because he knew Derek could provide for him just like he wanted. Stiles came back and asked the wolf to get rid of his rival.

If only Stiles knew.

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[awakenedevildays]

「naps and forgetfulness」 Stiles Stilinski x F!reader

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The door clicks shut as you walk into Stiles bedroom. Thanks to your luck Sheriff Stilinski was just getting out of the house when you arrived at his porch and quickly let you in before going to work.

You spot Stiles immediately: he is curled up in his bed with his lips parted slightly and his breathing soft, he is wearing the grey sweatpants you love paired with a plain t-shirt and hair slightly messier than usual.

Despite the fact that you're slight mad at him for forgetting to come pick you up after work, the sight can't help but make you giggle lovingly at his expression and let your purse fall on the floor silently before changing into one of his shirts and boxers.

Stiles continues to remain asleep, unaware of your presence in the room and it doesn't really surprise you, he is a very heavy sleeper, after all, and it’d take a lot more than just a small giggle to wake him up.

His body shifts on the blankets, rolling over onto his belly and you take advantage of his change of position to climb on his bed and body to leave a trail of kisses up his back until the nape of his neck. His skin is soft to the touch, and as your lips leave gentle kisses on his skin, his muscles visibly shudders until you can feel him starting to stir, even if his eyes are still closed.

"mh?" he mumbles with frowning eyebrows.

"excuse me sir? I think you're in the wrong bed, and house" you whisper in his ear after nibbling it softly with your teeth.

His body stiffens when your teeth graze over his ear, but he sighs at the sound of your voice as a soft smile appears on his lips. "Baby, what are you doin here?" he mumbles sleepily but he's not displeased to see (hear) you, on the contrary, he loves when you unexpectedly come at his house to see him.

He moves to turn around on his back and you lift your hips just enough for him to do it without difficulty, only to sit back on his hips when he's done moving.

"I wanted to see if everything was okay, but it seems like it is" you say with a bit of sarcasm in your voice that Stiles catches immediately, he opens his eyes to look at you groggily.

"oh no, what did I do?" he asks, resting his hands on your hips to squeeze them lightly, his face already looks guilty and your heart melts.

"you were supposed to come pick me up at work so that we could spend the night at my house which, as you may remember, is empty because my parents are away, watch a movie, have sex and sleep together so that we could have gone to school together tomorrow morning, does something ring in that pretty head of yours?" you explain with a victorious smile on your face.

"oh, fuck. baby I'm sorry, I swear I didn't forget I fell asleep after coming back home and forgot to set the alarm, I'm so sorry" he says covering his face in embarrassment. “Are you mad at me?”

"No, I've come to terms with it, my friends had warned me, after all" you sigh while resting your hands on his belly and he looks at you confused, you barely manage to hide a smile "that you would get tired of me and keep me around just for sex, like all boys do, after all-"

"ok that's it, you've said enough bullshits already." he says grinning and pulls you by your hands to lay your body over his and wrap his arms around you to keep you there, a squeal leaves your lips between laughters. After all, he knows you're only joking.

"you're stuck here now, forever" he says laughing as his hands start moving up and down your back, he's strong enough to keep you pressed against his chest but even if he wasn't, you would never dream of moving, ever.

"I don't mind" you admit hiding your face in his neck to kiss it lovingly and he sighs, closing his sleepy eyes as if your lips on his neck are trying to lull him back to sleep.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't want you to take the bus to come here" he apologizes again.

"I didn't take the bus, Logan drove me here" you answer and you feel a sense of satisfaction at your words when you hear your boyfriend groan.

"fucking Logan" you giggle "with his- fucking Mercedes and his- fucking crush on you" he keeps on rambling.

"oh come on! he was being nice" you say to lighten his thoughts.

"yeah right, of course he's always fucking nice, he's got a massive crush on you, I bet you love his car more than mine" he mumbles with a displeased expression on his face.

"don't be ridiculous, I love your Jeep" you tell him between giggles and Stiles rolls you two over so that you're on your back and him splayed on top of you and between your legs, now it's his turn to hide his face in your neck.

"and you love me right? more than- and better than Logan right?" he mumbles nuzzling his nose against your neck, and his arms wrap around your body to keep you still, you're definitely not going anywhere anytime soon.

"I don't know, before making such a statement I should ask him if he would ever forget to come pick m- OW!" a harsh bite on your neck interrupts you.

"don't even joke about it" he says against your skin before kissing the still sore spot before slowly moving up your neck until they're next to your ear. "and for the record, you're stuck with me baby" he whispers.

"I'm happy to hear that, now give me a real kiss" you demand.

"yes, ma'am." he mutters before propping himself on one of his elbows to move better his other hand from your hip to your chin, your head now tilted so that he can kiss you properly. His lips move against yours as his body presses yours further against the mattress.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip and you feel him smiling before his tongue slips inside your mouth, all you can taste and feel is him, and as his tongue teases yours you let your hand tangle into his messy hair and tug at it lightly.

His hands move up, taking your shirt with it until it's bunched over your bra before slowly breaking the kiss to remove the piece of fabric.

"what do you think you're doing?" you ask, taking his wrist in your fingers to stop him and it takes a second for Stiles to understand what you just asked, his lust-filled eyes looks at you unfocused. His dilated pupils roam down the length of your body until he reaches your chest and the black bra you're wearing, but almost as if he just realized he's doing something wrong he shakes his head.

"I- I'm sorry, I thought uhm- I thought we were going to have sex" his words drift off while his fingers, still wrapped around the fabric of 'your' shirt, twitch in excitement and anticipation.

"oh!" you laugh "no, no. we're not going to have sex baby" you tell him with a satisfied smile on your face.

"w-we're not?" your boyfriend asks and he can't help but look disappointed when you push him by his shoulder until he falls on his back next to you so that you're able to get up from his bed, he was looking forward to that.

"No, we're not" you confirm and he looks at you in disbelief, eyes and mouth wide open in shock as he props his body on his elbows again to look at you better.

"is it because I didn't come to pick you up from work?" he asks but he already knows the answer.

"You're so smart, love-" you compliment him, walking towards the bed to kiss his lips "now come on, let's go to my house."

"right now?" he asks and there's still disappointment in his voice, but he doesn't protest further as he gets up to start looking for his car keys.

"Yeah! I still want to spend the night with you at mine's" you say as a matter of fact and Stiles hurries to grab his hoodie from where it laid on his desk.

"And- and we're just gonna- watch a movie and call it a day or…?" he asks, his voice is doubtful, and it's clear he's still waiting for a chance to change your mind.

"That depends, are you going to pay for dinner?"

"Like I always do"

"And are you going to forget about me again?"

"Never again, I'll die before it happens a second time"

"Mh… we'll see" you only say walking out of his room and down the stairs with him following you like a kicked puppy.

"Baby, come on! I said I'm sor- are you wearing my boxers? are you trying to kill me?!"

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it seems like I also write for Stiles now, lol, enjoy! 💞

Not proofread, I'll correct it in the next days.

Do not copy or repost.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Fanfic idea?? So this is set idk season 1/2 end of season ish?? Like maybe during the summer when Erica and Boyd are missing and stiles and Derek randomly get closer. Sometime where stiles and Derek weren’t really trusting each other.

So one day while patrolling Derek comes across stiles in the woods and at first he’s angry as hell. What the fuck does this dumbass kid think he’s doing on Derek’s territory, especially after digging up his sister and getting him arrested. He’s about the storm over there and yell at him when he’s hears stiles talking, at first he’s annoyed — does the kid never shut up— when he stops dead because it sound like stiles is talking to his mom and he’s crying.

Stiles misses his mother, he and his dad don’t really talk to her anymore. Stiles only goes to her grave site on her birthday; it’s cold and lifeless and nothing like her. So when he wants to talk to her, he goes deep into the preserve where his mother use to take him. It feels more like her, even more so than home. And after all the shit he’s been through through the past year it’s good to talk to her. He talks about Scott getting bite, maybe having to cut off Derek’s arm, being kidnapped by Peter and thinking he was going to die. He tells her about helping kill Peter and whether or not that makes him bad person, especially how the other reason he felt bad was that he was killing Derek’s uncle.

Derek was going to leave or that’s what he told himself but he couldn’t make himself move. Maybe it was the shock of hearing what had happened to stiles, or the fact that stiles somewhat seemed to care about him. The more he listened to stiles talk the more angry and guilty he became. He didn’t know that stiles was also kidnapped by Gerard, or that Erica and Boyd were in the basement with him. Finally the feeling of guilt over ways his anger and he leaves stiles alone. Unfortunately, this incident also sets Derek off because as an alpha, he’s protect his pack and he’s failed. So he start “checking” (stalking) up on stiles.

Anyway I’m thinking this is what starts the summer of Derek and stiles being closer. Maybe Derek hears stiles talk about him in a positive light that makes him change his perspective on Stiles.

Plus you could have some really cute scenes where like everyone is looking for stiles after something bad happens and Derek finds him at the spot.

Stiles bringing Derek to meet his mom.

Plus it could be a creature stiles au, like selkie stiles au, where the spot in the preserve that he goes is a lake that him and his mother used to swim in. Maybe water carries memories or something.

Or magic stiles who talks to the trees like his mother used to or Fae stiles who he’s actually sitting in a fairy ring and it’s his mothers ring and that why it feels like her.

Just thought it would be sweet. Derek proposing to stiles in the very same location.

[theninth09]

thinking about how liam almost fell to his death from the hospitals rooftop and then like very soon after that willingly went back to that same rooftop to help kira. and then during the whole ghost rider thing, he jumps VERY far down, again at the hospital, to get to the horse.

its just. liam constantly getting confronted with situations that were very traumatizing for him and always entering those situations head on. almost falling to his death, getting bitten and kidnapped and turned into a werewolf? goes back to that same rooftop to fight a monster very soon after that.

and liam is so terrified of the berserkers to the point hes scared to be alone, scared in the dark, too scared to fall asleep, so afraid that he cant focus on lacrosse, so scared that he keeps seeing/hallucinating? a berserker about to attack him and then he STILL decides to go to mexico??? stiles literally tells him that he doesnt have to come with them and liam goes "i know but i want to" WHAT THE FUCK? and its a full moon!

hes scared of losing control, hes been on edge bc of everything happening and scott not being there for him anyway and he still manages to control himself on the full moon and goes to fight the monsters hes terrified of anyway.

the whole thing with the berserker and how he got bitten both happened on the rooftop of the hospital. so hes had two traumatizing events happen there and he still jumps down during the wild hunt thing to get to the horse.

and he even says "i hate horses" RIGHT before it? and he still does it??? theo asks him if he knows how to ride a horse and he just says "not really!" and rides off anyway??? hayden asks him when he learned how to ride a horse and he just goes "right now" like???

moving on.

he has only bad memories with brett and still forces himself to confront him in front of EVERYBODY and be nice to him, knowing what brett is like. and when brett starts taunting and threatening him, he tries so hard to control himself, he makes himself bleed. brett is nothing but an asshole to him and liam still starts being kinda? weirdly? friends with him and asks brett for help with lacrosse, tries to save brett, feels guilty for bretts death even though it wasnt his fault.

oh and that fucking class room scene. he got beaten up so badly that he was absolutely COVERED in blood and would have so many serious injuries if it wasnt for his fast healing, he took that beating while his whole class was watching and laughing and his fucking teacher didnt intervene and just went "oh its better to leave them alone sometimes" and then when scott asks him to go back to that class, he STILL does it. he knows the whole school is full of people who want to kill him, he mentions that he hates biology and he still goes back to that fucking class full of people who stood there while he was coughing up blood on the floor. to that teacher, WHO WAS A WEREWOLF HERSELF, and still just took one look at his face and refused to help him. he went back to that class and did just as scott asked him to.

also: he knew what happened to him at that zoo and he still made the plan to go there himself bc apparently the plan was more important to him than his trauma. like im so serious, he just keeps going back and back into situations where he was hurt and helpless and alone and he sometimes mentions his discomfort or fear but he still does it. he just goes back to those situations and does whats necessary (or what he deems necessary) anyway. god i love him.

hes so brave like. gets attacked and poisoned and thrown down into a well to die? instead of despairing, he starts CLIMBING his way out of that well. falls back down, hurts himself punching the wall, thinks of his dad, starts climbing again.

he wants scotts approval and thinks he isnt a good leader but he still sticks to his ideas and goes through with them and takes full responsibility, proving to scott that hes capable. i mean fucking hell, he took a ghostriders horse and rode INTO the wild hunt. like who does that????

and because hes strong and aggressive he gets put into that brawn stereotype instead of brain but hes actually so smart. he comes up with plans constantly and he has quick thinking & good observation skills. like yeah hes a bit of a dumbass and says silly things but hes strong and capable and smart and brave and a good leader..

and god his character development in s6a. the way he tries to tell hayden that he can be the alpha but cant even get the words out bc clearly he doesnt believe them himself. and he tries to be a leader & hes GOOD at it, but he still doesnt believe in himself, thinks he doesnt deserve being team captain, doesnt ask for his friends help even though they're willing to follow his lead. and at the end of s6a when stiles tells him that hes the alpha now that scotts leaving, he just goes, all nonchalant, "im not an alpha" hes not worried about it or doubts himself or has trouble admitting that. hes not an alpha, obviously, but he doesnt have to be. he can be a leader, the alpha in acting or whatever without having to be The Alpha™

MY POINT IS: he goes through something extremely traumatic, struggles with fear and self doubt, doesnt even open up to his friends about it or ask for help and then still faces his fear and brings himself willingly right back into a situation that caused him trauma. my favorite reckless silly puppy...

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hi! I was wondering if you knew of any fics where stiles sides with peter in season 1, with no smut? also, preferably sterek, but not necessary. ty in advance!

Hi anon! @kevaaronday found these for you.

we are the choices we make by EclipseWing(23/23 | 91,575 | Teen) The first major turning point changes. It's not as simple as a change in who was bitten. Maybe it would have been easier that way, if one of them was still human.

[or: in which Stiles and Scott both get bitten, and Stiles picks the alpha’s side.]

Sympathy for the Devil by KouriArashi(14/14 | 72,522 | Mature | Steter) Stiles gets a job as a hospital orderly and finds himself becoming strangely attached to the catatonic man on the long-term care ward, and finds out that there's a lot more to Peter Hale than there seems…

This House Has Long Been Over by ketren (8/8 | 37,165 | Teen | Sterek) The infamous Hale House is haunted by memories of the past—in more ways than one.

When a pretty-much-homeless Stiles allows Peter Hale to drag him to shelter on a cold winter night, he KNOWS it's a terrible idea. On the run from his own demons, Stiles is constantly trying to rein in his weird visions of residual hauntings—and in the Hale House, he can't always tell past from present. 

Still, he watches Peter wrathfully hunt the guilty party while Derek rebuilds what's lost...and he grows curious about what reallyhappened to the Hale ghosts. And just what that means for the remaining Hales.

Into Eden by GracieBirdie(1/1 | 12,232 | Mature | Steter) Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

The Choices We Make by Theraputic_Steter(1/1 | 8,041 | Teen | Steter) “You’re quite the clever one, aren’t you?” Peter mused, voice like honey.

“I like to think so."

“What’s your name?”

“Stiles.”

Peter smiled slowly, looking like a cat that just caught the canary. “Well hello, Stiles,” he purred, eyes flashing a bloody red. 

Stiles grinned victoriously. Viciously. 

The hunt was on.

In Pack We Trust by kiranightshade (1/1 | 5,046 | Mature | Steter) Stiles harbors Derek when he's on the run. They talk and they bond and then they find Peter. 

Stiles didn't expect to like Peter and he certainly didn't expect to join him.

Touch Therapy by syriala (1/1 | 4,043 | Gen | Steter) “You’re hugging Peter,” Derek said from behind them, confusion very obvious in his voice. 

“Yep,” Stiles gave back, not moving from his current position, speaking more into Peter’s hair than anything.

“Why are you hugging him?” Derek asked, and Stiles shrugged as best as he could, with his arms still around Peter.

“He just woke up from a coma. I don’t even want to think about how long he went without a hug,” Stiles gave back.

Or the one where Stiles derails Peter’s plans by aggressively hugging the shit out of him.

twisted measure by Aminias(1/1 | 1,151 | Mature | Steter) The man smirked, and it could have lured angels to sin. Stiles cursed his heart for skipping another step, he blamed it on the flash of fang and crimson eyes. “My niece,” he said.

“That’s sick,” Stiles stated, staring him down, unwilling to look away. Orbs the color of garnet gems with the richness of blood diamonds regarded him in return.

“I don’t see you running.”

Like Recognises Like by MyLittleAngel(1/1 | 1,071 | Gen) For @bethederektomystiles/BeTheDerekToMyStiles random-sentence-prompts over on Tumblr. The inspiration was "You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen."

[barbswo]

Liam wants to tell Stiles about the grin he and Theo shared in the police car: one for both, just like their chances of surviving the Hunt. Genuine, boyish, sparkling with amusement, because the whole situation was horrid and hilarious and they giggled like little kids for five minutes straight while driving to the hospital. He wants to tell Stiles about fighting next to Theo, about the connection of it lurking in the shadows of Liam’s mind—very present and heavy even now, when it’s all gone and done.

He wants to say, He is so human it hurts him. He wants to say, He is scared, you haven’t seen his face in the morgue, but I did, and he was scared, and I said that he deserved whatever happened to him, but I’m not sure what it was, and it is eating me alive, because I’ve never seen Theo so fragile and vulnerable, and did he really deserve it or am I being unnecessary cruel? He wants to say, Theo didn’t just save my life like I told you. He was terrified of going back to Hell, believed that he would if he died, yet dragged me into an elevator and helped me escape by sacrificing himself, and I still haven’t thanked him. I don’t know if I ever will. I feel a pull I have never felt in my entire life, and I’m positive that I want him, and it’s wrong and twisted and I am a horrible human being, but Theo is the knife that turns inside me and I have to, but don’t want to stop bleeding.

Liam thinks about Hayden, and how he still believes that she is it for him, and feels like he might burst if he opens his mouth. He is guilty of many things, but he won’t be guilty of this. Theo is his responsibility, nothing else. Liam will make sure of it, and nobody will ever know that for a weak, flash-like second, Liam wanted to put his lips on that cruel mouth just to make sure Theo didn’t taste like death.

Excerpt from 🍎“Hunting Hearts”🍎 on ao3

[janedoeswriting]

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC) Chapter Six

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

(Hotel California by Eagles) **Note: I mean, duh.

It kind of felt foolish that they were on a bus going to a cross country meet. Stiles was restless. Between the tension of what had happened the night prior and everything that was going on, Stiles knew that they could be doing more productive things. For example: mourning the death of Derek. Another example: tracking down the Darach that has sacrificed a whopping six people so far.

Another example nagged at the back of Stiles' mind, but he didn't want to think about it. Rhiannon had already been plaguing his mind for nine days. Since she disappeared, he'd both discovered the root of the enemy- being a dark druid- and spent an inordinate amount of time trying anything he could to investigate her disappearance.

His father was doing the same-- working hours longer than Stiles had ever seen his father undertake.

Last night both Scott and Derek's pack had attempted to battle Deucalion and the alphas. It wasn't successful, and the remnant tension of it lingered in the bus like a rotting stench with no source.

Quizzing Scott on vocabulary was at least a welcome distraction to keep his mind off of everything that had occured. It almost worked.

"Okay next word-- incongruous." Stiles said.

"Um.. Can you use it in a sentence?" Scott asked. Stiles knew better than anything that Scott's mind had been just as equally distracted. This was a poor attempt as satiating the pain that persisted. "Yes-Yes I can. It's completely incongruous that we're sitting on a bus right now on our way to some stupid cross country meet after what just happened. Incongruous."

Scott sighed deeply. "Out of place. Ridiculous. Absurd."

"Perfect. Okay next word, umm...," Stiles couldn't keep his anxiety to speak about it suppressed any longer. "Darach. Darach, it's a noun."

Scott gave him a look.

"We have to talk about it sometime, okay? And we're gonna be stuck in this thing for like five hours so why not?"

Scott closed his eyes and leaned against the window. Stiles looked at him incredulously, but he knew he was getting nowhere so he turned back to the tablet and cleared his throat. "Alright, next word..."

--

After the crime, Rhiannon drove for a couple hours before it set in that she had to stop somewhere as soon as she could. Not only was she running low on gas, but she couldn't very well be seen in public covered in crusty dried blood.

She pulled over twice before she finally found an abandoned gas station. Both of the previous ones either had bathrooms inside or someone pumping gas. Thankfully, this one was not only virtually abandoned, but the bathroom was both on the outside and unlocked.

It took her about forty minutes to quickly scrub herself clean. She had grabbed a change of Austin's clothes that she'd found in his duffle bag in the back seat. She used the hand soap in the bathroom to wash her hair in the sink, and cleaned the rest of her body with paper towels. She scrubbed at her hands vigorously until they were raw and nothing was caked under her fingernails any longer.

She finally used the toilet and left for the truck, wet paper towels in hand. She used these to wipe any dried blood off the door handle and steering wheel. Finally, she tossed out her bloody clothes and paper towels into the garbage can and pulled up to the pump.

She found Austin's credit card and held her breath as she swiped. It worked, and she quickly shoved the diesel pump into the tank. She leaned against the car, running her hands through her wet hair and sighing.

She couldn't risk being spotted, but she was starving. If she didn't get food now in this abandoned gas station, then she would have to stop when it was daylight out, which would be a horrible mistake.

Rhiannon sucked in a breath and made her decision. She would just have to keep her head down and hope she wasn't noticed. She grabbed the cowboy hat that was on the dashboard and plopped it on her head. She almost felt guilty for wearing a dead man's clothes. But the image of his milky white eyes and sharp eerie grin banished any sympathy she had for Austin at all. She walked into the gas station and the door binged at her entry.

It was illuminated in cool toned lights and all the fridges were lit up lining the wall. It was a tiny space, but jam packed with rows of items from top to bottom. A clerk was secluded behind a glass wall and mountains of tobacco products, scratch offs, and porno mags. It was an older women, aging poorly with greying hair. She was sitting down and looked ready to fall asleep. She didn't even so much as glance up at Rhiannon's entry. This was a promising sign. Rhiannon ducked her head and walked down the snack aisle. She grabbed bags of chips and candy and some water from within a refrigerator. Her hands were full, and she came up to the counter and quietly set it all down. The woman finally looked up at her. An ashtray full of cigarette buds sat next to her. Rhiannon longed for another cigarette-- she had chain smoked the entire pack of camels dry. But she had no ID and didn't want to risk it.

The clerk began to non ceremoniously scan the goods, but Rhiannon shifted under the weight of the woman's appraising gaze.

"You're not from here, are ya?" she asked. Her voice was weathered, like she had been yelling loudly earlier. Or smoking for thirty years. Rhiannon shook her head, pretending to be very interested in their selection of lighters. "You look... familiar." the woman said.

Rhiannon's stomach dropped, but she kept her composure. The woman finished bagging her things. Rhiannon shrugged, and dared to look into the woman's eyes not wanting to be too suspicious.

To Rhiannon's horror, a look of recognition settled on the woman's features. She went calm and numb in the face in a way that almost scared her as much as Austin's transformation into a monster had.

Her eyes widened and showed the entire whites of them. Rhiannon stepped back.

"You're hands... Your hands are red. Your face is red."

Rhiannon felt like the ground had moved under her feat. She knows. This woman knows what I did.

Rhiannon's fight or flight kicked in and she lunged for the plastic bag, ready to bolt out the door without paying.

The woman was too quick, and she grabbed her wrist-- the one that was already bruised and sore from when Austin had almost broken it. "You must return to Beacon Hills. You must find Scott McCall." There was no time for confusion, but the woman continued as Rhiannon fought hard to tug at her arm. "Rhiannon Watson. FIND SCOTT MCCALL."

The woman screamed this last statement, and Rhiannon did the only thing she could think of. She leaned down and bit the woman's hand as hard as she could. The woman finally let Rhiannon go, and she dashed out the door. The cowboy hat flew off her head in the process, and she barely had taken the gas pump out of the tank and left it abandoned on the ground before she got in her car and slammed the door. She tossed the bag of food into the passenger seat and struggled to put the keys into the ignition.

Just then, a gut-wrenching ear-splitting scream like nothing she had ever heard before erupted into the air. Rhiannon dropped the keys and held her ears, squeezing her eyes shut and crouching down. Rhiannon thought it was a gunshot momentarily, but when she sat up to look outside she found the entire gas station windows had shattered. By some miracle, the car windows remained in tact. Rhiannon grabbed the keys, and this time she started the car swiftly and peeled out of the gas station back onto the highway as fast as she could.

Rhiannon didn't stop shaking or driving twenty over the speed limit for another half hour. Finally, as the ringing in her ears began to subside, she slowed her pace and took several calming breaths. Her mind was reeling, and she looked at herself in the rear view mirror. She looked shell shocked- which is exactly how she felt- and her ears had a line of blood trailing out of them and down her neck. Rhiannon grabbed a dirty sock from the backseat and quickly wiped the blood away. The woman's words rang in her ears still. Eventually, she pulled over at an exit and closed her eyes, resting her forehead on the steering wheel with her eyes squeezed shut. Find Scott McCall. So that was it. The warning of a banshee. The scream of death.

She grabbed the road map from within the glove compartment, longing for her cell phone. It was confusing and difficult to drive without GPS. She traced the lines on the map using an old red pen. The ink led straight back in the opposite direction and ended right on a dot labeled 'Beacon Hills'.

Fuck.

--

Stiles was pretty proud of himself for his ingenious idea of getting Jared to vomit. His plan had worked-- they had no choice but to pull over at the rest stop.

But the state of Scott certainly didn't allow him any time for pride. His worry grew with every moan that Scott uttered. He and Allison carried him over their shoulders into the men's restroom as quickly as they could with Lydia closely following to try and block anyone from seeing them.

Rhiannon groaned. The uncomfortable sensation of light in her eyes ushered her to consciousness.

Sleeping in the truck wasn't ideal, but it certainly was better than being found as a missing person. She had driven all night, and found a secluded truck stop to park in and sleep. Thankfully, no cops or suspicious people had been there when she arrived in the wee hours of the morning. She had made it back into California, but was still a good ways from Beacon Hills. She had only gotten about four hours of sleep, she realized, as she checked Austin's watch that read 12:15.

It was noon, and trying to sleep during the day and drive at night wasn't working.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and groaning. Her hair was a mess and she felt like she'd slept on a pile of rocks. Her muscles were sore from both taking down a monster multiple times stronger than her and from sleeping in the car. Her morning breath was awful after all of yesterday's cigarettes and downing a bag of potato chips. She grimaced as her eyes adjusted to the California sun.

People swarmed the parking lot, and it was full of cars and trucks. She was all of a sudden much more awake, and ducked down, hoping nobody saw her. She was still a missing person, and in a stolen truck. And had killed a person-- who knew how long it would take for that murder to be traced back to her.

A big yellow school bus caught her eye as she peeked up just enough to observe the grotesque amount of people. A school bus?, she thought in confusion.

To her utter horror, students filed out in throngs coughing and waving their hands over their faces in clear disgust. A man was screaming out the window. Beacon Hills High School was stamped on the side of it. Rhiannon sucked in a short breath and ducked, pressing her back against the door as she crouched on the cramped floor. Fuck fuck fuck.

Rhiannon dared to steal another peek.

Her eyes searched the crowd of people. Rhiannon's stomach did another flip. There, Allison and Stiles held up a very horrible looking Scott McCall as Lydia looked around trying to block him from anyone's view. Rhiannon ducked down again. Find Scott McCall.

Fuck. She didn't want to find him so fast. She thought back to what episode this was. A school bus at a truck stop. Scott was dying. Derek "died". They were going to a haunted motel. Fuck. Rhiannon did a double take as she caught sight of a police officer on the other side of the truck. He hadn't caught sight of her yet, but he was patrolling around with a scrutinous gaze.

Rhiannon cursed, reached over to grab her bag-- the only evidence she had been in this truck (other than her fingerprints everywhere), and opened the drivers side door behind her to slip out as discreetly as possible. She blended in with the crowd of teenagers well, but was still getting strange looks from other students.

Thankfully-- none of them recognized her because she hadn't attended school. Still, her face was plastered on the news and it wouldn't be long before a stray student connected some dots. She ducked into the girls bathroom and found the handicapped stall.

Her appearance was horrible. She looked pale, and run down. Her hair was a mess, and purple circles hung under her bloodshot eyes. She quickly ran her hands through the tangles and made herself look somewhat better. She grabbed her toothbrush and ran it over her teeth and tongue without any toothpaste, and then begrudgingly took some gulps of water from the sink. It tasted like mold and metal, but Rhiannon swallowed it anyway.

Finally, she stepped out of the stall. A crowd of girls swarmed the sink mirrors and a que was forming for the bathroom. She ducked out with her head down and hands clutching her bag. She walked past students lingering around. A group of boys passed by muttering, and she caught someone saying "Closed for cleaning?" and another complaining about walking to the other side of the building to use the other bathroom.

Rhiannon hesitated, and then sighed and chucked her bag into the bottom of an outdoor trash can. It wasn't exactly ideal, but she didn't want to look like a run away when she ran into Stiles again-- not if she wanted to keep her place as Mr. Stilinski's foster daughter. And if a banshee had warned her to keep close to Scott McCall, staying at the Stilinski's was her best bet.

She approached the men's bathroom with a deep breath. The door was locked. She banged on it. "Closed for cleaning!" A voice shouted on the other side. It was clearly Lydia. Rhiannon banged again, harder. "We're closed!" Another voice sounded very loudly and angrily. Stiles. "Go. Away!"

Rhiannon sucked in a breath and despite her hammering heart, she banged again, harder and longer. She didn't stop until the door swung open violently.

"Go to-," Stiles began with a very harsh tone, but immediately caught in his throat at the sight of her. She looked up at him with weary eyes, but didn't have time to stand around and let someone see them. She pushed her way in and shut and locked the door behind her.

When she turned back, Lydia and Scott were gaping at her. Allison would have stared in shock too if Scott didn't grunt, and she turned back to him with a worry-struck expression.

Rhiannon didn't know how to approach this situation other than,

"Hi."

"Rhiannon?" Stiles asked, and something of relief and confusion both combined in his voice.

"Stiles." She said, but stepped by him to where Scott and Allison were crouching on the floor. "How is he?" she asked, lifting the shirt. The sight was putrid and disgusting. The jagged wound was growing blacker by the second and oozing with blood.

Rhiannon couldn't face Stiles, but she could do this.

"Rhiannon." Stiles said, more firmly this time as if he was realizing something. Rhiannon ignored him.

"Allison, grab some needle and thread. You need to stitch him up."

"What?!" Allison demanded. "You need to stitch him up. He isn't in his right mind. If he thinks he's healing, he will." She said, meeting Allison's gaze. They hadn't even properly introduced themselves, and Rhiannon was reaching for their trust. Willing it into reality.

"Trust me." she demanded. Allison stood, and moved to her bag. Rhiannon looked back up at Stiles, who was staring at her like a ghost.

"Get another shirt from Scott's bag."

Stiles didn't move, just stared. "What are you-?"

"Do it!" Rhiannon demanded. "Stiles, I'll explain everything later. Just go."

Rhiannon turned to Lydia. "Make sure the bus doesn't leave."

Lydia was appraising her in a similar way that Stiles was, but she didn't hesitate like he did. She grabbed Stiles' arm and dragged him out the door. Rhiannon walked up and locked it again as Allison used a lighter to sterelize the needle.

"How did you- How do you know what's wrong with him?" Allison asked, taking the thread and crouching down to Scott. Rhiannon shook her head, but said, "I can't explain how, I just do."

This seemed to be enough for Allison. She begged Scott to stay awake for a moment even when he complained he was tired. Rhiannon heard the fear in her shaky voice. She took the thread and attempted to push it through the eye of the needle. Her hands were shaking profusely, and Scott's groans and nodding head weren't helping. He was dying by the second.

"Come on." Allison begged, but it wasn't working. She couldn't do it. Allison squeezed her eyes shut. It dawned on Rhiannon what she was going through. "Your mom isn't here." Rhiannon said gently. Allison looked at her in shock as tears ran down her face. "Your mom isn't here. Take a deep breath." Rhiannon said, and Allison did so, desperately clinging to Rhiannon's calming voice. "You can do it, Allison." Allison turned back, taking another deep breath, and focused. A moment later, it was done. She desperately began to stitch him up and reminded Scott to stay awake.

Just as Scott was nodding to sleep, Rhiannon said his name. "Scott, stay awake."

And he did. Allison finished up the stitching, and Scott came too. "It's my fault." he said. Allison breathed a sigh of relief and clung onto those eyes that were growing more lively by the second. The wound was stitched up expertly, and Scott looked down at it. "Did you do that?" he asked Allison. She was the only person in the world to him in that moment.

Rhiannon stepped back, letting them have their moment. Stiles banged on the door, and Rhiannon wrenched it open as he rushed in with Scott's bag and a shirt in hand. He brushed by her, but Rhiannon saw him meet her eyes and he seemed struck again by the reality. She was there. She was really there.

He handed the shirt to Allison, who immediately helped him dress and stand. Stiles dropped Scott's bag and turned back to Rhiannon.

His eyes said everything. Explain. Now. Rhiannon sucked in a breath and said, "I'll explain everything in a minute, but right now I have to-," she started with Stiles fast on her heels as she left the bathroom and then stopped in her tracks. The cop had brought a friend, and now they were inspecting the empty red truck together. Fuck. Stiles grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "No, explain now."

Rhiannon glanced at the bus, where Lydia was desperately trying to convince Coach to keep the bus there just a few minutes longer. Rhiannon looked back to Stiles, grabbing his hand and removing it from her arm. "Fine. On the bus." Rhiannon said, and turned to help Allison carry Scott. Scott did a double take, and looked at her in dizzy surprise. He looked infinitely better than he had just moments ago.

"Rhi?" He asked as they made their way there. "Nice to see you, too." she said back.

--

"So your telling me you got kidnapped, escaped, stole his truck, and just happened to see us at this random rest stop on the side of the road?" Stiles asked on the bus. Rhiannon was actually glad they were in a public setting where Stiles had to keep his voice down, so he wouldn't yell at her.

Rhiannon nodded. Stiles was fully turned toward her, but Rhiannon faced forward in the seat next to him. Lydia was in the seat in front and looking back, listening to the story with just as much skepticism that Stiles had. Allison sat behind them, but she was too worried about Scott's dozing figure to pay them any mind at all.

Rhiannon didn't want to say it, but she didn't exactly have a choice. She had made the decision on the way back to Beacon Hills. "It was a wendigo."

Both Lydia and Stiles sat up a bit more, their attention sharpening. She glanced at Stiles, and then to Lydia. "He tried to eat me."

Lydia blinked at her, and Stiles' mouth hung open.

"A what?"

"Whats a wendigo?" Lydia bit out the question like Rhi had just walked out of crazy town. It didn't seem Lydia was warming up to Rhiannon well, and it made sense. They had only very briefly met, and all of a sudden Rhiannon showed up after nine days missing acting like she ran the place.

"It's a supernatural creature that feeds on human flesh." They both stared at her. "Like you actually believe that werewolves are the only supernatural beings that exist. Is Jackson being a giant lizard not enough to buy that wendigos are real?"

"How do you know about Jackson?" Lydia bit out sharply in a low whisper. Rhiannon looked her in the eye and could feel Stiles' stare burning into her. "Listen-- I know things. I know probably more than you know-," This was so true it was unbearable, but she continued. "I know you've been hearing strange voices. Finding bodies."

This shut Lydia up. Stiles grabbed Rhiannon's arm, but she didn't look at him. "How do you know that?" Stiles asked, a burning in his voice.

She glanced at him, looked down at her hands, and then back to Lydia. She had factored in the repercussions of what she was about to do over and over in her mind on the drive there. But she had already decided to do it, and there was no going back now.

Not after they knew that she knew about the supernatural, and everything that had happened the past few days.

"I don't know how I know things--... I just- I just do."

"Oh thats helpful. How are we supposed to belive you?" Lydia asked, and it was true. "You don't have to. I'm not asking you to."

"Oh, so we're just supposed to go along believe you aren't the- .. the Darach?" Stiles said it like he was both trying not to believe it but also like he had no other choice than to think it was Rhiannon.

Finally, she met his eyes. "If you don't trust me, fine. I wouldn't trust me either. Lock me up, then. Watch me. Next time a person is sacrificed, you can blame yourself for not letting me help you."

Stiles sucked in a breath at this and let go of her arm, which he hadn't realized he was still holding. Rhiannon turned back to Lydia. "The only reason I'm here is because I ran into one of your kind, Lydia."

There was a short moment of horrified silence. "One of my kind?! I'm not--," Lydia started incredulously. The look Rhiannon gave her cut her short. "You're smarter than that, Lydia. You know you aren't human. Not really."

Lydia sucked in a sharp breath, as if she had received terrible news. Which, Rhiannon supposed, she had. She wasn't human, and that must have been a shock to hear.

"Listen-- I don't-.. I'm not sure of what I know. I do know things. From the past. And things that may happen. But it's all like a blurry memory. Like a book I read once that I know the plot of, but can't remember the details. Some things come to me, and some don't. I'm not saying I know what I am, or if I can even tell you how to stop the Darach. All I know is that I can help you."

They sat in a heavy silence for a long time as they took in the information. Something had shifted in Stiles. He felt betrayed. How could she go missing for nine days, with himself and worse his father at fault? How could she just come back and know how to help Scott, know what Lydia was, and still expect them to trust her? He didn't. He didn't trust her, and that was all he knew. She was a liar, and something was off. "What..." Lydia said, and couldn't get the words out. Rhiannon put her hand on the seat in front of her and met the teenage girl's eyes. "You're a banshee, Lydia. You predict death."

--

There was a distinct feeling of being unwanted. The sun was setting slowly, and after Rhiannon had broken the news to Lydia nobody seemed to want to interrogate her anymore. She could feel that Stiles and Lydia both wanted nothing to do with her. She took her hint, and quickly made her way to the only empty bus seat. It was fine. She didn't need to be their friend. It had felt good to help them, though. To help Scott. To tell Lydia the truth. That feeling had been squashed by the mood that weighed on her. She knew they didn't trust, or like her. Maybe she had screwed up by telling them. Then again she didn't exactly have a choice. This stupid bus was her only way back to Beacon Hills. That is, if she made it in one piece.

Rhiannon thought about everything that had happened while she stared out the window. How she had ran into two different supernatural creatures in her attempt to escape Beacon Hills. She morbidly thought that maybe she was the beacon now. A horrific voice in the back of her head said, Maybe you are. You traveled through worlds. Who knows what sort of things you've changed just by being here?

This excruciating time alone also gave her a moment to collect herself and decide what her next plan of action was. And to try and sort through her memories enough to try and know what was coming next. She knew they were going to that haunted motel. That Boyd would almost drown himself in the bath. Isaac would hide under the bed. Ethan tries to cut himself in half. And Scott would very nearly light himself on fire. Stiles had saved him, that time. Would she have to sit by and let him? What would be the best way to help them all without disrupting the timeline and causing some sort of change in plot? Did this mean she couldn't help them?

It all felt wrong and horrible. Watching a Tv show was one thing. But actually being there was different. The timeline was different in real life.

Rhiannon looked down at her hands. Despite the great plethora of distractions, she could still see it. The blood on them. The smell of it. The sound of gurgling. The fading of light. She shook her head as if this would help her banish her thoughts.

"Hey." A voice said. She jumped, and turned. It was Scott, she looked around to find the bus was already empty. How had that happened? "Scott. Sorry- I- I got distracted." she said. He smiled, his bag slumped over his shoulder. He looked perfectly healthy. And like he didn't hate her. Stiles must not have spoken to him yet. He nodded and she got up to follow.

"Ya know, you have some questions to answer." Scott said, and to her horror when they stepped off the bus Stiles, Lydia, and Allison were waiting and watching her. She tried not to grimace and lolled her head to the side as if she were gravely inconvenienced by this. Which she was. It would require more lying. "Fine." She marched forward through them, and Stiles did a double take and caught up to her.

"You can't just-- walk away." he demanded. Rhiannon looked to him with a raised brow as the rest began to follow. "I'm not? Unless you want to talk about werewolves in the open parking lot," Rhi turned to Scott. "What room?" she asked.

Stiles stopped walking while the rest continued. He threw his hands up in exasperation and ran to catch up.

--

Rhiannon had been struggling to start this conversation for the past five minutes. They all sat on the beds, watching her pace until Allison evidently became fed up and said, "Wellll..."

Rhiannon sighed and turned to them. "Okay. Here goes."

She knew she couldn't tell the full truth, but she'd planned for this.

"Derek isn't dead."

The room went silent and Scott leaned forward in surprise. Evidently he at least believe her. The sceptical looks on the rest of them were enough to tell her she had to prove herself.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I need to start from somewhere better," Rhiannon said.

"I know things. Things about you all that nobody else knows. I don't know everything, of course, but- I do know some things. Like, for example, Allison-- I know you're family makes silver bullets with your family crest inscribed in them. You made silver arrowheads instead." She said, gesturing to her. Allison was taken aback by this, and the rest turned to her in confusion. Allison nodded. Evidently nobody else knew this fact about her.

"And, Lydia. Your grandmother's nickname for you when you were little was Ariel." Lydia blinked in shock at Rhiannon. Stiles stood up, as if this was too much, but Rhiannon laid eyes on him next.

"You had a hallucination at Lydia's party last year. It was your dad." But that was all she said about it, not wanting to bring up painful details of that memory to the attention of the room.

Stiles stepped back, and fell on the bed staring at her in disbelief. Rhiannon turned to Scott, but he looked more surprised by anything.

"The night Peter bit you, you dropped your inhaler. You haven't needed it since."

Rhiannon let them all marinate in these tidbits of information that nobody else knew about them. These pieces of truth that she hoped would convince them to trust her. Of course, Stiles didn't. "And what, do you think this makes us think your not the Darach?!" He demanded, standing up again.

"Derek is alive. He went to Jennifer's house, and she helped stitch him up. He's gonna be okay--," she started, but didn't know what to say about Jennifer. Could she tell them? Would it be okay?

She let the silence marinate. "You don't have to believe me now. That's fine. But you do have to know that we aren't safe here. Lydia- you have a bad feeling right? One you can't explain?" Lydia looked to her like Rhiannon was speaking to the choir and she desperately needed help. Rhiannon nodded at her reassuringly. "You're right, Lydia. This place is dangerous. We have to get out."

"Am I the only one who thinks this is totally insane?" Stiles demanded. "You just appear out of nowhere, saying all this stuff after you conveniently arrived to town right before the killings, and we're supposed to believe you aren't the Darach?"

Rhiannon had to admit, he had a point. She tried not to let his cold attitude hurt her feelings. "Doesn't seem like you have much of a choice right now, given that every werewolf in this place- Scott included- are about to have suicide-inducing hallucinations."

"WHAt are you TALking about?!" Stiles demanded. Rhiannon threw her hands up and turned, not believing this. She was telling the truth but he didn't believe her, and she had no way to prove the truth. "Fine." She finally said, and sat in the chair in the corner, crossed her legs and arms.

"I'll wait."

"You'll what?!"

"I'll. Wait."

She glared at him, and he glared at her back until his frustration peaked and he gave a yell and stormed out of the room. Scott quickly followed. Rhiannon huffed and turned her head, glaring at the back of the TV. She felt eyes on her and awkwardly turned to Lydia and Allison's attentive gazes. Lydia was appraising her, and Allison was watching her like she didn't quite know wether to ask her more questions or run away.

"What is a- a banshee?" Lydia finally asked, clearly not able to hold in her frustration. Rhiannon looked at her and her stony expression softened in sympathy.

"It's not a bad thing Lydia. It might be scary sometimes, but you can use it for good. It means that you know things that others don't."

"Like you?" "No." Rhiannon said quickly. "No, not like me. Your's are... different. And you can change the things you find out. You predict death, but that doesn't mean you can't stop it."

Lydia took the information in and seemed to turn it over in her mind. "Your scream helps. Sometimes you might... have the urge to just scream out your frustration or all the noise in your head. It can be dangerous if you don't learn how to control your power."

"My power?" Lydia questioned. Allion touched her friends shoulder and smiled at her. "Don't worry, Lydia. We can look into it when we get back."

"Deaton will be able to help you." Rhiannon added. "Much more than I can."

Lydia stood and walked to the bathroom to take a moment to herself. To Rhiannon's surprise Allison spoke to her.

"You knew about my mother. That I-- That I see her sometimes."

Rhiannon nodded.

"You also knew how to help Scott." Allison added. Rhiannon sighed and leaned her elbows on her knees, wringing her hands.

"I want to help Scott. I want to help all of you. I don't know if I can. I don't think I was supposed to, but... I can't not help you. It wouldn't be right." Rhiannon confessed, and it felt so relieving to get those thoughts off her chest.

"I know it may not feel like it right now," Allison said, with a gentle smile and soft gaze, "but you did do the right thing." Rhiannon smiled at her but it was more grim. She hesitated for a moment, but said the words.

"I know who it is. The dark druid." Allison was taken aback, but her attention sharpened.

Lydia had appeared from the bathroom and stepped forward, also listening attentively. Rhiannon looked at both of them. "It's Jennifer Blake. Your english teacher. She's performing a ritual-- to make her powers stronger. She's manipulated the events of tonight to try and get rid of the werewolves. To get them out of her way so she could continue her plan."

"So far, she's sacrificed Virgins and Warriors. Next, she'll try and do Healers, then Philosophers, and finally Guardians. With every threefold death her powers get stronger. She'll eventually be strong enough."

"Strong enough to do what?" Allison asked urgently.

"To kill Deucalion, and the pack of Alphas."

"Well, who is it?!" Lydia demanded. "Whose the first healer?" Rhiannon put her head in her hands. "That's the thing-- I don't know. I've been trying to remember but, it's like I said earlier. I can't remember some of the small details."

"Small details? Someone is going to die!" Lydia exclaimed.

Rhiannon could help the glare that she shot her. "Isn't it kind of your job to find out who's going to die next?" Lydia withrew sharply at the blow.

"That's if you're right about me." She said, but the room was heavy with the truth. There was something strange about Lydia. About her ability to predict death. To hear voices and ghosts.

"You know I'm not wrong. And if my powers only extend so far, then your's can fill in the gaps." Rhiannon concluded. It was pretty easy to pretend like her memories of a tv show were actually powers of predicting the future and knowing the past. And maybe they kind of were. Maybe she was some supernatural creature-- one that could travers the multiverse.

Lydia lifted her hand and turned her head, her eyes going distant as if she were trying to listen to something.

"What?" Allison asked. "Shh." Lydia said quickly as she craned her head to listen. She slowly approached the air vent above the bed, and lifted her ear to listen.

Lydia stepped back in a rush, her hand to her mouth. She desperately turned to them. "Did you hear that?!" She looked deeply disturbed.

"Hear what?" Allison asked. "The two people in the other room. They shot each other!" Lydia said, panic thick in her voice as the led the way out of the room. The two other girls followed closely behind her.

When they burst into the room and turned on the lights, they discovered it was deeply underway of a total reconstruction. Tools, drop cloths, and lumber took up the space of the room. Rhiannon gritted her teeth, noticing the very saw that Ethan would later try to use to cut himself in half.

"We have to find Ethan. We have to find all of them." Rhiannon said. Her voice was growing thinner and wearier by the second, and Lydia's shock and fear was enough to cause Allison to adopt the same level of urgency. "Allison, what is your great uncle's name?

"Great uncle-... uhh Alexander?" She asked. Rhiannon nodded. "And do you know how he died?"

"I-I don't know. My dad never talked about it."

Rhiannon nodded and looked to Lydia.

"Lydia, you aren't wrong about what you just heard. Grab the bible in the side table," she said, gesturing to the drawer. Lydia did quickly but was visibly confused.

Rhiannon took it and quickly flipped the front cover till an article fell from the book. Rhiannon crouched and grabbed it, holding up the title. 'Couple commits double suicide at Motel Glen Capri'

They both inhaled sharply.

"This motel is haunted. Allison, your great uncle was bit by Deucalion. He came here and killed himself so he would never turn into a werewolf. This motel has been haunted ever since, and any werewolf that steps foot here is in danger of being next." Rhiannon explained.

It was a lot to take in, but to Allison's credit she processed the information quickly. And unlike the boys, Lydia and Allison seemed to trust what she was saying now.

"Scott's in danger, isn't he?" she asked.

Rhiannon nodded. "And so is Isaac and Boyd. And Ethan. We have to get them out of this place before it's too late."

Allison nodded, serious like she was on a mission. Rhiannon was struck with the thought-- How does she do it? She's so strong and level-headed. Lydia's panicked expression moreso matched how Rhiannon was feeling.

"Here is what I know: Boyd is going to try and drown himself in bathtub, using a safe to weigh his body down under the water. Ethan is going to come in here and try to use that saw," she pointed to it "to cut himself in half." The two girls made horrified faces, but Rhiannon continued hurriedly.

"Isaac is hiding under his bed having a panic attack. And Scott... he covers himself in gasoline and tried to light himself on fire. Stiles saves him. Actually, he saves everyone." Rhiannon looked down at the floor in shame. She shouldn't have fought with him earlier. She shouldn't have let Scott and Stiles get seperated from them.

"We have to find Scott." Allison said with combined worry and determination. Lydia nodded. "We can split up and try to help them." "They won't be in their right minds. Only heat will help them."

"Heat?" Lydia asked.

"Burning them snapped them out of it. Like pain is the only solution. There were flares...? I don't remember where you got them from, but they worked."

"The bus. It has emergency flares." Lydia said. Rhiannon nodded, and they met eyes. This was it. Where Rhiannon's memory failed, Lydia filled in the gaps. In that moment, Rhiannon felt a connection pass between them. A mutual understanding.

"I'll go find Scott and Stiles. Lydia, you go to the bus and get the flares. Rhiannon, find Ethan." Allison barked out orders military-style.

Rhiannon nodded and pulled the lighter from Autin's cigarettes out of her pocket. She felt quite lucky that she had kept it.

They all turned and began to walk out of the room and ran straight into Stiles.

"Stiles? What are you doing, where's Scott?" Allison demanded. Stiles read the fear and urgency radiating off of all three of the girls.

"In our room, why?" Lydia cut by him and ran for the bus.

"What's going on?!" Stiles demanded.

"Take me to your room, now." Allison said.

Stiles looked to Rhiannon in both question and anger. That was when it happened.

Ethan was quiet and distant when he approached them. He didn't say a word and his eyes were glassy. He was gone.

Rhiannon stepped forward, struggling to make the lighter catch flame. He shoved her to the side as she tried to block his entrance to the room. His strength was too powerful, and Rhiannon was thrown to the side so hard she caught air. Thankfully, Stiles caught her just in time. She grabbed onto him desperately but her lighter had flown out of her hand and into the parking lot.

Allison acted quickly and ran into the room after Ethan, and Rhiannon did the same as soon as she got her footing. The sound of a saw turning on. Rhiannon's heart leapt into her throat. Allison grabbed onto his arm, and Rhiannon ran forward to help. Thankfully, Stiles reacted quickly too and grabbed his other arm. "The heater!" Rhiannon exclaimed. Allison and Stiles didn't seem to need any further instruction.

They used all their strength to throw him into it. He landed harshly and exclaimed in pain as the smell of burning flesh wafted into the room. In the process, the saw was thrown to the floor along with Stiles. Rhiannon's body reacted before her mind could, and she grabbed his arm. His face came within inches of the saw. She used her body weight pulled him up. The saw came to a stop, and Stiles stared at it in disbelief, looking back up at Rhiannon, who still held him desperately.

They were all breathing heavily and Ethan staggered back. "What just happened?!" He demanded.

"Get back to your room and stay there." Allison demanded as Rhiannon helped Stiles to his feet. "What the fuck?!" Stiles demanded. He was breathing heavily and shaking. "They're hallucinating Stiles. They've been poisoned by wolfsbane-- all of them."

"We have to find Scott." Allison said, more urgently now. Stiles nodded, and looked to Rhiannon. "I'll go find Isaac and Boyd. What room are they in?" She asked.

Thankfully, Stiles told her.

As they ran out the door, Lydia had made it back with two flares in hand. Rhiannon grabbed one and so did Allison. "Come on," Rhiannon said, and Lydia followed her to Boyd and Isaac's room. Stiles and Allison ran the opposite direction to find Scott.

When they got there, the door was open. Boyd was standing in the bathroom, holding the safe and about to step into the bath. As Rhi ran, she ripped off the cap of the flare and struck it hard.

It lit on the first try, and she made to Boyd who had two feet in the bathtub. She used it like a weapon and pressed it into his side. The safe dropped with a loud THUD and he let out a roar of pain. When he turned, his eyes were aglow and canines sharp. He came to, and looked around in confusion.

"What's going on?" He demanded.

Rhiannon turned and handed Lydia the flare. "Under the bed," she inscructed and turned back to Boyd. He looked in better shape, and had stepped out of the water.

"Wolfsbane. You're gonna be okay."

A yelp sounded in the bedroom and they rushed out, finding Isaac standing up from the floor and Lydia crouching down, still holding the flare even though it had gone out. She looked to Rhiannon and Boyd.

"You okay?" Rhiannon asked Isaac. He eventually nodded, but looked shell-shocked.

"We have to find Scott." Lydia said, standing up.

The two boys followed them out as they rushed to Scott's room. When they burst inside, Rhiannon let out a breath of relief when she found Allison clutching Scott in her grasp as she held him. Stiles was holding a still-lit flare.

After a few moments of that sweet relief, Rhiannon turned and walked out of the room. She thought about how thankful she was that they had gotten there before he'd gotten his hands on any gasoline. About how all of them were safe, and okay. Stiles had followed her out without her even noticing. She could really go for a cigarette. He looked at her as she leaned against a pillar, calming her breaths. "You saved them." Stiles said. That was all he said. Rhiannon finally turned and looked at him. "I wouldn't have been able to without Lydia or Allison."

She looked to where Lydia stood watching her in the doorframe, and Isaac and Boyd who were both doing the same now. Rhi stood back up. "Come on, let's get your stuff. It's gonna be a long night's sleep on the bus."

--

Rhiannon hadn't been mentally prepared for Stiles grabbing her arm and pulling her to the side as they loaded up into the yellow school bus. But she didn't protest-- she was too worn out.

"My dad thinks you were kidnapped. So did I." he said.

Rhiannon shrugged, but knew this wouldn't be enough so she said, "I wasn't lying about the wendigo, if that's what you're asking."

"Did you run away?" He asked. There was hurt in his voice, and for the first time Rhiannon considered that Stiles might have blamed himself after she had disappeared. At the time, she had been so angry with him that it didn't matter.

She thought about telling him what she had planned to tell the police upon her return to Beacon Hills. The story she had rehearsed over and over in her mind.

She decided against it when she looked into those brown eyes.

"I- I thought that Beacon Hills was dangerous. And it is..." she said, before continuing. "I tried to get out. I didn't want to hurt your dad. Or you. I- I didn't really think about anyone but myself. I just didn't want to get caught up in all this supernatural business and get myself killed. But it seems like the supernatural business just followed me anyway. I ran into a woman after I escaped Austin-- the wendigo."

His eyes told her he needed an explanation. "I thought he was a regular person, but he, uh. He wasn't. And then I saw this woman. She told me--... she told me to come back to Beacon Hills. To find Scott McCall. I think... I think that's the only way I can stay alive in this world."

She looked up at him before he could get a word out and quickly said. "You can't tell your dad."

"I know," he started, but she interrupted.

"No, you can't tell him I ran away. I... I know it's a lot to ask. You already have to lie to him so much about all this." and she gestured around, referring to the supernatural world. "I know it isn't easy for you. But I don't want him to think I ran away because of him. He was good to me. He took me in without question when he didn't have to. I didn't want to leave, but I was scared of what would happen if I stayed. And it wasn't his fault, or yours."

He sucked in a breath, listening despite clearly wanting to say something. She continued. "I want to stay with you."

This statement was totally awkward, and Rhiannon quickly followed up. "I mean with your dad, and at your house. I think... I think I was supposed to. Like how I think I'm supposed to help you now. Like there's a reason I'm here."

"You can't lie to police. They'll know."

No they won't, I've done it before. But she didn't say this thought.

"I want to try. I'll come up with a story. I'll tell the FBI agents it isn't your dad's fault. That I want to stay. But I need you to help me."

She waited in anticipation. He eventually nodded slowly. "Fine. But only because you saved my friend's lives. And I'm still not buying that you aren't the Darach."

Rhiannon held up her hands. "I don't doubt it. I'll tell you everything I know." Not everything, but he doesn't have to know that.

Stiles sighed.

"By the way, the wolfsbane is in Coach's whistle. Next chance you get, get rid of it."

Stiles nodded begrudgingly, and they boarded the bus.

"So is anyone gonna tell us who that is?" Isaac asked, gesturing to Rhiannon.

--

When they got off the bus, the police were waiting. Rhiannon had told Stiles to call his dad and tell him that Stiles had found her. Upon sight of Mr. Stilinski, she was caught off guard by a hug. Mr. Stilinski grabbed her and his son and pulled them in tightly. Rhiannon hesitated, and then sunk into the embrace. It felt good to actually have someone who was happy and relieved to see her.

When they pulled apart, he inspected her. She must have looked as ragged and dirty and smelly as she felt because his face was etched with worry. He then turned to his son, holding his face and neck in one hand and clapping him on the shoulder in the other with a proud sort of smile that only a father could muster for his son. "Good job, son."

Stiles blushed and looked down bashfully. "I didn't mean to find her. I was on a cross country trip."

Rhiannon smiled and elbowed him in the side playfully. "He did though."

"Actually, we have a few questions about that." an FBI agent said, stepping in much less friendly than Mr. Stilinski had. Rhiannon nodded, expecting this. "You too," they added to Stiles, who had begun to step away. Rhiannon looked to Stiles and sent him a reassuring smile, and Stiles in turn nodded back. They'd discussed the plan on the ride there, and knew they would both have to answer questions. It took a couple hours of questioning. The entire time Rhiannon had demanded from both the agents and CPS that she stay under the care of the Sheriff, who she said was the most fit to protect her after the events of her 'kidnapping'.

She covered the events that had occured, continuing to stick as close to the truth as possible. She didn't disclose the gory details of her murder, or of her running away. She instead claimed he'd apprehended her in the street with a cloth to her mouth, and when she came to she was riding in a car, tied up and gagged. She described a story of how she escaped from the truck when they had pulled over off the highway.

"I ran through a ditch. I fell, but kept running. There wasn't anything around-- not even a gas station. I didn't know where I was. I kept screaming for help. I thought maybe there had to be someone around. But it was nighttime. He pulled around and cut me off with his truck. I tried to run around it but he grabbed me by the wrist."

She held the bruised and swollen wrist in her hand as she spoke. Everyone in the room was eating it up, looking at her with sympathetic eyes. Especially when she dipped into the memory of the real terror she had felt during Austin's attack. His bloodthirsty stare with those soulless empty eyes. The teeth dripping with drool. Head cocking to the side as he cornered his prey.

She let the feeling bubble to the surface, and didn't have to fake the terror that came with it. "He had a knife. I-I kneed him... between the legs. He let go of me so I grabbed his head and brought it down onto my other knee. He was on the ground. His face was bloody, and he dropped the knife. I grabbed it. He started to try and come up again so I- so I stabbed him... Right here," she pointed to the crook of the neck. It wasn't true, she had stabbed him through the neck, but the details didn't matter.

"I was bloody, but I ran to the truck. I was scared he would get back up again, so I drove off down the highway. In the opposite direction we came from. I didn't have a phone, or know where I was going. I was going to pull over, but I saw a sign that said Beacon Hills on it. I didn't know how far it would be. I ended up driving for a long time. I got tired, though. I almost fell asleep on the highway. I stopped at the next rest stop I could. There weren't any cars, and I was too scared to get out, so I fell asleep in the truck.

When I woke up, it was daytime. There was a school bus, and that's when I saw Stiles and Scott and their friends."

"Your friends didn't want to call the police?" One of them asked.

"I asked them not to. I wanted Stiles to call his dad. The rest of the police don't matter."

They all glanced at each other. She had said this last part with a bit of venom.

Sheriff Stilinski himself had been asked to sit this testimony out due to his interfering biases, but Rhiannon refused to speak unless he was in the room. He said, "Rhiannon, I know you've been through a lot, but if you're ever in trouble you should contact the authorities. They're here to help you."

"No, your here to help me. Stiles is here to help me. They just hold me in little rooms and ask me questions I've answered a million times. They treat me like I'm crazy."

Her adamant biases in favor of Sheriff Stilinski and his son were purposeful. They weren't necessarily false-- she did like them. But she needed to make it clear that she had no intention of cooperating if the sheriff wasn't involved.

She had to make it clear that the only person who could help her was Sheriff Stilinski.

It took hours. Stiles and Rhiannon were both kept separate. Stiles' questioning seemed to go well though, because at the end of the day Rhiannon had returned to the Stilinski household after a hospital visit and some strict lecturing from both CPS and the sheriff himself.

The FBI had immersed themselves in the new investigation of Austin. Rhiannon had both given falsified and biased information about him. They had found the truck, which matched her story. But she wanted their discoveries to end there. If his body was found... she wouldn't know what to do.

It was a long night, and when Rhiannon finally thought it was over she heard a knock at her door. She crept over and opened it an inch. Stiles stood there with pursed lips.

"What?" She asked.

"Let me in."

"That's inappropriate."

"You owe me an explanation if I just-," he harsly whispered, "lied to the FBI for you."

Rhiannon could see in his eyes that he wasn't backing down. She stepped aside and he shoved his way through, closing the door behind him very quietly.

"Didn't your dad tell you that you weren't allowed to come into my room?" She asked him.

"How do you know that?" He demanded.

"I didn't. But now I do."

He gave her an exasperated look but gestured his hands around for her to speak. He was so expressive that Rhiannon knew what he was thinking at just about all times. She sighed and sat on her bed. The comforter was fluffy, which she normally didn't like, but ever since she'd begun living there she had grown fond of it. Stiles stood, but she waited for him to finally sit on the bed next to her.

"Listen-- I don't know what I am. I don't know how I got here or what I'm doing here. All I know is I can help you and your pack."

Saying it felt silly, but he didn't cringe so she continued. "For example, I know who the Darach is."

He held on to her words. "It's your english teacher. Jennifer Blake."

He blinked at her and she spoke so he didn't have to. She told him everything that she'd told Lydia and Allison the night before. About the sacrifices, and how she didn't remember details. About Lydia's powers and how they could use them to try and find out who the next victim was.

"The veterinarian that Scott works for? Deaton. He's an emissary. Well Jennifer used to be an emissary too. For a different pack. The female alpha? The one with the claws and is always barefoot?"

Stiles nodded.

"Well, she didn't kill Jennifer. And after she survived, Jennifer decided to take it upon herself to get revenge on them. Deucalion in particular. With each trio of sacrifices, she gains different powers. And with the next round-- the healers? She'll gain that power. The power of accelerated healing. And when she finishes all of them, she'll be powerful enough to kill Deucalion."

Stiles processed the information and Rhi could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind. "We'll need to talk to Deaton. He'll know more about everything than I will. He'll be able to help Lydia hone her powers. Maybe he'll even know something about where I came from and what I am."

She said this last bit knowing that it was the partial truth. Of course, she wasn't a supernatural creature, but maybe he had heard of people traversing time and space.

Maybe he was the key to getting her back. The key was here in Beacon Hills all along. Stiles took in this information slowly. Which was funny to watch, because Rhiannon didn't even know Stiles could sit still for so long. Finally, he said, "Okay. Tomorrow, we'll talk to Deaton."

==

Notes: Thank you! I love seeing you guys interact with my posts. I'm glad she's back at Beacon Hills now. Six episodes into season three already. You guys are getting a little taste of the 'fix it' aspect of this fic. Rhi's got a lot of opportunities to change things, so I'm excited to pan that out. The gif at the top is how I imagine Rhiannon to look-- grey eyes and brunette hair. She's a model named Andreea Diaconu. Obv I've had her and others describe her looks to be insanely beautiful so it only makes sense she looks like a model.

PART SEVEN

[xoxoavenger]

I Know Places

pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

summary: they take their shots, but we're bulletproof (I know places) and you know for me, it's always you

word count: 2579

warnings: some blood, this one kinda got away from me my bad

1989 masterlist main masterlist

"Here's the problem I have with keeping us a secret,"

"I don't want to hear it."

"I wasn't finished." Y/N doesn't let Stiles' dramatics get in the way of her venting, because right now she couldn't be more mad at the fact that they were not public as a couple.

"Y/N, please," She's only going to say things that have been repeated on multiple occasions in the seven months they've been dating, and tonight Stiles doesn't have the energy nor the time to get into it.

"No, Stiles!" He looks over at her as he realizes that she's more fed up with this than usual. He puts his eyes back on the road as he lets her go off even though he's heard it seven times this month. "I can't stick up for you! You get angry when I so much as look at you in front of the pack, much less try and argue. I mean fuck, no one is going to suddenly think we're dating because I voice the problem I have with using you as bait." She hasn't even taken a breath, and while Stiles understands her side of the story he's not wavering his position.

"I'm not saying you can't look at me! But nothing you say is going to make Scott or Lydia agree to change their position."

"And what about you?" She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the door to see him clearly.

"What about me?" Last time he checked they were talking about her feelings. He chances a glance at her which only makes him feel weirdly guilty about something he's sure he has done but can't actually remember doing.

"Nothing I say can change your position?"

Stiles is a smart man. He gets relatively good grades. He makes countless plans that work, figures out who's trying to fuck with them before even the police can. He can argue and persuade for just about anything. So he knows what Y/N is talking about, and he knows that playing dumb will not help his cause.

"You're mad because I volunteered to be bait." The only reason the two of them are in the Jeep on the way to the woods is because Stiles told everyone that he would gladly draw the new alpha pack to him and run to the check point where the rest of the pack would be waiting. The only problem was the time period before they would make it to the pack, where they would just be to far to help if something happened. They had all been arguing about who it should be when he stepped in, causing Y/N to imagine herself breaking his arm just so he wouldn't.

"I don't know why you have some sort of hero complex," She angrily gets out of the car before he's even parked, leaving him to sigh and slam his own door when he gets out. "But what I'm even more confused about is why you're somehow astonished that your girlfriend would be mad at you throwing yourself into the line of fire." She's freezing as soon as they start walking, but she doesn't say it. In order to draw the alphas, they needed couldn't wear a jacket. In December.

"You didn't have to come with me." He grabs her hand anyway, because they're alone and they don't get to walk holding hands very often.

"Are you even listening to me?" She asks quietly, aware that their pack is intently listening to them, ready to jump in when the alphas arrive. "I'm not mad that I'm here with you, I'm mad you volunteered for sudden death." They make it to the agreed spot, cuddled close together as they shiver.

"You're mad because this plan is the worst." He clarifies, and just like that they're back to normal, clearly understanding each other. They don't need to say it to know that they're both able to forget about the details in the face of death.

"It is," She tells him quietly, smiling wide when he leans his back against a tree and lets her lean against his front. "I mean, having to kiss you, make out even," She isn't able to roll her eyes because Stiles is leaning down, hands coming around her waist as he kisses her.

The amazing plan Stiles came up with is for them to pretend to be lovesick teenagers (because why would a couple of twenty-somethings sneak out to kiss) completely oblivious to the pack roaming the woods. And Y/N wanted to kiss Stiles right then and there when he came up with the plan, which made her even more mad about keeping their relationship a secret. They weren't in high school anymore, and Y/N was sure the pack would be able to handle the knowledge that they were dating, but Stiles was worried, didn't want to step on any toes or break the whole 'no dating pack members' rule that had been established when Malia and Scott broke up.

They kiss for a while, and it keeps them warm for a couple minutes. But soon it's too cold and they're chattering as they kiss, and neither of them even wants to kiss anymore. Just as Y/N's about to tell Stiles that she's not sure she can feel her feet, let alone her hands, they hear it.

They both snap toward the sound of a twig breaking, much closer than they were hoping for. The alphas don't even try to hide, instead flashing three pairs of red eyes through the darkness. It doesn't take anything else for Stiles to begin sprinting, grabbing Y/N's hand and pulling her along.

They run toward where the pack is waiting, desperate to be away from danger and somewhere warm. Y/N's thankful for the adrenaline, which masks pain sparking from her legs as she shakes the cold off and follows Stiles. They're almost to the meeting point when a pair of red eyes makes them veer away.

They hadn't expected that they'd be surrounded.

Stiles doesn't waste a second, pulling Y/N away as if they weren't supposed to be going toward anyone at all. She's freaking out, hoping the pack can hear the change in their footsteps and come meet them. She's lagging behind, the cold burning her lungs in a way that she didn't even think was possible. Her ears are shooting pain into her head as the breeze makes it's way through her body. Her hand is slipping from Stiles' and she's about to give up when she feels pain erupt in her leg, which she previously thought was numb.

She lets out a blood curdling scream as she falls to the ground, Stiles turning to see the sight that haunts his nightmares; Y/N is on the ground, blood pouring out of her leg as she tries to claw herself forward. There's an alpha behind her, a man with a sinister look that tells Stiles the alpha wants to do more than just turn his girlfriend. Before Stiles can even think about how to fight the werewolf that is twice his size, Scott is roaring and tearing at the Alpha's chest, taking him by surprise.

"Run!" He yells at Stiles and Y/N, going back to fighting. Everyone is there within seconds, fighting off the alphas and clearing the path for the couple.

Except Y/N can't run.

She can't stay quiet either, letting out grunts and moans and whimpers with every step. She leans heavily on Stiles, but he's only human. He knows they're surrounded, knows there's not many options for them. It's do or die, and he is not letting his girlfriend die because he just had to be the bait.

He pulls her into a thick patch of bushes, out of sight. They crouch, which becomes sitting and Y/N extends her leg to fully see the bite wound she now has. He knows this isn't enough however, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the thought of what he has to do next.

"They will smell your blood," He whispers to her, maneuvering them to be able to hold her, her back against his chest. Her hands go up to his arm and squeeze, as if he wasn't already feeling guilty enough for what he has to do. He only thinks this quickly because of his recurring nightmare of this exact scenario. He's tried many different ways to hide, and through it all this was the only way they weren't found. "I'm so sorry," He puts a hand over her mouth and pulls her into his chest, his other hand grabbing the moist dirt and pushing it against her wound. She screams at the contact, muffled by his hand that she is clawing at. He grabs more dirt, a tear falling down his face as he presses it harder against her leg.

They will still be able to smell the blood, if they're close and really looking, but they won't be able to track it from afar. All he can do is hope that his pack can take care of it so he can get Y/N to Melissa.

"Stiles," She whimpers, trying not to cry as he moves his hand from her mouth. "Oh God, I'm bit, Stiles!" Her voice was getting high with panic, so Stiles grabs her and holds her as close as he can.

"You're going to be okay, it'll be okay." He doesn't believe his own words, but he needs Y/N to believe them. He needs her to stay strong, because he doesn't know what he'll do if her body rejects the bite.

It feels like they're sitting there for hours, Y/N's grip slowly slackening. Stiles tries not to read too much into it, but the dirt he had put on her leg is wet and dark with blood. He can't put more on, knows that by now there's too much blood to be able to dampen and the only thing it'll do now is introduce infection. He can still hear distant roars, and he hopes someone realizes they never left.

"Stiles!" It's Scott, running quickly. He's able to find them in no time, confirming Stiles' thoughts. He's just glad an enemy didn't find them first.

"She's bit," Stiles tells his best friend, who is currently taking in their position. Y/N's head is lolling, sweat pouring out as her body is fighting to stop the bleeding. This bite was deep, deeper than Scott's or Liam's, and it instantly worries Scott.

"We'll get her out," He assures his best friend, realizing that there's a large possibility that Y/N and Stiles are more than friends. He's surprised they were able to hide it for so long, surprised he never picked up on it.

"I had to put dirt on it. I didn't know where they were, or what was going to happen." Stiles is rambling while Scott helps them stand. "I don't even know if it helped but I couldn't just sit here and let them find us." Y/N is groaning and crying out and finally Scott just picks her up, knowing he has to move.

"You did what you could, Stiles." He tells his best friend, the two of them rushing to get back to the Jeep.

"Stiles," Y/N pants, jostling in Scott's arms as they reach the Jeep.

"It'll be fine." It's the only words Stiles knows, apparently. It's all he can think, because he doesn't even want to imagine any other possibility. He lets Scott put Y/N in the back seat and then climbs in after her, which surprises Scott. He's rarely ever been allowed for drive the jeep, and he realizes now that Y/N and Stiles might be closer than he originally thought. The theory that Stiles has been keeping his girlfriend a secret from his best friend makes him upset, but he knows this isn't as important as keeping Y/N alive.

"Here," He's taking off his sweater and handing it to Stiles to hold to her leg. They both know that they're pushing the dirt in and risking infection, but it's worth it to keep her from bleeding out.

"Y/N," Stiles mutters as he pushes her hair back, trying not to notice how pale she's become. "Hey, baby," He smiles when she opens her eyes.

"I'm bit," She tells him once more, her voice scratchy. She takes shaking breathes, eyes locked on her leg. "Oh my God," She's shaking, the fear in her eyes causing Stiles' heart to jump.

"It'll be okay, I promise. I'm right here." He looks down and sees the blood soaking through Scott's jacket, which makes him uneasy.

"I didn't want this," She cries, causing Scott to squeeze eyes shut.

"I know, I know," Stiles pushes some of her hair off her forehead.

When they get to the hospital, Melissa is waiting outside. She's clearly nervous as Scott gets her out, looking around as they get Y/N on a gurney and rush her in, trying not to be seen by others.

"What happened?" Melissa asks, getting Y/N hooked up to machines. When Stiles pulls the jacket away, she gasps.

"I was bit," Y/N's a little out of it, which worries Stiles. Her blinks are slow.

"Why isn't she healing?" Melissa grabs things she needs to clean and suture the wound.

"We don't know." Stiles answers, gagging as Melissa begins cleaning the blood away.

"We need to get this wound closed, because I can do a lot of things for you guys but I cannot steal blood." She takes a deep breath as she looks at her tools. "I can't steal any drugs to numb your pain either." She's very positive Y/N will pass out before she gets too far into it anyway. 

"I can help." Scott puts a hand on Y/N's leg. Melissa nods before beginning her stitches. Y/N doesn't even have the chance to feel the pain because Scott is already taking it, veins darkening as he breathes deeply to not show how much it hurts. Y/N wishes she could thank him, but everything is heavy. 

"Her eyes are closing." Stiles is freaking out only slightly. He moves closer to her head, trying not to look at the mess that was her leg.

"Try to keep her awake." Melissa instructs. It's the last thing Y/N hears before she gives herself up to the darkness.

~

"Why didn't you tell us?" Y/N hears Malia ask through some fog.

"We were worried you guys would get all weird." Stiles answers.

"What does that even mean?" Lydia asks, and Y/N tries to force her eyes open. She can't quite do it.

"You guys always get strange when two people in the pack start dating! And no offense, but it was so awkward when Malia and Scott broke up. We didn't want to go through that again." She's finally able to open her eyes.

"For the record," She starts, voice scratchy with misuse. "Our last argument was about the fact that I didn't want to hide it." She starts coughing, and everyone is at her side, asking a million questions. She doesn't pay attention to anyone else, only watching her boyfriend's face as he realizes that she's awake and okay. 

"Oh my God." Stiles is holding her close, tears in her eyes that make her emotional.

"I'm okay," She whispers, still weak but squeezing Stiles with all her might. "I'd never leave you." It breaks the dam and Stiles begins crying into her, knee up on the bed to steady himself.

"I'd never let you." 

//

tags: @tbsimp @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @mcueveryday

[takaraphoenix]

Home at the Hale Farm

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, post-Nogitsune, PTSD, Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, Spark Stiles, fluff, hurt/comfort, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Allison Lives, Pack Alpha Peter, m/f, f/f

Main Pairing: Peter/Chris/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Malia/Kira

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski | Stiliyan 'Stiles' Gajos, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Cora Hale, Noah Stilinski | John Gajos

@writersmonth Prompts: fur + farm

Summary: Theo is the last straw for Stiles, Scott believing Theo over Stiles. Not knowing how else to get out of Beacon Hills, him and his dad fake their own deaths. And it's the right choice, they're finally free and out of that hell-town. Stiles only has one regret, that he doesn't know where the Hale Pack lives and never had the chance to let them know that he's still alive. Until him and his dad move to London.

This Fic on FFNet | This Fic on AO3

Home at the Hale Farm

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

If asked when everything had started to go to shit, Stiles would probably pinpoint the Gerard Argent take-down as that moment. The very first time Scott had gone against Stiles, acted without even consulting Stiles. The first real crack in their friendship. Sure, they had drifted apart more and more since Scott had gotten together with Allison and prioritized his relationship over his friendship, but that? That betrayal had caused a rift between them. One that Stiles spent months trying to ignore, trying to mend, before it frayed more and more.

Additionally, that had been the last day Stiles had been a part of the Hale Pack. With Scott's betrayal, Derek turned his back on them. And Stiles didn't hold that against the then Alpha. But if that hadn't happened? If Scott and Stiles had stayed in the Hale Pack, maybe everything else wouldn't have happened. Maybe if Scott had been a proper beta, he would have never risen to being a True Alpha and then all of this wouldn't have happened and Stiles would still be happy with the Hale Pack, with Boyd and Erica, with whom he had forged a bond in that basement, with Isaac, who was just a big puppy, with Peter, who was—Stiles shook his head, trying not to think of Peter.

Scott became a True Alpha and, always the loyal best friend, Stiles became part of his pack. Derek gave up his Alpha spark to save his sister's life and the Hale Pack seemed to fall apart. Isaac, who had been drawn closer to Scott for months now, easily joined Scott's pack, together with Stiles and Lydia. The McCall Pack formed. But the Hale Pack wasn't done yet.

Peter Hale had too much ambition and he had lost too much in the past to give up the Hale Pack, to let it die fully. No, with so many spare Alphas running around, he had an easy time killing one to regain the Alpha spark for himself. This time, more sane and without killing a family member, the red eyes suited him much better, in Stiles' opinion.

But now there were two packs in Beacon Hills. Two Alphas with as much history as Peter and Scott? That was bound to blow up in all their faces. Tension rose, more and more. The two packs edged on and Stiles could see this escalating if someone didn't give. Peter gave.

"We're going to leave Beacon Hills, Stiles," Peter had told him back then, voice hard.

He'd stood with his arms crossed in Derek's loft. Derek, Cora, Boyd and Erica behind him, all avoiding Stiles' gaze. Looking like guilty puppies. It had made Stiles' heart clench so all he could do was nod at the Alpha, at the pack – the pack he once belonged to.

"I think it'll do you good," Stiles had offered softly. "There's so much trauma in this town. It's tried to kill every single one of you in the past. Heck, it did kill you, Peter. I hope… you'll be happy."

Peter had looked at him with an unreadable expression. "We're going-"

"Don't tell me," Stiles had requested, shaking his head. "You want to get out of here, get a new start. You don't want anyone in Beacon Hills know where you are. And I don't want to be the one to drag you back here. You gotta… leave it all behind."

"We don't want to leave you behind," Erica had looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"I'll come back for you, sweetheart," Peter had rested a hand on his cheek. "Day of your graduation, I am coming back and I will ask you to make the choice that I can't ask of you right now. But I trust Scott to fuck up badly enough to make this choice easy for you."

Stiles wondered if Peter had really known just how true his words would turn out to be, or if he'd just been a prick with a complex back then. Either way, Stiles had agreed to that and he had hugged them all. It had hurt, seeing them leave, but he knew it was the right decision for them and that was all Stiles wanted. For them to be happy, to not be dragged down by this damn town.

The McCall Pack gained two new pack-members, in the supposedly reformed former Alpha twins. That was when the crack in Scott and Stiles' relationship grew more, because he'd vetoed that. They had helped capture Cora, Boyd and Erica, had helped nearly kill them, but Scott was giving them a second chance? Not just by letting them go, but by offering them a place in their pack?

Next up, Malia Tate and Kira Yukimura joined the pack, as Stiles' life started falling apart. He got possessed by the Nogitsune, it used him to kill people, so many people. He'd killed Aiden and – and he killed Allison, even if nobody knew, because he'd poured all of his magic, all of his Spark, into saving her life as she bled out in his arms. She had still been gravely injured, had spent weeks in the hospital to recover, but she was alive and that was all that mattered. Or so Stiles thought.

It was the final straw for Chris to leave, as soon as Allison was discharged from the hospital. He'd only stayed after the rest of his family had died, one by one, because Allison insisted. This? This had been too close a call, Chris was done (Chris had no idea just how close and if Stiles had any say in it, Chris would never know that Stiles had actually killed his daughter). Stiles understood it. This town had taken so damn much from Chris. And Stiles was sure neither Chris nor Allison wanted to look at the boy who'd 'nearly' killed Allison. Stiles couldn't even look at himself, after all. Isaac left with them, left with his girlfriend and the man who'd been looking over him.

The last member of the Hale Pack left Beacon Hills and Stiles felt something inside him break.

If he'd known that this was just the beginning of the end? Maybe he would have packed up and left too. Not with them, he understood that the Argents would never want to have anything to do with him. If Stiles thought the possession was bad, the aftermath of it was even worse.

He couldn't sleep, ate less than he used to, pulled away from the pack, because the pack – Scott – pulled away from him. Couldn't even look at Stiles anymore. Asked Stiles' opinion less and less.

And then Gerard fucking Argent had returned. Which, brought him back to the beginning. The Gerard take-down was when things started coming apart, because Scott's stupid plan had left the man alive and nobody tracked him down to kill him, so of course had the vengeance obsessed bastard come up with a revenge plan. A deadpool on all the supernatural of Beacon Hills.

Stiles and Scott had fought about it, a lot, until Stiles started giving in, because he was so tired. He didn't sleep enough. He didn't get enough physical comfort. His dad was trying. Malia was… Malia was being a really good friend, was trying too, she understood physical needs, understood pack in a way that Scott never would, that Scott refused to learn. But Malia was also still struggling with being human and she had her new, shiny relationship with Kira, so she couldn't be there for Stiles 24/7 either. Lydia was trying, but whenever Stiles looked at her, he flinched away in guilt. He'd heard her Banshee scream for Allison the night Stiles had killed Lydia's best friend.

Theo was Stiles' breaking point. Theo, who waltzed into their pack and became Scott's right-hand just like that, had the Alpha's ear and trust and so easily filled a role that Stiles had always thought was his. The worst part was that Stiles knew Theo was up to no good. Was planning something. Theo knew Stiles knew, he kept taunting Stiles about it.

And then Donovan had happened, Stiles had killed him and Theo twisted Scott into accusing Stiles of murder. They didn't kill in Scott's pack. He didn't tolerate a killer in his pack. And Stiles, he knew it was about more than Donovan. It was about the people Stiles had killed. It was about their argument in regards to Gerard Argent and how they should have killed him.

"Kiddo," his dad had looked at him with broken eyes when Stiles had broken down in front of him that night. "Tell me what you need, tell me what I can do to fix this, please."

For months, he had watched his son fall apart, bits and pieces being chipped off Stiles. The possession had broken him, truly broken him, and Stiles was fighting every day to survive, but now he was losing what little stability he had – the pack.

"I need to get out of here, I'm drowning, dad," Stiles had sobbed into his father's shoulder, clinging onto him. "I'm treading water and I can't keep going, I can't, I'm going to drown if I don't get out. And I know he's not going to let me out, he won't, he'll kill you, he threatened you, I can't-"

His father's eyes had hardened. Determination. He'd lost his wife in this damn town, he wasn't going to watch his son die before his eyes. Not if there was anything he could do to help.

Two days later, the Stilinskis died in a tragic car accident.

Stiles' pack bonds had already been severed by Scott so there was nothing to worry about. If Scott didn't want to believe him that Theo was a threat? Fine, then. He could get himself killed. Stiles no longer cared. All he cared about was his dad, his dad's safety. Theo had made the wrong move threatening his dad. So they faked their own deaths and, with some skills Stiles had learned from Danny, started new lives, under new names. John Gajos and his son Stiliyan Gajos, so Stiles could keep his nickname, he couldn't shed himself fully.

As the two of them drove out of Beacon Hills and Roscoe stood in flames with two unidentified bodies they'd borrowed from the morgue, the only regret Stiles had was that he had no way of contacting the Hale Pack and letting them know he was fine. Maybe… Maybe even ask them if he could come live with them. His heart ached at that thought. No. Why would they want him, he was broken beyond repair, he'd killed his own pack-mates. No, this was better. Just him and his dad.

/break\

They'd traveled through the US for a couple months. Never staying anywhere for more than a couple weeks. They moved to Canada and lived there for a few months, giving Stiles the chance to settle and heal at least a little. As he healed, his Spark started to ignite again. Tiny, a fraction of what it used to be, but he could feel its warmth in his chest again. And that warmth pulled him away from America, over the ocean. He told his dad that it felt like his magic was pulling him and his dad had simply shrugged and started packing. They were doing this to be together, the destination didn't matter. It had made Stiles smile ever so softly. So the Gajoses packed up again and moved across the pond to London, because that's where his Spark was pulling Stiles.

The entire flight to London, Stiles sat curled together on his seat on the plane and he kept sketching in his notebook. He wasn't one for drawing, really. He took notes, used words. Words were his weapon of choice. But he'd felt restless since they left Toronto, since take-off.

His dad kept looking over his shoulder. "What are you drawing, kiddo? What is that?"

It startled Stiles out of his thoughts and made him actually look at the page. Swirls. Countless swirls. Always three swirls facing each other, meeting in the middle. The Hale triskele. Stiles' heart skipped a beat as he saw it over and over again on his page. In between, there were a couple of little arrows too. Arrow-heads between triskeles. A smile twisted on his lips.

"Nothing," Stiles muttered and turned the page. "Just something… that was important once."

Noah's – John's – eyes narrowed at him, but his father had mercy on him and didn't force him to explain. How could he? Arrows for the Argents, the man he'd been developing a crush on over the months after the Hales left, the girl who'd once time been a close friend and then Stiles had killed her. Guilt, shame, desire, loss, all knotted up into one twisted strange emotion. And the triskele. Longing, home, family, hope, friendship, belonging, loss, rejection.

London was going to be a new start for them. London was going to be good, Stiles just knew it. He didn't know how, but he knew that this was where him and his dad were going to get a proper fresh start. Beacon Hills kept casting a long shadow that had reached even all the way to Canada and Stiles couldn't, he couldn't, he could not be tempted to go back. London would be safer.

/break\

John sighed tired as he entered their apartment, gaining Stiles' attention. He tilted his head to look at his dad. They shared a small apartment, two bedrooms, a kitchen barely big enough to turn around. But they had to leave everything behind when they left Beacon Hills, including any money they had. All they had saved was a thumb-drive, with all of Stiles' work and all of their family pictures on it – they had both been grateful for fourteen year old Stiles' hyperfixation on scanning all their analog family photos one summer – and the clothes on their backs. Stiles hadn't been able to leave his red leather jacket behind, it was the last thing he'd gotten from Peter, a parting gift when the Hales had left Beacon Hills three years ago. An unspoken promise, since leather jackets were a Hale Pack thing, like they were a gang and not a group of werewolves. Stiles had worn it with pride, even when Scott would glare at it. He couldn't let that go up in flames back then.

With all their worldly possessions and all their savings going up in flames, they'd spent the months of traveling through the US doing odd jobs, anything to get enough money to keep them moving. Living from the hand to the mouth. They were able to gather some small savings during their time in Canada, but that was entirely burned on the move to London.

"Hey, dad," Stiles greeted, returning his attention to the newspaper.

"Hey, kiddo," John stepped up to his son, ruffling his hair and kissing the top of his head. "What are you doing? Looking for jobs again? ...Anything interesting?"

So far, since moving here, Stiles had been working as a waiter in a café. His dad had found a job in a private security company. He couldn't bring himself to join law enforcement, not under a fake name. Mostly, his dad worked nights, which meant they didn't see each other too much, but they needed to make ends meet and his dad's job at least paid enough to keep them afloat.

"I don't…" Stiles trailed off as a name caught his eyes.

His heart jumped into his throat. Hale & Associates. It wasn't a rare last name. There were tens of thousands of Hales in the world. Still, seeing that name made something warm unfurl in his chest. A law firm. The named partner was looking for a private assistant and secretary. Was it silly? To want to apply to a job he had no experience or qualifications for, solely based on the firm's name?

Oh well, the worst that could happen was that he got yet another rejection. Who knew, maybe the name would be his lucky charm, maybe they could catch a break with this. He was going to try.

/break\

Chris smiled bemused as he walked into his husband's law firm, their daughters trailing after him, arguing the entire time. Allison and Malia had adjusted horribly to being step-sisters, taking all the worst quality of siblings. He reached one hand out to ruffle Malia's hair.

"Christopher, what have I told you about bringing the girls?"

Peter heaved a long-suffering sigh as he looked up from the file on his desk. Chris loved that office, it was huge, with a large window front behind him, overseeing all of London. A display of power, something his husband had always loved. Smiling, Chris approached and grabbed Peter by the neck, pulling him into a kiss while the girls set up lunch.

"We aren't girls anymore," Allison pointed out. "We're twenty. Well, I'm twenty-one."

"Don't play the older card again," Malia rolled her eyes.

"Why are they arguing?" Peter asked, turning to Chris.

Mh. Chris blinked repeatedly. He actually had no idea, he'd fully tuned them out.

"We're arguing about the new menu at Stiles' Sweets!" Allison huffed. "Boyd let Erica talk him into adding something absolutely abominable that is not edible. Everyone in the pack knows not to let Erica make any food decisions. But his mate looks at him with the big, brown eyes, he caves."

"I think it's good," Malia glared. "It's weird, but that's good. Stiles liked weird. Stiles would have liked it a lot, so we should keep it on the menu."

For a moment, Chris couldn't breath, his hand grabbing Peter's shoulder to cling onto his husband. Peter wrapped an arm around Chris' waist, pulling him close. Even without seeing Peter's face, Chris knew there was a twist of pain on it. It had warmed their hearts when Boyd and Kira had opened their little café and honored their lost, beloved pack-mate by naming the café after him. But every time the boy came up in conversation, it still hurt the Alpha pair. It hurt a lot.

Peter had left first and he had chosen to not force Stiles to make a decision, had left Stiles behind and promised to come back for him. He never got the chance to. Months before graduation, Stiles and his father had died in a horrible car accident.

Chris felt the same. When he'd left that wretched town, with Allison and Isaac, he had left Stiles behind, had thought it would be wrong to force the boy to leave, thought Stiles would be safe and comforted by his pack. That that was where he needed to be to heal.

Now Stiles was gone forever and they could have prevented it if they had just taken the boy.

"What are you working on, Peter?" Allison asked in a soft voice, changing the topic.

The Alpha lifted his head to offer his stepdaughter a forced but grateful smile. "I'm looking through applicants. Since someone insists on me getting a personal assistant."

"The entire pack agrees that you need a personal assistant, babe," Chris huffed. "I love how much you are flourishing in your work, but you absolutely need someone else to organize it for you and to allow yourself to step back some. You have duties to this pack and this family."

Peter simply grumbled at that, making Chris smile a little. When the Hales had left Beacon Hills three years ago, they'd moved to London, to join the one member of the Hale Pack who had been forced to leave before them – Jackson Whittemore, dragged away by his parents when he had barely become a werewolf. With no ties to any other place, Peter, Derek, Cora, Boyd and Erica had decided to move to London, and Jackson had finally gotten to officially join the Hale Pack. With Jackson's father being a lawyer, Peter got a foot back into his old job, from before the fire. He'd worked hard to build a reputation and ultimately opened his own law-firm. Chris couldn't be prouder of his husband. Well, he could be, if Peter would delegate a little more.

"Show me," Chris ordered, grabbing one of the files.

Both Malia and Allison also perked up, walking around the desk to come to stand on either side of Peter. The smallest smile spread over Chris' lips as he watched Malia bump her hip against Peter's side, gently scent-marking her father. It had taken a lot of time, but the loss of Stiles had brought father and daughter closer together. Lydia had called Jackson, choking on tears as she told him about Stiles' death. They hadn't even bothered to pack anything, they'd left London with the clothes on their backs, not wanting to miss the funeral. The Hale Pack came back with two more members than they had arrived with. Lydia, who'd gone for an early graduation, and Malia, who had nobody and nothing left but her mate, had eagerly left Beacon Hills with her estranged family, now that Stiles was dead. Malia's mate Kira had followed them, right after graduation.

"Stiles," Malia whispered, drawing the attention of her family. "That's stupid. I'm sorry. I just…"

The other three turned toward the file she was looking at. Stiliyan Gajos, twenty years old. Currently working as a waiter. In fact, all his previous jobs were mostly customer service jobs. Nothing in the realm of being a secretary or working with a law firm. But his introductory letter did open up with him preferring to go by Stiles and Chris understood her impulse, that feeling of yearning at hearing that name. Chris heaved a sigh and held onto Peter a little tighter.

"Why not," Peter huffed with a bitter smile. "None of them seem perfect."

"You can't hire a stranger just because it'll mean you'll get to say his name again."

Peter fully ignored Chris' glare. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Chris went to sit down and eat before lunch would get cold. After exchanging a look, Malia and Allison joined him. The girls both had to go back to college after lunch, after all. They didn't have all day, as much as Chris would love that. He was proud of his girls, of both of them. Malia had really struggled with school, but she'd been determined to go to college, because Stiles had helped her so much, had been behind her education so she was trying to live up to his expectations, trying to make him proud even in death.

They all had a Stiles shaped hole in their lives. Their pack had a Stiles shaped hole.

/break\

Peter smiled bemused as he read up on the pack group chat. Erica and Cora were in an all-out brawl about Erica's latest idea for the menu on Stiles' Sweets, while Malia was trying to get some help on an assignment and Lydia, fully ignoring Cora and Erica, kept answering her questions.

It was strange, when Peter had learned the truth about Malia, about having a daughter, he hadn't expected to ever have a real relationship with her. He didn't know how to be a father. She didn't know how to be a human. It'd been stilted and awkward and distant. Until they lost Stiles. Peter had loved that boy and Stiles had been so important to Malia too. That loss had united them.

It had also brought them Lydia, something Peter had never seen coming. Yes, Jackson and Lydia still had their bond. A love that could literally break a curse wasn't something that easily faded, even if both of them pursued different sexual partners when Jackson moved to London. They stayed in contact, all this time. But she had her parents, and the McCall Pack, to keep her in Beacon Hills. It was Stiles' death that had made her leave, no longer able to look Scott in the face. She sought the familiar. Jackson and Allison, Malia had become a friend to Lydia too so her going to London had been another incentive for Lydia to leave. She was brilliant and scary and she would make a terrifying lawyer once she finished her education, Peter couldn't wait to see her in a courtroom.

Knocking on his door interrupted his thoughts, just as he typed a snarky reply to Erica's suggestion. Right, he had that blasted job interview. Heaving a sigh, he put his phone down. He didn't want a personal assistant, but his pack was probably right. Ever since he'd opened his own firm, he had been buried in work and he had other responsibilities too. A personal assistant would go a long way in organizing his appointment and keeping an overview, maybe even help him delegate.

"Come in," Peter called out, leaning back in his chair.

He liked to project an air of authority, threat and predator. After all, he was an Alpha wolf. Let's see how the Gajos boy would do. Peter had interviewed two others already, not impressed by them. And though the boy's preferred name should really not have swayed him, he couldn't help it. Even two years after Stiles' death, there was still a hole in Peter's heart. He loved Chris, loved Chris dearly, had fallen in love with Chris when the man had moved to London for the sake of Isaac, not wanting the boy to become an omega and seeking out Isaac's old pack for comfort. But regardless of how much he loved Chris, Peter doubted he'd ever stop loving Stiles.

"Thank you for having me, I…" Stiles Gajos trailed off, making a startled sound. "Peter?!"

Peter's head snapped up, his attention dragged back to the present day by that voice. That voice. His breath hitched as he looked at the young man in front of him. Messy, brown hair, longer than he remembered, but those moles, that cute upturned nose, the tempting, bow-shaped, pink lips and, most of all, those big, brown doe-eyes with the long lashes.

Peter couldn't breath. He stared at the phantom in front of him, before he growled viciously, his eyes flashing red as he jumped out of his chair and stalked up to the boy, backing him against the door, pinning him with Peter's hands on either side of his head. Doe-eyes widened in fear.

"I don't know what you are, or who you think you are, but you are crossing the wrong Alpha by daring to walk in here wearing his face," Peter snarled, shaking.

Fear melted into confusion, before realization set in. Those eyes, they may be fake but they were good fakes. They looked so real. Peter could see the cogs working behind them, the way he had always loved with his clever boy, so easily putting things together.

"You think I'm dead," the shapeshifter or face-stealer or whatever he was spoke. "Oh no."

"Stop playing games," Peter growled, putting a hand around the intruder's throat to hold him in place, to stop him from escaping. "He died. I was at his funeral. So what do you think gives you the right to use his face to taunt me. I'll make it hurt, I promise."

"Peter," the not-Stiles spoke softly. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know how to contact you. I was stupid, when I told you to leave and not tell me where to. I didn't… I couldn't call you, any of you, to tell you that I'm alive. I faked my death, to get out of Beacon Hills."

Peter felt himself wavering, hope and despair twisting together. His hand around the boy's throat tightened. But those doe-eyes kept staring him dead in the eye, not afraid. A fake would be afraid at this point. The only one who'd never be afraid of him, not anymore, was Stiles. His Stiles.

"I need you to look at me, Peter," the voice was firm, was so much like Stiles' no-nonsense voice. "I'm wearing your jacket, the one you gave me before you left Beacon Hills. Last time you saw it, it was all new and shiny. It's worn, from years of usage. If I were some shapeshifter or whatever you think, then how would I know about that, how would I know to fake this detail. On top of knowing things that a simple face-stealer wouldn't know. You can only copy a person's memories perfectly if that person is still alive, so if I – Stiles – were dead, then there could not be a perfect copy here, smelling like the real deal, looking like the real deal, having detailed memories."

Smelling. Peter leaned in and the boy willingly, with no reluctance, bared his throat for Peter. Why would he, any werewolf could easily tear out his throat but an Alpha even more so. Making himself this vulnerable, why would he. Peter buried his nose in that long, pale neck, inhaling deeply. That scent of cinnamon, ink and lightning was the most unique blend he'd ever smelt and he would never forget it. A growl ripped from his throat, his hands both going down to grab the boy by the waist, clinging onto him, clinging onto the hope of this being real.

"You can't be unreal," Peter whispered, a near plea. "If this is a trick-"

"It's not," the boy rested his hands on Peter's chest. "I'm real. I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't… I never wanted to hurt you, any of you, I just didn't know what else to do…"

Peter pushed off, hard. He walked back to his desk, grabbing his phone, typing out a message even as he turned around to get back to Stiles. Emergency pack meeting. Right now. Sending the text, he grabbed Stiles by the wrist, holding tight and pulling him along.

"I will be out of the office for the rest of the day, cancel all my appointments," Peter barked at the receptionist as he dragged Stiles with him into the elevator.

"Uhm, why are you kidnapping me? Where are we going?"

"Pack," Peter forced out, his grip on Stiles tightening. "I need others to see you, I need to make sure you're real. I need to know that I'm not losing my mind again."

"Okay," Stiles' voice was soft. "You're real too, huh?"

Peter's eyes flew down to the boy and he noticed movement. He was pressing his thumbs against the pads of his other fingers, one by one. Peter stilled, sucking in a sharp breath. Malia, Lydia and Kira had told them about this. That after the possession, Stiles had started counting his fingers that way, whenever he was doubtful if something was real or if he was dreaming. A face-stealing creature wouldn't know to do this and Peter's subconscious wouldn't know to add this detail to the hallucination, since he'd never actually seen Stiles do it.

"I am," Peter confirmed after a moment. "There is a lot that needs to be explained, on both sides."

Stiles hummed softly in confirmation, still counting his fingers. Peter's phone rang, startling them both. With his free hand, Peter fished his phone out of his pocket, noting that he had about two dozen notifications from the group chat already, before he accepted the call.

"Hello, love," Peter greeted, trying to breath and calm down.

"Don't 'hello, love' me like that, Hale," Chris barked out. "You can't just call for an emergency pack meeting and then drop out of the chat like that! Do you know how much you scared me? Are you hurt? Are you alright? Are you somewhere safe? Do I need to get to you?"

"I'm sorry," Peter winced. "I could have used more words. I'm fine, I'm not hurt, I'm not in any danger. I have… I have big news, I do have something urgent and the whole pack needs to see. Please organize the pups and herd them back home, I don't care if they still have classes. Tell Boyd and Erica to close the café early today."

Next to him, Stiles stilled at the mention of Boyd and Erica, doe-eyes widening as he stared at Peter with something like hope and longing. Peter clung onto Stiles like a life-line. He needed to be real.

"Peter…" Chris inhaled loudly. "This better be really important. I'll do it, I trust you, but…"

"I understand," Peter assured him. "I… I don't want to tell you over the phone. You need to see…"

If he told Chris that their boy was alive, he didn't know if Chris would be safe to drive home. And maybe Chris would think Peter had lost it, which Peter himself was still wondering.

"I love you," Chris declared gruffly. "Stay safe."

"Always," Peter smiled softly. "I love you too. I'll see you soon."

The call disconnected and Peter put his phone away, aware of Stiles' eyes on him. Curious and prodding, the way Peter remembered them. How much he had missed that inquisitive mind.

"Love, huh?" Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"At home," Peter shook his head. "Please."

Stiles nodded, understanding the need to digest. Probably needing that himself too right now. Stiles seemed as rattled by seeing Peter as Peter himself felt. His hand slipped from Stiles' wrist to properly take his hand, interlacing their fingers, holding onto the boy. Stiles squeezed his hand.

"The jacket looks good on you," Peter noted, looking at his boy. "I knew it would."

A quirk of Stiles' lip, that broad half-grin of his, all crooked and mischievous and beautiful. Peter's heart started racing as he got lost in that grin. He loved this boy so much. He'd missed this boy so much, he hadn't even realized just how much. Like he had lost a part of himself.

/break\

It wasn't a coincident. Peter was such a common first name and Hale wasn't a rare surname either. Why would Stiles expect to meet Peter Hale in London, after all. He'd never considered that the Hale Pack fully left the US. But when he walked into the lawyer's office, that was undeniably Peter Hale sitting there behind that imposing desk, looking handsome as ever.

Not going to lie, getting threatened by Peter had taken him by surprise at first, but when he realized that Peter had spent the past two years thinking Stiles was dead? Damn. It figured that the wolf would think him to be some kind of trick. Not that Stiles didn't think the same. He instinctively counted his fingers, unsure if this was real, if Peter was real.

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked as they drove out of the city.

"Home," Peter replied simply, voice warm and filled with love.

It made Stiles' heart ache in envy. He missed having a home. He had his dad, his dad was his home, but a place that felt like home? He did miss that. Folding a little smaller, he let himself be driven out of the city and onto a farm. His eyes widened at the beautiful, huge farm house.

"Welcome to the Hale Farm," Peter smiled as he parked the car. "Come."

Hale Farm. They had a farm. Oh, that somehow made Stiles happy. Large enough lands, a bit out of town so the wolves could roam free. Climbing out of the car, he eagerly looked around as much as he could see, even while Peter led him into the house.

"Uncle," Derek growled from somewhere once they entered the house. "What is…"

Derek. Stiles' eyes widened and he eagerly pushed past Peter to run in the direction of the voice. He hadn't seen Derek in years. Before they'd left, Derek had practically become his best friend after Scott. Rounding the corner, Stiles entered a spacious living room with three couches and two love seats and there stood Derek. He looked more mature and a little softer than Stiles remembered him, but it was Derek. Without thinking on it did Stiles launch himself at the wolf.

"Derek, holy shit, I missed you," Stiles gasped out.

The wolf beneath him was frozen, not moving. Oh. Right. Probably had the same reaction as Peter. Stiles really hoped nobody was going to rip his throat out today. Slowly, he peeled himself off Derek and took a step back. The look on Derek's face was wrecked. Fully heartbroken.

"No…" Derek's voice actually croaked. "This… This can't be… You're dead."

"I can explain, I will explain, please don't threaten me for thinking I'm a shapeshifter, your uncle already did that," Stiles blurted out. "I'm real. I'm alive. I didn't die. I'm not dead."

Whines drew his attention to the couches and he noticed the other wolves in the room. Erica was sitting on Boyd's lap, next to them was Isaac. On the other couch were Jackson and Cora. Stiles' heart jumped as he looked at the Hale Pack, a bright smile lighting up his face even though he was surprised to see Jackson here. But then he did dimly remember that four years ago, when Jackson had left, his parents had moved to London, Lydia had said something like that.

"A… Are you really real?" Erica asked in a shaky voice. "Are you really our Stiles?"

Our Stiles. Stiles' heart clenched and he blinked away tears as he nodded. The next second, he found himself in the middle of a suffocating puppy-pile. All five betas got off the couches and were suddenly hugging him – even Jackson. They were crying. Crying because they'd missed him, because they thought he was dead. Holy shit. He was sobbing himself, burying his face in Boyd's chest while Erica rubbed her face against his neck. This felt like coming home.

"Peter, you better have a good reason for this."

The voice was gruff and Stiles vaguely recognized it but couldn't place it. It had him tense.

"I still have two more classes," Lydia. "I got out of class early for this, make it good, Alpha."

Lydia was here. Why was Lydia here. Lydia was part of Scott's pack. Stiles' heart-rate picked up, and not in a good way. The betas clinging onto him let go reluctantly as the new arrivals entered the room. Stiles froze, fear gripping him as he saw Lydia, Malia, Kira, Chris and Allison enter.

"S… Stiles…" Lydia's voice broke, her eyes widening. "I knew it. I knew it. I would have screamed for you, if you had died, I would have screamed for you, I knew you couldn't be dead, I knew it."

The next second, the redhead was clinging onto his neck, nearly throwing him off-balance. Stiles couldn't help but flinch, more wary. Not necessarily because of her but because she wasn't Hale. She was McCall. So were Malia and Kira. Why were they here? Was Scott here too? Had they found him? Had they been looking for him? Was everything for naught now?

"W… Why are you here?" Stiles asked, voice a little frantic as he stared at Lydia, Kira and Malia. "Is… Is Sco… Is Scott here too? Is the rest of his pack here?"

"We're Hale Pack," Malia replied, tilting her head with a frown. "We left Beacon Hills with dad and the others, when they came back to Beacon Hills for your funeral."

Stiles' heart clenched at that. "Y… You came back for my funeral…? But… But…"

"Lydia called me," Jackson shrugged, not looking at him. "Lyds and I stayed in contact this whole time. She didn't know the Hale Pack was here though. Peter said he promised you not to let anyone in Beacon Hills know where they were, so I never told her. But I told them, when she told me about your… about your death. We came back for your funeral."

Everyone was staring at Stiles and his heart was racing. Between the Hale Pack – the Hale Pack he knew about – and the former McCall Pack members and the Argents, he was completely overwhelmed. Judging by the looks on their faces, they all were as overwhelmed though.

"Kira and I were at the grocery store," Chris spoke in a detached voice, his eyes not leaving Stiles, sounding like he was on autopilot. "We went to pick up the girls from college."

Chris and Allison approached him and he couldn't help but flinch away, half hiding behind Derek. They must hate him. How could they not hate him. He'd killed Allison. He'd killed Allison. His heart-rate picked up as panic took over, tears burning in his eyes. His thumbs pressed hard against the pads of his other fingers, one by one, counting. He couldn't look away from Allison.

"Stiles…?" Allison spoke softly, like she was talking to a spooked animal.

The others took a careful step back from him, like they were trying to give him space. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. Why would the Argents be here? The Hale Pack, maybe, maybe that could be real. But Lydia, Malia and Kira? That was too much, they had been the only ones he'd still relied on in the McCall Pack. But Chris and Allison? Why would they be here?

"This isn't real," Stiles whispered frantically to himself, aggressively counting his fingers. "You're not real. You can't be here. Why would you be here. This is just… just in my head."

Tears ran down his cheeks at that realization. Of course it was. He should have known the moment he walked into Peter's office. Why should he get to see Peter again? Why should he get to see Derek and Boyd and Erica and Isaac again? He didn't deserve that. His knees buckled.

"Stiles," Lydia's voice was sharp as she knelt down in front of him. "Listen to my voice. This is real. We're real. We're here, okay? Can you do something for me? Can you focus on your surroundings? Can you name four things you can see?"

Stiles' eyes flew around the room. "T… Table. Couch. Fur. Fireplace."

There was lamb fur in front of a fireplace. It looked so comfortable. The thought was jarring.

Lydia smiled at him. "Okay, good. And three things that you can here?"

"Birds," Stiles blinked repeatedly. "Your voice. Peter growling."

His eyes found the Alpha who stood tensely close by, looking like he was holding himself back.

"You're doing great, sweetie. Can you tell me two things that you can feel?"

He pressed a hand down onto the wooden floor, the other holding his jacket. "Wood. Leather."

"Good," Lydia's smile grew. "One last one? Can you read something for me?"

She pointed over toward the book-shelf behind Peter and Stiles jerked when he saw the book-titles. Could read the books titles. Ten fingers. Words. This was real. He took a shaky breath.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream," Stiles whispered, eyes on the book in the shelf.

"Good," Lydia brushed a hand through his hair. "You're doing great. Do you feel better?"

Stiles shook his head. No. He felt like throwing up what little he had in his stomach. His eyes went back to Chris and Allison, who stood there, frozen in the spot, looking at him with horrified expressions. Of course they did. He was a monster. He killed her.

"I'm sorry," Stiles voice broke, pleading with them. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-"

"None of that," Lydia grabbed his face firmly, redirecting his attention to her. "I have no idea what's going on in your head right now, but you are not slipping into another panic attack, do you hear me? You'll breath, slowly, and calm yourself down enough to articulate what's wrong."

Stiles curled together, making himself small as he sat on the floor. The pack started moving slowly, like they didn't mean to spook him, sitting down on the couches. Stiles saw the way Peter slipped a hand into Chris' and wrapped his other arm around Allison in comfort. A sparkle on their linked hands caught Stiles' attention. Wedding bands. His breath hitched. Oh, this so could not be real, not only should the Argents not be here, but the two men he'd been in love with were married? Last time he had seen them interact, they were barely keeping from ripping each other apart.

"I need…" Stiles took a shaky breath. "I need you to make this make sense, I need you to explain why A… Why they are here, how this… Why you're here. I need you to make this feel real. Because it's just overwhelming and bizarre and unreal to me and that frightens me."

"Right. He's the one who died but we have to explain ourselves first," Jackson snorted.

There was an accusation in his eyes too and Stiles knew it was a deserved accusation.

"Jackson," Isaac snarled, eyes flashing, while Erica and Malia were right behind him.

"What?" Jackson snarled right back. "He died! We were at his funeral! We cried over his fucking grave and he's just here, alive, and we have to explain first?"

"He's also the one with possession-induced PTSD," Kira spoke up gently. "And all of us being together, without him understanding how, is currently making him question if this is even real."

Stiles folded himself even smaller, legs drawn up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around his knees, turning his wrist over to read the sentence etched into his skin – This is real. You're awake, Mischief. Written in his mother's handwriting, pieced together from his mother's cook-books. His heart clenched at the thought that he had left them behind. He had them scanned, on his drive, but the physical books, they couldn't take them when they left Beacon Hills. He started shaking.

"When we left Beacon Hills," Peter's voice was even, forcibly even. "Me, Derek, Cora, Boyd and Erica, we left and came here, because of Jackson. Because he was a beta of the Hale Pack, even as he'd had to leave. We had no other place to go, so we followed Derek's first beta."

Stiles sucked his lower lip in, regarding the core Hale Pack and Jackson. "Okay."

"When we left Beacon Hills," Chris spoke up and Stiles instinctively flinched at his voice, causing Chris to hesitate for a moment before he continued. "We went to France for three weeks, more a vacation, really. But Isaac needed a pack, and I figured that he would be more stable, more happy, with his pack, so I spent our weeks in France tracking down the Hale Pack."

Stiles blinked repeatedly, looking at Isaac. Isaac, leaning against Boyd and Erica. The first three Hale Pack betas. Stiles knew how much Isaac had missed them. After the Hale Pack had left, Isaac crawled into Stiles' bedroom many nights, seeking solace, knowing that he couldn't talk to Scott about how much he missed the Hales, knowing Stiles missed them too. This made sense.

"Okay," Stiles nodded, not looking away from Isaac, not looking at the Argents.

"You died, Stiles," Lydia's voice wobbled. "We all thought you died and I called Jackson, I told him, I cried on the phone with him for hours, and they came. They came for the funeral. It was… tense, it nearly escalated into a fight with Scott's pack, but they came. And when I saw Jackson again, after all this time, when he held me while we stood at your grave, when I thought that… that you were gone forever, I didn't know what else was holding me in Beacon Hills. Allison, Jackson, they were both in London and you were dead and I had graduated early anyway, so I packed my bags and left so I could have my boyfriend and my best friend."

Stiles' lips quirked as he watched Lydia reach for Jackson's hand. He always knew those two would find each other again. A love that could defy a curse, how could it not withstand the distance.

"Lydia and you were like my favorite people in the pack, after Kira," Malia frowned. "And then you were dead and Lydia said she was leaving and I… You always told me that I should try and rekindle my relationship with my dad, it was… it was so important to you and it felt like… like something I could do that would make you proud, so I gave him a chance and went with them."

The tentative smile turned into a genuine, bright smile at that. He'd bugged her for months, wanting her to give Peter a chance, knowing that post-resurrection Peter was a better man. He also knew what it was like to lose family and he thought that she shouldn't miss out on the family she still had – the father and the two cousins that she never bothered to get to know.

"I stayed in Beacon Hills until I graduated," Kira tagged on. "And I eased my parents into the idea of me moving to London after graduation and, yeah, I… I followed Malia and Lydia and got to know the Hale Pack and then I joined it and now we're… now we're pack."

Okay. One by one, these made sense. Their reasoning made sense. Stiles took a shaky breath.

"This is really real? You're really all here in one room?" Stiles asked one last time.

"It is, sweetheart," Peter promised gently. "Will you tell us how you're alive now?"

Stiles went back to chewing his lip, hard. He wished he didn't have to. He'd tried so hard not to think about any of this for the past two years, pushing it down as far as he could. His eyes landed on Allison for just a moment before he quickly averted his gaze again.

"I think things between me and Scott had… had been crumbling for a long time, maybe since the bite," Stiles started softly, pulling himself closer together. "But something between us broke when I… when I killed Allison. He couldn't really look at me anymore, we stopped hanging out, and I can't blame him for it. I couldn't look at myself anymore."

"Stiles, you didn't kill me," Allison interrupted concerned. "I'm right here. I'm alive. Is… Is this something that the demon made you think? A nightmare?"

Stiles' face twisted into a grimace and he tried to make himself even smaller. "I killed you."

"No, you didn't," Chris' voice was firm and serious. "The demon stabbed Allison, but even it didn't kill her. Stiles, look at me. You did not kill Allison."

Stiles couldn't fight the command in the hunter's voice and he looked up at Chris, tears running down his cheeks. "I did. It stabbed her and it made me watch, a… and… and she died. When Lydia screamed that day, she… she didn't scream because someone might die, she screamed because Allison did die. She died in my arms and I was too late. I could fight for control but it was too late and Allison was dead and I killed her and it was my fault-"

"Allison isn't dead, sweetheart," Peter interrupted him firmly. "This was some trick from the demon. I'm sorry it made you see that, believe that, but…"

"No," Stiles shook his head frustrated. "She died but I couldn't let her stay dead. I used my Spark. I poured all of my magic into her to pull her soul back. It was… I… I think in the end, that's why we managed to exorcise the Nogitsune, because it had been feeding off my magic, but… I didn't have any magic left after that, there was nothing there to sustain it anymore."

"Y… You… I died? And you gave up your magic to bring me back?"

Stiles reluctantly turned toward Allison, tears staining his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I killed you, I didn't, I wasn't strong enough to stop it, I couldn't stop it, I'm sorry."

"You gave up your magic to save my life, Stiles," Allison's brows furrowed and she shook her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. What the demon did wasn't your fault, nobody blames you for what the Nogitsune did. But you chose to give your magic for me, I don't know how to thank you."

She threw herself at him, hugging him close and tight, burying her face in his neck as she also started crying, her body shaking with her sobs. Stiles just sat stiffly in her arms. Why didn't she hate him? He had killed her. She should hate him. That was why they had left, after all.

"W… Why are you hugging me," Stiles asked unsure. "You hate me. You should hate me. You left. Because I killed you. You left to get away from me."

There were surprised gasps, but all Stiles could do was look at Allison with fear and confusion. "Stiles, no… We didn't leave because of you. We left because this town killed everyone in our family. My aunt, my mom, my grandfather – they may not have been good people and they have brought it upon themselves, but they were still our family. And now this town nearly killed me. K… Killed me, apparently. Isaac was the same, he lost his mom, his brother, his father. We left to get away before this town could also kill us. That wasn't about you."

"I wanted to take you with us," Chris added reluctantly. "I wanted to get you out of this town too, after what it had done to you. But you had your dad, you had… Scott, his pack."

Stiles flinched, this time not because of Chris' voice but because of the mention of Scott. "Yeah, well… that didn't last. What happened, what I did as the Nogitsune, it… it drove a wedge between us. We drifted more and more apart, gradually… And I get it…"

"Is… Is that why you pulled away from me? From us?" Lydia asked softly. "Because you thought we blamed you for what happened with Allison? Or for Allison leaving?"

Stiles shrugged and frowned, not looking at her. The next moment, he had Lydia, Malia and Kira hugging him tightly from three sides, clinging onto him. He sat there still and overwhelmed.

"Is that why you… what exactly happened even?" Boyd asked with a frown. "What happened?"

"Theo…" Stiles frowned, checking the others' faces to see if they knew who he was talking about. "Theo got into Scott's head, he gained Scott's trust to a degree that… that Scott trusted him more than me. I kept trying to warn him, for months I tried to warn him."

"We know," Lydia heaved a sigh, furrowing her own brows in guilt. "I'm sorry. We didn't… He was very charming, we thought you were… you were in a fragile state of mind."

"Paranoid," Stiles offered, raising his eyebrows at her. "I was paranoid. It's just that I wasn't paranoid about that. That was real. And… And Scott's not the only one into whose head he got. It was like Theo knew exactly where my weaknesses laid. It was so easy to believe him because he didn't say anything I wasn't already fearing myself. That Allison and Chris left because of me, hated me for what I'd done, that you hated me for what I've done, that I should give up on trying to find the Hales because I'd just be a burden, I was suck a fucking mess I'd just be too much work for anyone, that… that it would have been better if you'd just taken the Nogitsune out instead of trying to save me because then so many people would still be alive, Aiden would still be alive, I wouldn't have killed Allison, everything would have been better if you'd just killed me."

There was a near painful silence in the room, all eyes so unbearably heavy as they stared at him. Pained expressions, aborted motions, mouths opening and closing, lost for words.

"Stiles, we would have never given up on you," Chris' voice was steady and honest. "We would have always tried to save you, letting you die was not an option and you can't think-"

"It's okay," Stiles heaved a sigh and leaned back, resting his head against the couch behind him. "I know that. Now. But I'm telling you what happened two years ago. I… I know now that that was the survivor's guilt and the way Theo was gaslighting me, twisting me up. I went to therapy, you know. When dad and I lived in Toronto, I started seeing a therapist. I'm… I'm good, I mean better. Generally I am better, I'm not always such a fucking mess like I am right now. This is just all… a whole damn lot of triggers at once, okay? But I am in a… better place, overall."

"Toronto," Cora repeated, staring at him.

"Right," Stiles ran a hand over his face. "So, yeah. Theo was really getting into my head, and into Scott's head, and I was… barely part of the pack anymore already by the time he sent Donovan to kill me and I… killed Donovan in self-defense. But… Scott didn't believe me. Scott believed Theo over me, loaded it over my head that in his pack, we don't kill and it was… it was so loaded. It wasn't just about Donovan. It was about killing Peter, about our fight over how we should have killed Gerard for good the first time around, about Allison and Aiden. We've been drifting apart for a long time and so did our morals. I've never had a problem with killing if it was necessary, because sometimes it is necessary, and he… hated that. Everything has always been black and white for him. But once you've been possessed by a millennia old chaos demon, you gain a much better understanding for all the shades of gray in the world. And I already had a good grasp on it before."

Stiles relaxed a little, stretching his legs out in front of himself and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Donovan, when he was trying to kill me, talked about the way he was going to kill my dad and that's when I knew I had to get out. Because Theo sent Donovan. To intimidate me. If I didn't stop, Theo was going to have my dad killed and… most ikely, also get me killed. I… I didn't know what to do. Theo had effectively isolated me from pretty much everyone, Scott didn't trust me anymore, I thought you didn't trust me anymore, I had no means of contacting the Hale Pack, I… I didn't know what to do. I knew he wouldn't stop until we're dead, so… so we died. We faked out deaths and we left Beacon Hills."

Taking a shaky breath, Stiles relaxed a little more. "We made our way to Canada, very… very… slowly. I mean, we had to leave everything behind, so nobody would suspect we left. No money, no car, nothing but the clothes on our backs. So we hitchhiked, we walked, we… worked every odd job we could to make enough money to stay in motels. We stayed in some towns for a couple weeks, saving up, until we could finally afford a car. Shitty car that barely made it to Toronto."

Stiles was aware that he'd snuggled more into his jacket when talking about the clothes on their backs, he was also aware of the way Peter was watching him. "We lived in Toronto for the longest. Before we came here, to London. I've… I've only been doing odd jobs, waiting tables, customer service, grocery stores, anything I could get. That and, well, healing, I guess. Therapy and all that."

Heaving a sigh, Stiles tilted his head forward to look at Peter. "I didn't expect it to be you. The name caught my eye when I was looking for a job and it… made me feel nostalgic. But even when I read your first name, I still… I figured it was a coincident. What were the chances, after all. I didn't think you left the US, much less that you'd end up in England."

Sitting up, Stiles started tapping his fingers against his knee, a small grin spreading over his lips. "Guess it wasn't a coincident at all. While we were living in Toronto, when I… finally got to breath again without jumping at every sound I heard… When therapy started showing some effect, my Spark started… returning. Really weak, but I could feel it again for the first time."

Allison gasped softly and there were gentle and excited looks on the others' faces. Stiles rested a hand against his chest, like he was physically trying to grasp his Spark. He could feel it pulse.

"That's why we left Toronto," Stiles continued. "Because my Spark was pulling me to London. And now, I think, that my Spark's what drew me to that ad and made me go to that job interview."

"Are you saying your Spark likes me?" Peter offered a playful grin.

Stiles blinked at him with curious eyes. "Of course it does. It first ignited when I was part of the Hale Pack. My magic is inherently linked to your pack, so it was pulling me here."

"Oh," Peter swallowed and looked at him wondrously. "That… I didn't know that."

A shrug, and then Stiles averted his eyes again. "There's an interplay between the Nemeton, the Spark and the pack. I guess… Beacon Hills is now fully fucked, the Nemeton was already dying, the pack left and now its Spark left too… But yeah. The Hale Pack is the rightful pack of Beacon Hills and I'm the rightful Spark of Beacon Hills, so… we are tethered together."

Silence fell between them as everyone let things sink in. That was a lot to digest, on both sides. Stiles yawned and arched his back, causing it to crack in multiple places. This had been draining. His phone rang, the sound immensely loud in the silence of the farm house. Yelping, Stiles dug his phone out and accepted his dad's call and shit how much time had passed?

"Stiles," his dad sounded frantic. "Your job interview should have ended two hours ago, but I just got home and you're not here, it doesn't look like you were here at all and you didn't leave a note, please tell me you're just out somewhere celebrating your new job and you forgot to text me, because if something happened, if someone found you-"

"Dad, dad, slow down!" Stiles hunched over, wide-eyed. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm fine. Nothing happened, nobody found me. Mischief's honor."

He could hear the relieved shutter of his dad's breath. It was their code. Mischief's honor, to make sure Stiles wasn't under duress and forced to lie. Stiles took a slow breath himself.

"Where are you, kiddo? When will you be home?"

"I… uh…" Stiles blinked doe-eyed, looking around the tense pack. "I kinda… ran into some friends. I don't know when I'll be home. I'll text you before I leave, I promise. I'm sorry I worried you, I didn't mean to worry you. Kocham cię, tatusiu." [Polish translation: I love you, dad.]

That also relaxed his dad some. It always did. He knew Stiles was safe if he was comfortable speaking Polish. They had too many contingencies and codes. Paranoia still had its hold on them.

"I love you too, kiddo," John sighed. "Tell me how the job interview went, before we hang up?"

"Uhm…" Stiles tilted his head. "Honestly, I have no idea. My potential boss kinda threatened tearing out my throat and then kidnapped me, so mixed vibes?"

"Stiles," his dad barked out in distress. "Are you trying to kill me, son?"

"I'm sorry," Stiles laughed, loud and genuine. "I could not resist. Remember when I said it was a weird coincident that the guy's name was Peter Hale? Yeah, that was not a coincident. I'm with the Hales right now. The threatening was, uh, well, I mean he thought I was dead."

Silence and he could just imagine his dad rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Peter Hale? As in, Derek Hale's uncle? The guy who got us into this whole damn mess by turning Scott?"

"My apologies for that, sheriff," Peter called out loudly. "I spend every day regretting it."

Another beat of silence. "And you're really okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah," Stiles smiled, a real smile. "I promise. I'll text before I head back home. Mischief's honor."

The call disconnected and Stiles pocketed his phone again. The pack was looking at each other, having silent conversations with just looks. Derek and Peter did a full eyebrow conversation and fuck, Stiles had missed that. The Hale eyebrows. He couldn't help but smile.

"What are you guys doing here?" Stiles asked after another moment. "I mean, actually doing. Peter is a lawyer. But what about you all…? How… How have your lives been?"

"I am on my way to becoming a lawyer," Lydia smiled like a shark. "And my future father-in-law and my Alpha are fighting over who gets me in their firm."

Peter grumbled at that, glaring. "David can fuck right off. I'm your Alpha."

"Me and Boyd opened a café together," Kira smiled brightly. "Did you know that Boyd is a brilliant baker, actually? You have to come by some time, on the house!"

"Yeah?" Stiles grinned, looking between them. "What's it called."

Silence, awkward silence, before Boyd cleared his throat. "It's called Stiles' Sweets."

At that, Stiles actually had to blink some tears away. "Oh. I… Well, then I have to come by."

"I work there too, mostly waiting tables, barista work," Erica piped in before the atmosphere dropped. "No interest in being the boss, but having a lot of fun with the menu."

"You are a menace and should not be allowed near food," Allison pointed out dryly.

Erica flipped her off and threw a pillow at her, causing Allison to laugh and oh. They were friends now. Pack. This was new and strange to Stiles, but he still felt warm at it. At some of his favorite people actually getting along, being friends.

"I'm going to college," Malia straightened, looking proud.

"You are?" Stiles brightened and reached out to nudge her. "I'm so proud of you, I always knew you had it in you, girl. I'm sure you're rocking it."

Malia practically preened at his words, making Stiles smile even more. Allison smiled at him.

"I'm also going to college, I'm a business major. I want to open a store, for outdoors activities like archery and hunting. The Silver Arrow, it's gonna be named," Allison replied.

"We," Isaac pointed at himself, Derek, Cora, Jackson and Chris. "Work at the farm."

"So this isn't just a gig for more space to roam free? It's an actual farm?"

"Yeah," Derek grunted, proud look on his face. "We grow apples, we sell our chickens' eggs and our vegetables at farmers' markets in the city."

"That's awesome," Stiles grinned at him.

"How about food?" Cora suggested after a moment. "It's getting late."

There was an awkward pause in which Stiles didn't really know if he should excuse himself, before Erica and Malia wrapped their arms around him from either side and maneuvered him up and toward the very spacious, very beautiful kitchen. Guess he was staying for dinner.

"If you think we're letting you go again, you are mistaken," Erica whispered, nudging him. "We should have chloroformed and kidnapped you back when we left."

"You're so loving and kind, I feel so cherished," Stiles rolled his eyes.

"She isn't wrong," Peter spoke behind him, face and voice serious, his eyes filled with regret. "I should have insisted. I shouldn't have waited, I shouldn't have left you behind."

The rest of the pack started fussing around the kitchen, getting ingredients and pots and pans out and preparing dinner in what was clearly a daily routine. Stiles turned around to face the Alpha. Peter's arms were crossed over his face, a deep frown aimed at him.

"I would have resented you for it," Stiles replied honestly. "I had so much faith in Scott, so much loyalty toward him. And I had my dad and… and mom's… grave. I would have resented you if you'd tried to force me to leave back then. You did the right thing, Peter. You and your pack got out when you had to and you… promised me a chance. It's just that… it never came to that."

Stiles blinked back tears, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I wanted to wait, I endured it as long as I could, I… I kept hoping that you would come. But… I couldn't. I had to get out, I… don't think I would have survived until graduation. Either Theo would have killed me, or… well, or everything else would have killed me. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, I couldn't focus. I lost so much weight and I was… really losing my mind, I think my body would have given in before graduation."

It was harsh, but he knew it was the truth. Something clattered behind him and he didn't care to see the despair on the pack's faces. He kept his eyes on Peter's hand. The wedding band.

"We should have noticed," Lydia's voice was filled with pain and guilt.

"I did everything I could to cover it up," Stiles shrugged. "And I did pull away from you. I don't blame you for not rescuing me, Lydia. That wasn't your job. That was nobody's job. I had to rescue myself. And I think… I really do think that I needed to do that myself, because with the Nogitsune, I had all my agency taken from me. I needed to regain control. And I did."

"And we're proud of you for it," Chris spoke, keeping his voice soft.

Still trying not to spook him, which… fair enough, considering his earlier reactions. Stiles winced, rubbing his face. He turned around, away from Peter, so he could face Chris. Damn. That man aged like fine wine in the past two years, much more gray in his hair, fully owning the silver fox look. Broader shoulders, stronger arms, which made sense with the physical labor around the farm.

"I really thought you'd hate me," Stiles frowned at him. "But you… really didn't leave because of me, huh? I'm sorry. It was just… It was easier to believe that you hated me than to think you could forgive me, because I couldn't forgive myself and I… hated myself, for a long time. Maybe still hate myself a little bit, but considerably less than I did back then."

Chris heaved a sigh, a sad and devastated sound, as he stepped up to Stiles. "Can I hug you?"

That gave Stiles pause, but after a moment he gave a reluctant nod. He gasped softly when he was pulled into a broad, strong chest, arms tight around him. It took him a second to return the hug, but damn did this feel good. It also reawakened stupid, old feelings. Feelings that had grown after Peter and Derek had left, when Chris had become the sole adult voice near the McCall Pack. Still deeply in love with Allison, Scott had consulted Chris a lot, trying to show his respect for the man. And due to that, Stiles had worked together with Chris a lot, growing closer. Falling for the older man.

"We're all very proud of you, Stiles," Chris whispered, voice rough and breath hot against Stiles' neck. "For working through your trauma, for getting out all on your own. We're proud of you."

And just like that, Stiles started crying. Tears of relief and joy and confusion. And Chris simply held him, stroking his back through it until Stiles was calmed down again, and even after. Once Stiles regained his bearings, he gently tapped Chris' arm, at which the man reluctantly let him go.

"What about your fake name," Allison asked once things were calmed down. "The Stiliyan, because you could nickname it to Stiles. Which… Which is why Peter picked you to get a job interview. When we were going through the applications, yours stood out because it made us think of, well, of you, and… that made Peter nostalgic. But what about your last name?"

"Mom's maiden name," Stiles grinned weakly. "Not the best kind of fake name, I know, I know, but… but I had to sacrifice Roscoe and we had to leave the place where she is buried and… we wanted to take a part of her with us. Our first names are fake, we figured that'd be enough."

Chris rested a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding Stiles to sit at the very large dining table. Cora and Kira were setting the table, while Derek was filling wine glasses. Peter took a seat to one side of Stiles, sitting close. Close enough that Stiles could feel the heat radiating off the wolf. There was a tenseness to his body, like the Alpha was holding back something.

"You can scent-mark me if you want," Stiles offered after a moment.

Peter startled, looking like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Are you sure?"

"I can see how much you want to," Stiles huffed amused. "It's… been a while since I had a wolf want to scent-mark me last, but if you want to, you can."

The tension seeped out of Peter as he reached out, running a hand through Stiles' hair, down his arm, resting it in his neck. Damn, Peter was not being subtle or short. Apparently, the Alpha really had the urge to scent mark him. That should not make Stiles feel as pleased as it did. He really thought he had gotten over his infatuation with Peter, back when he started falling for Chris, or at least in Toronto, when he had been with a girl, who had been so sweet.

"I really hope you're not limiting that offer to Peter," Chris chuckled, motioning at the counters and stove. "Because the betas look ready to burst and if you deny them they just might."

Stiles followed the motion with his eyes, noticing how Derek, Cora, Malia, Boyd, Erica, Isaac and even Jackson were looking at him like he was the juiciest steak they could imagine. It made Stiles grin, his heart skipping a beat and a warmth unfurling in his chest.

"How about this, after dinner, we have a big puppy pile and everybody gets to scent the Stiles however much they want?" Stiles offered amused. "But after dinner, because I am actually starving. I haven't eaten all day, I was way too nervous this morning and we kind… missed lunch."

Peter growled lowly and Chris grunted displeased and Stiles looked between them startled. What?

"You shouldn't skip meals, Stiles," Peter glared at him.

Stiles rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, believe me, I know. Took me long enough to regain the weight I lost over the Nogitsune. I didn't mean to skip breakfast, but I have a system. I carry cereal bars with me and I do… I rather skip a meal when I know my nerves are just going to make me throw up. So, the plan was to get through the job interview, eat my cereal bars and then have lunch somewhere. Didn't get around to steps two and three there due to the minor kidnapping happening."

To his amusement and surprise did Peter actually look guilty at that. How adorable. Leaning closer, Stiles bumped shoulders with Peter, trying to ease some tension. This was going to take some getting used to. For too long, his dad had been the only one to care about him. Now, there seemed to be people in his life again who cared about him and judging by the way they were all looking at him, they were not going to let him slip away again.

/break\

Chris grunted as he hefted a crate of apples up. He turned around with it, rolling his eyes when he saw Allison, Lydia and Kira all sitting together and watching them. Lydia's eyes were glued to Jackson, delighted to see her fiance do physical labor, while Kira was more subtle in sneaking glances at Malia, flushing every time she felt like she got caught. Allison grinned at her dad, waving. Her and Lydia were technically doing school work and Kira was working on the work schedule for her café. Meanwhile, Erica, Boyd and Malia were helping out at the farm right now. They always did when it was time for harvest, because in the end, it was their family business.

Chris took a deep breath. That still felt good to think. That he had a family again. Not just through his husband, with their daughters. But being the Alpha Mate, he had developed a whole different kind of appreciation for a wolf pack, unlike how he had felt toward the McCall Pack. These betas? They were his betas, they were his family. They'd helped him recover.

"Stiles texted," Lydia called out delighted.

It made Chris snort, the way all betas immediately perked up. Ever since Peter had run into Stiles last week and a half, they were all pretty much obsessed with the boy. At least two betas managed to see Stiles every day, they had lured the boy back to the farm once already for dinner, Stiles had gone to have lunch three times at Stiles' Sweets over this past week. Quite frankly, Chris was impressed by their self-control. Every night, Chris had to fight Peter on how much the Alpha wanted to go and just drag Stiles into their den and not let him leave. Last time Stiles was over for dinner, on Saturday, the Alpha – and his betas too – hadn't wanted to let the boy go again.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Jackson growled, nuzzling her neck.

Partially to be close to his mate, partially to look over her shoulder at her phone. It made Chris chuckle, the way the betas were practically circling Lydia, waiting for more information.

"He said that him and his dad would love to come over for dinner on Friday."

"Yes," Erica actually fist-bumped the air.

"At which part do we show him his bedroom and then just lock him into it?" Malia asked.

"No," Allison gave her step-sister a glare. "We are not doing that, Mal. We talked about it."

"We did," Malia nodded. "And I still don't agree with your point of view. The whole pack lives in this house. But Stiles has only been over twice. I only saw him four times in the past ten days, that's just not enough. That's wrong. He needs to be here."

Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Cora sat down in front of them on the ground, with Erica leaning against her mate and putting her feet into Cora's lap. Boyd's fingers gently carded through Erica's curls.

"And we all agree with you on that, Mals," Erica assured her, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "I just want to hug him and never let go, now that we know he's alive. It's like I'm afraid that it was just a nice dream after all, every time he leaves again, that we won't get to see him again."

"But," Kira redirected, pressing a soothing kiss to Malia's cheek. "Stiles has been through a lot and we don't want to push him. We want to ease him into this, into joining our pack."

Shaking his head, Chris walked past the betas, leaving them to their debate – a debate Chris has had with both Malia and Peter repeatedly over the past week, father and daughter very much agreed on their preferred method of keeping Stiles. Inside the house, he found his husband, sitting in the living room on the fur in front of the fireplace, his laptop on his thighs. He wasn't working though, he was very clearly listening in on the betas' debate outside.

"Babe," Chris grunted, sitting down next to Peter and wrapping his arms around the Alpha's waist. "No, we are not kidnapping Stiles and keeping him."

A grumble that had no right to be as cute as it was came from the wolf. "You are no fun, Christopher. He is alive. He is here. He should be ours."

Not like Chris could argue that. Losing Stiles was what had driven the two of them together. They'd cried and screamed and fought – physically fought – blaming each other for not getting their boy out of there. Heated kisses with more biting than tenderness had followed. Rough sex that was more hate sex than genuine passion for each other. Over the following months, that hate sex turned into something filled with love, as the two held each other through the loss. They both had been in love with Stiles, still were, a traitorous part of Chris' brain supplied, and they had lost him. That loss had made Chris and Peter who they were now, had brought them together.

"I love you, Christopher," Peter spoke fiercely, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I can see your thoughts on your face and him being alive does not change anything between us."

The smallest smile played on Chris' lips as he nodded. "Okay. But it does change something, doesn't it? Seeing him again, seeing him alive, having him in our home, with our pack…"

"It does," Peter admitted, leaning back against Chris' chest. "But I'm… As selfish as I may be, I don't need him to be mine, I just need him to be back in my life."

"Not need, but want?" Chris asked, a small, teasing smile on his lips.

He nuzzled Peter's neck, the Alpha shuddering in his arms. "Of course."

Of course. Chris chuckled, relaxing against his husband. Of course.

/break\

Stiles was eager as they drove onto the farm. Giddy. Coming here, even though this was only the third time he was actually at the farm, felt like coming home. It shouldn't and the intensity of it was near scary to Stiles, but oh it did. Ever since Peter had kidnapped him to the farm for the first time, not a day had passed without him interacting with someone from the pack. They'd gotten his number, during their puppy pile after dinner, and they texted him daily. They put him into their pack group chat and Stiles tried not to see any implications in that.

Stiles' Sweets was beautiful, Kira's touch was all over the place and the food Boyd made was delicious and Erica, whenever not busy with a customer, would be so stupidly cute with Boyd. Her hair was shorter than it used to be, while Boyd actually had hair now, wearing it in chin-long twists, stubble dusting his strong jawline. They'd grown up. And they were happy. Not just with each other, though they were so clearly so deeply in love and Stiles just knew that Boyd was hiding an engagement ring somewhere, waiting for the perfect time, but they were also happy where they were. With their business, their pack, the place in their life.

And Kira! Kira had gained so much confidence, she loved her business so much and if possible, she had become even more badass. On Tuesday, Stiles, Kira and Lydia had taken out a ghoul together and it had felt exhilarating. For so long, he'd avoided all supernatural threats, fearing that it would just trigger him. But with his friends at his side? It was exciting.

He'd gone to the university library with Allison, Malia and Lydia and he might have fallen a little in love with that library. It was so big, so many books, urgh. Knowledge. He hadn't even realized how much he missed absorbing knowledge. He never stopped his research binges, but they were random, unfocused. This? This reminded him just how much he loved it, missed it.

Lydia, Erica, Cora and Allison were so busy planning Lydia and Jackson's wedding and they'd shown him all the folders and plans on Thursday. Her dress, the venue, the cake. Every little detail meticulously planned because of course it was, this was Lydia Martin's wedding, after all.

He'd started talking to Jackson. Three days after his first visit at the farm, Jackson had called him. For a bunch of minutes, they simply shared silence. Before Jackson started talking. About the kanima, what that had been like and oh. For the first time, Stiles could talk to someone who understood. At the very least understood what it was like to have your body controlled by someone else, used to murder innocent people. Something in his chest eased at that. They'd been texting daily about the kanima and the Nogitsune since then and over the course of a week, Stiles started to feel such a close kinship with Jackson in a way he never expected.

Isaac and Derek bullied him into helping them on the farm, during his second visit. But it was actually fun. The three of them played around and he got to see them both laugh freely in a way he never had seen back in Beacon Hills. It made him realize just how much things had changed.

The toughest were Chris and Peter though. They had taken Stiles out to lunch four times, to dinner twice. Never together though. They hadn't brought up their marriage yet either. And it was impossibly confusing, because every time he went out with one of them, it felt like a date. Maybe that was just his hopeful mind, clouded by old feelings that came back with a vengeance.

"You're going to love it, dad," Stiles grinned as him and his dad got out of their car.

John looked skeptical, even as he surveyed the farm. "It looks gorgeous."

The grin on Stiles' lips widened. The two of them headed for the main house and even before Stiles could knock, Isaac opened the door. The blonde puppy grinned and immediately went to nuzzle Stiles, scent-marking him. Stiles hadn't realized how much he missed the casual affections of pack, but he relished how affectionate the pack was with him. Isaac grabbed his hand and dragged him into the kitchen, where the dinner table was already set and half the pack was comfortable while the other half was working on dinner. Stiles barely got through the door before the pups lounging about got up to scent-mark him, Boyd and Jackson shoving each other to get Stiles first.

"Stop fighting," Stiles laughed. "There is enough Stiles to go around for everyone."

"We wouldn't have to fight over it if you would just live here and we could scent-mark you every day," Malia growled displeased, rubbing her chin against his.

Stiles stilled between them, even more so when Peter growled low in warning at his daughter. Stiles didn't know what that meant. He really tried not reading anything negative into that growl, like Peter not wanting him in the pack. Thankfully, his dad noticed the tension and cleared his throat.

"My son's not the only guest you're having, you know."

"Sheriff," Chris forced a polite smile, reaching a hand out.

"Not the sheriff anymore," a thin smile on his dad's lips. "Mister Argent."

"Chris," Chris corrected. "First names, if you don't mind? Noah."

"John," his dad corrected bemused. "I got… very used to the name over the past years."

"John," Chris nodded, shaking hands with John. "Welcome to our home."

Stiles let himself be pulled down onto Jackson's lap, the former kanima resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder. If someone had told him five years ago, he would ever willingly sit on Jackson Whittemore's lap – well, okay actually he would have on account of his giant bisexual crush on the jerk, but still, the point stood. He grinned as he leaned against Jackson and reached out to run a hand over Cora's arm, scent-marking the youngest Hale.

"I made apple crumble for desert," Boyd noted. "You said you liked that when you were at the café earlier this week and we just harvested fresh apples yesterday."

Stiles perked up delighted. "Erica, you need to lock that down or else I will propose to him."

Boyd flustered and laughed. Hah. Stiles just knew the big guy was hiding an engagement ring somewhere. If he got a chance, he would be snooping around the house to find it. He smiled softly as he relaxed into the pack. It was so easy to feel comfortable and at home with them.

/break\

John heaved a deep sigh, his hands wrapped around his mug of coffee. He'd been up since five AM even though it was a Saturday and his day off. However, yesterday was still laying heavy in his stomach. Seeing Stiles with the Hale Pack was the first time in years – even before they'd left Beacon Hills – that he saw his son genuinely happy. Smiling in a way that lit up his eyes. The ease with which Stiles interacted with them too, the casual touches and caresses and straight up cuddling. He sat in Jackson Whittemore's lap for ten minutes before dinner and spent dinner pressed up against Derek Hale. After dinner, when everyone went to the living room for the apple crumble (the best damn apple crumble John had ever eaten in his life), Stiles had practically been passed around between the pack, the spots to his left and right changing people every five minutes. By the time the night ended, Stiles was on the floor in front of the couch, Peter and Chris on either side of him, their legs pressing up against his arms and he looked so content.

"Da—ad," Stiles drawled the word out when he entered the kitchen. "Is something wrong?"

"Sit down, son," John motioned at the other chair. "I think we need to talk."

They only had two chairs in their kitchen, because there was never another person. Stiles hadn't made friends since they got here, much less shown romantic interest in anyone. It had been just the two of them for too long now and yesterday had reminded him that it shouldn't be that way.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked, looking tense now.

"Malia spoke about wanting to keep you at the farm yesterday," John spoke slowly. "I saw the look on your face, even while you were trying to hide it from them. That was… pure longing. You wanna live with them, don't you? I haven't seen you this happy in far too long."

"I…" Stiles wavered slightly. "I don't know. To be honest, I'm just… really overwhelmed by it all. I spent too long thinking that at least half them actively hated me. I didn't think I would ever see any of them again. I'm still… I'm still working my way through that? Learning to accept that they do want me in their lives, that they don't blame me for what the Nogitsune did?"

John's face twisted and he refrained from commenting on that. He'd spent too long trying to reassure his boy that it wasn't his fault, but Stiles accused him of parental bias. Maybe they could convince him. Hopefully they could convince him.

"Tell me what you're thinking, then," John prompted.

"I need more time," Stiles' eyes were sharp, thoughtful. "I… I think I do want to… I love the farm already, I love being with them. But I need more time with some distance to actually deal with this and with all these… feelings that they've stirred me. All the guilt and pain and… and love. Yeah. I can't deal with that if I were already living with them, but… I do think that's where it's headed."

"Okay," John nodded. "You'll tell me, when you realize you're ready?"

"Yeah," Stiles offered a small smile.

"Can we talk about the two middle-aged men you kept gravitating toward?"

Stiles stilled, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "I don't know what you mean, I have been gravitating toward everyone equally yesterday, I literally sat in Jackson's lap and in Malia's and I was laying draped over Cora and Isaac."

"Mhmh," John pursed his lips, crossing his arms and leaning back. "None of them made you blush though. When you were sitting between Peter and Chris though, you looked… serene. And you did tell me about your feelings on them, don't think I forgot."

The past two years had brought them so close, they'd shared things with each other they may never have shared back in Beacon Hills. At one point, Stiles had opened up about his sexuality, about being bisexual, about how his dad's dismissal all those years ago had hurt him, about his feelings for Peter Hale and Chris Argent. Stiles had promised his dad that nothing had ever happened with either of the men, but that he had had feelings for them both. That Peter leaving had broken his heart and that Chris leaving had broken his heart all over again. That was the important part, the part he'd wanted to share with his dad. Loss, but in a different way.

"They're married," Stiles pointed out, looking at the table. "To each other."

"That's not an answer to my question," John pointed out, eyebrows raised.

"But it is," Stiles shrugged, raising his eyes to meet John's. "They're married to each other, I don't know, maybe if I had run into just Peter and the Hales, I would have… I might have tried my luck? I mean, I'm twenty, I'm a legal adult very much capable of making my own decisions. But Peter and Chris are married, so there's nothing there to pursue. I'm not a home-wrecker, dad."

"Would never accuse you of that, kiddo," John chuckled, shaking his head. "Forget it."

He wasn't going to push, not if Stiles couldn't see it himself. His son said he needed to digest all the feelings and memories that this had stirred in him, so John didn't want to rush Stiles. His boy was clever, sooner or later Stiles was going to notice the way Chris and Peter looked at him.

/break\

Tension in the Hale Pack was growing with every passing day. Peter was acutely aware of that, as the Alpha, but he also knew there was nothing he could do (regardless of how often Malia suggested to just keep Stiles). The betas kept seeking out Stiles more and more.

"You can not walk in there without an appointment, Mister Hale is very busy-"

Peter raised an eyebrow at the high voice of his new secretary. The door to his office opened and Stiles walked in like he owned the place, followed by said new secretary.

"It's fine, he can stay," Peter dismissed her. "Hello, Stiles."

Stiles grinned broadly and walked over to the desk, even as the secretary huffed and closed the door. Part of Peter had wanted to hire Stiles, just to have the boy close. The other part of him knew that he couldn't employ Stiles, that wasn't going to work out for him. Too distracting.

The boy climbed onto the desk, sitting there like it was the most natural thing in the world, his feet on Peter's chair, on either side of his lap, his knees temptingly apart. Peter raised an eyebrow at the cheeky Spark, but he wasn't one to miss an opportunity. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on Stiles' thighs, getting comfortable, hands resting on those tempting thighs.

"What can I do for you, Bambi?" Peter asked, looking up into those big doe-eyes.

"You can reign your puppies in," Stiles frowned, looking actually annoyed. "I am about one puppy away from losing my job. I like hanging out with the pack, breakfast, lunch dinner, meeting the girls on campus, going shopping, what have you. But lately, they've been loitering around at my place of employment. And that would be fine, if they were just there, eating and spending time there. But they keep trying to talk to me and my boss really doesn't like that while I'm on the clock. So. I need you to Alpha up and reign your puppies in before I lose my job."

Peter frowned displeased at that. "I will talk to them. But I can't make promises."

"You're the Alpha," Stiles snorted, motioning at Peter. "Do the sexy red eyes flashing and a bit of growling and tell them to stop costing me my job! My dad and I kinda need the money to afford the apartment, you know. Living in London is fucking expensive."

"You find the Alpha eyes sexy?" Peter raised one eyebrow, smirking immensely pleased.

A blush spread over Stiles' cheeks in a tantalizing manner while the boy rolled his eyes. "Not the point. You're the Alpha. Be a proper Alpha and make sure your pack behaves."

The leisure touch on Stiles' thighs tightened, squeezing just a little. Peter was startled by the moan it earned him, making him stare up at the Spark in stunned silence.

"I have sensitive inner thighs so if you could not squeeze them," Stiles muttered embarrassed.

Peter blinked at him, eyes red, but he removed his hands from Stiles. "I apologize."

He swallowed hard, the sweet, intoxicating scent of Stiles' arousal heavy in the air, especially considering Peter's place between Stiles' knees. Clearing his throat, Peter pushed his chair off and got up. Putting some physical distance between himself and Stiles.

"I can try to talk to them, but you must realize that even I can't make them go against their instincts," Peter raised his eyebrows at Stiles. "The entire pack lives together, spends their time in our shared space that smells like all of us. They only get to see you every other day. Their instincts don't like that, don't like not knowing where you are and if you're safe. You also keep gathering smells of other people, other places, and they get to scent you too infrequently for their liking."

He could hear the jump of Stiles' heartbeat. Peter stood beside his large bookshelf, watching his boy. Stiles furrowed his brows and drew his legs up, now sitting cross-legged on the desk. Still acting like he owned the damn place and it should not please Peter that much.

"So it's time we have this conversation, huh," Stiles whispered to himself.

He was fidgeting with his fingers and then looking at Peter. Expectantly. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"What conversation are we talking about here, Stiles?"

Stiles tilted his head. "The one you promised we'd have at my graduation."

It was Peter's turn to feel his heart jump in his chest. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured into it by my pack being… pushy."

A small smile spread over Stiles' lips and he shook his head. "I wanted to have this conversation since before I left Beacon Hills. I… did need some time, to myself, after I ran into you. But it's been a couple weeks now and I've talked things through with my therapist. I feel more… settled."

That made Peter nod slowly. "Stiles, I want you to be a part of my pack. Will you join?"

The way Stiles was beaming at him nearly took Peter's breath away and then the Spark bared his neck to him. "Yes, Alpha. I want to join your pack."

Peter was on him in less than a second, sinking blunt human teeth into that pale neck, biting him. Claiming him as Hale Pack. Peter breathed out hard through his nose as he felt the pack-bond with Stiles snap into place. It was so bright and so warm and a beautiful turquoise color.

"Fuck," Stiles gasped, collapsing forward against Peter, clinging onto him. "Holy shit."

"It's okay," Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles. "Just breath. I know it can be overwhelming."

To Peter, the one new pack-bond was intense, but for Stiles? Twelve new pack-bonds were either snapping into place or reigniting where they had been severed before. Stiles started shaking in his arms, sobbing into his chest. Peter gently caressed his back until the Spark calmed down some.

"I missed them," Stiles' breathing was still labored. "Derek and Boyd and Erica, it's been so long. Isaac and Allison and Lydia and Malia and Kira, I… I missed them… I missed them, I was so cold, Peter, I didn't realize it was because I was missing this warmth, I didn't…"

Stiles continued babbling on and Peter simply held him, kissing the top of his head. It took Stiles nearly half an hour to properly calm down and Peter had to send his new secretary away with a withering glare at one point, his appointments be damned. His new pack-mate was more important.

"That… was fucking intense," Stiles tilted his head, resting his cheek against Peter's chest.

"You know that you and your father wouldn't have to worry about the money for your apartment if you were to move to the farm," Peter offered after a moment. "Pack takes care of pack."

"My dad too?" Stiles looked up at Peter, unsure.

"Your father is more than welcome to be a part of this pack, if he wants to be, and to live at the den. Why don't you go and talk to him about this and then tell me what you decide, mh? Though… do expect to be smothered by the betas most likely as soon as you step out of this office."

"Oh yeah, I am bracing for that," Stiles snorted amused, rubbing at his chest. "I can… feel their excitement. Good thing I don't have any plans for the rest of the day."

/break\

Chris was in the orchards when Stiles found him, a day after the boy had joined the pack. The pack-bond had hit Chris like a brick-wall, to be able to feel Stiles in his soul was more overwhelming than with any of the betas. Peter had been so ecstatic when he got home last night, kissing Chris until the former hunter was breathless and then Peter started talking about sensitive thighs and things escalated into much more than just kissing.

"Can we talk, Chris?" Stiles asked when he approached the former hunter.

"Sure," Chris grunted, putting his crate down and turning toward the house.

Stiles grabbed his upper arm, shaking his head. "Not… where the nosy puppies are. C'mon."

Raising one eyebrow, Chris let Stiles lead him deeper into the apple orchard. Along the way, Stiles stole an apple from a branch, throwing it a couple times before taking a bite. Chris wondered what this was going to be about. Peter said that Stiles and his dad were going to talk about moving to the farm, but this wasn't something Stiles would share only with Chris, was it?

"I don't know how to do this in a non-awkward way, so…"

Stiles trailed off and then grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. Chris froze, his brain going into all kind of dirty directions of pinning Stiles against the nearest tree and doing all the things him and Peter whispered about in their bed at night. And then his eyes landed on Stiles' chest, on the tattoo over the boy's heart. An arrow-head, and above and beneath it, We protect those who cannot protect themselves. Chris didn't know what to do with that, aside from being oddly turned on by seeing his family motto and a representation of himself on Stiles' chest.

"Ye—eah," Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly, scratching his neck. "I felt like we should talk about this first, before I move to the farm and it comes up unexpectedly because I'm eating breakfast in my boxers and you walk in. I, uh… I got it, after we left Beacon Hills. As a reminder of Allison, of… killing her. Sacrificing for her. Maybe partially to punish myself, but also to remind me of what I had overcome. But I realize it's… I figured you should know."

Chris swallowed hard, nodding. This was going to haunt him for months to come. He wanted to lick it. He needed to show it to Peter, oh this was going to drive the Alpha wild with jealousy. Thinking about it, Chris could imagine Peter taking a sharpie to Stiles to draw the triskele on him. The thought inexplicably made Chris laugh out loud, startling Stiles.

"Okay, not the reaction I was expecting," Stiles raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Chris chuckled and shook his head. "I just imagined Peter's reaction."

"Well, considering it made you laugh, I am hopeful it won't include him possessively ripping my throat out for having his husband's family motto on my chest," Stiles quipped.

Chris sobered up a little bit, clearing his throat. "No, it's more likely to make him use a sharpie and draw the triskele on you to make it even. He's a bit possessive."

Confusion passed over Stiles' face. "Yeah, hence the ripping throat out?"

"Of you," Chris corrected with gentle eyes. "He's a bit possessive of you, Stiles. Always has been."

"W… What," Stiles stared at him with those pretty, large doe-eyes.

"Damn, Peter's right you really are Bambi," Chris muttered beneath his breath. "Listen, you just said you want to move to the farm. And I think that there is something that you deserve to know before you move into a house with me and Peter. We have both been in love with you… longer than we've been in love with each other. I know you've been wondering on how we got together and we've so far ignored your curiosity, but you should know before you move in with us. We got together over our shared grief for you, because we were both in love with you. Still are."

Stiles stared up at him with even wider eyes – how was that physically possible? Even without being a werewolf, Chris could tell that Stiles' heart was doing overtime. He offered the boy a small, albeit sad smile before he took a step back, away from Stiles.

"I'll get back to my work. I didn't mean to overwhelm you," Chris offered softly. "I just wanted you to know, so you can make an informed decision. If this makes you uncomfortable, you and your father would still be pack even if you don't live at the farm with us, Stiles. All we want is have you in our life, that would be enough for us. Both of us."

/break\

"I just fucking froze," Stiles groaned, tilting his head back. "He told me that him and Peter were in love with me and I just froze and gaped at him like a stupid fish, dad! Ouch!"

John grunted, an amused look on his face. "I still think that this is an extreme reaction, son."

Stiles turned to throw his dad a deep glare. "You know me! I work in extremes. Ouch."

Another grunt and a shake of his head. John did appreciate that his boy trusted him and confided in him. That he'd decided to take John with him here. Though then John had been there for each one. He reached out for Stiles' hand, taking it. Running his thumb over the tattoo on his wrist.

"And you're really okay with it?" Stiles asked in a small voice. "All of it, I mean? Living with them, both of us living with them, and me… maybe… being with them? You're okay with it?"

"Stiles," John heaved a sigh. "I love you, kiddo. With all my heart. All I want is for you to be happy. And ever since they got back into your life, you have been… so much brighter than in years. If they can make you happy, I will not judge. But if they ever hurt you, I will hunt them down."

A broad grin spread over Stiles' lips as he looked at his dad. "I wouldn't expect any less."

/break\

Stiles was giddy and excited and nervous when he carried a box of his belongings into the farm house. The rest of his pack – his pack – was carrying the rest of his and his dad's stuff inside. While they were laughing among themselves, talking and busy with their task at hand, Stiles wandered upstairs in search of their Alphas. He might have been impulsive, after Chris' confession yesterday, but he'd been in love with them for so many years. He hadn't spoken to Chris and Peter yet, too busy packing the last of their belongings and also getting his surprise done. They let the lease run out, it didn't even matter to them, they could finally leave their apartment behind and move into a real home, filled with warmth and family and pack. And with the men Stiles loved.

He—ey," Stiles knocked on the master bedroom and then entered. "You guys hiding from me?"

"Well," Peter cleared his throat. "Christopher told me about your conversation and we… didn't want to pressure you into an answer of any kind. We're just glad you're here."

"Honestly, I didn't know what to say yesterday," Stiles admitted, flustered. "I've been dreaming about that for so long, it felt too unreal when it happened – unreal in a good way. I've been… I've been in love with you two for so stupidly long. Oh and, uhm, Chris gave me an idea yesterday and you know me, I am impulsive and all of that, but it felt fitting even in a broader sense I mean I am now Hale Pack, after all, so I got this and I hope that's not too weird but-"

He grabbed the hem of his shirt to lift it up enough to show the triskele set over his hip-bone. The growl from Peter was darker, louder and more primal than anything he'd ever heard before. It startled Stiles so much, he jumped a little. The next second, he was pinned against the closed bedroom door, the Alpha all up in his face, fangs and red eyes and all.

"You can't just put an Alpha's symbol on you like that," Peter growled. "You have no idea-"

"I do," Stiles held Peter's gaze, grinning a little. "Did you not hear the part where I said that I'm stupidly in love with you guys? I mean it. And I know."

Peter rested a shaky hand over the see-through film on top of the still very fresh and raw tattoo. Peter's claws were out too and it shouldn't thrill him that much. Stiles tilted his head to the side, a broad, cheeky grin on his lips. The Alpha buried his nose in it, inhaling deeply. Peter pressed a hungry kiss to Stiles' lips, leaving the boy breathless. Stiles' hands pawed at Peter's chest near desperately, his cheeks flushed when they parted.

"Peter," Chris growled annoyed. "Learn to share."

With a grumbling noise did Peter step aside enough to allow Chris to also crowd Stiles against the door and damn yeah, Stiles was definitely into getting cornered by them and stuck between them, this was fun. He rested one hand on each of their chests while Chris kissed him hungrily.

"Stiles," Derek called out from upstairs. "Where the hell are you. We got your stuff."

A shit-eating grin spread over Stiles' lips. "Just bring it to the master-bedroom."

Both Peter and Chris gave him surprised but hungry and pleased looks at that. Stiles grinned broadly, leaning against the door as the feeling of being home fully settled in, here, in their arms.

~*~ The End ~*~

[jjtheresidentbaby]

HIIIII its @bebbie-bilinski and as mentioned heres the request! sorry i just copy pasted it from our messages lol

ok u know how at first babies r insatiable and wanna be fed every like 2 hours? well that concept but regressed!stiles and cg!derek. BUT!! BUTT!! 1) he did not plan on regressing at all that night and 2) it was a pack night at the loft with the pack so they also have to witness/help out with it (i hc that werewolves need less sleep so they arent too grumpy about it) and 3) stiles is very guilty about it and tries so hard not to bother anyone but got damn it hes grumpy and wants a bottle every 2 seconds lol…ok das it *looks at u with big ol wet pathetic eyes*

also to add to that, maybe at first he doesnt realize -what- he wants he just knows he wants something anyways go crazy

˚. ❝₊˚ insatiable ❞ ˚₊·

» stiles stilinski x derek hale, stiles & the pack

» on my ao3 | word count: 866 | rated: teen & up

» warnings: everyone lives, no one dies!, swearing, guilt, bottle feeding

The loft buzzes with voices and a low thrum of music coming from Erica’s speakers she has set up near the end of the couch- an unnecessary touch of pack night but one that’s quickly become a favorite of everyone attending- and Stiles can’t sit still. It’s not the amount of people surrounding him or even the annoyingly loud laughter Peter’s letting out with Isaac following suit, really that doesn’t bother him that much, he’s just… so hungry.

It’s odd for him to ever be hungry like this. They’ve already cleared five boxes of pizza between the entire pack, werewolves truly know no ends when it comes to hunger. The last thing on Stiles’ mind should be food, he should be engaged in the conversation at hand, at the plan of taking down rouge hunters a couple towns over that Allison heard about from Chris. It’s a much more important matter than whatever Stiles is dealing with right now.

Still, even with his attempts at rationalizing his way out of this feeling, he’s annoyed. He’s hungry and annoyed and goddamnit why isn’t anyone picking up on this? Don’t werewolves have heightened senses? Can’t they tell he’s being deprived of food?

“Stiles? You good?” Erica asks, raising a suspicious brow with her head cocked to the side. He opens his mouth to reply that- no, he is not good- but all that comes out is a garbled mess of attempts at words.

It hits him then- he’s regressed. That’s why he’s so hungry, so upset about nobody swooping in to tend to his needs right this second, and can’t talk properly. A sudden wave of guilt washes over him with the realization.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. His regression has been something he pointedly plans out and keeps on a strict schedule so that it doesn’t interfere with anything to do with the pack, sure they all know he’s a little, but only Derek, Scott and Peter ever get to see his little side. There’s higher stakes when it comes to the other members of the pack- he needs them to trust him, to see him as strong, dependable, not a little kid who needs someone to get him a packet of apple sauce or else he’ll throw a hissy fit. (He won’t do that, he tells himself, but deep down knows that he’s about an hour without food away from it)

All the heads in the room turn to Stiles at his random-noises-trying-to-pass-as-words and Stiles knows that there’s no way he’ll be able to make a run for it now. He sits and watches all their werewolf noses twitch in the air, sans Allison who just stares knowingly; and searches for that signature ‘regression scent’ as Derek and Scott put it. They find it, Stiles knew they would, yet he gets the sudden urge to curl up in a ball and never let anyone look at him again.

“Hey bud, you feeling small?” Derek’s hand is big and familiar on Stiles’ cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles against the burning red skin as Stiles blushes in embarrassment and ducks his eyes away. His stomach growls and brings him back to the real issue at hand, he’s still hungry.

“Want another piece of pizza?” Boyd smiles softly as he speaks, he’s standing by the last box of pizza that has maybe three slices left. Stiles isn’t sure how to communicate that he isn’t feeling big enough for pizza, or any solid foods, he wants a bottle. It’s the only thing he’d be able to manage right now.

“Or some cheesy bread? I can heat it back up.” Allison suggests, Stiles blinks in surprise that she’s actually offering her cheesy bread that is solely bought for her and nobody else- the pack has already devoured their own box of it.

“I can smell that you’re hungry, what do you want?” Derek moves his hand to brush through Stiles’ hair and a very ill-directed spike of frustration flares in Stiles’ chest at Derek. He can’t get the words out properly, he just wants a bottle, he’s so hungry and feels like he could burst into sobs any second, and- and Derek should know. Stiles needs Derek to know what he wants without him having to say it.

“Here, give him this.” Scott passes a heated bottle over to Peter who hands it to Derek. And Stiles has never loved his best friend more than this moment, Scott’s too busy blowing loose formula powder onto Erica and Isaac to see Stiles gratefully smile at him- he makes a mental note to say something when he’s big enough to have an actual conversation again.

“McCall always knows.” Derek mumbles and sits in the corner of the couch next to Stiles, readily opening his arms so Stiles can curl up against his chest and greedily take the bottle between his lips.

It’s pure bliss the second he starts to drink it down. He hears Derek mutter to Peter to make another one because he’s drinking this one much faster than he normally does but Stiles doesn’t care, he’s just happy he doesn’t have to wail on the floor to get what he wants.

[zeroducks-2]

Idk if anyone is interested but in case someone is, yes, Barry reciprocates. Have my exhibits! With pictures!

.Exhibit A!

He keeps looking for Eobard subconsciously, can feel when he's there, his presence alone is able to trigger Barry's memories of past and future lives.

And look, Eobard was right there!

(panels from The Flash Vol.1: Lightning Strikes Twice)

.Exhibit B!

When he finds Eobard dead, Barry spends time with his body in the morgue struggling over how he died, what might have hurt him, observing that "whatever got him must have just slowed him down" (all the while softly whispering to and gently touching Eobard's body).

I can never not be insane over how tenderly he's caressing Eobard's forehead. Might I add that he spends just so much time in the morgue that he's late to his own birthday party. Might I also add that whatever Barry did in that morgue, it brings Eobard back to life.

This man literally told his nemesis "come back to me", and Eobard obediently did.

The last panel, that's Eobard's powers reactivating as he's revived, moments after Barry left.

(panels from The Flash Vol.4: Running Scared)

.Exhibit C!

When Godspeed starts killing people, including the woman Barry was dating, Barry is shocked but keeps being willing to forgive if August is willing to stand down. Barry gets beaten up and humiliated and still worries for August, trying to appeal to his rationality and compassion.

But then August makes the mistake to threaten to find Eobard (who at the moment is being tortured a prisoner in Iron Heights), and kill him in front of Barry's eyes. And if Barry has been rational and willing to stop fighting, after the umpteenth time August tries to get to Eobard he loses his entire shit, grabs August by his head and neck and is just about to kill him, in a scene which is a direct parallel to when Eobard forced him to break his neck.

That's apparently what Barry does when someone insists on threatening to kill the people he loves and make him watch. He doesn't kill August of course, but he gets close to it - the moment Barry lets him go August is unconscious for lack of air, he was being choked to death even without the neck breaking part. All because he had threatened to murder Eobard.

This is Barry breaking Eobard's neck to protect Fiona, Barry's fiancee at the time, after he's been incessantly threatened to be forced to watch as he kills her. He did not want to kill Eobard, he felt extremely guilty to the point that now, having killed him is one of his worst nightmares, but he was essentially forced to do it (why Eobard did this to make himself get killed is another interesting and unhinged story for another time). So as you can see, this is how Barry reacts when he gets threatened with the death of someone he loves.

And this also is Barry reacting to the threat of a speedster killing someone he loves.

I am in awe with the parallels drawn between these two panels. The same font and stile has been used for Barry's "Not again!" and "No!", and there is the same brutality coming from someone who 99% of the time tries everything but violence to solve any kind of situation. He's entirely out of his mind when he does this.

(panels from The Flash Vol.1: Lightning Strikes Twice)

IN CONCLUSION

Somehow, IDK HOW, Barry does reciprocate in some form. At least in Joshua Williamson's run he does.

...I actually have my theories on the how, which entail these two being each other's lodestone, being irremediably connected through time and space, and Barry having been loved&desired so much and so strongly for so long, both outwardly and through the natural connection of their powers, that at some point he just... started feeling back.

"But Thawne killed his mother!" LISTEN. I KNOW. I think Eo is as confused by this as you and I to be honest. And that's also something about Barry which is very fascinating imo: he will love in spite of everything.

Even if the other person doesn't understand it, even if it makes no sense, even if BY ALL MEANS HE SHOULDN'T, even if he hurts, he will still love and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

Luckily for Eobard, because there is no one else in the omniverse that ever loved him, and likely ever will.

[endwersed]

Snippet Sunday

Tagged by the always lovely @dear-massacre 🤗

I posted the very first chapter of my my ABO Sterek AU today - the poets are right - so here's a little excerpt from the upcoming chapter two!

-

“You think a midnight freaking snack is enough apology for what you said to me?” Stiles scoffs in irritation when the guilty bow of Derek’s head tells him – yes, actually. “You’re unbelievable, man. What – are you allergic to the actual goddamn word, or something?”

“No.” Derek visibly bristles in place. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, that shocks Stiles enough that his mouth snaps back shut with an audible click. He blinks at Derek, then at the plated, cooling sandwiches in between them, then back up to Derek’s furrowed brow once again. His mind whirs as he slowly chews on that word, deciding how he wants to digest it.

Eventually, he settles on spitting it right back out.

“You’re sorry,” he parrots back, blatantly disbelieving. “Yeah, right.”

A low growl rips from Derek’s chest, a momentary flash of red to his eyes, glowing in the dark room. His bared teeth grind together, his hands sliding to lay flat palms against the counter between them, leaning heavily across it, an intimidating strength to the rolling set of his shoulders.

But Stiles refuses to be cowed. He squares his own shoulders and scowls straight back.

“You are impossible,” Derek says, hushed and flat, a muscle ticking away in his jaw. “You asked me to say sorry.”

“That was weeks ago!” Stiles hiss-shouts. “And I shouldn’t have to ask, asshole! Oh my god, you are such –”

“You’re right. I should have said it then.” Derek’s voice is firm, steady, so patently resolute as it speaks over him that it makes Stiles shut up instantly. “Because I am. I am sorry. I don’t think humans are weak. I don’t think omegas are helpless. I shouldn’t have said any of that bullshit to you, and I – I’m sorry.”

The utter, earnest desperation in Derek’s voice knocks the furious wind quickly out of Stiles’ sails. He sounds like he wants Stiles to believe him so badly, maybe so much that it is actually a need, rather than just a want. He stares across at Stiles in the quiet that follows, those light, imploring eyes almost shining in the faint moonlight.

Almost as quickly as it came, Stiles feels the anger leaving him. He looks back at Derek, careful to keep his eyes still narrowed, his mouth still pursed as he considers him, long and hard and teetering on forgiving.

“It was bullshit,” Stiles feels the need to drive home.

“It was,” Derek agrees easily. “And I’m sorry.”

“Damn,” Stiles laughs, unexpectedly genuine. “Nothing for weeks, and then four apologies thrown at me in a row? I don’t know, man. Maybe it’s too much now.”

The joke manages to diffuse any lingering tension in an instant. He lets the smile that curved its way onto his mouth with his laugh stick around there, leaning crooked as he tilts his head. A breath that sounds a whole lot like relief whooshes out of Derek’s mouth across the island, his shoulders drooping that couple of inches more relaxed, and he smiles this tiny, private little smile of his own right back.

“Sorry,” he says again, his smile only growing when that pulls another soft breath of laughter from Stiles. “I’ll try to spread them out a little more next time I do something to piss you off.”

Stiles lifts a challenging eyebrow. “Are you planning on pissing me off again?”

Derek shrugs a shoulder as he crowds back in closer to the counter.

“I get the impression I won’t be able to avoid it,” he says, before pushing one plate all the way over to Stiles. “Now eat your food before it gets cold.”

-

No pressure tags ❤️ @aurevell @crownofstardustandbone @hedwig221b @quackquackcey @seaweed-water & anyone else that wants to share 😊

[sinner-sunflower]

Time-Travel AU

I've been on a Teen Wolf (more specifically Stiles) fic binge. And my guilty pleasure is reading about the relationship of the Nogitsune (Void Stiles) and Stiles himself.

Got me thinking of an AU where after defeating the Nogitsune, it didn't really die. It only got bound of Stiles' body where it has it's powers but it just doesn't work with Stiles anymore. So without Stiles' consent, Void would just stay inside.

Years later, stuff happens and they form a weird morally gray bond. Of course the pack in his normal time already knew this and learned to live with it.

But then Stiles just had to be hit by a spell from a Morgana nut that sent him back 5 freakin years to the past.

He lands in the middle of one of his pack's battle with the monthly supernatural problem.

So of course with more control with his magic, he saves them easily.

But the pack notices instantly that he smells wrong. So now he's trying to explain his situation, very badly but sue him he's nervous. They were starting to calm down but then Void decided to come out like Jasper the not-so-friendly ghost and hang on his shoulder.

So there he is standing surrounded by feral werewolves, with his young counterpart gone and a Nogitsune who is wearing his face (seriously Void?).

The entity just laughs ever so menacingly which is not helping their case at all.

Void: I suppose this is not a good time for me to come out, Mischief?

No shit.

Stiles: Let me explain?

[harlstiel]

Ships with Stiles that I enjoy | RANKED

1 : Stisaac

Stiles/Isaac

My favorite. 10/10. The DRAMA, but also the shared trauma, they're perfect. Sure it's a BIT toxic but it's a guilty pleasure, what can I say.

2 : Stalia

Stiles/Malia

Only lower on the list BECAUSE Malia should've had SO much more mental development before going into a relationship. But they were cute, 10/10

3 : Stydia

Stiles/Lydia

Only third because of how FUCKING LONG IT TOOK. AND HOW LITTLE WE ENDED UP GETTING. Jeff Davis can go suck a wrinkly dry hairy testicle. Still 10/10

4 : Stira

Stiles/Kira

HEAR ME OUT. They would geek out so much together its NOT even fucking funny. They're both socially awkward nerds that ramble and I live for it. 10 out of fucking 10. Prefer Malira tho...

5 : Sterica

Stiles/Erica

Low-key wanted this to happen for a bit. Maybe not permanently because I always saw the both of them to be more bisexual types but they would've been cute. Also I can't remember where the whole "Batman" "Catwoman" nicknames came from but it is my only life support rn. 9.5/10

6 : Sterek

Stiles/Derek

My favorite blorbo Derek Hale. I didn't get the hype with this ship when I first started watching, but then I kept seeing things in this show that made me wonder, "Jeff, was this intentional?" Bc they're so very gay with each other. Alas, age gaps are an iffy thing for me personally due to my own personal traumas, but I still love them. 9.5/10

7 : Stora

Stiles/Cora

Cute, could've happened, not mad that it didn't, but def a wasted opportunity on Jeff Davis' part. Solid 8/10.

8 : Stanny

Stiles/Danny

This was definitely more of a humor thing but I liked the idea of these two together from the get-go. In my opinion, there was definitely a little crush on Stiles' part and I love that. 8/10

9 : Sciles

Scott/Stiles

Personally, this one is so far down the list because it's difficult for me to see them as more than brothers but it's still a ship I can respect and it's cute. Gets a LITTLE toxic in some areas, for example S5, but that's OKAY. Just some miscommunication between brothers it's FINE I'm fine. But my brain cant stop putting this in the 'incest' folder even tho theyre not related WHATSOEVER. SO. SOLID 7.5/10

(Their parents are my otp tho. Noah and Melissa are perfect together and the best thing I've ever experienced)

Reasons

For not including other ships.

Steo : I am a Thiam shipper through and through. And Theo did things to Stiles that doesn't even make enemies to lovers valid in my opinion. IK he got a redemption arc and he was being manipulated since he was a child but STILL. I love Theo but he's not the one (for Stiles, anyway🤭).

Any ship with him and an adult ; ie, Peter, Chris, Parrish etc. : Do I even have to explain this one? I mean REALLY?

Stiam : They are like Mother and Child to me and I will take that to my GRAVE.

Stackson : Last season-T.W. Movie Jackson MAYBE but early seasons Jackson was a toxic mf who loved NOBODY but himself based on how he treated Lydia.

(Pointed out by a commenter) Stallison : I actually never knew people shipped this and didn't know it was a thing until now. Personally, if they had the time, they could've grown to have a very close familial bond (like siblings) but similar to Scott, that's all I can see them as. It's a very cute ship though, and I like the idea. (Wish I knew about it beforehand tbh 😅)

Pretty sure I covered evertyhing, but if I missed someone, let me know!