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Stiles took in a deep breath. The night air in the preserve was one of his favorite smells, even better tonight since it had rained earlier that day. He had never really expected to enjoy being out in nature as much as he did these days, but gathering nights had become one of his favorite things. With the moon at its highest and completely full he couldn’t miss this chance to grab a few different materials for his spellwork.
Some part of his brain told him that he probably shouldn’t be out here, especially with rumors of a new group of hunters coming to town. Those rumors included the lovely detail that this particular group seemed to have no code to speak of and hunted down anyone supernatural. Nothing was off limits for them, including a mystic like himself.
“You drop a small piece of food on the floor, and decide to kick it...”
@bethanythemartian I just followed you because this story is amazing, and I love it, and I wish I could talk to my monsters and slip them delicious foods! SO GOOD.
Thank you very much! So do I, tbh, which is where that story came from.
pyramidrising
replied to your post
“Not to get all witchy on you but… well okay that’s exactly what’s...”
You might want to look up the Icelandic church of Odin, they are very angry about n*zies using their religion with their shit so like it would be a good offical route for information!
I will look into them for sure, gonna enter research phase so I’m gonna try to hit all kinds of information sources that aren’t, you know, gross and awful.
definitelytorilynn reblogged your post and added:
Why is this so fucking cute and creepy all rolled into one? I love it
TBH cute and creepy is kind of my aesthetic and life goal, so you made my day with this comment
Related: I figured out how to do multiple replies and how to sort comments and shit (thank you new xkit) so I can better interact with people! Thank you everyone who’s made lovely comments and sent wonderful asks, it really makes my heart go pitter pat.
thisnewjoe replied to your post: names, faces, handles
It sounds to me like your brain processes people information symantically along with location information, or something like that. I am better at remembering people if i can remember hearing somebody else use their name, and not when they do. It almost feels like aode switch between interacting with someone and interacting with someone about someone else. Somehow it sticks better.
I process information by patterns and context. It’s GREAT a lot of the time, and it really helped me in school, because I formed associations that later helped me recall information. Often I’ll remember things without knowing I memorized them, but anything involved just straight “here’s a fact, don’t forget it” is lost on me. I studied with music in high school, then during a test would read a question, hear a song in my head, see the page of information in my mind, and skim the page mentally until I found the fact I needed.
My brain is weird, and I acknowledged that long, long ago.
For language learning, as well as math, and comp sci, this is AWESOME. I know things in a way that feels almost instinctive. It just sucks for lots of other things.
And to my brain, people either need to be attached to a pattern, or they are as lost as the dates wars occurred (I learned more history from reading fiction than from the classes).
Ooh, damn it, this reminds me that it’s actually FIVE names/faces I’ve learned, and I’m missing a spouse name. Who I have now conversed with three weekends out of three and I still have no clue what her name is. Which means social anxiety be damned, I’m gonna need to suck it up and ask. Or tell the husband to ask since he seems to have missed it too (I rely on asking him for clarifications, often... it’s easier than social anxiety).
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Derek is chained to the wall. The rough edges of the bricks dig into his bare back. Not that it matters, his skin is cut up and oozing blood and has been for God knows how long now. A little extra pain is inconsequential at this point and he barely registers it anymore.
The witch is pacing around in front of him. He doesn’t think of her like that because of her personality (he could use a lot more choice words if that were the case), it’s because she’s an actual witch. Spells, incantations, the whole shebang. Before her appearance in town and his subsequent kidnapping, Derek didn’t know the witch trope was so blatantly true. He always assumed that magic in the world was more subtle. At least, that’s how it has always been… until now.
“Just tell me where they areeeee,” she whines, her voice twinged with immaturity and impatience.
Derek spits blood at her feet. “Eat shit.”
The witch raises her hand and clenches her fingers in response. Derek feels a twisting sensation in his chest, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as more of his blood is displaced inside his body. She waits a few moments, watching him suffer, before finally releasing him from the pain. Derek’s body falls slack against the wall.
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” She leans in so close; her breath is hot against his ear. “Just tell me where they are, and I’ll leave you be.”
He almost believes her.
“That’s… a lie, and we both… know it,” he mumbles. It takes a lot of energy. Her torture is taking a lot out of him.
“Maybe, but the only way to find out is to give me what I want!” She clenches her fingers again and Derek lets out a guttural scream as the pain washes over him once more. This time, it’s blinding. Every nerve in his body is on fire. He sees white, and the sound of his own fading screams carry him into unconsciousness.
—
The book in Stiles’s lap is large. Impossibly large. The words blur in front of him, his eyes struggling to focus. He’s been reading for what feels like forever, his mind trying it’s hardest to focus but ultimately too distracted by the situation at hand. Every muscle in his body wants to run out and find whoever did this, whoever took Derek… but logic (and Lydia) are right. They need to be prepared, and that means Stiles needs to go into this with some new tricks.
Unfortunately his brain isn’t cooperating, and he’s tired of making it try.
“Okay!” He exclaims, shutting the book closed with a loud clap. “I think I’ve got this as down as I’m gonna. I could probably get Derek back by myself even.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Scott replies from the other side of the table. He’s been itching to go for a while now too, but forced to play practical leader. He sided with Lydia when she insisted they hold back to figure out a strategy before running in all-guns blazing.
This strategy, of course, turned out to be Stiles and his magical abilities.
“This is Derek we’re talking about!” Stiles stands up, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “We need him back, we can’t live without him."
Scott and Lydia share a look that Stiles can’t read.
"I just mean,” Stiles continues, clearing his throat. “That he’s a part of this pack now and we don’t know what’s happening to him. We need to get him back. Now.”
"And we will, man, don’t worry.” Scott walks over and puts a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. It’s meant to be reassuring, but it doesn’t help much.
How can I not? Stiles thinks to himself. We don’t know who or what has him… and we might already be too late...
Over the last year, Stiles has been studying an ancient book, the same book he was reading just minutes ago. He’s been learning how to harness the natural magics of the world to do his bidding. It sounds so dramatic, but that’s how it is. Ever since the pack faced a group of magic-toting Druids last Christmas, he’s been going over their book, learning their tactics and spells. He may not be a werewolf or a banshee, but he’ll be damned if he can’t bring something to the table that helps his friends.
It’s also not something he’s shared beyond Scott and Lydia (and Derek, one night when the two of them were alone and shared a deep conversation full of truths and secrets that neither has addressed since). He didn’t want to go public with this new skill to the rest of the pack until he was sure he could control it. But now someone has Derek and he has no choice.
“We need to go. I’m not going to glean anything new from these books in the next hour that I don’t already know, and Derek could be… he could be already…” Stiles pauses. He’s unable to say it out loud. “We’re wasting time.”
Before they can respond, Stiles turns and walks toward the door, knowing they’ll follow after him.
—
The pack arrives at an empty apartment building. It’s condemned, and a little on the nose as far as Stiles is concerned.
"Okay, we can’t just barge in,” Scott whispers. “We don’t want to rain hell down all at once and force their hand, not while they have Derek.”
“Is it just the one in there?” Lydia asks.
Scott takes a large sniff of the air and nods. “Yeah, I only got one scent, but if they were powerful enough to take Derek down then we need to be careful.”
Just then, Derek screams. His voice is haggard and cuts through the air. It’s not loud enough to alert anyone who might be nearby, but to a group of supernaturals, it’s piercing.
Stiles raises his hand and the front doors of the building explode inward. He strides forward without a second thought, too fast and determined to be stopped by Stiles or Lydia, who are still standing in place, mouths agape.
Door after door flies open as Stiles storms down the hallway. He won’t stop until he finds the one that has Derek behind it. Finally, the last one bursts open, and he’s found his target. The witch turns, raising her hand. A wave of energy moves Stiles’s way, but he raises his own hand in return and the wall of energy parts around him and slams into the wall. The room shudders, dust and plaster falling to the floor from the rickety ceiling above them.
Behind her, Derek hangs limply. His arms are chained above his head and his sweat-soaked hair covers his eyes. The scarlet color of his blood will haunt Stiles for the rest of his life. Seeing Derek like that… seeing him dead… something inside of Stiles breaks. It breaks more than Stiles ever thought a part of him could break.
An angry sob threatens to bubble out of his throat, but he holds it back. He doesn’t think about anything else—definitely not the fact that this is the first magic user aside from himself that he’s run into since the druid attack—all he can focus on is taking the bitch down.
Stiles extends his hand and a ball of fire blasts out from his palm, straight toward the witch. She ducks, rolling out of the way at the last moment. The fire slams into the wall beside Derek, jerking him awake.
Awake. He’s not dead.
Stiles doesn’t have time to feel any relief, because the witch is already clenching her fingers closed. A sharp jolt of pain explodes in Stiles’s chest, causing him to lose his breath. He gasps, struggling to stay standing. It hurts… it hurts so fucking bad. It’s like his ribs are being peeled apart.
”So… you’re the magic-user in town,” the witch smirks, climbing to her feet. She has the upper hand again and is relishing in that fact. “Here to save your friend. How quaint. Just when I thought—”
Scott bursts into the room, growling loudly as he shifts into his werewolf face. The witch gasps, losing control of her spell and setting Stiles free from it’s hold. Clearly she’s never seen a werewolf before, let alone thought one was here in town. Lydia comes up beside them too.
”Cover your ears.” She says quickly, and then screams.
The witch is thrown backward, slamming into the wall beside Derek.
She growls. ”You have no idea who you’re—”
Stiles lifts his hand and jerks it in a circular motion. The witch’s neck snaps. Her body falls to the cold, hard ground.
Stiles runs over and manages to unchain Derek from the wall using a small bit of magic. He falls into Stiles’s arms, unable to hold himself up on his own. Stiles slowly lowers himself to the floor so Derek is laying in his lap.
“I thought she killed you…” Stiles whispers, rubbing his thumb along Derek’s forehead.
“She was going to,” Derek replies before breaking into a stream of coughs. A little bit of blood drips out of his mouth and leaks down his chin.
Tears prick at the corners of Stiles’s eyes. “Oh, fuck… why didn’t you just give her what she wanted?”
“Because she wanted you.”
Derek looks up at Stiles for the first time. His eyes are tired, rimmed in darkness and bloodshot. He looks like hell and feels like it too. Stiles smiles, just so happy that Derek’s alive. He’s fucked up, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters.
”You’re an idiot,” Stiles whispers, wiping the blood of Derek’s chin with his sleeve.
”I know.”
They smile at each other… and then they kiss. They’re not really sure who started it. Maybe they both did. Their lips touch, and it’s everything they’ve both wanted for so long but never admitted, not even to themselves.
Scott coughs. Lydia subtly slips him a tenner.
Stiles and Derek break apart, misty-eyed and dazed. They’d clearly forgotten they weren’t alone.
Scott walks over and lifts Derek’s arm around his shoulder.
”Come on, you two, let’s get out of here.”
—
“She wanted me, Scott.” Stiles says, his hand entwined with Derek’s as he sleeps on the bed next to Stiles’s chair. “She came here looking for me because I can use magic. I only wanted to be able to help you guys, and now there’s probably lots of witches out there gunning for my head.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Scott replies.
“I know… but Derek got hurt because of all this magic stuff. Maybe it’s not worth it. I couldn’t live if you were taken next, or Lydia… my dad, or anyone.”
Scott thinks about what happened. He can’t get the image of Stiles snapping that witch’s neck without a second thought. Sure, she was trying to kill them all, but he did it so easily. He can’t help but wonder if Stiles is right and that maybe magic isn’t worth it, no matter how useful it can be. Would the Stiles from last year have been so cavalier about ending an enemy’s life? Yes, Derek was in danger, but he’s still not sure… maybe magic changes too much.
“Just focus on being here for Derek. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
Stiles looks at Derek. He’s so peaceful when he sleeps. The hard lines of his face are relaxed, the usual sharpness softened by his ordeal. He’s already healing. Stiles loves him so much, and he can’t believe it took a kidnapping and magical fight to make him finally admit that to himself.
The city was dead, just like the one before had been.
Scott ground his teeth, knuckles white on the steering wheel. It had been three years since the supernatural world and the human one had collided in spectacular fashion. Deaton had broken the bonds between the McCall pack and Beacon Hills when he’d been fatally shot. It was harder than Scott had imagined to be without his emissary, but he’d escaped with his mother and most of the pack he called his so it was more than others had.
Melissa shifted in the seat next to him, her eyes slitted open. She glanced around her, her mouth thinning at the empty street they drive down and Scott wished he could have given her better news, especially considering it was Christmas Eve.
‘Nothing.’ he said and she sighed. Behind him, Liam was awake and watching while Cory and Mason were curled up in the trunk space of the SUV, worn out. They had been driving in shifts for most of the past twenty four hours out of California. The truck behind the SUV contained Lydia, Natalie, Parrish and a couple of kids they had picked up, Laurie and Keith Morgan, both betas who’d lost their pack. That was all of them, a sad indictment on what had been happening in the southern states as hunters mobilised and killed every supernatural thing they could get their hands on. Now there was a line drawn and the northern borders from Oregon to Illinois signposted the no-man’s land that was in the hands of the resistance groups that fought every bit as fiercely as their human counterparts i spite of their lower numbers.
‘Where are we?’ Liam leaned between the front seats and Scott peered through the dusty windscreen.
‘Multnomah.’ He looked at the map in his lap. The magic used by the covens that held the states around the Great Lakes had knocked out the energy grid a year before and fried every satellite receiver and radio tower to boot. ‘The river’s east of here.’
‘Where did they say to go?’ Melissa asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She was considerably greyer than she had been, but losing Malia had hit her hard when she’d come to regard her as her daughter-in-law. Malia had decided that all the human world had ever brought her was pain and gone back into the wild. They had found her clothes, a pathetic pile lying at the northern border of the preserve but Malia had learned well and her trail had been impossible to find and the bond between them had broken a week later. Scott couldn’t really blame her. In the fucked up world that was at war with itself, being a coyote sounded like a welcome way to live out the rest of his life.
The CV radio they had set up crackled and Scott answered it. Short wave was really the only communication method that still worked.
‘Scott.’ Parrish sounded exhausted and Scott knew that the hellhound was probably way overdue a couple of hours sleep. ‘You see anything?’
‘No.’ He huffed in frustration. ‘This was the place they told us.’ The pack that had given them the information had been heading for Wyoming, hoping to elude hunters by going inland. Scott’s priority was time so he’d decided to go a more direct route. Besides, Wyoming was now said to be wendigo country and they weren’t picky about what they fed on.
‘Maybe we should stop for the night.’ Parrish said. ‘Find a place to bed down.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ Scott blew out a deep breath. It was times like this he missed Stiles, missed his sharp instincts and quicksilver mind that would have several plans mapped out already. Stiles had left though, abandoned them after what had happened with Donovan. Scott knew he’d probably contributed to that, but the last thing he’d expected was for Stiles and his father to pack their life up and get the hell out of town, leaving Scott in the lurch and his so-called best friend gone without so much as a goodbye.
Melissa had been furious when she’d found out and told him that she was ashamed of how he’d treated Stiles, but Scott knew it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been the one who’d killed Donovan. And yes, Theo had turned out to be everything Stiles had warned him about but by then there was nothing Scott could do to make amends because Stiles was gone. Then the Awakening had happened and the war had started and suddenly all of it was insignificant compared to the need to just stay alive.
He was startled out of his thoughts when Liam put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Scott?’ He met his eyes in the rearview mirror. ‘Are we going?’
‘Yeah.’ Scott put the SUV in gear and the car lurched forward. It only got a couple of feet though before an explosion was set off right in front of them, the concussive blast enough to lift the car right onto it’s rear wheels, landing with a crunch as the axle snapped from the force of it. The flare had been so bright that it blinded all of them. There was a high pitched sound that Scott immediately recognised as it made his ears hurt so badly he wanted to claw them off. Hunters made good use of werewolf senses in the production of their countermeasures and he shifted involuntarily, his fight mechanism engaged as he stumbled from the SUV, howling in anger. There were voices, men and women shouting and the zip of bullets. One winged his upper arm and Scott snarled, shaking off the disorientation as best he could and desperately hoping that Melissa was keeping her head down.
‘Hunters!’ he roared. A fiery glow out the corner of his eyes told him Parrish was already wading in to fight and Liam was shifted next to him, gold eyes gleaming. Cory stayed in the car, his camouflage kicking in as he blended right out of sight and took Mason with him.
Scott couldn’t tell how many there were but he could smell multiple people and the way their voices came from all around meant he had driven right into a trap. Another series of flares went up, the brilliant white light making it very difficult to see what was happening and Scott knew they needed to fight their way out before they got taken. He’d heard horrifying stories about what happened to supernaturals that got taken now, things that made the Argents look soft-hearted.
‘Scott!’ Melissa yelled from behind him and he roared again, feinting forward and hoping that the barrage of bullets would stop soon, but it didn’t. He had no choice but to dive back in and crouch down with the others and take cover. Only Parrish had made it through the barricade but it wasn’t nearly enough. He knew that Lydia would be no use. Ever since her treatment at the hands of the Valack, she’d not been the same and her powers had been temperamental at best.
Suddenly the bullets stopped. The only sounds were those of Parrish and the cries of the hunters he was attacking behind them. Scott raised cautious eyes and then he saw just why the bullets had stopped. The figure crouched on the hood of the SUV was hooded so he could not see their face. They had a baseball bat braced against one shoulder and their other hand stretched out in front of them, the bullets that had been fired floating in mid-air like a special effect in the beams from the headlights. It was completely surreal, as were the crackles of purple fire that swarmed over the hood and around the cars, holding the line of hunters at bay.
‘Now!’ The voice was commanding and utterly confident.
As if from nowhere came the sounds of wolves howling. It was deafening, so many all at once, and the screams that came from behind the fire was bloodcurdling, accompanied by snarls and growls that were borderline feral. The person on the hood straightened up as the bullets fell to the ground, before leaping off the car and melting into the lights. Scott could hear them all breathing hard as the sounds died away. He glanced at Melissa and then they both screamed as a body landed on the hood. Scott stared in horror at the way the man’s sightless eyes were still bleeding, echoed in the streams of red that came from his nose and both ears. For a moment he thought about just flooring it and getting the hell out of there. Next to him, Melissa’s breathing was light and panicked.
The fire faded into nothing but headlights and Scott steeled himself and got out. He could smell wolves and something else. It was ozone and metal, coating his tongue like he’d licked a battery. The hooded figure melted back out of the darkness and came forward, one hand coming up to push back their hood and the sight was enough to make Scott feel like he’d lost his mind.
Stiles looked older, his hair long enough to fall in a tousled mess around a face that was stubbled in a way he’d never quite managed at school, brown eyes keen and taking everything he looked at. His clothing was dark, jeans and hoodie in dull colours that kept him hidden and Scott could smell blood on him. It was faint though - an old injury - and blended in with the unmistakable scent of magic so profound that it made Scott sneeze. He stood frozen to the spot, not knowing even where to begin until Melissa fell out her side of the SUV and stumbled forward.
‘Stiles?’ Her voice shook. ‘Om my God, is that really you?’
‘Hi Melissa.’ Stiles smiled, but the hard lines of his face and the fatigue visible in his stance robbed it of any warmth. His eyes searched out Scott’s face. ‘Hey Scotty. Long time no see.’
Scott noticed the baseball bat in his hand, nose wrinkling at the stink of blood on it.
‘You still carry one of those?’ The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
‘Yeah. And I don’t even play.’ Stiles moved the bat to his shoulder and lifted a hand to his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. Behind him, a howl went back up again in the shadows and there was the sound of wolves moving stealthily into the dark.
‘Who are they?’ Liam had climbed out the SUV and was standing behind Scott. ‘Oh hey, Stiles.’
‘Liam.’ Stiles replied. ‘And in answer to your question, they’re my pack.’
‘You have a pack?’ Scott asked, feeling oddly hurt by the news.
‘Well, it’s my alpha’s pack.’ Stiles explained. ‘But I’m their emissary so...yeah, my pack.’ He glanced backwards over his shoulder. ‘We should get going. It’s not safe out here.’
‘No shit.’ Melissa was already grabbing her things from the SUV. ‘You have somewhere we can go?’
‘Uh huh.’ Stiles was still watching Scott carefully, his appraising look making him very uncomfortable. Of all the ways he’d expected their reunion to go, it hadn’t been this. ‘Leave your cars. They’re probably shot to hell anyway. I’ve got a transport that’ll come and pick us up.’ He looked at the car behind them. ‘Lydia’s with you.’ It wasn’t a question and Scott found himself nodding.
‘She’s with Parrish now.’ He didn’t know why he felt the need to say so, but Stiles didn’t seem fazed.
‘Yeah, I called that senior year. She’s weak. Get him to carry her.’ Stiles gave Melissa another smile and she walked over and threw her arms around him. He seemed taken aback but then returned the embrace.
‘We missed you.’ she whispered. ‘Please tell me your father’s alright.’
‘He is, but he’s a bit different.’ Stiles pulled back and shrugged. ‘He’s a wolf now.’
‘Oh.’ Melissa’s shock was evident on her face. ‘Why…?’
‘He got shot.’ Stiles said. ‘And I wasn’t going to lose him.’ He looked around them and then waved someone forward. It was a wolf, tall and broad shouldered and somewhere in his forties judging by his face and the dark close cut hair and beard tinged with silver. He came over to Stiles, placing one hand on his shoulder, his piercing black eyes taking stock of everyone. Like Stiles he was dressed in dark clothing and stank of blood. He looked at Scott and flashed blue eyes at him.
‘Silver’s on his way.’ he said to Stiles. ‘He’s got Zombie with him. Babyshoes and Doofus are with Curly and Zephyr and Little H took off to try and track down the ones that got away.’
‘Good.’ Stiles said. ‘Where’s Blackout?’
‘Tormenting the survivors.’ the man chuckled. He gave Scott and his group a quizzical look, scenting them with a lift of his head. ‘Friends of yours?’
‘From Beacon Hills.’ Stiles said it like there was something there that didn’t need to be expounded upon.
‘Fuck.’ The man grinned, his too white teeth glinting in the headlights. ‘The Big Guy’s going to flip his shit.’
‘You have no idea.’ Stiles laughed. ‘I’ll take them in, you go make sure Blackout doesn’t kill anyone else. I’ll take Curly and the kids with me.’
‘Got it.’ The man trotted off into the dark and Scott watched him go.
‘One of your pack?’ He tried to rein the sarcasm in but it leaked out anyway.
‘Wardog’s my alpha’s Right Hand.’ Stiles said. ‘Used to be a Marine.’ He shouldered his bat again. ‘Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.’ He started to walk into the darkness and then stopped, grinning over his shoulder. ‘You might want to catch up. There’s someone who’ll be really happy to see you.’
Scott frowned, glancing at Melissa. He was about to fall into step behind Stiles when someone moved into the light from the cars and his entire stomach lurched.
Isaac was as tall and lithe as Scott remembered him, his blue eyes flashing gold when he saw Scott and Melissa. His face was obscured by a thick beard and his hair was as long as Stiles’ and he had two kids, thirteen if they were a day, hanging on each arm.
‘Jesus.’ Isaac’s slow smile was still breathtaking. ‘What the fuck did you find, Stiles?’
‘The Lost Boys.’ Stiles snickered, slapping Isaac on the shoulder and disappearing into the dark.
***********
The rain started coming down and Stiles felt the truck lurch. It was a reconditioned army vehicle Luke had found and they used it for patrols, delivering each team to their designated search area. Now they were loaded into the back, with Wardog, better known as Luke Mackenzie, and his mate in the front. Erin Mackenzie wasn’t a wolf but she was scary as hell, in spite of her small stature. Like Luke, she was in her forties and toted an M4 carbine with a Remington combat shotgun strapped across her back and a Colt handgun strapped to her hip and like Stiles she reeked of magic although it wasn’t the same lightning scent he carried. Hers was thicker and mustier and reminded him of deep forests and murky water.
‘She’s a spark like me. She’s the one who taught me what I know.’ He was sitting opposite Scott and watching where Lydia was wrapped in a blanket and sleeping in Parrish’s arms. She’d barely woken when Stiles had put a hand to her face, just smiled at him and passed out again.
‘I thought you might be dead. You never let anyone know otherwise.’ Scott growled. He’d obviously gotten over the shock of seeing Stiles and now all that was left was anger. Stiles didn’t need to be a wolf to pick that up and he felt more than a little amused by it.
‘Our last conversation wasn’t exactly a good one to end off on.’ He kept his voice even. ‘I went home and told my dad and we decided that rather than wait for the repercussions to happen, that we were done with Beacon Hills so we packed what we could and left. We found sanctuary with another pack and Erin was their emissary. She agreed to mentor me and when everything went balls up we kind of stuck together. Now our packs are bonded and our alphas co-lead.’
‘Who is your alpha?’ Melissa asked, curiosity all over her face. Scott seemed annoyed at how animated she was and growled softly at her, but she ignored him. Stiles gave them a serene smile.
‘You’ll see.’ He leaned back, closing his eyes as the truck bounced along.
They travelled for about half an hour before the truck slowed. The others were all sitting up and paying attention, eyes flashing at the scent of wolves thick in the air, and Stiles grinned.
‘We’re in River View Cemetery.’ He got to his feet, leaning out the back. ‘Holy ground is easy as fuck to ward and we pretty much fly right under the radar here.’ The truck rumbled to a stop and he jumped down, not making a sound. Scott followed, his betas and Melissa in tow, Parrish staying behind with Lydia. Luke and Erin were already out the vehicle and they had a brief hushed conversation, glancing at Stiles before they walked off into the dark with the twins. Isaac came to stand next to him, one hand briefly running down Stiles arm to scent him. Stiles didn’t miss the way Scott’s eyes tracked the movement and knew there would have to be a lot of explanations before the night was up. He responded with a soft wolflike noise of his own and Isaac leaned in, brushing his cheek against Stiles’ shoulder.
‘He looks like he’s seen a ghost.’ His voice was full of quiet humour.
‘Yeah, I know.’ Stiles raised his voice and beckoned to the watching pack. ‘We’re in the mausoleum. It’s got a lot of space and the trees give great cover. A lot of our packs are full shift so they patrol like that. You can meet Ben. He’s Erin’s alpha. He‘s off watch right now but he’ll wake up to see you. He always wants to meet the packs that come through here on their way North.’ He gave Scott a knowing look. ‘I’m assuming that’s where you’re going, right?’
‘We were.’ Scott admitted. ‘I don’t get why you’re here still.’
‘Someone’s got to keep the route open.’ Stiles said. ‘Those hunters tonight are not the only ones. They crawl all over this place and we try and get rid of as many as we can.’ He started walking in the direction of the main building. ‘It’s a living.’
Isaac fell into step beside him, not saying anything else until they got to a break in the trees. Stiles was almost bouncing in anticipation. He could feel the wards around him, reacting to his magic and the intruders, and he soothed them into silence. The main office was used as their base, but there was also space for transient wolves to eat and bed down for a night. The rest of them had taken over the houseboats at Macadam Moorage, the on water location making it easy to hide. Erin was adept at weather working, her spark using the natural elements around her to make the place invisible to human eyes. She liked to laugh and liken it to Tír na nÓg but Stiles knew it took a great deal of power to do what she did. It was also one of the reasons he’d learned to handle his own spark so well, although his magic was more offensive than defensive.
There was one guard at the entrance, Ben’s oldest son Mal. He was like his father, a gentle giant that reminded Stiles very much of Boyd. He regarded the rag tag group behind Stiles with a raised eyebrow, then nodded at the door beside him.
‘Big Guy’s looking for you.’ he rumbled. ‘Baby H and Zephyr got in about ten minutes ago.’
‘Great.’ Isaac’s smile was razor sharp. ‘They’re going to love this.’
Stiles nodded and went through into the main hall. The place was lit by hurricane lanterns, casting an eerie light. The wolves could all see well enough in the dim light and Stiles knew this place like the back of his hand, so he went to take Melissa’s arm.
‘Come on.’ He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look. ‘You can stay here with Lydia and Parrish and the betas. Scott needs to come with me.’
‘I don’t know…’ Scott started and Stiles broke in before that particular thought could be voiced.
‘They’ll be fine down here.’ he said. ‘And I’m not taking everyone on to meet our alphas. Hell, if Erin was here she’d be insisting on strip searching you for weapons so consider yourselves lucky.’
‘Fine.’ Scott’s voice was like ice. ‘But I don’t like it.’
‘You don’t have to, buddy.’ Stiles put a little bite into his words. ‘But you’re in our territory now, so those are the rules. You don’t like them, you can go back to your cars.’
Scott growled, but he eventually gave Stiles a curt nod and followed him and Isaac. The main office was up the stairs to the right of the entrance and Stiles felt the bond inside him draw taut and then release, relief running through it. He could also pick up a tinge of astonishment as they approached and knew that Scott’s scent and those of his pack had found the group inside what he liked to call the War Room.
The double doors of the former conference room were ope and he went in, his eye finding those of the only wolf he wanted to see. Conflicted times had made him selfish like that, seeking out his mate above all others. He stopped as the others crowded in behind him and smiled broadly at the expletive that Scott let out. Across the table, Derek’s pale green eyes met his and one of those wonderfully expressive eyebrows did something that meant Stiles’ would be getting an earful later.
He was standing with Ben, maps spread out over the table in front of them, and Stiles drank in the sight of him. Derek was every bit as handsome as he’d always been, his beard now tinged with silver that matched the patch on the chin of his wolf form. The three of them formed the leadership that ran the border pack. The whole of Oregon was theirs, with other smaller packs that chose to help patrol and take out threats answering to them. Ben had been Derek’s mentor since they had arrived on the island so long ago, and he’d flourished under Ben’s tutelage. Now he was everything Stiles had known he’d become, stern and serious still but no longer haunted. He led with confidence and fought with the same passion he’d always had, but none of the recklessness of before. It showed in the way he stood, tall and broad and as strong as three betas put together now that he had grown into his Alpha power, power that Stiles had given him.
On the other side of the table was another familiar face. Cora, or Baby H as Stiles had designated her for patrols much to her disgust, had also matured into a beautiful woman. Derek said that she looked more and more like Talia every day. Her mate Zach was the youngest of Ben’s sons, an able and shrewd wolf who looked at Cora like she was the very moon herself.
‘Holy fucking shit.’ she said, looking at Scott and the others. ‘Stiles, what the hell?’
‘Yeah.’ Stiles grinned at them. ‘Look what I found out in the boonies.’ He watched as Isaac sidled a little closer to Scott, grinning because that was a conversation he dearly wanted to eavesdrop on. Isaac had never gotten over what might have been, even of he hid that fact so well Stiles was the only one that had ever picked it up.
Isaac had always been Derek’s beta, even when he’d strayed, and the bonds had snapped right back into place once Stiles had given Derek back the power he had lost and he’d called his pack to him. It had been strange at first when Chris and Isaac had come back. Peter had been next, drawn by something that Stiles had long suspected between him and Chris. Cora had run all the way from South America, stressed and near feral when she’d finally found them. Jackson and Ethan had come home through an illegal channel, even though they had been safe in Europe and now the Hale pack was strong and united, allied with the Sherman pack and holding back the wave of humanity bent on wiping them out.
It never failed to amuse him that these awful times had made them the pack they were always meant to be.
‘Scott.’ Derek’s voice was level, giving nothing away. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’ Scott’s bitterness tainted the air, and Stiles saw Derek’s nostrils flare as he scented it. ‘I wish I had known you were all here.’
‘Derek?’ Ben stepped forward.
‘Scott’s the Alpha of Beacon Hills.’ he explained. He didn’t look away from Scott though, folding his arms so the muscles flexed in a shadow of the old Derek and his former intimidation tactics. Stiles was definitely going to mock him for that later. With any luck, he would be able to convince Derek to take out all that tension on him. They might have been mated for the past six years, but angry fucking was still a thing and a shiver ran down Stiles’ spine at the thought of getting Derek riled up enough to give him bruises and make him ache for a couple of days.
As if could read his mind, Derek turned his gaze on Stiles and yes, there was the judgy eyebrow again.
‘You passing through?’ Ben asked and Scott nodded.
‘Trying to.’ he replied. ‘If I had known what was here, I would have taken a different route. There was another pack going through Wyoming.’
Zach let out a low whistle and Cora moved a little closer to him, baring her teeth.
‘Not a good choice.’ she said. ‘Wendigo’s all over the place.’
‘We’re not incapable of defending ourselves.’ Scott’s chin lifted and Stiles sighed at the defiance that was still there, along with the stubbornness.
‘Not against that.’ He shrugged. ‘Nobody goes in and nobody comes out.’
‘We can offer you shelter for the night then.’ Derek said. ‘Food and a safe place to crash.’
‘Lydia’s going to need some medical care by the looks of things.’ Stiles added. ‘And you are all exhausted.’
Scott opened his mouth to protest and then Stiles played his ace.
‘It’s Christmas Eve.’ He moved to the man he’d once considered his brother. ‘Just take the damn offer in the spirit it’s meant. Come on, Scott. It’s a couple of days at most.’
Scott met his eyes, the anger going out of them like a candle had been snuffed. His shoulders slumped.
‘Okay.’ he said and Stiles looked at Derek and Derek looked at Cora and Zach and Isaac.
‘We’ll get them settled.’ It was Ben who spoke. He moved past Derek and the other three went with him as he guided Scott out of the room and back towards the stairs. Stiles waited until their footsteps had died away before me came around the table.
‘Hey Big Guy.’ His mouth quirked in a half smile. ‘Talk about a Christmas miracle, huh?’
‘Jesus fuck.’ Derek glared at him. ‘Only you, I fucking swear.’ He moved to get Stiles around the waist, hauling him up to set him on the edge of the conference table as he moved to stand between his legs. Stiles mock growled at him, running his hands over Derek’s chest, admiring the rock hard contour of muscles that had never lost their fascination for him.
‘So what’s my reward for finding the intruders?’ he asked and Derek flashed crimson eyes at him and bent to nudge Stiles’ nose with his own.
‘Whatever you want.’ he growled. Stiles laughed and kissed him, dragging his heels up he backs of Derek’s calves and dipping briefly into Derek’s warm mouth with his tongue. Derek responded readily and the kiss turned messy, as it often did.
‘I know he was a shit, but I kind of missed him. And Melissa and Lydia and even the puppies. And you saw the puppy eyes Isaac was giving him. You’d be a really mean alpha to deny the only pack member you have who’s not nated yet.’ He tilted his head and gave Derek a look that made Derek sigh and run the backs of his fingers along Stiles’ cheekbone.
‘I know that face.’ he said. ‘It might not be a good idea, baby.’
‘Then again it might.’ Stiles countered. ‘How often do we get what we want.’ He gave Derek his best pout and watched as his alpha’s resistance wavered. ‘Come on, it’s Christmas.’
Derek opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by a cough from Noah leaning in the doorway. His chuckled, eyes flashing once in acknowledgement of his alpha, and Stiles grumbled as Derek eased him off the table.
‘Your timing sucks, old man.’ he said and Noah came over, ruffling his hair and growling at him in a particularly paternal way.
‘So I just saw our newest visitors.’ he said. ‘That was one hell of a surprise.’
‘Stiles says it’s a Christmas miracle.’ Derek was as dry as the Atacama and Stiles backhanded him in the chest then immediately regretted it. He nursed his hand and gave them both his most winning smile.
‘You know I’m right.’ He grinned when they shared an exasperated look over his head.
‘Shut up, Stiles.’ they said in perfect unison and he snickered and practically skipped out the room.
‘You’ll see.’ He gave them a blinding smile as he backed out of the room, finger guns blazing. ‘Best Christmas ever!’
I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and an upcoming New Year.
*****
The Best Kind of Alcohol Is A Lot
In the time of crisis, we can be prepared. We are always thinking of the worst possible scenario and prepare. We suffer through crisis. We survive and overcome it. However, we never think of the calm after the storm. We do not recover and return to life. Sometimes things are so out of balance that what you are obliged to call normal is nothing of the sorts. What is left on the beach after a hurricane? Ruble. After the pain and anguish of what once was, calmness seems like just another foe because it promises the unkeepable. It promises that tomorrow will be like today. Until it won’t. Sometimes, after you have been in the eye of the storm and out, you are just left by a window. Tapping your foot and looking at the people around you, wondering how to tell them what you are keeping within. Your story. Not of how the storm was but life without it.with me as Scott cleaned up. It has been unsettling, to say the least. It isn’t that Stiles has stayed around at the end of the day but he has never been this quiet. He is sitting there, shaking his leg. Not reading or listening to music. Just spaced out and staring at a box of q-tips while shaking his foot. Scott finally finishes up and turns to him.
Stiles sat down on the chair in the corner of the room in the clinic with me as Scott cleaned up. It has been unsettling, to say the least. It isn’t that Stiles has stayed around at the end of the day but he has never been this quiet. He is sitting there, shaking his leg. Not reading or listening to music. Just spaced out and staring at a box of q-tips while shaking his foot. Scott finally finishes up and turns to him.
“Stiles. This is scary. What is wrong with you?”
He turned as if shot him in the head and he is shocked at the level of betrayal. He then sat up in the chair. “Scott. I. I need to talk to you, buddy.”
“Is everything okay? Do you need help?”
“In general, probably yes. Right now, no, not really.” He shook his leg for a bit more before finding the words to speak. “I need to tell you a story.”
Scott sat up on the table and listened to him, expecting the worst at this point.
“It all started a few months ago. It started off with a whole lot of nothing.”
______________
5 months ago…
It was a cold miserable night in Beacon Hills. Stiles was a little drunk but it cooled off the bad mood, the remanents of a panic attack, and the injuries on his body. It was not his style to go out and get drunk with strangers. However, if any night was right for it, it was that night.
He hoped to run into people who would have been out of their mind but unfortunately met a rather nice group of people who were of the same goal to get trashed that night. They were university kids who finished some exams and really blowing off steam. Usually, on any other occasion ever, Stiles would not have believed that he is hanging out and drinking with older people at a club but that night was different. After the shock of the adventure sits in, it sours. He could have died. He could have seen his best friends die. At this point, he knew there would be something new just around the corner.
The night started with a nightmare. He woke up screaming from a nightmare. In his dream, he was a decapitated head that lay on the pavement and watched his friends being torn apart. Sheriff was away that night so Stiles did not find any reason why not to get into his car and do something to break routine more than anything that is not supernatural can. The students, after their exams, recognized the pain in his eyes and just welcomed him into their ranks. They likely could tell that he was not 21 but let it slide.
Stiles drank and drank until he finally got out when people started to leave. He offered to go with them by cab back to town but Stiles decided to just go for a walk. He was not bashed enough to get behind the wheel but he was just bashed enough to walk in the middle of a dark road while it was drizzling and cold. The alcohol kept him burning so everything felt perfect. He would walk on the white strips in the middle of the road and some cars passed. One even honked angrily. He then decided to lie down. The concrete was cold and unwelcoming but he enjoyed the sight of the mildly purple sky above him.
A motorcycle was heard being driven by and he did not think that he should get up. Things have been such a pain that he did not think it was worth it to try and get up at this point. He just enjoyed the cold and the sky.
He only looked away when the motorcycle stopped near him and the driver walked over to him. “Well, what an ugly piece of road kill.” Stiles laughed drunkenly and looked up at Derek Hale.
“S’up, wolf boy.”
Who served you alcohol?”
“Fun people. You would not understand.” He then began to laugh at his own joke. Derek rolled his eyes at him before offering him a hand.
“Let’s go, Stilinski.”
Stiles refused the hand and managed to get up himself. Derek got him on the back of his motorcycle with a spare jacket and helmet. It felt like only a few minutes on the bike despite the fact that it took them 40 minutes to get to Derek’s place. “Your place? Is this a kidnapping?”
“Please, as if you would be worth a ransom. You dad may not be a wolf, but I am absolutely sure he would smell your stench from outside the house.” Derek dragged Stiles by pulling Stiles’s arm over his shoulder. Stiles’s walking made Derek hit two door frames.
“And what inspired this anarchy?” He asked when he threw Stiles’s body on the couch like a sack of potatoes.
Stiles laughed and rolled over a little to his side. “How do you do it, Derek? You know, keep your bullshit intact.”
Derek threw a throw over Stiles and turned off the lights.
“Go to sleep.” He put a bucket next to him. “I will skin you alive if you throw up on my floor.”
Stiles laughed like an idiot and it came out much darker and less like that of someone completely thrashed.
“You don’t, don’t you?”
“What?”
“You don’t have anything figured out, do you? You are scared of the shit we do. You are scared to know when you will die because it could be tomorrow.”
Derek looked at Stiles in the dark and on the broke smile on his face, lit up by the little bit of light from outside.
“Go to sleep.”
_________________
Scott wondered how this was relevant. Stiles sounded like he was stretching the story, whatever the point was. Derek told him about the very drunk Stiles he found on the side of the road while checking up on the leftover details of the mission. Scott got why Stiles was hurting. He was too.
Although just a month ago, it looked like Stiles was better than anyone. He was in such a good mood it was scary to watch him smile at the coach and even turn in a homework early. Everyone was shocked when that happened. The non-religious teacher even crossed herself when it happened.
“It kind of started then.”
________________
It had been weeks since anything happened and life had taken up a sort of routine again. It was something very scary to endure while you cannot trust it. It is like when you are a kid and you did something bad and you hear your parents yell out your full name when they discover what you did. You freeze in horror for a second knowing that your punishment is imminent. Life felt like that. Each day.
It was a late Friday night and Stiles found himself at Derek’s place. They sat in a different room from where they usually did just because Derek said he hated their scents all around his sleeping area and it bothered him to sleep. The others all left. Stiles lingered and Derek was not kicking him out. It was a bit of comfortable silence but after thinking of what he wanted to say, some tension started to build up.
“Did it help you to get drunk that night? Did you get the break from our reality?”
Stiles was shocked that Derek asked this, let alone spoke first.
“Honestly, it did. It didn’t solve anything but it was a much needed time out. I definitely regretted it the next day. It was well worth it though.”
“I guess it does work better when you just start.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Is it time you go home? It is getting dark out. You know the way out.”
Derek left the room and Stiles could not help but know better that he could not leave Derek there and there. He followed him upstairs. The curtains were pulled up and all of the light from downstairs was useless as it was getting really dark out. Stiles could see as far as the staircase but he could not adjust his eyes to the darkness. He wandered into the room. A thought flashed his mind. He is literally going in blind into a room of a person who is in a clearly bad mood, has the tendency to act aggressively and can transform into a wolf. Stiles thought it was telling of his life that he did not feel scared at all.
He walked carefully through the room until his foot kicked something. Whatever it was rolled and he heard to glass items clink together. Two bottles.
“Derek?” He walked carefully till his leg hit the bed. He reached out to the bed and hit Derek’s leg so he knew he was there.
“Go away, Stiles.” He groaned.
Stiles ignored him and moved onto the bed. “What’s wrong?”
A sort of laugh escaped him that oddly resembled a bark. “Do you even need to ask that question after lying drunk in the middle of the road, drunk out of your mind?” He said between his teeth. “It gets worse with time when nothing happens and your mind is reduced to nothing.”
Stiles understood what he meant. He did not note the moment when he realized that he and Derek were lying on the same bed together and facing one another. He could feel his warm ragged breath on his face. It felt warm. Safe. As if the whole world outside had already erupted once more, they were outside of it all. It eased the never-ending dread.
“Can you see anything?” Stiles asked, knowing Derek can see much better than he can in the dark.
“Not really. I went out of my way to block out the light.” The light outside had faded so much that the room had achieved pitch darkness to which adjusting was impossible. Stiles could just feel Derek lying next to him. The weight on the bed. The breath on his face. The warmth of his body.
“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If two people do something even they don’t see, did it really happen?“
"It does not have to.”
Stiles hesitated before leaning in to meet his lips already half way to meet his. Saying anything was out of the question. It can be denied as far as they both choose. Yet then and there it was not about denial.
Stiles wrapped an arm around him around his waist with his hand running up his back. He clung to his strong back muscles. Derek’s hand went around Stiles and they were chest to chest. The kiss didn’t break. It was a fucking good kiss. Stiles had kissed the biggest amount of people but this was definitely a good kiss. Passionate, urgent, and best of all not slobbery despite how much tongue was involved.
It was dark. It was warm. It felt like a safe space.
Stiles ran his hand up Derek’s shirt, rubbing across the lines of his muscles. He would stop the second he felt like Derek did not want it but the idea was unlikely as Derek pulled off Stiles shirt and then made it really easy for the other to do the same.
With their skin touching, Stiles could practically feel Derek’s heart beating against his.
Things got more heated. Pants came off. Touching. Rubbing against. Kissing. Small bites. It was too fun to stop.
______________
For a few days, they avoided each other. Stiles felt anxious on been the one to have to run away in the morning like some crime was committed. When they finally saw each other in a group, they felt comfortable enough to act like nothing happened.
Until something did happen.
They were suddenly left alone at Derek’s place and it happened again. Dark room. Clothes coming off. Less hesitation to touch.
Afterwards, it was harder to go to sleep and say nothing.
“What are we doing?” asked Stiles.
“Blowing off steam.”
Slowly, it had become a regular thing and a certain line stayed up as long as it stayed in the dark.
Until the day Stiles suddenly broke it.
It was after another time they were at Derek’s and they were leaving. Stiles had work to do. He was not going to stay. Things had fallen under some illusion of peace and calm for a moment that he did not think when everyone was leaving that he kissed Derek’s cheek.
He ran out faster than he would ever have the ability to run but he did. The whole evening he was trying to get it out of his head, focus on some work anything. Whatever they were doing came out of the dark. The tree had fallen and they were there to hear it hit the ground.
After suffering through his work but still managing to do it somehow, he decided that it was not his fault. If any fault should be placed it was on Derek. Or so he would at least tell himself. Deciding that confrontation would be best.
He did not understand why he thought confrontation was the best when he found himself standing right in front of him, looking at his green eyes. He was pissed off at himself but it was too late.
“What are we doing, Derek?”
“I already answered that question.”
“Give me a better answer. I want to know just… you know what forget it.” He turned away to leave, he had no idea whether he was trying to end it all together but he definitely knew how Derek felt when he got pushed into the wall.
“You really have to stop slamming me into walls.”
“Don’t go.”
“Not going to work. Tell that you want me to stay.”
He could see lines of tension building in his face and a vein visible in his neck.
“Please stay.”
Stiles smiled and just kissed him.
______________
Things got cute from there. Like criminally cute.
They would have small dates of sorts. Neither would ever call it that but there is no way to call it anything else. Sitting around and eating take out. Derek laughing at Stiles attempts to work out but encouraging him to keep going. Making food together after too many nights of takeout and leftover takeout. Sleeping over.
Time to make out and have sex did not always exist but that did not mean they would not. Being late places was less of a hassle.
Stiles could not help but sleep better. Even some unwanted acne just went away. Yet when things go more serious, more permanent. More daily full of texts and so much time together, it felt criminal to keep it secret.
_____________
“So you’ve been dating Derek for a few months now.”
Stiles fidgetted. “Yes. Ugh… yes.”
“Lydia noticed a few months back, we’ve been placing bets on when you guys tell us. I owe Lidya cash now.”
