Chapter Text
Fuck it.
Fuck. It. All.
Who gives a fuck? Stiles doesn’t, not anymore. Not after this bullshit. Not after being ignored again. Not after being right again. Not after seeing Scott kill more people, however indirectly, again.
He’s doesn’t care. He’s tired. He wants Peter.
They were in a good place. It took a few years for Stiles to accept it, but he can safely say they were finally starting to truly build something past the sex and the lifesaving.
Not that it matters now.
Except it does. It matters now more than anything because Stiles won’t accept this. He’s willing to live through a lot of shit, but he won’t accept this.
All because Scott wouldn’t listen.
Peter wasn’t even supposed to be here. Even after the years of loyalty, nobody truly got over his mistake with Kate. It doesn’t matter that he’s been given numerous opportunities to betray them, that he payed for it all in Eichen, that Stiles trusted him.
He’s the one who doesn’t trust people. He thought that would mean more to them.
But Scott never listens.
And now Peter is laying dead on the ground, forgotten, because he promised to look out for Scott on the very meeting that set Deucalion to ruins. Peter doesn’t even like Scott, or anyone in their pack.
He only ever stayed for Stiles. He only ever waited for him, fought this cursed town for him, hell, he even attempted to make nice for him, but it didn’t matter in the end.
They left him for dead, and Stiles will never forgive them for that.
So, Stiles says, fuck it. He leaves one final kiss to Peter’s cold knuckles, stands up, and levels a glare at the remnants of Scott’s pack.
Scott’s pack, not his, not anymore.
Scott steels his jaw in the way that means he’s fighting not to flinch. He does flinch when Stiles focuses his glare to him alone and dials it up a notch or ten. His hand wavers from where it’s reaching out for him. He opens his mouth to speak and Stiles looks away.
Stiles leaves. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t cry, doesn’t so much as glance at the corpse of Gerard Fucking Argent on his way out the hole of the same damn wall he crashed his jeep into the first time around.
He doesn’t waste any time driving to Peter’s apartment. From there, time becomes a distant concept that ultimately means nothing as he bleeds their combined library dry. When he’s finished, he drives to the lot that was once Peter’s grave and travels the rest of the way by foot. He hasn’t had cause to come here since Peter showed it to him, since Peter felt Stiles trusted him enough to follow him so deep into the preserve. He remembers dusting this place and touching up the runes protecting it like it was yesterday. He remembers Peter revealing the door down underground to his personal library. He can almost feel the steady weight of his hand leading him inside for the first time.
He blinks the sting from his eyes as he kneels down to prick his finger, pressing his bloody thumbprint to the runes engraved into the boulder. They glow dimly in recognition and he doesn’t hesitate to be swallowed by the dark at the end of the stairs.
He’s not sure how long it takes. He doesn’t leave their library and he lets his phone die the second day. Time is irrelevant. Which is ironic, considering what he’s trying to do.
He knows he’s skinnier than he was when he started. There’s food down here, magically preserved, and plenty of soft spaces to sleep in, though he usually passes out wherever he’s researching at the time, but that’s okay. It doesn’t matter what condition he’s in, just so long as he can make the trip.
Still, he puts a little more effort into self-care while he waits for what he needs to be delivered.
Nobody ever took him seriously about the entire company of supernatural creatures that delivers. It’s like a magical Ebay. They even have portals so he doesn’t have to leave what’s become his sanctuary.
For now, he merely needs to wait for everything to be acquired and let the portal come through for delivery. In the meantime, he makes timers to eat, to sleep, to wake, and he does a lot of pacing and double checking his notes and triple checking his rune work and practicing the ritual and more pacing, nail biting, and a variety of other nervous ticks he was supposed to have grown out of years ago.
He’s considering shaving the patches of hair on his face when the alert goes off. He trips in his haste to the wall with the mirror he’s using for the portal and gives a rushed thanks to the giggling balls of light before he’s tearing into the box and finishing the preparations. He doesn’t have to wait for any specific time or go to any specific place for this, so he lights all the proper herbs and says all the practiced lines and activates all the proper runes meticulously etched into the wooden floor in the order he’s memorized by heart. He pours everything he has into it. He recites his lines over and over and over again as each line of markings glow and the marks on his skin burn and then everything is too loud in its silence. Everything is too bright in the dark. Every nerve sings but he can’t feel a thing. It’s too much. It’s nothing at all.
Years pass in the span of a breath.
***
Stiles stumbles back a step as he lands in-well- himself. His body aches. Deep breaths shoot sparks of pain down his side but they don’t feel broken. A van is driving away and he’s in some back alley he could never forget.
At least he didn’t have to relive this entire night, Stiles internally grumbles. This wasn’t as far back as he wanted. This wasn’t when he was supposed to be. Peter isn’t the alpha anymore. He can’t help him the way he had planned.
Stiles punches the wall in frustration, jostling his ribs and making him whine. He falls to his knees, cradling his chest as he looks inside himself for the spark he knows he has. It takes longer than he’s used to. This body isn’t as accustomed to magic yet, has only ever used it once with the ash. When he does, he latches onto it and feeds it with as much will as he can. It’s all too eager to grow, to heal him. Stiles takes a deep breath and sighs in relief.
He stands up and thinks back to what he did the first time. He could skip lying to his dad and get Lydia again. His jeep is still at the school though. Then again, he’s not weak like he was. His magic is powered by his own will. He could probably turn Jackson human if he liked or make him turn on his master. Stiles grins. Yes, that would work. He doesn’t particularly like controlling someone like that, but it’s hardly like he’s stealing Jackson’s will from Jackson, now is it.
But there’s still the question of how he’s going to get there.
A quick scan of the alley reveals a bike that’s definitely seen better days. Stiles runs a hand down it and smiles as it rumbles to life. He thinks back to everything going on right now and decides to pass on talking to his dad. He’ll worry but ultimately survive. The same can’t be said for Derek’s puppies.
To save Derek’s pack is to save Derek. Stiles mounts the bike and speeds out of the alley and towards the preserve.
***
He almost doesn’t make it. Luckily, the puppies weren’t taken that far into the preserve and the alpha pack actually radiates power now that Stiles knows how to look for it. Stiles silences the motorcycle along with himself. He muffles his scent and sticks to the shadows as he follows them to the bank. It doesn’t take long. Stiles parks his bike nearby and doesn’t bother to mask his entrance. The puppies are bleeding and unconscious on the floor, the safe still locked. All five alphas stand surrounding them, growling at him. He takes a look around before focusing on them.
They are all frozen. Stiles knows they can’t so much as turn their heads, and so they won’t. Stiles walks up to them and then ignores them entirely. He ignores the puppies as well. He keeps walking until the safe is unlocking before him. Cora is lunging before the door is completely open. Stiles plants his feet to the ground and acts as a human shield to the rest of the world. She crashes into him, cursing and clawing at him. He throws her to the ground, panting “I’m not your enemy!”
He turns his back on her, facing the alpha pack once more. He thinks this would be the time to say something, but he can’t think of anything worth the energy so he settles for sucking out all the air out of their lungs until they all drop to the floor. He can feel their power sink into the ground and head towards the preserve.
Cora doesn’t say anything, but she does stop growling at him so he turns his attention to the puppies instead. He can feel her eyes on him as he wakes them up. They’re a little worse for ware, but he fixes up the worst of their injuries.
“Stiles?” Erica asks, staring at the bodies like she can’t believe they’re real. Or maybe she doesn’t want it to be real. Stiles sighs internally. These poor kids should have never gotten involved in all this. Derek should never have involved them. But, they’re Derek’s pack and he loves them so Stiles will save them this once.
“Let’s go. Your alpha is worried about you, even if the idiot won’t admit it.” He leaves and they follow. It isn’t until he’s about to mount his bike that he realizes they don’t have enough bike for them all. He looks around and finds a car the alpha pack must have been using and nods to himself. He walks over to it and brings it to life the same way he did the bike. “Who here can drive?”
Boyd grunts and takes the driver’s seat. Erica follows after him.
“Follow me. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Cora follows him, to his surprise. He doesn’t even notice until she’s sitting behind him on his bike. He starts driving anyway. Erica and Boyd do follow him and they make it to the Hale house just in time to interrupt Derek and Peter from leaving.
Stiles isn’t even done parking before Cora is hopping off the bike and barreling into a dumbfounded Derek on the porch. Peter is just as affected. You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, but Stiles knows him like he knows himself.
Stiles has been staring long enough to get Peter’s attention and that’s not what he needs right now so he snaps out of it. Erica and Boyd are huddled by the car and Stiles really does sigh this time.
Dismounting his bike, he says “Cora can explain later. Right now, we have Jackson to save and Gerard to deal with and if we want to get both done tonight I suggest we leave now.”
Everyone is staring at him now. Even Isaac has creeped out of his hidey hole.
“Jackson can’t be saved,” Derek says because he’s the epitome of useful right now.
Stiles rolls his eyes, “Don’t talk to me like I’m Scott. I’m not going to save him with good intentions alone. Just. Just trust me, alright?”
After a moment, Derek nods and Stiles smiles.
“Alright. Now come here. I want to do something.”
Stiles walks over to Derek before he can move. He takes his hand and pulls him out of Cora’s arms and into his own so that he can grip the nape of his neck and focus. It’s not as easy as it used to be but he believes it will work and it does. All of Derek’s veins turn bright gold before fading to normal. Stiles steps back, “You’ll thank me for that by the end of the night.”
Derek is still staring at his arms when Stiles mounts his bike.
“Are we going?”
Peter chuckles and makes his way down the steps and to his bike. He settles behind him and asks, “No helmet?”
Stiles rolls his eyes.
Derek and the rest follow in the car.
***
Everything is going mostly the same as it did the first time around. Cora and Derek’s puppies are hanging back with him and Peter. Derek is staring Gerard down and Scott is waiting for the kanima to paralyze Derek.
Becoming Jackson’s master through sheer force of will is not as easy as it sounds. Stiles is a very willful person. He knows how his magic works and he knows he just has to believe he can and he will.
He also has a hard time believing he can do something before he’s actually done it at least once.
He’s never done something like this before.
The kanima cuts Derek. He falls to his knees in shock and pretends to be paralyzed. Stiles smirks before locking eyes with the kanima. They both freeze. Gerard starts barking orders at him but Stiles is too busy wrestling for control to notice. It isn’t Gerard he’s fighting so much as the kanima’s instincts. It feels like hours until Stiles can feel the leash being transferred over but when he zones back in Scott is holding Derek down and Gerard is rolling up his sleeve.
“Kill him.”
The wolves still near him all turn at the whisper. They are quick to turn back to the kanima as he hisses at Gerard before lunging, knocking Scott and Derek down.
Gerard’s death is quick and thorough. Something eases in him at the sight and Stiles smiles. Peter is grinning something wicked.
The kanima turns towards Scott.
Stiles’ eyes widen and, before he can fully process what’s about to happen, he’s on his feet and yelling “No!”
Everyone’s staring at him now. The kanima freezes but doesn’t look away from Scott, his tail swinging to and fro.
Stiles exhales, closes his eyes, and focuses on the leash he has on him. He imagines holding it in his hand and he just let’s go.
He feels the connection dissolve and when he opens his eyes it’s to a naked Jackson shivering in the middle of the warehouse.
That’s the last of Derek’s betas, Stiles thinks.
“You’ve got a good alpha, right Cora?”
Cora nods. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Derek needs someone to teach him how to lead. I won’t be here to save his pack again.”
***
His dad is yelling furiously into his phone when Stiles closes the front door behind him. It’s immediately forgotten once he’s noticed and enveloped in his dad’s arms.
Stiles…hasn’t hugged his dad in a long time. He thought he was mentally prepared for this. He is not.
Stiles hugs him back just as tightly, burying his face into his shoulder and breathing through the tears.
His dad pulls back, taking a good long look at him, and his face darkens, “Who did this to you?”
No one is on the tip of his tongue, but then he thinks to everything that happened to them because of all the lying and he deflates. “It’s taken care of. Can I tell you in the morning? It’s been a really long day and I feel like I’m about to drop.”
For a moment, he didn’t think he was going to let him go, but then he’s patting his shoulder and stepping aside and Stiles can’t help but hug him again before making his way upstairs.
Being in his old room is weird. The fact that Peter Hale is sitting on his bed is a welcome surprise though.
“So you’re going to tell him?” Peter sits up from where he’d been leaning against the wall.
“You’re not going to stop me.”
“Never said I was. Not that I’d be able to, now would I?”
“No. You wouldn’t, but I really wasn’t kidding about being exhausted.” Stiles kicks off his shoes and throws his overshirt in the general direction of his clothes pile. He can feel Peter staring as he changes into his sleep pants and falls onto the bed beside him, spreading out and around him. Peter moves only enough for Stiles to tug the blanket out from under him and is giving him an amused look when Stiles actually looks. “Stick around for breakfast. Sleep on the floor or the couch or wherever but I don’t want to have to hunt you down tomorrow.”
Peter doesn’t say anything, which is a surprise, but he does decide that ‘wherever’ means he has express permission to kick off his own shoes and climb under the covers with him. Stiles doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Peter is always pushing boundaries.
Stiles wants to turn around and curl into him like any other night. Instead, he remains silent and lets Peter get comfortable.
Sleep comes quickly.
***
Peter is gone when he wakes up, but the smell of Peter’s french toast is everywhere and Stiles grins. He stretches out, sighing when his back pops, before meeting his dad in the hallway. Stiles sees him first, adorably confused, but that confusion quickly turns serious when he sees him.
“Relax. I know who it is. They’re a friend and they’re here to help explain everything.”
His dad gives him his patented you’re-acting-weirder-than-normal-and-it’s-worrying-me-but-I-also-know-whatever-it-is-is-going-to-piss-me-off look. It’s a very distinct look.
He follows him down anyways. Peter is preparing the plates and managing to still look smug while doing it. Stiles rolls his eyes, making a beeline for the biggest plate and demolishing it. When he resurfaces, Peter is silently laughing at him while his dad is trying to focus on Peter but is just as amused.
Stiles swallows and glares at them both. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Peter says.
“And yet I’ve been promised the truth.” His dad looks to him expectantly and Stiles sighs.
“Yeah okay. Well, remember when I went looking for half a body?”
***
Stiles is just finishing getting dressed when Peter knocks on the open door.
“That went well, all things considered.”
“Are you surprised?”
“That the sheriff would leave me be? You didn’t exactly leave anything out.”
“I left plenty out. Come with me.”
“And where are we going exactly?” Peter falls into step behind Stiles.
Stiles mounts his bike. “First, we’re getting my jeep. Then, we’re going to take care of something before it’s too late,” Stiles tilts his head, “Make that two somethings.”
Peter shakes his head but it’s amused and he settles behind him without protest. “Right behind you.”
Stiles doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the bike once he’s got the jeep back and he’s left staring at it before he remembers something he saw in a movie and grins. He’s about to touch the bike when Peter rolls his eyes and mounts it.
“I’ll just follow you.”
“But the talking and the explanations.”
“We can’t do that when we get to wherever we’re going?”
“I’d rather not.”
Peter sighs, “Then what do you suggest we do?”
“Get up.”
Peter doesn’t move.
“Now. Up.” Stiles shoos him away and Peter moves before he can get hit in the face.
Once he’s off, Stiles runs his hand down the bike and grins as it starts to shrink. A minute later has it small enough for Stiles to pocket it and climb into the driver’s seat of his jeep. Peter follows him to the passenger’s seat and Stiles drives.
Driving Roscoe is another thing he thought he was mentally prepared for but is not. It’s all very nostalgic.
“Is part of this explanation going to be why you can suddenly preform feats of magic that shouldn’t be possible?”
“Yep” Stiles pops the ‘p’.
“And?”
“Baseline? Time travel is a thing…that I did.”
“Time. Travel.”
“Yeah. Wasn’t easy but my schedule wasn’t exactly full.”
“How old are you?”
“Around your age, I think. Wait, how old are you now?”
“30.”
“Ah, You’ve still got a few years on me then, but not by much.”
“And why, pray tell, would you come back to this particular moment?”
“The ritual fucked up is why. I was supposed to go farther.”
“How much farther?”
“Far enough that Scott would have never met you.”
Stiles parks. Peter keeps pace as they make the rest of the way on foot.
“Not you?”
Stiles looks to Peter and he reveals far too much when he says, “Not me.”
“You were the kanima’s master last night.”
“Yes.”
“It was going to kill Scott.”
“Get to the point Peter.”
Peter grabs Stiles’ wrist and pins him to the nearest tree. Stiles’ pulse doesn’t rise. Peter leans in closer, “What does Scotty dearest do?”
“He does a lot of things.”
“Yes, but what finally turned you away from him? What was so horrible that you would travel through time to prevent it?”
Peter’s got both his wrists pinned above him. They’re not quite touching and, finally, Stiles’ pulse starts to rise but not in fear. Never fear.
Stiles lets his arousal drown out the other scents of the preserve. He does nothing to hide how he is affected and the surprise on Peter’s face is something Stiles will treasure forever. He leans forward, his arms straining from the stretch, and his voice is stone-cold when he says, “He lets my future mate die. By an Argent no less. An Argent that he should have killed the first time around.” Stiles is seething by the time he’s done. Peter is so close that when he lets his wrists go Stiles is still held up between the tree and Peter’s thigh. Stiles leans on his shoulders and their foreheads rest together as Peter grips his hips.
“You will never be at his mercy. This town will never belong to him. This land will raise Hale blood and thrive and we will go home. We will go to where your pack began and we will rebuild together. Just as you wanted. What we wanted.”
Peter breathes out a laugh, “You certainly paint quite the picture, but I won’t be rebuilding anything like this and Derek is hardly fit for leadership.”
Stiles pushes Peter back enough to stand up and start walking again, “Derek is more competent than he appears. He only needs a little time. I have given him that time. As for you?” Stiles stops at the edge of the clearing. Peter freezes beside him as he feels the Nemeton’s presence.
“You will have the entire alpha pack’s power running through your veins.”
Peter steps forward, eyes hungry. Stiles blocks his path with an arm to the chest. “Not yet.”
Stiles kneels in front of the Nemeton and starts to dig. The dirt moves freely for him and before long he’s got a very familiar jar in his hands.
The nogistune is as angry as ever. The swarm of flies bats against its cage with renewed vigor and Stiles closes his eyes.
He knows his name. Of course he does, they were one and the same for a short time. All he has to do is focus and he’ll know that his name is, “Akira.”
The flies still.
“Let me in.”
Stiles slumps over, the jar still in hand.
Peter tries to rush forward but he can’t move. Whatever Stiles did, he can’t enter the clearing.
Everything is silent, as if the trees themselves are holding their breath in anticipation.
Wind blows through the clearing. Shivers run down Peter’s spine and Stiles moves. The jar falls to the ground with a thud and the flies pour out of the top, twisting and forming through the air and ultimately landing on the Nemeton silently.
Stiles looks up from where he remains on his knees and the fox sits calmly, swishing its ten tails as he stares.
“Przemysław.”
A slow, easy grin makes its home on Stiles’ face, “It’s been a long time.”
The fox doesn’t smile but its pleasure is palpable all the same, “Let’s make it a better one this time.”
“You know where we’ll be.”
The fox bares its teeth and it is the most delighted, violent smile Peter has ever seen on anyone.
In the next moment, the fox is gone.
“What…was that?”
“An old friend,” Stiles stands, “Welp, now that that’s done,” he beckons Peter over and, just like that, Peter can move again. Stiles takes hold of Peter’s hand and lays the other flat on the seat of the stump.
Stiles jerks as all his joints lock up as the power of countless packs runs through him and into Peter. The bones in his left hand groan. Peter falls to his knees, gasping.
When Stiles can process anything past the rush of pure, unadulterated power, there is no way to tell how much time has past. The sun sits high in the sky and the woods breathe.
Stiles lets gravity pull him down to the stump and Peter continues to gasp on all fours. His eyes glow bright. Dots mar Stiles’ vision when he stares into them for too long. His claws dig into the dirt as the muscles under his shirt bulge and recede. His gasps turn heavier as his teeth sharpen.
Slowly but surely, Peter’s body settles and his breathing evens out. He remains shifted, eyes closed and relaxed. He inhales once, exhales, and then he shifts.
His full shift is both bigger and smaller than it was before. He’s taller but his limbs are less distorted, more built for a quadruped. His fur is dark, thick, and has a gleam to it that is both alluring and terrifying. He’s leaner but there is no mistaking his strength. His tail is both fluffy and sharp. As he is, he meets the top of Stiles’ head.
He’s beautiful.
Peter’s eyes keep their glow but they are human all the same, power and intelligence and glee all blend together and escape in a howl that sends shivers through Stiles and every supernatural creature within the Hale borders. Stiles laughs and jumps up. Peter bends down on one knee in invitation. Stiles mounts him and holds on tight.
They run for hours, high on their freedom and they don’t stop until the sun is ready to set. Derek is waiting for them by the jeep, alone, like an idiot. Stiles is too high on endorphins to do much more than roll his eyes and dismount Peter. Peter sees Derek attempt to posture and snorts. He doesn’t bother to shift back, choosing instead to flop down on the ground by Stiles’ feet.
Stiles’ laughs when Peter rests his head on his feet.
Derek steps forward as if to attack. Stiles stops laughing. Roots break free from the ground and wrap themselves around Derek’s ankles. He stumbles, breaking one foot free, but that’s all the time Stiles needs to cross the gap and stand in between them. He faces Derek, cups one cheek, and asks, “Do you trust me?”
When Derek doesn’t react, Stiles locks eyes with him. He lets his irises glow and Derek’s react in turn.
“Do you trust me?”
Derek tries to nod but Stiles won’t accept that this time.
“Say it.”
“Yes. Yes, I trust you.”
Stiles smiles, “Thank you,” and then they both fall limp.
Peter is up like a shot, breaking their fall and lowering them all to the ground. When they finally stir, there is no obvious change in them, but Derek leaves soon after.
Peter noses at Stiles’ side where he still rests against him. Stiles bats him away before standing up.
“You going to shift back or are we opening up the back of the jeep because you might fit but it definitely won’t be comfortable.”
Peter shifts and it’s the smoothest full-shift Stiles has ever seen. Less breaking bones and more a fluid transition from four legs to two.
But then all thought is lost because Peter is gloriously naked and completely unashamed of it. He notices, because of course he does, smirking his way over to the passenger seat.
“You’re an ass,” Stiles says, putting the jeep in reverse.
“And an amazing one at that.”
Stiles rolls his eyes but he’s chuckling all the same.
Peter gets a blanket from the back when they get close enough to town. The rest of the drive passes in relative silence.
***
Stiles doesn’t bother to stick around for the rest of high school. It’s not like he’ll need a degree for the life he has planned. No, he sticks around long enough to see Cora’s alpha’s mother arrive and to watch her interact with Derek for a while. He sticks around long enough to explain everything to his dad. He sticks around long enough to get Peter’s identity back and his share of the Hale fortune. They show Derek the library and make digital copies of everything before Stiles prepares an empty wall for a door that’ll eventually lead to their new home. The darach never arrives, Heather’s birthday is much better than before, and by the time the new school year comes knocking Stiles is comfortable enough to leave Beacon Hills behind. In the end, his dad decides to stay with his sights set on Eichen house. They end up calling in sick and spending Stiles’ last week together.
Peter is waiting for him Monday morning in his new car that boasts wealth and never fails to make Stiles internally roll his eyes. He hugs his dad one last time and then he’s putting the last of his luggage into the backseat and then the sheriff is in their rearview mirror.
Stiles’ jeep has already been shipped along with everything Peter got from the vault and everything Stiles kept for sentiment’s sake. His bedroom is nearly untouched.
They arrive at the airport in time for lunch. The car is taken for transport and the only other person to know where they were is waiting by the doors with Arby’s.
Derek grins when they reach him and hands the food over. He’s really grown into himself over the summer and it shows. Stiles takes the food happily and heads inside to check in, leaving Peter behind for one last goodbye.
Stiles is just receiving their boarding passes when Peter returns. They eat after their cleared to board as they wait for their gate to open. The flight itself is uneventful. First class is quiet enough that Peter feels comfortable enough to take out his earplugs and a book. Stiles reclines his seat and spends the rest of the flight slipping in and out of sleep. At some point, Peter raises the armrest and Stiles curls into his side. Stiles doesn’t wake until they land.