Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Stiles saw Derek Hale in the woods for the first time in six years, his mouth went dry and his heart sped up alarmingly. Despite knowing that both Derek and Scott, if he really tried, could hear it, he tried to keep a calm exterior.

“Dude,” he hissed, swallowing hard, as he and Scott turned to leave. “Don’t you know who he was? That was Derek Hale. His whole family died in a fire, like six years ago.”

“How do you know that?” Scott gave him a weird look. “You’ve only lived here for a year.”

“As the Sheriff’s, uh, son,” he still stumbled over that sometimes, “it is my duty to research the town for past major incidents. This was like the biggest. They never caught who did it, you know.”

“Poor guy,” Scott craned his neck around to glimpse Derek Hale one more time but the broody werewolf - no, Stiles wasn’t supposed to know that yet, so broody man - was gone. “That must suck, losing your whole family like that. He must be really lonely.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, blinking rapidly and swallowing again. He stared at Scott for a long moment. “He must be.”

* * *

The moment Stiles was in the door, he went searching around the house for the Sheriff. He was in his study as usual.

“Hey, Uncle Dan?” he tapped lightly on the door.

Dan looked up, rubbing his tired eyes. “Hey, Stiles, come in. Is there something wrong, son?”

Stiles forced a laughed. “Um, kinda? Derek Hale’s back in town. And I’m also pretty sure Scott is werewolf. He was bitten by a rogue Alpha last night.”

“I thought we moved here to get away from all that?” Dan rested his elbows on the desk. Stiles moved further into the room.

“Partly. But this is Beacon Hills, remember? It’s not like this place is known to be supernaturally quiet or anything.”

“Does Derek remember?”

“Unconfirmed. I’m more concerned with the rogue Alpha that bit Scott.”

“I suppose there’s no point in asking you to stay out of this?” Dan asked. Stiles shook his head and Dan sighed. “Well, just be careful, son. I’m you’re guardian now. Your mother would haunt my ass if I let anything happen to you.”

A smile flitted across Stiles face but it didn’t last long. “She would want me to do this.”

“I know,” Dan nodded. “If you need my help, let me know.”

“Thanks,” Stiles whispered before turning and leaving.

* * *

“So tell me about this girl?” Stiles pressed the next day at the lockers.

“She’s really pretty,” Scott answered, his face taking on a dreamy expression as they started heading down the corridor towards their classroom. “Her hair is like this kind of chocolaty waterfall and it’s really shiny and glossy. And her eyes are like this kind of rich hazel, nearly chocolate brown color too. She’s so gorgeous.”

Stiles nodded, smiling at the fact his best friend was finally getting a girl.

“I’ll introduce you to her,” Scott perked up even more. “She knows Lydia. Maybe she can introduce the two of you.”

“Nah,” Stiles shrugged. “It’s cool. What’s this girl’s name anyway?”

“Allison Argent,” Scott answered with another dreamy grin. Stiles stopped short, his insides growing cold. “It’s really pretty and poetic sounding, don’t you think?” he continued, not noticing Stiles reaction.

“I have to go,” Stiles babbled, turning and running for the exit.

“Stiles?” Scott shouted after him. “We have a class now. Stiles, where are you going?” His shouts faded.

Stiles ran for his jeep, jumping into it and barely pausing to do up his seat belt before speeding out of the parking lot. He made it to the Sheriff’s station and crashed through, avoiding and ignoring anyone who tried to stop him. He barged into the Sheriff’s office and Dan looked up from his paperwork, surprised.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked suspiciously.

“We have bigger problems than that,” Stiles shrugged, shutting the door behind him. “The Argents are in town.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because there’s a new girl in my year called Allison Argent.”

“That’s too much of a coincidence to be one, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Stiles flopped down into one of the free chairs. “And it gets worse. Scott’s besotted with her.”

Dan blinked. Stiles sighed.

“Scott’s a werewolf. Allison is a werewolf hunter. A werewolf obsessed with a werewolf hunter never ends well.” Stiles had never told anyone about the suspicions he had shared with his mother of who had started the Hale fire. But he still felt, generally speaking, it would end badly for anyone.

“I thought the Argents had a treaty with the Hales?”

“What Hales?” Stiles snorted, slouching a little. “ And the operative word in that sentence is had.”

Dan leaned back. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know. We could warn Derek but then we’d have to go into the whole mess of how we know what we know. And it would be even messier with Scott. Neither of us want that to happen.”

Dan made a noise of agreement. “Is there anyone else we could go to?”

“Who? Peter’s in a coma. Laura’s dead.”

“Deaton?”

“No, I’d…rather keep Deaton out of it for now.”

Dan nodded.

“I don’t know what to do,” Stiles whined.

“Son, maybe you should just sit back and let the events of this one play out,” his uncle suggested gently.

“I can’t,” Stiles shook his head. “The Argents are here, Laura’s dead, Derek’s back, there’s a rogue Alpha running around and my best friend is a werewolf. I’m already too involved to step away now.”

“Well…just be careful,” Dan advised.

“Always am,” Stiles answering smile was fleeting and strained.

* * *

Do you know that feeling when it’s like your insides are freezing up?

Stiles did. Only too well. It had started happening a lot recently. Learning that Scott might possibly be a werewolf. Seeing Derek in the woods. Hearing that the Argents had moved back to town. Hearing Chris Argent had shot at Scott. Scott threatening him. Learning that Derek was being arrested for murder. Watching Scott dig up the top half of Laura’s body (Stiles had had to turn away, so he wouldn’t cry or be sick in front of Scott).

He’d told his uncle about that last one, of course, and Dan had gotten a couple of beers for them and shoved in an old family movie, and they’d curled up on the sofa to watch it, and if Stiles clung to his uncle a little tighter and sobbed a little into his chest, well, no one needed to know.

* * *

Stiles tossed and turned in his bed. He gripped the sheets tightly in his fists and sweat beaded on his forehead.

“No…no,” he murmured. “Stop…stop hurting them…no.”

He started to tremble in his sleep. One of his arms thrashed violently, knocking his lamp to the ground. At the crash, he awoke with a terror-stricken scream that had his uncle bursting into his room. Stiles curled up into a ball, shaking and sweating and sobbing uncontrollably. His uncle pulled him into a tight hug, stroking his back, whispering reassurances. Stiles clutched at him, pulling him closer, turning his face into the crook of his neck, crying quietly.

It took a long time for either of them to get back to sleep that night.

* * *

Stiles panicked. Kate Argent was back in town. And she had shot Derek. With a wolfsbane bullet. Which Scott needed to get and bring to him so he could - no, so Derek could burn the wolfsbane and put the ash in his wound. Stiles wouldn’t be touching it, he hadn’t in a long time.

“The Argents did this?” he clarified for the fifth time.

“Yes,” Derek snarled through his pain. “Kate Argent specifically.”

Stiles hoped they would both ignore the flinch and the spike in his emotions at that name. “How long do you have?”

“Not much longer,” Derek grunted. “You may have to cut my arm off so I can survive if I don’t get the bullet soon.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles paled. He wasn’t sick at the sight of blood but for a long time, he had hated the sight of a sliced up body. He wouldn’t cut Derek’s arm off for all the money in the world if he had a choice.

“Are you seriously going to tell me the look of blood makes you ill?”

“Something like that,” Stiles murmured before snapping back to his normal personality. “But there is no way I’m going to cut your arm off.”

Derek wobbled on his feet and Stiles moved forward as if to help him.

“If you don’t want me to die, then you’ll have to cut my arm off.”

Stiles glanced around. “Fine. Where’s the tool for it?”

Derek stared at him, surprise bursting onto his face before it was speedily reeled in. “The bone saw. But I’m not a doctor.”

Stiles grabbed the tool. “I can do this.” He shook memories of dismembered limbs from his mind and focused on Derek’s arm. He ignored the tears welling up in his eyes. “I can do this.”

Scott burst in. “I’ve got the bullet.”

Derek collapsed.

Later, Stiles would talk to his uncle about the return of Kate Argent. He wouldn’t voice his suspicions about the Hale fire but he would tell of how he felt in the vet’s office, how he felt weak because he couldn’t help Derek, how he couldn’t even touch the bullet because he didn’t feel strong enough, how he’d almost cut off an arm today, and his uncle would grab a couple of beers and stick in an old family movie, and they would curl up on the sofa to watch it, Stiles clinging to his uncle, seeking the reassurance only a family member could give.

Later, Stiles would curl up in the back of his closet and just let the panic attack come. He would bury his head in his arms, and squeeze his eyes shut and fight to get air into his lungs. He would let himself cry and he would let himself panic and he would let the images flash in his eyes. He would feel the band tighten and tighten and he would hear voices screaming in is head. At some point, he would hear the voices fade to just one, a steady voice, reading to him. He would recognize it as his uncle’s and he would focus on it until he could understand the words of The Hobbit being read to him. He would listen to the story and the band in his chest would loosen until he could breathe and then he would thank his uncle and get out of the closet.

Later Stiles would thrash in his sleep and cry, and awake with a horrible scream, that had his uncle running in and pulling him into a tight hug and Stiles would cry onto his shoulder, whispering about his nightmare and Dan would tell him that he understood and they would rock back and forth for a while before Dan had to return to his bed to get some decent sleep before work. Stiles never fell back asleep.

* * *

Stiles felt fully justified in being mad at Scott over his uncle being hit by a car at the parent teacher conference evening. His uncle was incredibly important to him and he would protect the man with his life. Stiles thought Scott understood this. But instead, Scott chose to protect a fucking Argent instead of his uncle. For this, Stiles felt truly right in hating Scott a little bit for a while.

But even Stiles couldn’t hold this particular grudge for long. Soon he was helping Scott again and he knew Allison was Scott’s anchor, even without proving it.

The first time Stiles went to Deaton’s since returning was when Derek attacked the veterinarian in his office while suspicious that the man was really the Alpha. Stiles was torn on who to defend: Scott, his best friend; Deaton, his ex-mentor; or Derek, the man he wanted to protect.

Stiles was hesitant to bring the Alpha to the school. He felt strongly that it wasn’t Deaton, but that meant none of them knew who the rogue werewolf was and that was much more dangerous.

Not that he had much time to worry about such things, when the Alpha’s claws were tearing into Derek and Derek was bleeding badly and Stiles and Scott had to run for the school, leaving a severely-injured-and-possibly-dead Derek behind. Oh, and there it was again.

That cold sinking feeling.

* * *

After escaping the school, Stiles nightmares were haunted by the sight of the Alpha tearing Derek apart. The image slowly merged with his usual nightmares of his mother and father that had him yelling in his sleep.

He lashed out when he awoke, after being shaken from his nightmares, ad hit something solid that swore. Stiles blinked stunned, before bursting into sobs when he realized he’d just punched his uncle. Dan pulled him into a hug, as usual, whispering that it wasn’t his fault, and that he didn’t need to be sorry.

Stiles took a while to calm down that night.

* * *

The overwhelming guilt that Stiles felt over throwing Derek under the bus about the murders and making him a wanted fugitive was close to something he’d felt only once before. And this time, when he spoke to his uncle, he held back on talking about his feelings, brushing off the questions. He knew he stank of guilt though, Scott had been wrinkling his nose at Stiles ever since the night at the school, saying there was a horrible sour kind of smell clinging to him. Stiles shrugged, saying he went for showers, and cleaned his clothes consistently. Scott dropped the questions but kept wrinkling his nose whenever he was within smelling distance of Stiles, which Stiles strangely found incredibly offensive. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t control his scent. The weird thing is, he used to be able to do that exact thing, until he gave it up.

* * *

“It’s not my fault I’m the most wanted fugitive in the state,” Derek snarled as Scott speeded away. Instantly, Stiles felt his remorse flare up. “Jeez, stop stinking up my car with your damn guilt.”

“Who, me?” Scott answered in surprise. “That’s not me. I distinctly don’t feel that guilty right now.”

They both looked at Stiles, the only other candidate for the foul smell in the car. He stared right back.

“What have you got to be guilty about?” Derek half-sneered, turning back. “It’s not like you care.”

Stiles stared at the back of Derek’s head, suddenly feeling kind of hurt. “Scott, pull up ahead and let me out.”

“What?” Scott glanced at him, rounding a corner. “No, there are hunters about, Stiles, they could hurt you.”

“Scott, I’m a sixteen year old boy, what are they going to do?” Stiles snapped tightly. “Now pull up and let me out.”

“What about your dad?” Scott asked worriedly, doing as asked. Sties scrambled out the car.

“Leave him to me,” he muttered. “See you later.”

Scott stood and stared as Stiles started walking down the road then cut down into an alley, disappearing into the darkness. Scott climbed back into the car.

“What was all that?” Derek asked, disdainfully.

Scott shrugged but he was eyeing Derek edgily. “I don’t know. He’s been acting a little weird lately. Anyway, do you have somewhere you can lay low that’s not your house?”

“Maybe,” Derek muttered. “Drive to your house first. I can drive to my place from there.”

Scott complied, speeding away into the night.

* * *

Stiles dropped his bag on the floor as he slid into his computer chair and switched on his laptop in one movement.

“Stiles,” Dan yelled up the stairs.

“Yo, uh, Da-Derek!” he stuttered as he spun around on his chair and spotted Derek standing ominously behind the door. Derek jabbed in the direction of the door and the hallway, where the Sheriff could be heard climbing the stairs. Stiles launched for the door, pulling it closed behind him as he met his uncle outside his room.

“Hey, uh, Dad,” Stiles tried to convey that Derek was in his room without Derek himself understanding.

Dan nodded. “I just came up to tell you how proud I am that you’re finally getting to be in a lacrosse game.”

“I’m proud too,” Stiles agreed emphatically. “Of myself.”

Behind the door, Derek rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Dan clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to your homework. No messing around, okay, son?”

“Yes, Dad,” Stiles faked rolling his eyes and they shared a grin before the Sheriff headed downstairs. He was still smiling when he went back inside his room. Derek slammed him against the door.

“If you say one word…” he threatened.

“Oh, what, like ‘hey, dad, Derek Hale’s in my room, bring your gun’?” Stiles asked, trying to convey a false bravado, even though he would never sell Derek out, and even if Uncle Dan did discover him, he certainly wouldn’t shoot him.

Derek released him, scenting the air subtly. “You’re not scared.”

“Of what?” Stiles snorted, moving back to his desk. “You? You’d think but then again you’re not that scary. Especially since I’ve seen you at your worst.”

“Really?” Derek sounded both mistrustful and curious. Stiles, his back to Derek, cursed silently.

“Yeah, I mean, remember when Kate Argent shot you?” he thought quickly. “You were pretty bad then, in case you hadn’t noticed. Like this amount of growliness seems to be a normal day for you.”

Derek heard his heart stutter, the same way his heart stuttered every time he called the sheriff Dad.

“You’re lying,” he pointed out.

“Do you want my help or not?” Stiles spun to face him. Derek hesitated then nodded. “Then just drop it, okay?”

Derek nodded again, his face deepening into a scowl, trying to deny that he was intrigued by this friend of Scott’s and the secrets he appeared to be keeping.

“Scott’s going to try and get the necklace from Allison Argent but it will be harder than it sounds because they’re no longer together, thanks to the night at the school with the Alpha.”

“Good,” Derek snapped in reply. “Argents can’t be trusted. He was in danger from the moment he met her.”

“Agreed,” Stiles murmured.

“What?”

“The thing is, that necklace is pretty much our only clue,” Stiles cleared his throat, like he hadn’t said anything. “Except for the text that Allison received from Scott that night.”

“What about it?”

“Well, Scott didn’t send a text that night. He wouldn’t. He’s besotted with the fucking girl…” Stiles kicked a chair before remembering who he was talking to and regaining his composure. Derek was looking at him like he was crazy, which he probably was, considering. “Anyway, Allison received a text from Scott that Scott didn’t send. Which begs the question…”

“Who sent the text,” Derek finished.

“I had an idea that it might have been related to the Alpha. It’s too coincidental for Allison to receive a text from Scott, asking her to meet him at the school, on the same night he summons the Alpha there for it to be an actual coincidence. So I was thinking we could hack into his phone messages and track the text to the sender, which might point us in the direction of who the Alpha is.”

“How do we do that?” Derek grunted out, following Stiles’ line of thoughts pretty easily.

“I’m calling in a favor,” Stiles grabbed his phone and fired off a quick text. “You’re going to have to play nice. Chances are the guy won’t recognize you.”

“And what if he does?”

“He won’t, trust me.”

Derek answered that with a skeptical snort, at which Stiles rolled his eyes.

* * *

“You’re not going to make your game, you know,” Derek told him, looking at Stiles with a new form of respect.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles sighed. “I think Dad will understand though.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at the stutter of his heartbeat. Stiles took a deep breath and shook his arms out.

“All this werewolf business,” he muttered. “What if I wanted a nice, calm life this time around?”

“You’re the one who dragged Scott into the woods.”

Stiles glared at him then reached for the door.

“One more thing,” Derek said

Stiles paused and Derek took the opportunity to slam his head in the Jeep’s steering wheel. Stiles let out a squawk of surprise and pain.

“What the hell was that for, dude?” he clutched his face.

“You know what that was for,” Derek answered. He gestured out the window. “Go. GO!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles muttered, scrambling out of his car. “Fucker.”

“I can still hear you,” Derek snapped through the window and Stiles flipped him off as he approached the hospital entrance.

Stiles walked slowly along the corridor, making sure there was no-one to catch him and also because he hadn’t been here in so long, he wasn’t sure what he was going to find. The last time had been about a month after he’d moved here: he’d sneaked in, just wanting to see Peter briefly, before leaving again.

“Come on, man up,” he hissed. “Derek needs you.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed Derek, who’d passed his number along after some wheedling by Stiles.

“There’s no one here,” he said the minute Derek picked up.

“Jennifer should be there,” Derek snapped in reply. “She’s a nurse, long reddish hair.”

Stiles took a deep breath outside of Peter Hale’s room and pushed open the door. The room was empty.

“No, there’s no one here.”

“What do you mean? Jennifer should be there. She’s my uncle’s nurse…”

Stiles’ breath hitched as he looked at Derek’s uncle’s bed. “Yeah, well…he’s not here either.”

“What?” Derek breathed. “Oh God, Stiles, get out of there. He’s the Alpha, Stiles, get the hell out of there.”

“No, he can’t be,” Stiles defended the man. “He’s your uncle…”

Stiles stepped back from the door, his breath coming fast. He’d suddenly, so suddenly, put it together in his head. Laura was the Alpha. You’d have to kill her to become an Alpha. Peter had killed Laura…Peter had killed Laura.

He spun around, needing to breath, to cry, to throw up but everything stopped when, lounging against the wall in front of him, he saw…Peter Hale.

Who was staring at him with an expression filled with a dreadful remorse.

“You killed Laura,” he whispered.

“I had to,” Peter took a step forward, but Stiles backed away, the phone slipping from his grasp and smashing on the tiled floor.

“You killed her,” he repeated. “You hurt Derek!”

“Stiles,” Peter reached towards him, but Stiles spun away, looking for an escape. But Peter’s nurse - Jennifer - was there, stopping him from running in that direction. He panicked.

“Am I next? Oh God, I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

Jennifer began to move in on him, a horrible smile on her face, and he sank to the ground, struggling to breath. “I’m going to die…”

It took a minute for the snarling to break through his panic and for him to realize that the red stuff at the edge of vision was Jennifer’s blood, slowly pooling on the floor, moving towards him. That made it worse. He buried his head in his arms, trying to focus on the darkness but all he could hear was ‘Peter killed Laura’ echoing around his head, and underneath that, horrible vicious snarling, and all he could see was the blood, and he couldn’t breathe for the pain building in his chest…

And someone touched his arm and he jumped so hard his head bounced against the wall, and, thankfully, the spark of pain cut through his mind, chasing away the bad sounds and images and voices and memories, the band on his chest loosening.

It took a second to register that the snarling had stopped and another to realize it was Derek crouched in front of him, looking vaguely concerned.

Somehow, that helped to calm him and a few minutes later, he could breathe easy enough to start to pull himself to his feet.

“Are you okay?” Derek grunted, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I will be,” Stiles nodded, wheezing just a little. “Where’s Peter?”

“Gone,” Derek answered, glancing around for the Alpha. “He disappeared a few minutes ago.”

Stiles couldn’t help but hope that his near panic attack had gotten Peter to stop for a second and think. He’d had panic attacks in front of Peter before, but they had happened in the time prior to the fire. Although, a few of the times he’d visited since, he had broken down and just let the panic surge forward. Maybe Peter had heard him all these years and the one he’d almost just had had snapped him out of whatever state of mind he was in long enough to make a run for it.

“Come on, we should get out of here before he returns,” Stiles made an effort to move towards the elevators.

Derek hesitated behind him for a moment, as if waiting for Peter to jump out again before hurrying after him. They walked in silence.

“Panic attack?” Derek asked at one point.

“Almost,” Stiles shrugged. He didn’t push to know how Derek had known that. Other people were allowed panic attacks too. Derek nodded and they went back to the silence.

“We need to warn Scott,” Stiles suggested when they reached his Jeep. “He’ll still be at the school but the game should be finished by now.”

Derek just nodded again and climbed into the Jeep. He was still a little shaken up over the revelation that his uncle, Peter, had been the one to kill his sister. They were flesh and blood, yet Peter had taken her life, probably without a second thought. And Stiles…Stiles looked as pale as he felt, he noticed. Although that could have been because of the near panic attack. Of course, of the two people to be involved in the supernatural business, one had to have asthma and fall for an Argent while the other had panic attacks and some strange secret. Of course they had to be weird.

Stiles pulled up to the school. His breathing was under control and he was no longer trembling but he couldn’t slow his heart, no matter how hard he tried. He guessed that was just the side effect of a night like this one had been.

Derek sniffed the air. “Scott’s still here. But…he wasn’t alone.”

Stiles was out of the jeep and racing towards the school before Derek could notice and, even when he did, he was a little too surprised to go after immediately.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled, crashing into the locker room. “Scott, the Alpha, it’s-”

“Peter Hale,” Scott finished forlornly from behind him, wrapped in just a towel. “I know. He was just here.”

* * *

According to Scott, Peter had smelt a little fear when talking to him. He’d also seemed a little shifty. Stiles narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t blame the man. After all, when Stiles got his hands on him…

“He wanted me to join him,” Scott explained. “He said he needed to be stronger and the only way that would happen would be if he had a pack to support him, which was where I came in.”

“What about the claw marks on your neck?” Derek asked. Stiles glanced at Scott’s neck, surprised at himself for missing the marks.

“He did something, I don’t know what,” Scott reached up to touch them. “He wanted me to see his side of the story then he stuck his claws in.”

“What did you see?” Stiles asked.

“Fire,” Scott answered hesitantly, looking at Derek. “He was in the basement when your house was burning down. There were people screaming…”

Stiles swallowed back his grief. He had no right when this was Derek’s family and he seemed to be handling it.

“He left a few minutes before you arrived,” Scott continued after a brief pause. “He seemed angry but also guilty or something. I couldn’t be sure.”

“He probably heard us coming,” Stiles muttered, thinking hard. Was he mad at Peter? Yes. But maybe he was just mad in a kind of general way. The man had killed his niece and attempted to kill his nephew but Stiles didn’t really have the heart to push him away. Or did he?

“I’m going to find him,” Derek snapped Stiles out his thoughts. “Keep an eye out for him.”

“Be careful,” Stiles called as Derek left.

* * *

Later, Stiles’ uncle would be out working a night shift when he got home.

That night, Stiles was left to thrash through his nightmares on his own, left to wake with a blood-curdling yell on his own, left to sob his way into a panic attack on his own, left to find a way to breathe again on his own, left to cry his nightmare and panic attack away on his own in a cold dark bedroom, his anguish only known to Derek outside, who’d stopped by to check up on the kid he was so not intrigued with, only to find him screaming himself awake. Derek had waited to see if Stiles was okay, only to hear him start to hyperventilate. Around ten, maybe fifteen, minutes later, when there had been nothing other than the sound of Stiles ragged, heavy breaths, Derek had moved to go help him, only to hear him start to methodically bang his head against his headboard. Some more minutes later, Stiles had started to calm and had just started crying normally. At that point, Derek had decided to leave him in private, deeming him okay as his heart had returned to a bit more of a normal pace.

* * *

“Stiles,” Dan called. “I’ve reopened the Hale fire case.”

Stiles pulled his head out of the fridge to look at his uncle. “Oh?”

“I know you and your mother always had your suspicions about the fire, she told us that much,” Dan shuffled some papers on the desk. “With Derek back in town, I decided to see if I could reopen the case.”

“Have you found something?” Stiles opened the fresh orange juice. He wandered over and sat in the chair opposite his uncle. “Because me and Mom could never prove our theories, that’s partly why we kept them to ourselves.”

“Maybe,” the Sheriff answered, pushing a couple of papers across the desk. “Do you remember the bus driver who was attacked by Peter a few weeks ago?”

Stiles had returned home the night of the hospital and updated his uncle on what was going on. His uncle had offered the beers and the old family video again but Stiles had refused this time, just wanting to go and sleep. Dan had settled for pulling the young man into a bear hug before sending him to bed with a hot drink.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, in answer to Dan’s question. “What about him?”

“Turns out he was an inspector,” the older man explained. “Inspected the Hale house after it burned down. Was fired for fraud.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, slowly, beginning to understand.

“He wasn’t the only one,” the Sheriff continued. “A woman, who investigated the fire. She was killed too. And a fireman on duty that night. And, of course, the hunter who works for the Argents. Or at least he did, before he was killed.”

“A pattern,” Stiles said slowly. “They were all connected to the fire. I can guess they all had something to do with it burning down.”

“Or the investigation,” Dan nodded in agreement. “Which doesn’t quite justify his actions, I know-”

“But it puts them in a better light” Stiles finished. “Yeah, I agree. But what do we do with this information? There’s no way to prove they had anything to do with it anymore. And it doesn’t change the fact that they were murdered.”

“We know they were murdered,” the Sheriff gathered up the papers. “The rest of the town just thinks that it is animal attacks. So we don’t do anything, except look at Peter’s actions a little differently”

Stiles nodded, leaning back in his seat and drinking his OJ. The Sheriff turned to look at another case.

* * *

The cold feeling returned before too long. Except this time he frozen inside and out at Scott’s words.

“Stiles?” Scott asked worriedly.

“The Argents have Derek?” he repeated for the second time, trying to make sure he’d heard right. “Chris Argent and Victoria Argent and Allison a-and…and Kate Argent have Derek Hale.”

“Yes,” Scott answered patiently. “Is everything okay?”

“I need to go,” Stiles made for the door. Scott tried to go after him but Deaton stopped him.

“You’re healing, Scott, just let him go.”

Stiles broke out into the fresh night air. He turned as if to go to the Argents but then changed his mind and ran in the other direction: towards the cemetery.

He avoided the right hand side and made for the Hale memorial stones on the left side. He gently maneuvered through the stones until he could crouch in front of Talia Hale’s, Derek’s mother.

“Hey, Mrs Hale,” he greeted softly. “I’m sorry for not stopping by in a while and for not bringing flowers today. And I’m sorry about losing Derek. I promise I’ll find him. I won’t, I won’t let Kate Argent hurt him anymore.”

He brushed off some fallen dead leaves, leaning back to look at Talia’s stone fully. “I promise.”

“Kate Argent has Derek?” a new voice said. Stiles swung around to see Peter half-hidden by the shadows. He stepped forward cautiously.

“Peter,” Stiles said, a little relieved to see him looking so well. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t really have anywhere else to be,” Peter shrugged. “What were you saying about Derek and Kate?”

“She shot at him and Scott, then took Derek,” Stiles explained. “I’m not sure where and, to be honest, I don’t know where to start looking.”

“You look tired, Stiles,” Peter sounded concerned. “Maybe you should go home and get some sleep. I’ll look for him.”

“I don’t trust you right now, okay?” Stiles clarified. “The only reason I’m agreeing to that is because I don’t really have another option. I’m not going to forgive you either. You don’t deserve that.”

Peter looked as if he had expected that.

“But if you help me find Derek,” Stiles continued, “I might start to think about forgiving you.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll come and find you if I get anything.”

“You better,” Stiles warned. “I’ll probably be at the school. It’s a weekday and there’s a dance later on.”

* * *

Stiles, for the first night in a while, didn’t have any nightmares. Instead, he awoke feeling frozen and cold, despite curled up under an old, thick blanket.

* * *

Stiles honest-to-God hated Peter in that moment.

He raced across the lacrosse field, towards the fallen and bloodied body of Lydia, his date to the dance. Peter stood over her, his mouth shiny with red liquid. His eyes were heavy and sad, and his face was filled with guilt and panic. But Stiles couldn’t care less how he looked.

“What have you done?!” he shouted sliding onto his knees next to Lydia. He brushed her hair back from her face and searched for a pulse.

“She’s still alive,” Peter murmured hoarsely. Stiles could feel Lydia’s heart pulsing faintly under his fingers.

“Barely,” Stiles snapped, all of a sudden beginning to panic. “I need to call Jackson. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Peter answered, honestly. Stiles glared and with fumbling fingers, hit call on Jackson’s number.

Stiles left the school in his Jeep, Peter in his passenger seat.

“We need to find a way to track Derek,” he decided. “Scott says he has his phone, we should start there.”

“You still want to help me?” Peter asked.

“I’m helping Derek, not you.”

Peter nodded and settled back in his seat.

* * *

Scott was on his way to find Derek, after leaving the dance, when Derek found him instead.

“I thought the Argents had you?” he stopped as Derek stumbled onto his path.

“They did. Peter appeared, and helped me. Then disappeared.”

“How did he know where you were?” Scott took on a skeptical expression. “I didn’t even know where you were, I was trying to find your scent.”

“He didn’t tell me, just said something about a friend.”

“Allison knows that I’m a werewolf now,” Scott changed the subject, mournfully. “Also, Lydia is in hospital and I can’t get a hold of Stiles.”

“Who’s Lydia?” Derek asked, confused.

“Oh, right, she’s a girl in my year. She was found on the lacrosse field with animal bites all over her body.”

“Peter?”

“I think so. Stiles was her date but I don’t know where he is. I wouldn’t tell you that unless I was really worried. Lately, nothing seems like just a coincidence.”

“So Stiles is missing?”

“Yeah,” Scott fingered his tie, loosening it. “But I guess you’re more interested in Peter right now. We should go find him.”

* * *

Stiles whispered a quick apology to the Hales for what he was about to do, then took a deep breath and lobbed the Molotov cocktail in his hand. Allison fired an arrow and Peter let out a roar as his arm lit on fire. Jackson hesitated but, at prompting from Stiles, he tossed his own and Peter howled as he fully went up in flames. Stiles flinched as he stumbled about, trying to put himself out, but it was too late. He sank to the ground, nothing more than burnt corpse, letting out rasping little breaths every now and then.

Derek stood over him, forgetting about everyone else. Scott ran forward to stop him, wanting the cure, but Derek slashed Peter’s throat and became the Alpha. Stiles knew the cure wouldn’t work anyway, it was just an old wives’ tale.

“I’m the Alpha now,” Derek snarled at Scott. “Now get off my property.”

Scott gaped at him. “But-but what about the cure?”

“Not real,” Stiles answered. They both looked at him. “What, I did look it up, you know.”

Jackson scrambled back to his Porsche while Chris and Allison disappeared into the trees, of course, leaving Kate’s body in the Hale house, where Derek was left to live. On his own.

Speaking of which, Stiles noticed it was just him and Scott, in a stare-off with Derek, left. Stiles cleared his throat, drawing both of their attentions.

“Come on, Scott, don’t be an ass about this,” he appealed. “The cure wouldn’t have worked, you’d just have ended up as an Alpha. And better Derek than you for that job.”

“Whose side are you on?” Scott asked, almost hurt. “The cure could have been real, except now we’ll never know.”

“I’m on my side and it’s a very realistic side. Maybe you should join it.”

“He’s right,” Derek spoke up unwillingly. “The cure was an old wives tale. There was no guarantee. Chances were, you’d have ended up an Alpha.”

“So why’d you tell me about it?” Scott looked at him suspiciously.

“I needed you to find the Alpha.”

“So you used me?” Scott snapped, outraged.

“Let’s not start yelling again, guys,” Stiles called, anxious to stay away from topics of people using people to get at other people.

“Listen to your friend,” Derek spoke up again. “Get off my territory.”

“He’s right, you’re trespassing,” Stiles moved forward and tugged on Scott’s arm. “Come on, buddy, let’s go. You’ll never be able to make it up to Allison if you stay here yelling at Derek all night.”

Scott unwillingly let himself be pulled away but he glared at Derek just before he disappeared from sight, not ready to forgive him for taking away his one chance to be normal again. Stiles sighed. It was going to be hard year.

* * *

After taking down Peter, the Alpha, Stiles thought things might begin to calm down. But then he thought about Scott, who was an omega, and his girlfriend, Allison, the werewolf hunter, and Lydia, who hadn’t been turned into a werewolf but was something else entirely, and Derek, a lone Alpha hunting for a pack, and the Argents in general, including dear old Grandpa Gerard Argent who had returned for his daughter’s funeral, and he knew his wishes would never be granted.

Strangely, his nightmares had started to recede a little. He still had them and they had been particularly severe with Peter killing everyone and Stiles killing him but now they were beginning to get a little better. Probably because they had no major problems, and therefore major stress, at the moment.

He still had them, of course. And he still had panic attacks. But usually his uncle was there to help him through it. Sometimes on the nights his uncle was working a night shift, Derek would appear in his back garden to make sure he didn’t get an attack so bad, he would have to go to hospital. He didn’t usually and he never knew Derek was there, but he was. Although, even Derek couldn’t figure out why.

* * *

“Do you think he’s a hunter?” Scott asked Stiles, in reference to Gerard Argent who, Stiles knew for a fact, was a hunter. They were currently hiding behind someone’s gravestone to spy on Kate Argent’s funeral, something which Stiles hadn’t been too pleased with.

“I think it’s safe to assume,” he answered, “that anyone with the last name Argent is a hunter.”

“Allison’s not,” Scott argued. Stiles raised his eyebrows at that but hadn’t replied. His mother had always said, if you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.

* * *

After Lydia had appeared from the woods, Stiles had left his uncle to help her. He wasn’t planning to, but the moment Lydia had walked out of the trees, he’d suddenly gotten a strong instinct pulling him towards the woods. Knowing better than to ignore his gut, he’d briefly explained to his uncle before running into the trees.

Several minutes later, he’d stumbled to stop just in time to see Gerard Argent slice a homeless Omega in half. The he overheard him say there wasn’t a code anymore. Stiles narrowed his eyes. As far as the Argents were concerned, there never had been a code.

It was at that point he’d noticed Scott and Derek on the other side of the clearing and he legged it out of there. His gut had no protests, so he’d clearly heard what he’d needed to hear.

* * *

“The shit I do for people these days,” Stiles muttered, right before Derek climbed in his Jeep.

“Scott and Allison are checking out Isaac’s house,” he greeted.

“Allison said there’s a hunter dressed like a cop on his way to the station,” Stiles answered. “So it’s a race against time, I guess.”

He ignored the eye roll Derek gave him, instead choosing to pull out and head for the police station.

“Do you have any idea what killed Mr Lahey?” Stiles asked, trying to be interested. In all truthfulness, he really didn’t care, he was just glad the bastard was dead, after the way he had been treating Isaac.

“No,” Derek responded. “But it wasn’t Isaac.”

Stiles chewed his lip. “Do you think it was even a werewolf?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” There was a pause. “Why Isaac?”

Derek looked to him. “What?”

“Why did you pick Isaac?” Stiles clarified. “For the bite?”

“Because he wanted it.”

“Okay.” Stiles pulled up to the station. “Well, we’re here.”

* * *

Stiles had rarely had to see a beta be scared into submission, but he didn’t judge Derek for doing it. Derek hadn’t been raised to be an Alpha, Stiles knew that, and he was doing the best he could. He’d even heard Derek briefly explaining to Isaac about the beta instinct and why Isaac had cowered.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Isaac at being roared at the way he had, especially considering what the kid had been through.

He had to explain to his uncle what had happened. He hadn’t really been keeping Dan fully up to speed recently but he sat down and told him everything. Stiles knew better than to keep secrets from pack and family.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Stiles to figure out what Derek was doing, especially with the way Erica waltzed into the school cafeteria a few days later. Now that she didn’t have her epilepsy holding her back, she was a lot more confident.

Stiles didn’t seem so sure of the amount of leather and tight clothing but he wasn’t one to judge. He just didn’t think it suited her. That was all.

Not that she seemed to care, from the way she strode across the floor, and the way she was laughing as she climbed into Derek’s Camaro, right before they screeched away out of the school parking lot.

* * *

Stiles was worried about Lydia.

This was different from before. Before, he had something akin to a crush on her and she was all he noticed sometimes.

This time, she was screaming at the ice in the ice rink. Something had been weird with her ever since Peter had attacked her that night, something Stiles hadn’t forgiven the dead man for yet.

But she was losing it. First there was the wandering through the woods naked for two days. Now the screaming. He felt like her screaming was important. After all, Scott had heard it all the way across town in the hospital. And something kept making her scream like that.

The only question was, what?

* * *

The next day, it was Boyd who had disappeared from his table. Scott and Stiles were quick to realize he was the third beta. Stiles headed to his house, to see if he was home. Of course Erica hit him over the head and he woke up in a dumpster.

Stiles knew a pack had to consist of at least one Alpha and three betas. Isaac, Erica and now Boyd. Jackson clearly didn’t count, considering the black blood he was leaking the other day, a sign that the bite wasn’t taking as it should be.

Stiles didn’t blame Derek the way Scott did. Stiles felt more like Derek was trying to create a new family…and wasn’t succeeding.

* * *

After Scott confronted Derek and his betas at the ice rink, Stiles took his jeep out for a drive. He was tempted to stop by Talia’s grave but decided against it in favor of going to talk to Derek.

He pulled up outside the abandoned train station (don’t ask him how he found out where Derek was staying, he will never tell you).

Erica perked up. “Who’s that?”

“That sounds like…Stilinski’s jeep,” Derek sighed.

“Stiles knows where we are?” a smile flashed onto Erica’s face.

“He’s not supposed to,” Derek headed for the stairs. “Not even Scott knows.”

Stiles glanced around at the building. It was old and filthy and not Stiles’ idea of fun, whatsoever.

“Derek,” he greeted coolly as the Alpha appeared behind him. Derek blinked, confused as to how Stiles had known he was there.

“Stiles,” he responded. “What are you doing here?”

“I know about your pack,” he answered.

“And what,” Erica snorted, creeping up in the shadows. “You wanted to join?”

Stiles threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “I missed my opportunity, unfortunately. And I don’t want to be a werewolf anyway.”

Derek was almost surprised to hear that Stiles wasn’t lying, about any of it. “So why are you here?”

“Just wanted to check up on you, make sure everything’s okay.”

“Worried about us?” Erica cooed mockingly.

“No,” Stiles answered, again honestly. “Worried about me, actually.”

“You’re not a part of this,” this time it was Boyd who spoke up. “You said so yourself. You’re not a werewolf.”

“Boyd, you have so much to learn,” Stiles shook his head pityingly. “You don’t need to be a werewolf to be involved.”

“But you’re only human,” Erica pointed out sweetly. Stiles heart picked up, Derek noted, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Maybe I am,” Stiles agreed, cryptically. “But I’m still involved. In case it had slipped your notice, my best friend’s a werewolf.”

There was a short silence.

“Erica, it was nice to see you looking so confident earlier,” Stiles spoke again. “But I must be leaving.”

He turned and brushed past Derek on his way out, who was sorely tempted to snarl at him but Stiles had seemed so different tonight, that he was too curious to scare the boy away.

Erica appeared out of the shadows. “I used to have a crush on that boy,” she snorted disdainfully. “Now, for the life of me, I can’t remember why.”

Boyd moved to her shoulder to let Derek past, who was rolling his eyes as he went. He didn’t care for Stiles, he really didn’t.

* * *

Stiles figured out that the mystery creature was a Kanima after he witnessed it kill his mechanic. He remembered reading about it in one of Peter’s books many years ago, a book that had been lost in the fire. Stiles, unfortunately, had no idea how to defeat it. As far as he could remember, it was near invincible.

Unfortunately, he was also sure he knew who it was.

* * *

For two hours Stiles held Derek up in the school swimming pool, while the Kanima - Stiles could remember reading about it - prowled around the outside. It was scared of the water, Stiles mused as he bobbed there, his arms around Derek’s chest. Must be significant. Maybe linked to its master.

“What are you thinking?” Derek gritted out, his eyes glued to the Kanima.

“It’s scared of water,” Stiles relayed. “Must be significant.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t help, does it?” Derek snapped, irritated.

“I’m sorry that I’m too busy keeping you alive right now to figure out how to defeat the damn lizard,” Stiles retorted. “Give me a little credit here, you’re actually quite heavy.”

“Well, I would have been able to fight it if I hadn’t been paralyzed and thrown into the water,” Derek growled.

“Are you suggesting that this is my fault?” Stiles answered sharply.

“I’m not the one who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough when there was a supernatural lizard bearing down on me.”

“You didn’t need to push me out of the way. In fact, you could have just let me get paralyzed and then you could have fought it without worrying about me.”

Derek didn’t answer that and Stiles rolled his eyes while he floated there.

Some time later, Scott arrived to fish them both out of the pool and fight the lizard creature and then Derek told them that it was a Kanima.

Which Stiles already knew, but he wasn’t going to tell them that.

* * *

Stiles’ theory was confirmed when Derek and his pack of teens tried to kill Lydia, who they thought was the Kanima. Then, at the house, the Kanima leaves while Lydia appears at the front door. Stiles knew then. Jackson was the Kanima.

Scott appeared to come to the same conclusion.

Strangely, Stiles wasn’t that mad at Derek attempting to kill Lydia. In some way he understood that Derek was just trying to keep his territory safe. In the same way, he told his mom one day, he couldn’t help but think Derek went at it the wrong way. If he’d approached it with less violence and deadly thoughts, maybe Stiles and Scott would understand more.

He stopped by Talia Hale’s grave, to update her, to apologize and to leave flowers. He was unaware that Derek was watching.

* * *

“Maybe we should tell your dad,” Scott suggested. “Both of them.”

“Yeah,” Allison nodded although a little unsure. “He might help us.”

Stiles chewed his lip, unsure of how to answer. His dad – read uncle – already knew what was going on. Stiles had been keeping him up-to-date on the happenings of the town, and warning him to be careful. But Stiles couldn’t tell Scott that.

He realized they were both looking at him.

“Stiles?” Scott pressed.

“We can tell him, I guess,” he shrugged, “if you think it would be best.”

“Well, ultimately it’s your decision but I do think it would be easier to get away with things like this,” Scott gestured to the truck with the busted door, “if he knew.”

Stiles shrugged, trying to think of a way to get past this one. But his mind was drawing a blank.

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. “We’d better head to the station.”

“I’ll go tell my dad,” Allison responded. “I’ll see you later.”

Scott kissed her goodbye, while Stiles rolled his eyes then climbed in her car and drove off. Stiles and Scott got into the Jeep.

“It’ll be okay,” Scott reassured. “Your dad will believe us, he has to.”

Stiles didn’t answer, and the rest of the drive was in silence. Stiles spent most of it worrying about the situation and his uncle. And Jackson, considering he’d escaped from the van.

Which was why he wasn’t entirely sure if he was more relieved or more panicked at the sight of Jackson and his adoptive father sitting in the police station with his uncle.

* * *

“Stiles,” Deaton turned to him and his eyes were filled with apologies. Stiles began to get a bad feeling. “I have a task for you too.”

He held out a jar of black powder Stiles knew only too well.

“This is mountain ash,” he explained, although more for Scott’s benefit. “When used, it can trap a werewolf as they won’t be able to step over it. It can also be used against Kanima. If we’re right and whatever affects the master, affects the Kanima then presumably it will work in reverse.”

“Trap the Kanima, trap the master,” Scott realized.

“A werewolf touches this, the effects won’t work anymore. You will effectively disrupt the powder. Stiles is the only one who can do this.”

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “I can’t do this, it’s too much.”

Deaton looked grave. “You must.”

And Stiles took a deep breath and took the jar.

* * *

Stiles sat down on the sofa next to his uncle. He stared at the TV.

“I messed up again,” he spoke, his voice wobbling. “With the mountain ash.”

And then he was crying again. Dan pulled him into his arms and stroked his back comfortingly, murmuring the usual words of comfort. Stiles buried his head into Dan’s chest and just let himself cry.

That night, Stiles awoke from his nightmare, not with a scream, but with quiet, muffled sobs. His uncle appeared a few minutes later, as he had been expecting this and had been checking on his nephew from time to time. This time, he sat on the bed next to Stiles and started to recite The Fellowship of the Ring from memory, after reading it so many times, all the while tracing light, comforting circles on Stiles’ back, to calm him down.

Outside, Derek had paused to also check on Stiles, after hearing him have so many nightmares, but continued on his way when Dan reached Chapter 2.

* * *

Stiles stared at the scene in front of him. Tears welled up in his eyes and his throat closed as a lump formed. He couldn’t look away.

Blood splattered across the floor. Screams filled his ears and a deep growl could be heard under it. Stiles struggled to get air into his lungs. A girl cried out in pain and a disgustingly audible crunch could be heard.

Then a large figure darted towards Stiles and he flinched back. It all disappeared. Stiles stumbled back into a bush and collapsed to his knees, curling up to let the tears flow down his face.

He’d hallucinated it all.

* * *

That night, Stiles had another nightmare. This time, after calming him down, Dan asked him to talk to someone about his PTSD. Stiles refused and, to his uncle’s dismay, said it wasn’t trauma. Then he asked his uncle to leave as he wanted to get back to sleep.

Dan was worried about Stiles, but he couldn’t do anything until his nephew admitted that there was a problem.

The only problem with that that problem is that blue moons didn’t actually exist.

* * *

Stiles explained his hunch about the Kanima killings to his uncle, with a little help from Scott, but Dan didn’t need that much persuasion in the first place. He would always listen and trust his nephew’s instinct.

However, it meant they had to take a late night trip to the police station. If only Stiles trusted his gut as much as Dan did.

Basically, Matt Daehler took them hostage. Stiles had to handcuff his uncle to the wall to keep him from getting at Matt.

Derek was attacked by Jackson. Stiles was attacked by Jackson. Stiles was attacked by Matt. Scott was shot by Matt. Melissa was locked inside a police holding cell.

Stiles found himself remarkable calm when Matt was standing on his chest, cutting off his breathing. It was almost as if he was having a panic attack. But this time he had control. He closed his eyes and started reciting The Two Towers to himself. He only had to say a couple of sentences before Matt removed his foot and he and Scott disappeared to let Melissa in.

“You okay?” Derek asked gruffly from beside him.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered. “It’s not me that I’m worried about. It’s everyone else. And the Kanima’s here. That’s not going to end well.”

“Your insight is so helpful,” Derek grunted from besides him. He was working out a plan as he lay paralyzed on the ground and managed to shift the tiniest bit he needed to put it into action.

“You’re doing something,” Stiles realized, straining to see but unsuccessful. “What are you doing?”

At that point, Matt returned with a bleeding Scott.

“You shot him,” Stiles exclaimed. “Why?”

Matt ignored him, choosing to explain what he wanted instead. Stiles sucked in a breath of shock at the sheen of Kanima scales on Matt’s torso, when he lifted his top to show them. He exchanged a glance with Derek.

Stiles could remember a little about what he’d read about the Kanima, and he remembered more as Derek told him. He nodded in agreement and Derek explained that he was trying to expel the Kanima venom by triggering the healing process. Stiles rolled his eyes, skeptical of the outcome.

* * *

It was later that Stiles heard Scott and Gerard talking. He only caught the tail end of the conversation but he heard enough to be more than slightly disgusted with Scott at his decision to work with an Argent.

Stiles never had forgiven them for what Kate had done all those years ago. Allison’s, and apparently Scott’s, switching allegiance just fueled his hatred.

What he didn’t realize at that time was that Derek had heard every word too.

* * *

“Marin,” Stiles greeted as he entered the school counsellors office. Marin looked up from her desk.

“Stiles, we talked about this,” she reprimanded. “On school premises, it’s Ms Morrell. Do you think ordinary students call me Marin?”

Stiles shrugged, and sat down opposite. “I don’t even need to be here.”

“It’s mandatory,” she smiled an apologetic smile. “If it helps, we only need to talk about how you’re feeling since the incident with Matt.”

“I don’t really know,” Stiles answered, fiddling with his lacrosse stick. “I mean, I didn’t really know him in the end. I’m not affected like everybody else.”

“How are you affected?” Marin asked, scribbling quickly in her notepad. “Are you sad? Angry?”

“Happy,” Stiles responded. She looked at him, asking him to elaborate. “It seems bad, I know. But the guy was a murderer. He deserved it. I’m glad he’s dead. Revenge doesn’t do anybody any good, just look at Peter Hale.”

Marin nodded in agreement.

“But then,” Stiles continued, “I feel kind of hypocritical because I’m hunting for revenge and if I ever got the chance to kill the man who killed me, I would take it. I’m exactly like Matt.”

“Are you?” Morrell asked. “Exactly like Matt? He died and went crazy. He thought what he was doing was justified. But you’re sitting here and you’re telling me that you realize what he did was wrong. You don’t seem that similar to me.”

“But we’d both be killers. We’d both be evil.”

“Stiles, I’ve known you since you were six. You will never be evil. Matt, on the other hand, was probably never that stable in the first place.”

Stiles shrugged again.

“Have you told your uncle what you’re feeling?” Marin asked gently.

“Yeah, I tell him everything. I know the danger of secrets a little too well.”

“Okay, as long as you’re talking to someone about this. Do you want to tell me how you’re feeling right now? Because I know you well enough to know when there’s something wrong.”

Stiles, knowing better than to deceive her, and not really wanting to, sighed and went on to explain how life had been with Scott, Allison, and everyone since the last full moon. He went on to explain how he felt like he was on the brink of a panic attack all the time.

He already knew it was hyper-vigilance, just like he already knew it was related to PTSD.

* * *

Stiles let out a sob when he saw Erica and Boyd strung up in the basement of the Argent’s house.

They were strung up, hands tied above their heads, black tape across their mouths. They were staring at him, their eyes wide with panic. Stiles swallowed back his tears. Now was not the time.

He limped towards them to examine their bonds. He had already noticed the wires feeding into it, clearly why they hadn’t escaped. Well, Stiles planned to change that. He ignored the sparks of electricity he received from examining them. But he would need to think some more before attempting to disarm the device. He’d hit his head on the way down.

He chose, instead, to remove the tape from their mouths. Gently, of course. He wasn’t one to inflict pain on werewolves.

“Who did this?” he asked softly.

“Allison,” Erica whispered hoarsely. “In the…woods.”

Stiles scowled and Erica flinched but Stiles was mad at himself.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, spinning away, ignoring the pain in his leg. “I’m stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Stiles?” Boyd spoke up, questioningly. He spun around, his eyes bright with anger as he watched them.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I should have known better. You never trust an Argent, no matter how good they may seem.”

“Not…your…fault,” Erica responded with a cough. Stiles shook his head.

“Allison is an enemy,” he whispered to himself. Then he looked back at Erica and Boyd. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“How?” Boyd rasped. “If electricity can weaken…us this much, then…what could it do…to you?”

Stiles stared at the wires leading from their wrists. “You will continue to underestimate the power of humans, won’t you? I will get you free and you will go back to Derek. You shouldn’t have left him in the first place.”

“He wasn’t…a good Alpha,” Erica protested weakly.

“I’ve seen worse,” Stiles muttered. They blinked at him. “What. You think Peter Hale was a good Alpha?”

All three whipped their heads towards the door when it opened.

“I’ll get you out,” Stiles repeated softly as footsteps descended the stairs. “I promise, okay?”

* * *

“Stiles?” Boyd croaked quietly in the minutes after Gerard had left. Stiles kept his eyes closed, needing a few more minutes in the darkness to push the panic attack back before he responded. “Stiles, are you-“

He broke off as Stiles started to move.

“Not dead,” he responded lowly, pushing himself to his feet. His head swam but he continued forward and moved to check on Erica and Boyd.

“Stiles, you need to rest,” Erica spoke up. “You’re injured.”

“I’ve survived worse,” he answered. “Don’t worry about me, worry about yourselves. I’m gonna try to get you out, okay?”

“After everything we’ve done, you still want to help us?”

“Don’t be silly,” Stiles reassured, blinking a few times as he tried to figure out the wires. “I help those who need it.”

“But,” Erica started but Stiles shushed her. He focused on the wires. If he had something to cut them with, he could cut off the power and find a way to get Boyd and Erica out of here. He glanced around the basement. Maybe there was something in here he could use.

“I’m gonna look for something to cut the wires with,” he told the wolves as turned away from them.

“Careful,” Erica warned, her voice a little stronger the more she used it. Stiles nodded and started searching through some of the furniture in the room. There was nothing. He sighed and chewed his lip. Maybe he could pull the wires out instead and disconnect the power.

He returned to examine the bonds. The wire lead up into the ceiling, presumably where the power was coming from. He tugged on a little bit, getting zapped but ignoring them. He followed the wire down.

“I think,” he muttered as he found a battery-type device, “yeah, I think I’ve almost got it. Just a moment.”

He fiddled with the wire some more, testing it before he yanked it, hard. Erica hissed but Stiles wasn’t getting zapped anymore.

“It’s stopped,” Boyd croaked. “I’m not getting electrocuted anymore.”

“Good,” Stiles sighed untying their hands. “Now we can get out.”

“What about Gerard?”

“We’ll sneak,” Stiles suggested. “Don’t worry, we’ll get out.”

Boyd and Erica exchanged unsure glances but Stiles smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but he felt like it failed. Not that he could focus on it, he had to get them out.

* * *

Erica panicked when Stiles wasn’t right behind them but Boyd told her she couldn’t return, they to do as Stiles said and go back to Derek. Something about him had compelled them to obey, almost like they would an Alpha.

Stiles had been caught by Gerard. He’d shoved Erica and Boyd out the door seconds before hand, ordering them to run, to go back to Derek. They had done so. Stiles had not been so lucky.

Gerard had still been in the house when they’d sneaked out of the basement. They’d had to go slow and Stiles’ heart had been in his mouth at the thought of being so close to getting caught. But he’d kept his promise and gotten them out of that basement, away from Gerard.

He’d paused to massage his painful leg as Boyd and Erica ran out of the house. But before he could follow, though, someone had grabbed him from behind, dragged him backwards, and tossed him back into the basement.

This time, Gerard had much more inventive ways to make him feel pain.

* * *

Stiles wasn’t sure how he got away. One minute his screams were echoing around the basement – or was it his head? He wasn’t sure anymore – the next there was a spark of light in his chest, a flare of heat in his hand and he was running. Running out of the Argent house, across the road, down the street, just running, the best he could with a busted leg.

He didn’t know if anyone was following him, and he didn’t stop to look. He just needed to escape.

He didn’t notice the car lights, as he stumbled, exhaustedly out onto the road. He just needed to keep walking.

A squeal of tires brought him out of his daze. A black car swerved to miss him and he stumbled to the side, before collapsing to the ground, his breathing becoming ragged and heavy. Someone climbed out of the car and ran to his side.

“Stiles?” it was Derek. “Stiles, look at me.”

Stiles shook his head and closed his eyes. He couldn’t breathe. That band was around his chest, tightening, cutting off his air supply. He couldn’t move, he just felt pain and he just needed everything to stop. But it was spinning faster and faster and he just needed it all to slow down…

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice broke through. “Look at me, okay? Just look at me.”

Stiles opened his eyes. He could only see Derek’s eyes but he focused on them, their green, their brightness, the same haunted look he saw in his own.

“I’m gonna put your hand over my heart,” Derek spokes softly, doing as he spoke. “Just keep listening, okay?”

Underneath his palm, Stiles felt a comforting, steady beat. He could see Derek’s steady comforting eyes and, as weird as it sounds, he could smell Derek’s comforting, steady smell.

Slowly, the world stopped spinning. Slowly, his thoughts stopped speeding around his head. Slowly the pain receded and he began to breathe normally again.

“There you go,” Derek praised gently. “Just keep breathing.”

Stiles nodded and just kept breathing. Derek stayed with him until his panic attack was over.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Derek asked when Stiles removed his hands. He shook his head.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I need to go to see my dad.”

“You’re bleeding, Stiles. And shaking. And cold. You need to tell me what happened.”

“Boyd. Erica. Where are they?”

“I don’t…they left, Stiles.”

“They’ll be back. I sent them back. I need to go home.”

Derek looked at him. “Stiles, you need to go to the hospital.”

“No, no, no,” Stiles shook his head, his voice hoarse and cracking. “My Dad is looking for me. He needs to know I’m okay.”

“At least…” Derek glanced around. He was busy but he couldn’t very well leave the kid out here alone. “At least let me call Scott.”

At that, Stiles shook his head even more vigorously. Derek worried about any possible concussion he might have.

“Okay, then, I’m taking you to get cleaned up first,” Derek helped Stiles to his feet and led him to his car. “I think I’ve got a first-aid kit.”

And with that, something was formed.

* * *

Stiles and Derek never really spoke of that night again. Well, they did eventually, but that happens much later.

Stiles hid his bruises from Scott, and when he wanted to hide something, boy, could he hide it. Scott only knew of the ones on his face, partially because Stiles couldn’t be bothered with make-up, and even then, Stiles never fully explained how he got them.

Erica and Boyd asked him several times a day how he was, as they were sticking around. Even Isaac stopped by to see if he was okay a few times, as he had been there when Derek had tended to his wounds, with Peter’s help. A couple of times a week, Derek would appear in his room for a few minutes to check up on him. At night, when he awoke screaming from his nightmares, the times that his uncle was working the night shift, it was Derek who slid into his room and started reading his books to help him to calm down from his panic attacks.

Outside of these times, they never discussed what had happened, but Stiles was grateful for Derek not ignoring him when he needed help.

Stiles never told Scott about the nightmares either. He didn’t want Scott to have to worry about him on top of everything they had been through. He needed to keep this to himself.

His uncle still kept trying to get him to seek help for PTSD, but Stiles kept denying, saying he had researched the symptoms online and he didn’t have many of them. He didn’t like self-diagnosing but he also didn’t like to go to a therapist with a near non-existent problem. At one point, Derek had tried the same but Stiles had waved him off.

The real problem didn’t start until summer.

* * *

Derek had asked the pack to his house. He had some urgent news, apparently. Stiles had sighed when Erica had told him to tell Scott. They had just finished dealing with Gerard and the Kanima and already there was something new to deal with.

Stiles was the first one to arrive. Derek and Peter were in the main room of the house. Stiles wandered up the stairs and into the house.

“So what’s going on?” he asked, not bothering to knock. Derek and Peter would already know he was there

“Where’s Scott?” Derek countered.

“He’s with Allison,” Stiles wrinkled his nose at her name. “She wanted to see him about something.”

“Well, tell him to bring her along,” Derek told him. “She might need to tell her dad about what I need to tell him.”

“Are Boyd and Erica going to be here?” Stiles asked immediately. Derek looked at him like he was stupid and that was his answer. “And Jackson, I presume?”

“He’s bringing his girlfriend and some Danny guy,” Derek replied. Stiles nodded, pulling out his phone. He was more concerned about Erica and Boyd being within eating distance of Allison. “Why are you here?”

Stiles glanced up from texting Scott. “I’m a part of your pack, aren’t I?”

“What about Scott?”

“I know the downsides to being an omega,” Stiles shrugged. “I’d rather be a part of your pack, whether he is or not.”

Derek didn’t say anything to that, a little too shocked at the declaration of pack to reply. Stiles turned towards the door as footsteps sounded on the porch steps. It was Erica, peering around cautiously. Her face broke out into a shy smile when she spotted Stiles standing in the room. “Oh, you’re already here.”

“I didn’t have anywhere better to be,” he shrugged. “Where’s Boyd?”

“He’s not here yet,” she shrugged. “He’ll be here soon, I guess.”

Stiles nodded and leaned back against the wall. Sometimes his wounds still hurt, particularly those across his lower torso. And his leg hadn’t healed properly yet. Luckily, lacrosse practice was finished for the year.

All three werewolves were watching but he made no move to acknowledge it. Isaac arrived, at that point anyway. Boyd was right behind. He automatically glanced to Stiles, who nodded his greeting. Isaac moved towards Derek.

“Is this about that thing on the door?” he asked. Derek nodded. Stiles suddenly looked towards Peter who was looking back at him gravely. It was at that point, he began to worry.

Eventually, Scott and Jackson arrived, with their girlfriends, and best friend, in tow. They all gathered outside. Derek at the steps, with everyone standing around on the grass. Stiles stood in front of Boyd and Erica, and they stood a little closer than usual, all apprehensive in the presence of Allison. Even Derek had his eye on her.

Peter was also standing close to Stiles, his face openly concerned. He kept glancing towards the young adult, checking on him. Lydia, on the other hand, couldn’t be further away from him.

“There’s been a threat made against our territory, and specifically me,” Derek began. “I know not everyone here is in my pack” – he glanced at Scott – “but this will affect all of us.”

He turned to face the door, which Stiles finally noticed was painted with a fresh coat of ominous-looking blood-red paint. He started to claw it off to reveal…an angled triangular triskelion-shape.

Around Stiles, the world stopped moving. Derek continued to talk but Stiles couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t see anything other than the triskelion shape on the door. He barely registered Peter taking his arm and leading him to the steps to sit down. The upside was he had to look away. But his head was spinning. Peter gently rubbed his back, trying to get him to breathe again. But Stiles wasn’t cooperating right now.

To the shock of everyone, Stiles was crying. Not that he seemed to realize. There were tears sliding down his white cheeks and dripping off his chin, but he didn’t seem to be moving. He was frozen.

Scott touched his arm and Stiles blinked. “Stiles?”

Stiles finally took in a breath. “I need to talk to them.”

Scott looked confused. “Huh?”

But Stiles wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to Peter, who was nodding.

“Okay, I’ll take you,” he answered, helping Stiles to stand. “”Let’s go.”

Peter put Stiles in the passenger seat of his Jeep and climbed into the driver seat and the Jeep roared away, leaving a very confused pack behind.

* * *

Peter gave Stiles privacy while he broke down in helpless sobs in front of his mother’s grave. Derek was standing at the edge of the cemetery.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked. Peter shook his head, glancing at the crying boy again.

“I can’t tell you that, unfortunately.”

“He’s a part of my pack,” Derek growled. “I should know if there’s a problem with him.”

Peter clasped Derek’s shoulder. “He will tell you in his own time.”

Then he headed away from the cemetery. Derek watched Stiles for a little longer before leaving too.

On the other side of the cemetery, Scott watched but followed in their lead, deciding not to bother Stiles when he was so upset.

* * *

Stiles dodged any questions about that day, refusing to answer or changing the subject or, at one point, asking people to just leave the damn thing alone.

Erica and Boyd quickly backed off once they realized they weren’t going to get any answers. Allison never got a chance to ask, as Stiles avoided her as much as he could for as long as he could. She didn’t turn up to many meetings that involved Scott, as they had broken up. Not that Stiles was complaining.

Isaac persisted a little longer and even Jackson kept pushing. Lydia had seen Stiles’ reluctance to talk about his problem and had never asked. Danny had asked once but left it alone, after Stiles had asked him to. Scott was the only one who continued to push the subject, until Derek stepped in and told him to back off, relaying Peter’s words that Stiles would talk when he was ready.

Through Stiles, Scott and Derek came to an understanding and, although Scott didn’t join his pack officially, he still turned up for pack meetings, training and bonding sessions, and even the sleepovers. Stiles refused to go to the sleepovers, as no-one but Peter and Derek knew of nightmares and he didn’t want to deal with them in front of the pack, or raise more questions like the ones he was already fending off.

Derek still checked on him at night and calmed him down on the nights his uncle was working. And they still never spoke of it, but sometimes, Stiles would leave Derek little gifts, like his favorite cupcake or his favorite dinner, as a thanks (sometimes he even left a little flower that meant thanks, but that was rare).

* * *

Strangely, it wasn’t until after the summer vacation that the Alpha pack appeared. During that time, Derek had come up with a new training scheme for the werewolves, with a little help from Peter and Stiles. Stiles never took part in the training, choosing instead to sit with Peter and discuss various supernatural-related topics at length.

“Don’t you want to learn to defend yourself?” Scott asked one day, during a break in their session.

“I don’t need to,” Stiles answered. “I have a bunch of werewolves who will defend me instead.”

“We might not always be there,” Derek supplied from behind him.

“Maybe,” Stiles agreed, not at all bothered by Derek sneaking up on him. “But I’m sure I’ll survive.”

(Later, Stiles sobbed when he remembered this conversation and relayed it to his uncle. His uncle hugged him tight, understanding completely).

During the summer, Stiles spent his time helping everyone else with their problems. He helped Erica, Boyd and Isaac study. He helped Scott to not contact Allison. He helped Lydia learn about creatures and helped Jackson to gain control so he could be around Lydia (he was completely over her now – he’d only liked her because it was considered normal). He helped Danny come to terms with his best friend being a werewolf. He helped Derek to hold down Scott for a tattoo. He helped Erica and Boyd to get together and he helped Peter to gain trust and forgiveness, although he was sure no one but he gave it to Peter. He helped his uncle with his work and helped Melissa learn from Deaton how to treat injured werewolves. He helped Deaton at the veterinarians whenever he could. He helped a lot.

Then school was upon them. With a week to go, Stiles still had all his homework and studying to do. So no one really saw him that week.

Then it was the first day of the new school year.

“We had a kind of awesome summer, don’t you think?” Stiles greeted Scott that morning. He shrugged.

“I don’t know, Derek’s training was brutal.”

“And now you’ll be able to protect those you love even better.”

“I guess,” Scott agreed. “It was just hard. And you wouldn’t really understand, since you spent most of your time with Peter. Do you really trust him after what he did to Laura and Derek and me and Lydia?”

Stiles looked away, biting his lip. He didn’t want to answer.

Scott froze. “There’s another werewolf here.”

Stiles turned back to him. “Where?”

Scott tilted his head a little and sniffed the air subtly. He glanced around, scanning the students. He spotted Lydia and Allison a little ways off, watching the freshmen. Allison was back and looking gorgeously tanned after spending two weeks in France with relatives. Lydia must have been looking for someone to take her mind off the fact that Jackson had left a few weeks earlier.

Then he saw their attention caught by something: twins, climbing off of motorcycles, wearing leather jackets. They turned and stared out across the crowds.

“Them,” he hissed to Stiles, nudging him. “The twins. They might be a part of the pack of Alphas.”

Stiles heart rate rose but he forced himself to look for the twins. He stared at them. His breath hitched as they turned and locked eyes with him, their eyes widening in shock. Stiles almost cried right there, right then.

He forced himself to look away, flinching as he saw the way on them ducked their head, clearly thinking they had been rejected.

“Let’s go,” he forced his voice to steady. “We need to get to class.”

Scott was still watching the twins. Stiles tugged his arm.

“Leave them,” he continued. “They won’t hurt us.”

“How can you be so sure?” Scott argued but he let himself be dragged away. “They’re a part of the Alpha pack.”

“And I’m sure there’s a good reason,” Stiles raised his voice a little for that part. “But let’s just leave them alone for now.”

* * *

Later that day, the twins cornered Stiles in the male bathroom of the school. Well, he says ‘cornered’ but, to be honest, he wanted to see them.

“Stiles,” the first greeted. The second hung back, almost ashamed to even look at Stiles.

“Ethan,” he responded. “I thought you were…”

“Yeah, us too,” Ethan nodded. He glanced at his twin. “We’re sorry. We didn’t know you’d be here.”

“We only went with him to protect each other,” the other twin started but Stiles raised his hand to stop them, trying to ignore how they flinched.

“Don’t,” he answered. “I know you had a good reason. I don’t blame you, either of you.”

“You’re not mad?” the second twin asked warily.

“No, I’m not, Aiden. Your Alpha wouldn’t be either.”

Both of them relaxed a fraction.

“We’ve been sent to hurt your pack,” Ethan spoke up. “That’s what Deucalion wants us to do. He’s after Scott.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Stiles hurried to get it over with. “It’s best if we don’t interact with each other, raise suspicion from either pack.”

Ethan nodded but Aiden put a hand out to stop Stiles.

“We don’t know what happened but dad?”

“I’ll let him know,” Stiles promised. Then he left them in the bathroom.

* * *

Later, Scott was surprised to see Stiles and his father, hugging each other tightly while they both sobbed. But he didn’t say anything.

* * *

“What do you think, Stiles?” Scott asked as Stiles entered the house, putting him on the spot. He automatically looked to Peter, looking for hints about the conversation he’d walked in on. Peter looked troubled.

“About what?”

“The Alpha twins,” Scott clarified. Stiles’ heart rate rose a little but he didn’t look away.

“Okay,” he responded slowly.

“I think we should do something about them,” Scott explained. “But Derek thinks it would be wrong to antagonize the pack. I think that if they’re going to kill us whether we annoy them or not, then there’s nothing wrong with showing them we won’t go down easily.”

“So you want to kill the twins,” Stiles clarified, trying to stay calm. From the way Peter and Derek moved towards him, he didn’t think he was doing a good job. A frown creased Scott’s face.

“No, not kill them, maybe just threaten them or something,” he replied. “Are you okay, Stiles? Your heart is racing.”

“I just need a minute,” he answered, rubbing his chest and moving to sit on the floor. Scott crouched next to him, his face creased with concern.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital, your anxiety is getting bad, Stiles.”

Stiles shook his head. “Don’t hurt the twins. They haven’t done anything.”

Scott frowned. “Are you sure? They could hurt us.”

“They won’t. Not without reason, trust me.”

“Okay,” Scott agreed, patting Stiles’ arm. “Then we don’t hurt them.”

And Stiles start to breathe again.

* * *

“Erica and Boyd are missing,” Scott clambered into Stiles room, as he glanced up from his laptop.

“What?”

“Derek said he sent them out to patrol the border hours ago. We can’t find them. We think the Alphas have them.”

Stiles’ insides froze up. “Why-why would the Alpha pack take them?”

“Derek doesn’t think they want Boyd and Erica. He says they want him.”

“Bait?” Stiles asked, trying to decide whether that was good or bad. It was good because there may be a chance to rescue them before anything too bad happens to them, but bad because, well, the Alphas had them.

“Yeah. Peter’s trying to see if he can unlock Isaac’s memory and find out where they are. I think Derek called Deaton to help.”

“Then we’re going,” Stiles decided.

“I was actually about to ask you if you wanted to come,” Scott responded as Stiles tugged on his shoes. “But after all your anxiety and Heather, I thought you would have said no.”

Stiles looked at him as if he was crazy and Scott smiled the best he could in reassurance and agreement.

* * *

After Derek, Scott and Isaac went to rescue Boyd and Erica, Stiles had paced a hole in the floor. Waiting for them to return. Peter had done nothing to stop him, knowing he just needed to relieve his frustration. The thought of Erica being dead was too much to comprehend, and Stiles hadn’t felt her leaving, so he clung to the hope that Erica was just unconscious.

Then, however many hours later, they returned after completing what they‘d set out to do.

Stiles froze as Derek entered with Erica. She was in his arms, but from the look on Derek’s face, she wasn’t dead. Just unconscious. Scott was next, helping a limping but alive Boyd. And then from behind Scott, a young brunette girl stepped out, rather timidly.

Not that Stiles could blame her, the whole pack was here. Allison, Lydia, Danny (who’d hung about even after Jackson had left), Peter and Stiles. She gazed at them all in turn, her face taking on various expressions: a hint of disgust for Allison; curiosity for Lydia and Danny; a mixture of happiness and anger at Peter; and then she looked at Stiles. And let out a squeal.

All the wolves, except Erica, jumped, and everyone stared confused as Cora launched herself forward at Stiles, who anticipated her and swept her up into a tight hug. She sniffled into his neck.

“What the hell?” Scott asked no one in particular. No one answered.

“I thought it was you,” she mumbled. “I never did forget your stink.”

“I stink?” Stiles acted offended but he had a wide grin and glistening eyes. “You’re the one who likes to play dog once a month and roll about in the woods.”

Derek glanced between his sister and Stiles, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him.

“That is justified,” she answered with a thick laugh. She pulled away. “Listen, I have something to tell you. About,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “the twins.”

Stiles nodded and swallowed.

“They’re with…them,” she hissed.

“I know,” he answered. “I already know.”

She pulled him into a hug, this time with Stiles burying his face into her shoulder, both of them ignoring the rest of the group.

* * *

Erica left in secret.

The only one who knew she was leaving was Stiles, and that was only because he had walked in on her packing. He’d felt something off with her and had gone to see her, only to find various suitcases scattered in her room filled with clothing and personal possessions.

She’d explained that she was leaving to travel. She needed to get out of Beacon Hills before it crushed her. Stiles had assured her he had understood and had promised to tell Boyd when the weekend was up and Erica had enough time to get out without anyone noticing.

He’d told her to think of him as the song by Avicii, Hey Brother, in that, if she ever called him, he would drop everything to help her.

Then she’d left.

* * *

“We should probably set up some way to protect you,” Scott said in the locker room. “With all the victims being virgins.”

“Yeah, of course Scott,” Stiles agreed, deciding not to reveal that he wasn’t actually a virgin. “Or maybe we could get me laid.”

“I’ll do it,” Danny appeared behind them. Stiles grinned.

“Thanks, Danny, but you’ve got your eyes on Ethan, I wouldn’t want to make him jealous. Unless that’s your plan.”

Both boys looked at Stiles weirdly.

“The guy is an Alpha werewolf of an evil Alpha werewolf pack, Stiles,” Danny answered. “I’m over him.”

He walked away and Scott sent Stiles a look, to which he did not respond.

* * *

Stiles sat with Scott at the back of the bus, acting as normal as he could. Apparently, he still had it, because Scott hadn’t noticed anything wrong with him. Then again, Scott was still recovering from the earlier fight.

Stiles repeated the mantra ‘Derek isn’t dead’ in his head, over and over. He didn’t believe it. According to Cora and Peter, his body had disappeared. Stiles knew better than to assume that meant he was dead. He just had to believe that Derek wasn’t dead and everything would be okay. It would.

As long as the twins and Boyd and Isaac stayed calm.

* * *

When Ethan came to talk to Scott about Derek, Stiles ducked his eyes and tried to ignore the familiar scent of pack right under his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears and turned away.

Ethan understood. Stiles couldn’t be seen to be conversing with the enemy, he would lose his new friends if he did. He also thought that Stiles didn’t want to know him anymore, which was wrong, Stiles just didn’t want to see the twins hurt by either packs and also didn’t want to raise more questions than he could deal with right now. If he had the opportunity, he would hug Ethan close and not let go.

* * *

For some strange reason, the next day, he hated Jennifer on sight. It was a strong feeling, almost as strong as his hate for Deucalion. He wasn’t entirely sure why, though. Until he spoke to Peter.

“Jennifer slept with Derek,” Peter explained.

“Okay, that doesn’t help.”

“Well, she has a relationship with your Alpha. Given your knowledge of the past, you’re probably seeing her as a threat. That’s why you hate her. You think she’s a threat to your pack and Alpha.”

“Is she?”

“I’m not sure. Probably not. But don’t stop hating her. If you’re feeling it this strongly, there’s bound to be a reason.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

* * *

Stiles had gone with Cora and Lydia to the loft. As they entered, two people exited: Kali and Aiden. Stiles felt his eyes fill with tears and Cora had flinched. Aiden had ducked his head.

Boyd was dying.

Stiles comforted Derek as he fell apart. Apparently, Aiden had held Derek’s claws while Kali had plunged Boyd on top of them.

Stiles only felt hate for Kali. And Deucalion. That son-of-a-bitch was dead. Stiles would kill him himself if he had too.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Cora looked up, her eyes glassy with tears. Derek just shrugged helplessly, watching his beta’s life drain out of him. But Cora was looking at Stiles. “Please.”

Stiles moved. “Call Deaton, tell him it’s a priority.”

Cora fumbled for her phone and dialed with shaky fingers. Stiles pressed his hands down on Boyd’s bleeding wounds.

“You’re not going to die,” he muttered, forcefully, even though Boyd didn’t reply. “Not on me, not today. You hear me?”

Deaton made it there within the next ten minutes. A priority call from Stiles was not to be ignored. Miraculously, Boyd held on but Stiles knew it was because of him. Deaton quickly crouched next to him.

“We can help him,” he spoke up, examining the wounds. “Only just. Any longer and he really would be dead.”

Cora chewed on her thumb, trying hard not to cry. Derek slowly moved to wrap his arm around her and she clung to him. Stiles hovered over Deaton, having a brief silent conversation. The Deaton began to direct him to heal Boyd.

“We need to take a way his healing, or slow it down. Put him in a hospital and get him human medicine. It might be the only way to help him.”

“How do you do that?” Lydia asked.

“With a little bit of magic.”

* * *

Stiles and Derek hadn’t left the hospital since Boyd had been admitted. Cora was there often too. Partly because Derek and Stiles were there and partly because she cared deeply for Boyd and needed to know he was okay.

Derek slept a lot. Stiles drank a lot of coffee. He didn’t like to sleep in public places with his nightmare, which were now happening every time he dozed off. But Derek was often found, out cold, next to Boyd’s bed. At times like that, Stiles would sneak in to watch Boyd.

A week went by before there was any change. Stiles was sitting outside his room, staring into space. Derek was in his room. Boyd had woken. Stiles hadn’t noticed all the nurses and doctors, including Ms McCall, rushing into the room. He didn’t even notice Derek standing in front of him, he was so lost in thought. Derek had to tap him on the shoulder to elicit any response.

“What-” he jumped and glanced around before looking up to meet Derek’s eyes.

“Boyd’s awake,” he announced. Stiles slumped back in his seat, a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. Derek sat down next to him.

“You look tired,” he observed.

“Long week,” Stiles answered. “I wanted to make sure Deaton’s…magic had worked before I contacted Erica.”

“You should go home,” Derek told him. “Get some rest.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Stiles muttered but he stood and stretched anyway. He decided to refrain from telling Derek that Scott had stopped by to say that Gerard had told the story of the meeting of the Alphas all those years ago. Stiles had already known the full true story but he had no intention of reminding Derek at a time like this, when he needed less self-guilt, not more.

* * *

Once Boyd was fully healed, Stiles wasn’t surprised to hear that he was heading off to join Erica on her travels around America. He said goodbye to Boyd, told him not to be a stranger and wished him good luck.

That was the last time they spoke.

* * *

Stiles hadn’t fully explained about the Darach to his uncle yet so when Scott asked him to tell the Sheriff about werewolves, he and Cora actually spent the time, telling him fully about the ritual sacrificing and the Alpha Pack.

He took as about expected, asking for some time alone and heading back to work, leaving his nephew with a heavy heart and heavy shoulders.

“Will he be okay?” Cora asked, coming up to Stiles’ shoulder.

“Probably. He just needs time.”

“Which is exactly what we don’t have.”

* * *

Stiles was frozen. He stared out the shattered window, where the Darach had taken his uncle. His uncle was gone. Despite having just seen it, Stiles was having trouble processing that fact.

“Stiles?” Scott broke into his thoughts. “Stiles, we need to go.”

Stiles didn’t move but he also didn’t resist when Scott took his arm and led him away, watching him worriedly. He took his best friend to his Jeep and put him in the passenger seat, climbing in to drive. He sped away, one destination in mind.

Stiles still hadn’t responded when he pulled up at Derek’s loft.

“Jennifer took your dad?” Derek asked disbelievingly after Scott had relayed the story of the night. Stiles was just standing, trembling in the middle of the room.

“Yes,” Scott answered for him. “We both saw it. And Lydia.”

“What’s going on?” Cora appeared at the top of the spiral staircase. “Stiles?”

She vaulted over the railing and rushed to his side. “What happened?”

“Jennifer Blake took his dad,” Scott answered, glaring at Derek who was watching Stiles, who flinched at the words.

“That bitch,” Cora snapped, slipping her arm around Stiles. He didn’t respond.

“Why would she do that?” Derek asked skeptically.

“Because she’s the Darach,” Scott yelled, furious. “She tried to kill Lydia, and Stiles’ dad and me. We were there, we saw it.”

Derek looked to Stiles again, whose face was pale, eyes wide and blank, and who was trembling uncontrollably. Somehow, Derek knew that they were telling the truth: you can’t fake that level of emotion.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Stiles began to nod, unable to stop thinking about his uncle being taken.

“Okay, we should confront her,” Cora suggested, tightening her arm around him comfortingly. “Get her to tell us where Stiles ung-dad is.”

“No,” Scott disagreed. “We need to catch her off guard.”

“She’s here,” Derek spoke up. “Get behind there, while I talk to her.”

Scott and Cora pulled Stiles into an adjoining room to hide while Derek headed to the other side of the room.

“Derek?” Jennifer slid the door and stepped in. “Derek, where are you?””

“I’m here,” Derek appeared and walked towards her. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh thank God,” she ran to him and he wrapped his arms around her. Then she pulled back. “Something happened at the recital. Something bad. And Scott and Stiles are on their way here and they’re going to tell you things. About me. That aren’t true. You can’t believe them.”

“What things?”

Jennifer took Derek’s hands and looked at him pleadingly. “Promise me you won’t believe them.”

“Okay,” Derek reassured her, “I promise.”

Scott had to grab Stiles to stop him from trying to run. Somehow, the sound of the Darach’s voice had reunited his anger, not that Scott blamed him.

Cora frowned fiercely as Jennifer pulled Derek into a kiss, as if to doubly reassure herself of his promise. Clearly it didn’t work, from the look on her face when she pulled back.

“They’re already here, aren’t they,” she asked, coolly.

“That’s our cue,” Scott whispered.

Derek turned his head to look as Scott, Cora and Stiles approached. Cora gripped Stiles’ hand, partly to stop him from lunging at Jennifer and partly to reassure him that she was there.

“You can’t seriously believe them,” Jennifer cried. “They’re a couple of teenagers. I’m your girlfriend.”

The word elicited no reaction from Derek. “Do you know what happened to Stiles’ father?”

“How would I know where his dad is? I didn’t see him tonight.”

“You took him,” Stiles spoke the first words since Dan had been taken. “You stabbed him. You tried to kill Lydia. You tried to kill Danny. You-you killed Heather. And-and Tara.”

“I have no idea who those people are,” Jennifer answered. “I’m an English teacher, not a-a Darach. What would I gain from ritually sacrificing people?”

“Power,” Scott supplied.

“Oh, yes, because I need so much power to teach high school Shakespeare,” Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I get so annoyed at how hard it can be that I go and ritually sacrifice people during my lunch hour. Makes perfect sense.”

“The sarcasm doesn’t really help your case,” Cora sniped at her.

“And anyway,” Jennifer continued, “you don’t even have proof.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Scott held up a small jar of white powder.

“What is that?” Jennifer asked warily, the first signs of unease creeping slowly into her expression.

“My boss says it’s both a poison and a cure,” Scott explained, unscrewing the lid. “Which means you can use it…and it can be used against you.”

Jennifer looked shocked and suddenly scared. “Mistletoe?”

She started to back away but at that point, Scott tossed the powder over her. She stumbled backwards, trying to avoid it, but the moment it touched her skin, she convulsed and shrieked, revealing her true face. Everyone took a step back.

Derek looked shocked at the scarred face of the Darach that belonged to his girlfriend. Stiles stared at her with pure hatred in his eyes.

“Where is he?” he cried. “Where’s my dad?”

Both Scott and Cora grabbed hold of him as if to stop him attacking Jennifer but he wasn’t moving, just crying.

“Tell me where he is. I can’t lose him too.”

Scott and Derek assumed he meant his father as well as his mother. Only Cora knew that he meant his uncle and father figure as well as his actual dad.

“Where’s the Sheriff,” Derek asked, a growl edging his voice. “Where is he?”

“I won’t tell you,” she snapped. “Not unless you help me.”

Derek made a move to attack her but Scott moved just as fast and stopped him.

“Why should we help you?”

“Because you’ll never find Stiles father or defeat the Alpha pack without me.”

Derek curled his hands into fists. “Why should we trust you?”

Before anyone could answer, Scott’s phone rang shrilly in the loft, startling everyone, except, strangely, Stiles.

“Mom?” Scott answered.

She sounded shaky when she answered, the werewolves able to hear. “Scott. I, uh, have a message. Deucalion wants you to bring the woman calling herself Jennifer Blake to the hospital. He would like her to be there in half an hour.”

“Mom?” Scott repeated, suddenly looking afraid. But Melissa had hung up.

* * *

“Deucalion doesn’t just want Derek in his pack,” Jennifer told the group with a sigh. “He wants Scott too.”

“Why Scott?” Derek asked. “What does he have to offer?”

“How about the rarest Alpha status?”

“Scott’s a True Alpha?” Stiles exclaimed, ignoring the looks that Scott, Derek and Jennifer gave him for knowing this. Peter just looked troubled.

“Yes,” Jennifer nodded, irritated. “Deucalion wants him because of that power. He’s the most powerful of Alpha types.”

“I’m not joining him,” Scott snapped. “No matter what he does to convince me. It won’t work.”

“That’s a lot of power,” Stiles mused. Peter nodded.

“True Alphas, as you know, are often great and powerful leaders. If corrupted early enough, they could be just as dangerous too.”

“Well then,” Stiles took on a determined expression. “We just need to keep Scott and Deucalion away from each other. Should be easy enough, right?”

* * *

Stiles didn’t stop to breathe before running downstairs back to where Derek had been lying in the elevator. Stiles hadn’t been able to tell if he was dead or alive but now it seemed like he was his only hope, his last chance.

But he probably should have stopped to breathe.

He punched Derek awake, briefly relaying what had happened with Deucalion on the roof, that fucking Alpha destroying another pack. Derek looked at him strangely when he said this, and he was briefly reminded that Derek didn’t know how much he hated Deucalion, but even so, he still swore out loud that he was going to slaughter the Alpha himself. Then he walked away, before pausing for Derek.

Derek who had stopped, Derek who had seen what was written on the elevator doors in blood, Derek who pointed it out without truly understanding how much Stiles needed to breathe.

The world seemed to stop around Stiles. He stopped registering Derek’s movement, he stopped moving, he even stopped breathing to an extent. He stumbled back, that band tightening around his chest until he was panicking about not breathing because he was panicking about the Darach and the Alpha pack.

He panicked because the moment Jennifer Blake got Allison’s dad, his uncle was dead. The Darach needed sacrifices of three, once she had three guardians, she was going to sacrifice them. And for the second time in his life, Stiles was completely powerful to stop it from happening.

It took a few minutes for it to register that Derek was repeating his name gently. Stiles pulled his eyes away from the bloodied words on the elevator and managed to look at Derek’s unblinking bright green eyes. And he focused on them.

Derek had things at stake too. He was an Alpha. Who could be forced into killing his pack. That included Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Peter. And Cora. Dear, sweet little Cora who had been forced to grow up so fast. The last of his family. Stiles knew what that was like.

Scott was in trouble. So much so that he has just left with the enemy so he could protect his mother and Stiles’ uncle, and now Chris Argent. Scott probably needed Stiles to pull together so he could focus on finding the Darach before she had a chance to kill anyone else.

He’d lost his mother just as much as Stiles had lost his uncle. And now Allison’s dad was at stake. And many other people were in danger. The whole town.

There would be time to express panic and emotion later. Right now, Stiles needed to focus and he needed to help.

And with that thought, he forced the band a little looser.

“Stiles, do you hear me?” Derek was saying softly. “We’re going to find him. We’re going to find both of them. You just need to breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” Stiles wheezed, after gulping in a particularly painful weak breath of air.

“Good,” Derek praised. “Keep going. Keep breathing.”

Stiles focused on his voice and used it to anchor himself, to control his breathing, to loosen the band.

“You go,” he told Derek when he‘d gotten his breathing back to normal. “I’ll handle the authorities when they get here.”

“What about Scott?” Derek asked, almost doubtful at his words. Stiles shook his head, signifying that that was a topic they should avoid, if they wanted him to stay calm and panic attack free.

“You should…call me if you hear about Scott,” Derek suggested. Stiles nodded in agreement.

“Go, before the police get here.”

Derek hesitated then headed for the hospital entrance, pausing once to glance over his shoulder. Stiles was too busy rubbing his chest, where he could still feel the band threatening to tighten, to notice.

* * *

When Stiles found out what Chris Argent had done, he didn’t have a full blown panic attack but Lydia still had to drag him into the locker room because he was having trouble breathing normally.

When she kissed him to help him, it should have been a ‘dream-come-true’ type of surprise, if he had been any other normal student. But it wasn’t like that anymore. Stiles looked at Lydia like a friend, and if he could, he would have pushed her away.

As it was, when he could breathe again, he thanked her for the help but asked her to never do that again, as he preferred pain or someone reading to him to help him through his panic attacks.

“Isn’t that self-harm?” she asked, helping him to stand.

“Not if it helps me in the long run,” he answered. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she responded. “I just wanted to help. But don’t tell anyone, okay? I’m not having my reputation ruined on top of everything else we have to deal with.”

She was joking, a feeble attempt to lighten their dark situation, but Stiles felt a lump swell in his throat anyway.

“Your secret’s safe,” he forced a smile. “Let’s get to class.”

* * *

Scott knocked at the veterinarian’s door. Stiles, Allison, Lydia and Isaac had just finished updating Deaton on the events at the hospital. Deaton looked disappointed as he went to let Scott in.

“Ms Morrell said something about a Nematon,” he greeted. “She said we’d find our parents there.”

Deaton nodded. “The Nematon is a great source of power. It’s not surprising that the Darach would choose there to keep the sacrifices.”

“How do we find it?” Scott asked.

“Ask Derek?” Isaac suggested. “If Talia Hale used to be the Alpha round here, then he’d probably be our best bet.”

“No,” Deaton spoke up. “There’s someone else who knows where it is.”

His eyes drifted to Stiles who nodded then turned and walked out the door. Scott spun to stare after him.

“I think he’s mad at me,” he said quietly. Allison squeezed his shoulder in comfort and turned to Deaton.

“Who?”

Deaton shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. But don’t worry, they’ll find your parents.”

* * *

Jennifer wasn’t around when Stiles found the Nematon. He wasted no time in opening the hatch and scrambling down to find the missing parents. He saw Chris first, then Melissa, and finally, right in the shadows, his uncle.

“Stiles?” Melissa questioned. “What are you doing here? Where’s Scott?”

“I’m here to rescue you,” Stiles announced as he crouched to untie Chris’ bonds. He worked quickly. “The Darach is gone for now. You should be able to escape with no problems.”

He moved onto Melissa. She watched him carefully.

“Where’s Scott?”

“He’s okay. He’ll probably be with Deaton.”

She relaxed a fraction. Chris stood up and rubbed his wrists.

“How did you find us, Stiles?”

Stiles shared a secret smile with his uncle as he pulled the ropes apart. “I followed my instinct.”

“I got your father caught up on Beacon Hills’ happenings,” Melissa spoke up. “I hope that was okay.”

“It is fine,” Stiles turned to face the other adults, all the while keeping his uncle in his peripheral. “You should get out of here before she returns. I’ll let Allison and Scott know when I find them.”

Stiles headed out first but Dan grabbed Melissa and Chris for a moment.

“If you find them before he does, don’t tell them it was him who found you. We’d like to keep our secrets secret.”

Melissa nodded and, after a moment, Chris agreed, before all three headed up into the light.

* * *

“So this is how it happens?” Jennifer Blake, the Darach, glanced around the building that would house their final showdown. “Last man standing?”

On one side of the warehouse, Derek stood, Scott at his shoulder as second-in-command. Behind them, Isaac had taken on a defensive position, with Peter and Cora at his sides. Allison and Lydia were up in the rafters, armed with bows and arrows, ready to fire. Stiles, who had appeared only moments before, despite orders to stay away, was distanced from his pack, standing near the center of the warehouse. Many of them had their eyes fixed on the opposing pack.

Deucalion stood front and center, leaning casually on his cane. He didn’t appear prepared for a fight, but maybe he wouldn’t be doing much anyway. The true fighters of the pack, Kali and Ennis, were slightly behind him and ready to pounce.

Surprisingly, the twins also stood distanced from their pack and a little closer to Stiles than expected. This worried Scott, as he thought maybe Stiles was their main target. Their eyes, however, were glued to Deucalion.

Jennifer stood by the door she had just entered by. She had no delusions about the fight. She knew it was going to be messy and noisy and possibly long. She did, however, believe that the Alpha pack would quickly overpower Derek’s teenagers and then she would be left to defeat the Alpha pack, making her the last man standing.

“Who wants to make the first move?” Deucalion asked smoothly. “Shall we? Or will you take the initial step towards your deaths?”

Jennifer looked at them all in turn. She needed to decide on a target. Her eyes fell on Stiles, the one who had lost her the sacrifices and left her weakened for this fight. She lunged. Stiles dodged. Then it was all out warfare.

Kali and Ennis leapt forward, trying to use the element of surprise. Derek was ready and he and Scott tackled Ennis back while Isaac and Cora took Kali down. Peter was left to attack Jennifer.

The twins shifted closer to Stiles and he put himself between them and Allison’s arrow, which he had seen glint. She refrained from firing it at the last moment, but started to gesture towards Stiles, trying to make him move. He refused.

“Ethan, Aiden, there are two girls in the rafters with arrows. Stay out of their way or you’ll get hurt.”

“Okay,” Aiden answered from behind him. “We’ll back down. They can focus on the other Alphas.”

Stiles watched the scene unfold. Derek and Scott held up well against the brutal force of Ennis. Isaac and Cora managed against Kali but strength changed rapidly. Sometimes Kali was stronger, other times she was forced back. Peter seemed to be performing some kind of dance with the Darach: keep her back but don’t hurt her. Deucalion was moving slowly towards the battle.

Before anyone could predict it, Deucalion had tossed his cane aside and Ennis had pushed Scott and Derek apart. He bore down on the teen while Deucalion shifted to face against Derek. Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d be able to fight well against Derek but he couldn’t focus. Ennis was too strong for Scott. Stiles frowned. He needed to help but how?

“Aiden!” he yelled. “Move in now.”

Behind him, Aiden snarled and then grabbed Ethan’s arm, preparing to toss him into the fray. Up above, Allison was the only one who noticed, but she needed to warn the rest of the wolves.

“Derek, Scott,” she screamed, knowing they’d all be able to hear. “Look out for the twins!”

Scott looked up at her for a split second and Ennis tossed him like a rag doll. Then Ennis advanced on him, wearing a feral expression and prepared for the kill.

Then Ethan crashed into him and they both went tumbling down. Aiden moved fast and within seconds, they had Ennis pinned to the floor, Scott looking on in confusion at the scene.

“What do we do?” Aiden asked, both twins turning to Stiles for guidance.

“Whatever you want,” he shrugged in answer. “He killed the triplets. Make him suffer.”

“Only because you couldn’t protect them,” Ennis spat from the floor. “All you did was stand and watch, you filthy little weakling of a witch.”

Aiden raised his arm with a wild snarl, ready to strike.

“Wait” Stiles voice rang out. The twins turned to him. He suddenly looked pale and shaken up.

“But you just said-” Ethan began.

“I know what I said,” Stiles interrupted, “but I’m changing my mind. We need to be the bigger person. We need to show him mercy.”

Both Alphas looked mildly disappointed, but they waited for their instructions.

“Make it quick,” Stiles ordered coldly, before turning away with a shaky breath out. He didn’t want to watch this.

By now, Jennifer had backed away, leaving Peter to deliver the killing shot to Kali, putting her down too. Now all that was left was Derek and Deucalion.

Stiles went cold when he saw what was happening. Deucalion had overpowered Derek. The latter Alpha was struggling to his feet as blood poured from various wounds inflicted across his torso. Deucalion looked down on him with a snarling, victorious expression that Stiles knew only too well. He raised his arm, claws out.

Stiles felt panic and anger build up and he grabbed a hold of it, using it for power. Deucalion smiled down at Derek and swung his claws down, ripping deeply across Derek’s stomach, nearly tearing him in half.

“No!”

The shout tore itself from Stiles’ throat as he threw his hand out at the same moment. The warehouse went white.

When his vision cleared, Derek was lying on the ground, fully healed, and Deucalion had been tossed to the other side of the room. Those in the building who weren’t Peter, Cora or the twins, all turned to look at Stiles.

Aiden and Ethan stepped up to his shoulders, the remnants of Ennis’ body lying somewhere behind them. Stiles lightly clenched and unclenched his fists. After not using magic for so many years, he felt a little dizzy at the sudden rush of power. But he kept himself focused on Deucalion.

“Should we show him mercy?” Peter asked. “Derek? Scott? Stiles?”

“It’s up to Scott,” Derek answered, keeping his eyes fixed warily on Stiles. “He can decide as his first act as an Alpha.”

“We show him-” Scott began, looking towards the Alpha on the ground, who was cowered slightly, pitiful whimpers escaping his mouth.

“No mercy,” Stiles interrupted, his voice cold and blank. “We show him no mercy. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Scott looked shocked. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Stiles.”

“He had a second chance,” Stiles answered immediately, “when I let him go the first time. Today, he dies suffering.”

“He doesn’t have a pack anymore,” Scott argued. “He won’t be a danger.”

“He dies,” Stiles repeated unwaveringly. “Even if I have to kill him myself.”

“I agree,” Cora spoke up, watching Stiles. “That Alpha killed so many people. Why should he get the chance to live?”

“But I’m the Alpha,” Scott stressed. “And I’m saying we don’t harm him. We give him what he never gave us. A chance.”

“You can let him go,” Stiles finally looked at Scott, “but just know, if you do, I will hunt him down and make him feel pain.”

“We’ll help,” Aiden inputted. “After what he did…”

He trailed off, but Stiles understood. He knew what Aiden was thinking and he was thinking the same.

“Maybe we should vote?” Isaac suggested. “I’m with Scott.”

“Me too,” Allison dropped down from her post. Lydia followed.

“Stiles is right,” Cora added firmly, moving to his side. Peter followed. Stiles cracked a half smile at the support. Derek shook his head.

“He just tried to kill me, Scott. I can’t agree with you.” But he made no move to side with Stiles either.

“Please Stiles,” Scott begged. “He may have killed a lot of people, a lot of werewolves, but we’re all still here, aren’t we? And we’re your pack.”

“And pack is all that matters,” Isaac added. “No matter who he killed before, he didn’t kill your pack.”

Ethan grabbed Stiles before he literally flew at Isaac.

“If Deucalion had killed Derek” Peter asked, as Ethan tugged Stiles back a little, “would you want him to walk out of here free?”

“No, but he didn’t,” Scott answered. “And that’s the point.”

“Also, if we’re killing him,” Isaac pointed out, “then we should be killing the twins too.”

“You can just try,” Stiles snapped as Aiden let out an ugly snarl. He was furious but he refrained from moving. He didn’t want to disappoint Stiles anymore.

“That’s hypocritical,” Isaac retorted. “Why doesn’t Deucalion deserve a second chance but the twins do?”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Stiles defended.

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Stiles answered. “Deucalion is a murderer but Ethan and Aiden just did what they had to do.”

“And you would know this how?” Isaac inquired but Scott stepped in front of him, effectively ending the confrontation.

“We’re not going to kill Deucalion,” he decided firmly. “We are not going to kill anyone. No more killing. From anybody.”

Stiles stared at Scott. He was tired and emotionally confused and he’d crashed his jeep on the way here so he had a bad head wound - that no one had noticed - and the twins were okay and alive and Ennis was dead and Jennifer had escaped and Deucalion was at their mercy and after four years he finally had his chance for revenge and now Scott was standing in his way. So he did something that no one, not even Peter, expected.

He started to cry.

Later, he would be ashamed and later he would ask people not to talk about it but right now, he just pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to ineffectively stem the flow of tears. Ethan and Aiden closed him into a hug and he turned and just started sobbing on one of their shoulders - he wasn’t sure which one.

The rest of the pack just stared gob-smacked.

“Stiles?” Scott stepped forward. “What’s wrong?”

Ethan shifted to shield Stiles while Aiden growled protectively. Peter shook his head, warning Scott to stay back.

“What’s wrong?” Cora echoed. “What’s wrong is you are taking away their one chance to get even, to have revenge. That’s what’s fucking wrong.”

Scott took a step back at Cora’s anger. Peter laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I think what we’re trying to say is that Stiles deserves the chance to decide Deucalion’s fate more than anyone here and if he wants the Daemon Wolf to die, then so be it.”

“But we’ll just make it worse by killing him.”

“No, we’ll make it better,” Ethan argued. “Look at us. Do you think it would have ended this way if we’d have let Ennis, Kali, Dominic or Tracy live?”

“Who?” Scott asked in confusion.

“The Alphas we killed,” Aiden clarified. Scott blinked then shook his head.

“Deucalion can’t do much without a pack.”

“It’s thanks to us that he doesn’t even have a pack,” Ethan snapped, his arms tightening securely around Stiles, who’d finally stopped sobbing.

Deucalion was shivering weakly, but then he stopped. And began to laugh.

“And after all that, you still couldn’t defeat me,” Deucalion grinned madly, as he pulled himself to his feet. “I still took your weak pack down. Like it was nothing. You’re not strong.”

“It’s a pity I wasn’t going to kill you, Scott,” Deucalion continued, turning to the teen in question. “Because I would have broken my personal record if I had. Two True Alphas in the space of a decade. That’s an achievement.”

Scott narrowed his eyes a little. Peter put his hand on Cora, refraining her from lunging at the Alpha.

“Do you want to know how I became famous, Stiles?” Deucalion was still grinning that mad grin. “I killed a True Alpha.”

Stiles pulled away from the twins to look at the Daemon Wolf, who was slowly moving closer.

“They say that a True Alpha is the most powerful werewolf. Born to be a leader, born to be fair in everything they do, they have this invulnerability about them. But I ripped her apart. Literally tore her in half.”

Stiles was shaking with anger, but then again so was everyone who was supporting him. Peter looked especially mad and the twins just looked murderous.

“I killed her mate too. Right in front of her. Left him in pieces. Sent my warrior to take down her kids. There was nothing left of them. And do you know what I did next?”

Stiles blinked back the tears filling his eyes.

“I laughed,” Deucalion declared delightedly. “I laughed and laughed and I recruited new members and we killed so many and each time…I laughed.”

Stiles couldn’t control the surge of fury at his words. He couldn’t control the anger that rose and the power that came with it. He couldn’t control the blast of heat and fire that went out of him directed at Deucalion. He couldn’t control the way Deucalion spontaneously combusted on the spot.

He’d done something similar only once before and he didn’t even know he had the power in him. Yet there he stood, watching Deucalion burn, his tortured screams echoes of the ones inside Stiles’ head.

Scott look so horrified, but whether it was from the burning body in front of them or the fact that Stiles had been the one to set it alight, no one could be sure. Peter looked proud, Cora amused and the twins a mixture of relief and happiness. Those behind Scott had similar expressions to Scott, except Isaac looked disgusted, Derek betrayed and Lydia a little scared, on top of the horror. Stiles just felt numb.

As Deucalion fell lifeless on the ground, silence reigned. And then Ethan let out a sigh of relief.

“You did it,” he spoke up slowly. “You killed him.”

Stiles blinked back more tears. “I don’t even know how.”

Peter approached and suddenly, unexpectedly, pulled him into a hug. “It’s called magic, kid. You’re magic, remember.”

“But not a kid,” Stiles mumbled. Cora took a step towards the dead Alpha.

“That’s…gory,” she commented. “But worth it. At least he suffered in the last few moments of his pitiful life.”

“Stiles,” Scott asked slowly, “how did you do that?”

Nobody answered. His pack stood behind him, all watching Stiles. Derek looked equally shocked. Those crowding around Stiles, all gave him a hug. But Stiles couldn’t respond to any of them.

“I think you owe us an explanation,” Scott spoke up again.

But, again, instead of explaining, Aiden took Stiles arm and slowly led him away. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Stiles just nodded and then three of them walked out the warehouse, leaving a very silent pack and a very dead pack behind.

Chapter Text

“What’s he doing here?” Derek asked, but there was a lack of anger or irritation behind the words.

“I invited him,” Erica answered with a brief, yet wary smile, Stiles noted.

“Whew,” Stiles flopped down onto the remnants of the sofa and tried to ignore the fact he was sitting on the remnants of the sofa, “quite a walk.”

“From the car to the sofa?” Derek asked. “Yeah, further than any man has gone before.”

Stiles couldn't be bothered to snark about Derek having a sense of humor. His ribs were hurting again, like they had been the last few weeks, ever since Gerard, and his leg had a shooting pain that came and went. Sometimes he was able to push through for lacrosse practice but most times, he had to sit out.

“Are you okay?” Erica asked. Both she and Derek were watching him.

“That’s four,” he pointed out. She looked at him quizzically. “That’s the fourth time today you've asked me if I’m okay.”

“Just worried.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Stiles stretched a little, trying to ease his aches and pain.

“That bruise seems to agree,” Derek nodded, moving to join them. Stiles yanked his top down over the edge of the deep purple bruise, frowning hard.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered. Derek stared at him.

“Looks painful,” he commented. “How’d it happen?”

“Fell down some stairs,” he answered grumpily.

Erica snorted humorlessly. “Or were thrown down them.”

“Same difference.”

“You were thrown down some stairs?” Derek clarified. Stiles picked at the edge of his shirt.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Erica asked exasperated.

“Why bother?” Stiles shrugged. “It’s in the past. What is it they say in the Lion King? The past can hurt but you can either run from it or learn from it.”

“Do you know what happened to him?” Derek asked Erica. He didn't know why he was asking, he kept thinking he wasn't interested, but now that he had the chance, he found out that he kind of wanted to know.

“I was there,” Erica stared defiantly at Stiles, as if daring him to stop her from telling the story. He said nothing.

“Where?” Derek pushed.

“Argent’s basement,” Erica shrugged lazily, a faked nonchalance.

Stiles could almost see the cogs turning in Derek’s head as he put it together; when Erica had been in Argent’s basement, with Boyd; and therefore when Stiles had been there too.

“Why were you in the Argent’s basement?” he questioned, not because he hadn't figured it out but because he was looking for clarification of his conclusion.

“Stiles,” Erica warned when Stiles refused to answer. He was too used to keeping secrets, too used to burying his pain.

“He kidnapped me,” he answered sullenly, staring at a claw mark on the floor. “The night of the game, when Jackson died. I was supposed to be a message for Scott. He didn't get it though, I didn't let him find out.”

“What happened?” Derek asked gently.

“What do you think?” Stiles laughed humorlessly, not looking up. “I mean, look at my bruises. Doesn't take a genius to figure out.”

“He helped us escape,” Erica spoke up softly. “Me and Boyd. He was supposed to come too but he didn't.”

“Gerard caught me after you guys had gone,” Stiles explained. Erica let out a small whimper. She had seen what Gerard was capable of when he’d beaten Stiles in front of them. She could only imagine how bad it was after he found out Stiles had helped the werewolves to escape.

Stiles had clenched his fist tightly, focusing on the pain that shot up his right arm at doing so. He figured he’d sprained a muscle during his time in the basement and it just hadn't gotten fully better.

“Why didn't you tell anyone?” Derek inquired.

“There was no need to worry, they let me go.”

“Those bruises,” Derek began tightly. He glanced at Erica, asking her for some privacy, and she nodded, leaving them to it. “Those bruises are reasons to be worried. They look bad, Stiles.”

“That’s only because you’re not used to seeing them,” Stiles shrugged.

“Do they…hurt?”

Stiles nodded.

“Then they’re something to worry about.”

A small smile quirked Stiles’ lips. “Scott’s not in your pack anymore, you don’t have to worry about his baggage.”

“It would be wrong not to,” Derek answered before he too left.