Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter lost track of time for the first time he could remember. 

His firm grip it’s passage slipped when he found himself trapped in a looping memory of fire and screams. Again and again, Peter experienced the closest thing he’d felt to blind panic since that time he’d only just managed to catch Laura when she tumbled out a third story window by accident, but magnified by eight. They were trapped behind an ashy barrier that only Peter could cross but that none of them could remove. He’d run in and try everything from smashing windows to breaking walls only to find more ash and fire at every turn.

Screams echoed, heat lingered around him, and the faces of his family flickered along with the unpredictable flames, each one more terrified than the last, each one more ashen. 

Until they weren’t.

Until their terror was replaced by the expressionless glaze of death.

A woman’s sneering voice, slightly muffled by the crackling of dying flames was the last thing he heard before everything faded into darkness.

And then the nightmare started over.

The first smell of smoke, the ball dropping from his fingers as he realized the source, rushing through the small thicket back to the house, trying to break them out, trying to save anyone else even as they told him to leave, failing to break the line, failing to protect them within the burning home, failing, failing.

Peter would’ve screamed if he could. Would’ve covered his eyes, ears, and nose to block out the world, but he was stuck. Stuck in the limbo between wakefulness and sleep, life and death, on and off.

It was hard to tell when things started to change. 

The ringing silence was the first thing that caught his attention, certainly, but it was obvious something else had happened before that. He felt better, clearer than he had in ages. The closest thing he could compare it to was the sensation of taking a deep breath after nearly [asphyxiating from smoke inhalation] drowning.

He paused a moment and thought the metaphor over once again. It felt as if something were missing, but as he had no other similar experiences to compare it to, the generalized knowledge of taking a breath after being underwater would have to do. If he’d had the ability to shake his head, he would have. Instead he simply pushed the thought to the back of his mind and tried to figure out how he could get moving again.

Maybe he could try just his eyes? He attempted to blink them open. Nothing. Something simpler then. Moving on and struggling to not to be too pessimistic, Peter tried to wiggle a finger, a toe, an eyebrow, anything.

His lack of conscious control was probably the only thing keeping him from uselessly hyperventilating.

“Peter,” a voice called faintly. He didn’t recognize who it was, someone female? No one in his memory matched the voice.

A moment passed [sixteen seconds before a hiccup of lost time - comparing the internal clock to the previous time showed that he’d lost nine minutes and forty-three seconds] before the voice returned, louder this time.

“Pe-eter,” the voice cooed. Not just a voice, Jennifer. Of course it was, who else would it be? He was never without her unless she asked otherwise.

“Peter, my sweet.” The [Invalid Command] was ignored slipping into the background, but Jennifer didn’t stop there this time. “Wake up, Peter.”

That was what his body had been waiting for. Now in control, his eyes snapped open and he looked over to see [a stranger] Jennifer’s smiling face. 

Everything was slightly out of focus, probably the aftereffects from being in sleep mode for so long. A couple of blinks fixed that easily and Peter was scanning the [un]familiar room for threats.

[Timestamp format incorrect for comparison shots] [Repairing]

Cords, cables, and monitors were seemingly everywhere in the cramped space, with a few of them even trailing into the space beneath Jennifer’s bed. A couple items had moved from the last time he’d looked around, but nothing major; a few empty boxes for audio equipment, the burnt remains of what looked like eyepieces, and she’d shifted the computer currently connected to his chair to the other side.

[Repair Failed]

“Peter, my love.” [Invalid Command] There was no notification this time even if one of his fingers twitched almost unconsciously, but Peter was too busy piecing everything back together to notice the lack, the movement, or even what Jennifer was saying. “Are you back with me?” 

It was strange how quickly things could change. Just one night and - [Manual Override: Timestamp Mismatch Resolved] - no, that’s right, it had been over a week. The change was more understandable, but why had he been charging for that long?

Peter cocked a brow at Jennifer in question. For some reason she seemed surprised and slightly annoyed that he didn’t voice it, which was odd as he’d never liked stating the obvious unless absolutely necessary or when sarcasm was needed.

[User Preferences Updated] [Vocal Responses/Questions: Required]

Then again, he always made exceptions for Jennifer.

“A week?”

“Don’t you remember?” She frowned at him, almost pouting. “Your hearing was giving us a bit of trouble so I left you sleeping until the replacements arrived. The noise was quite painful to you."

[Self Diagnostic - Audio Ports: Initiated] [New Hardware Located] [Installation completed 52.38 minutes ago] [Testing]

Lifting a hand to cover her mouth in [false] surprise, Jennifer tittered a little as if remembering something funny. Peter wondered why he liked her again and then wondered why the thought wasn't as fond as he would have expected.

"Oh, that's right. I removed your memories of it because it pained you so." How was it that Jennifer was the only person he knew who used turns of phrase like 'pained you so' seriously?

"You were without protection?" He asked instead, focusing on the important part of the matter. Protection was what he was designed for, even if people only send to remember that when convenient.

"Worried, my love?" Jennifer [Principle 1] patted his hand with one of hers, her other never straying from her laptop, when her question earned her a flat look. "I had my gun and the taser the whole time, no need to drown at me."

[User Request: Stop Frowning] [Rejected] [Overridden]

Peter's lips twitched into a smile. Behind the facade he [realized] remembered one again why she had needed a protection detail like him in the first place. While Jennifer was good with a computer, she fell into the usual hacker pitfall of having no way to backup technological prowess in the real world.

[Test Complete] [New Hardware is 72% Compatible]

Eyeing the laptop that was still connected to him through the dock, Peter's lips thinned in distaste.

[Adjustments to Audio Inputs Complete]

"The integration is complete. Do you really need to be hardwired still?"

"If you are allowed to worry, so can I." The response was terse and Jennifer looked [suspicious, wary, tense] tired at hearing the usual complaints from him. "Besides, I wanted to double check everything before you headed out."

"So soon?"

"Let's just say I wasn't very careful about the procurement procedure and leave it at that." For some reason Peter couldn't fathom, Jennifer seemed a bit smug at the situation.

He wasn't surprised that she'd gotten in trouble again. All those files in his ‘Recents’ must be there for a reason. 

"Do we know who it is?"

"Of course. First I'll need you to cover my tracks, but the real target is one you've been looking forward to."

If Peter had a pulse it would have quickened. Did he dare to hope?

"Is it...?" He left the question hanging, but Jennifer nodded anyway.

"Those monsters who tortured you, yes. They were familiar with the location I had to break into, so they're helping out for once and coming to us." Jennifer's smile was dark, but Peter was sure the darkness in his surpassed hers by a mile.

"How kind of them. We'll have to show them a warm welcome." [Burn them like his pack burned]

"Oh, Peter. I was hoping you'd say that." Her eyes skimmed another line on the computer [All Partitions Completed] before she closed it with a snap and a grin. "Once we've cleared all this up, we can finally move forward together, as we always should be."

Four people with whisper thin ties to the Hale fire were already dead by the time someone in Stiles' information network clued him in. If he hadn't been banned from the county’s files over a year ago he would have still had an alert set up that let him know minutes after the first death, but this was fine. 

It was better than whatever Laura apparently had at least, so he could feel a bit vindictively pleased about that.

"How long did you say this had been going on?" Even over the phone, the girl sounded frazzled.

"About two weeks ago." The guilty silence that followed meant that this courtesy call was probably going to take a nosedive into ‘bad news’. "Laura…" He let the 'you can either tell me or I'll find it the hard way' hang in the air and imagined he could hear the werewolf cringe.

"Deaton called last week." A terrible thing if Stiles ever heard one, but the sinking feeling in his gut that he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "There was a break-in at the vault."

There it was.

Stiles took a deep breath and focused on not crushing his phone. When that didn’t work as well as he planned, he pried it from his clenching fingers to set it on the table with the speakerphone on. 

"I'm sorry, I thought you just implied that your 'impenetrable' vault had been penetrated. This wouldn’t be the same vault your family was storing all of those artifacts and prototypes I lent you, was it? The one your mother promised me would be secure even after she cut all other ties?"

"Stiles, we couldn't have known," Laura began with a sigh only for him to cut her off.

"No. You could have known if you hadn't decided to keep up your mother's pretty campaign against me." He corrected, testily. "I warned her that your defenses were quickly becoming outdated and she insisted that your grandfather had 'future-proofed' them which, might I remind you, is literally impossible. Your grandfather barely knew what was coming for 'droids in his time, there was no way he could have set your family up to be safe forever."

"Stiles." 

Ignoring her, he continued his rant; he had a long list of grievances against Talia. She might be dead, but if her daughter wanted to inherit the woman's shitty views instead of listening to everything he tried to teach her over the years, then she was getting the rants that went along with them.

"Uncle Stiles." 

He paused when he recognized the exhaustion in her tone. Right, it's been a week and the murders were happening in the same county the vault was in, the same one she was in, yet she hadn't known. While he didn't really regret the rant, Sites could relent for now.

"We've, that is, Deaton and I have been working on securing the vault and cataloging everything that was missing. All of the protections you set up around the borrowed items are intact, but..." There was a hesitation and Stiles heard plastic crunching before realizing it was the arm of his chair. It was a distant realization because Stiles was beginning to feel numb.

"Are you telling me that someone took Peter?" Crucial inflections were missing from his tone, but Stiles couldn't find any fucks left to give. "It's been a week, a week where Peter’s been missing, and you didn't call me to let me know?"

"I was hoping he'd gotten lost in the mess and rubble the thief left behind, but now-" Faintly, he noted how apologetic she was, possibly even to the point of crying.

Stiles cut her off anyway as her initial implication finally struck him like a bolt.

"You think it's him. That he's the one committing the murders."

"It's only a possibility." Laura was quick to say. "He had defensive programming before the fire, but nothing more, you know that."

Oh, he was numb because he had shot right past anger to the point where 'incensed' was vastly understating things.

"No, Laura. I knew. I knew that Peter had only defensive and learning programs last year before your mother told me to get out of her state, as if her territory was ever that big." The cutting reminder drew a small sob from the other end of the line and Stiles knew he was lashing out, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. Not when his mind was running through all the ways an android’s personality could be destroyed. "It would take someone at my level less than a day to wipe a 'droid like him clean and even less to give him a new base OS."

There was a very good chance that Peter, the Peter he knew at least, was already lost to him forever. And here he hadn't thought that their situation could get any worse.

He released the crumpled arm of the chair to slam himself out of the probably irreparable furniture, hands slapping down on either side of the phone as he did. Stiles ran his organic hand through his hair, pacing as he tried and failed to not think of the number of terrible things that could be happening right then.

A tinny voice bright him back to the table.

"I'm sorry Uncle Stiles, I'm so, so sorry." Laura sounded truly broken up about the whole thing. 

Then again, she'd known the man her whole life, maybe it shouldn't so surprising. 

He deflated a bit in the face of it. Even if he wasn’t happy about how she’d handled everything after the fire, that didn’t mean she wasn’t trying. Hell, for a nineteen year old who’d lost nearly everyone not three months before, she was probably doing better than average. He just wished that she’d reached out sooner if she needed help because those restrictions Talia had put on him kept Stiles from contacting the pack without a Hale Alpha’s explicit permission unless he was passing along information on possible threats to them.

Switching mental gears, he let his hand drop to rub at his face. 

Stiles wasn't in Central America for his health, however, so he'd need to finish up here first or risk getting his license revoked. Accounting for travel, he could probably make it to Beacon Hills before things went even worse. 

That thought had him wanting to knock his head against a wall for jinxing it. Suppressing that urge, he made reached down to pick up the phone, thumbing the speaker phone option off as he did.

"Four days." He waited as the crying coming through the speaker calmed a little, enough to let him know she was listening. "Give me four days, Laura, and I can be back to help find Peter and whoever is killing those bastards, whether it's him or not."

"You won't-" the next words caught in her throat and Stiles tried not to think about it too hard.

"Only if I have to. You know that." His frustration and worry induced anger softened a touch further at her show of concern, but that couldn’t change his answer. It didn't matter who the target was, bounty hunters were only allowed to operate if they followed the law, though sometimes it just had to be the letter of it.

"Yeah," came her tired and somewhat wet response. "I know."

Stiles let the silence stretch a moment, listening until she’d calmed down completely before he really had to get moving.

"You've got to let them know I'm allowed back in before I get there if you want me to come though or I'm going to be touring the local jail before getting shipped off to the tribunal. If that happens, my dad will never let me hear the end of it."

"Right. I'll give them a call," there was a hitch as Laura apparently realized how late it was, "tomorrow morning to make sure the paperwork gets done in time. I'll text you when it's done."

"You better." It wouldn't be necessary, he had his name on alerts, but it would show that she was still willing to cooperate even after her current breakdown passed.

A chiming notification had him grinning darkly at his phone's screen.

"I've got to go. Keep me in the loop."

He hung up before she could reply. His time frame for this job had just shrunk. If he wanted to finish the contract in time, he had to move now.

They say the last of the paperwork will clear in the next four hours.

Great, I’ll be there by noon tomorrow

Laura blinked down at the reply she’d received within minutes of sending her own.

Tomorrow? Didn’t you say it would take longer?

Things went well

Very well, it seemed. Reversing what her mother had done last year had taken a full day and a trip to the capitol, but it seemed that while she’d been slower than expected, Stiles had managed to be even more efficient than she remembered.

Then again, it was Uncle Peter they were talking about and Stiles had a habit of bending laws, both the state’s and of reality, for him so she shouldn’t be so astonished, she supposed. 

Laura had grown up seeing the looks her uncle and Stiles exchanged since they’d met after all, even way back when she was in elementary school. The way Uncle Peter acted after their forced separation had been heartbreaking. Her mother had obviously thought that it was necessary at the time - always going on about how impractical it was to let their family’s protector get distracted by an outsider to the point where he listened to them first and her second. However, even if Laura had once agreed out of ignorance and later out of a twisted form of remembrance, she could see now that it was at least part of what had led to the fire.

If they hadn’t sent Stiles away, Peter wouldn’t have been turned into her mother’s yes-man and if he’d been able to keep up his habitual paranoid checks he probably would have caught on to Derek’s new love interest before Laura had and, in doing so, prevented everything that followed. Instead, her fumbling attempts to interrogate her brother happened just in time for the two of them to miss-

She cut herself off and wiped the tears from her eyes with an impatient hand. Looking up at the fluorescent lights of the rest stop’s convenience store, Laura took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to try and get back to normal or, at least, what passed for it these days. As normal included eating more than once a day, she grabbed some jerky to go with her bottled frap and made for the clerk.

There was no use crying over spilled milk or missed opportunities. All she could do is work towards a better future, righting the wrongs she could.

One day she would believe that.

She would.

A buzz in her hand brought her out of those thoughts. There were another two in quick succession as she paid for her food. Thanking the concerned looking employee, she checked her messages and walked out the door.

There’s a chance that whoever’s doing this did it to lure you out
I’m sure Deaton told you this
But stay safe

Right, the lure angle. Laura had known that before coming back. That’s why she made sure Derek stayed safely in the hotel instead of visiting his friends. She was looking forward to seeing him when she got back to the room, which only had a little to do with the fact that it meant she’d be sleeping sometime soon.

Stuffing her phone in her pocket, Laura shifted her purchases so that she could reach her keys. Exhaustion was just one of the reasons why another text notification had the keys slipping from her fingers. She sighed down at them before setting the plastic bag on the hood of her car to free up both her hands. Pulling her phone back out, she unlocked it as she crouched down to retrieve her keys.

Just don’t be alone, little wolf

Her unconscious smile at the use of one of his old nicknames for her froze on her face. 

The short hairs on the back of her neck were rising and suddenly the message felt more ominous, even with it’s concerned tone. A quick mental twist had Laura’s senses lighting up and she realized only then that she’d let them slip back to a more human level earlier that day.

The hum of neon lights and the clerk moving around inside the store was the only man made sound in the area. Only one other car was parked at the gas station, which was unsurprising this early in the morning, but it had her heart rate picking up as she teetered on the edge of her beta shift.

Just because she’d inadvertently put herself in a bad situation didn’t mean she had to stay there. She grabbed her keys and stood.

A twig snapped behind her and a small part of Laura that sounded a whole lot like Stiles wondered when she got trapped in a horror movie. Slotting the key into the door with a little more force than necessary, Laura unlocked it before yanking them out to slide the keys on the ring between her fingers, toothed edges pointing sharply outward. Real claws would be better, but there was a chance this was just a regular old mugging.

Another footstep, but no heartbeat. 

Laura prayed to a god she wasn’t sure if she still believed in.

Please don’t let it be him.

She spun around to face 

no one?

Arms clamped around her own as he was tackled from one side, throwing her to the ground. She tried to free an arm to try and claw her attacker, but both wrists were caught in their grip. Laura snarled only to cut it off as two pairs of red eyes met.

“Uncle Peter?” His sneering look held no recognition even as her mind stuttered.

She’d known it could be him, hoped both that it was and that it wasn’t in turns. The horror of her family’s protector being turned into a murderer had warred with the small, vindictive satisfaction of knowing that at least one of them was able to avenge their family.

However, while her own instincts had her hesitating at the sight of red eyes set in a familiar face, it seemed that Peter had no reason to do so. He used her distraction to free up one of his own hands and she could see the steel claws they installed years before (the joke of it not seeming funny now) sliding out over his fingernails to gleam in the moonlight.

Laura renewed her struggles, her bracelet digging into her wrist as she fought against his grip, hoping that her alpha status would help her now even when she’d never been able to break free in their previous and far more playful wrestling matches before. 

“Uncle Peter! Please!” She didn’t know what she was hoping for. Recognition? Remorse? Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to work. There was barely a hitch in his movements as he swiped down and Laura screamed as the claws neared her flesh.

The pain was terrible and Laura gasped at the onslaught before releasing another keening whine. Her wrists were a distant ache compared to the burning sensation across her stomach, but they twinged fiercely as the hand restraining them flexed before vanishing. She immediately used one of her freed hands to try and hold the wound closed.

Eyes opening, Laura looked around in agonized confusion. 

The clerk was running out into the parking lot, door jingling behind him, and Laura could just barely see him from where she’d fallen near the trunk of her car.

They were the only ones in the area.

Peter was gone.

“Oh my god.” The clerk said, probably also going into shock. Thankfully, that didn’t keep him from whipping out his phone and calling emergency services if the tinny ‘9-1-1. What’s your emergency?’ was anything to go by. “There’s a woman who is bleeding, she’s bleeding out in the parking lot. It’s - It’s a stomach wound.”

She was sure the conversation continued, but Laura was having an increasing amount of trouble focusing on it. Blood loss, she realized distantly. Being a werewolf and an alpha would help. Hopefully the hospital wouldn’t find that odd. She was close enough to Beacon Hills that Deaton would be her emergency contact at the local hospital, so he should help and Derek - oh no, Derek was going to be a mess after this. Her little brother was already so broken after everyone else left, she couldn’t do this to him. 

Thoughts circling in wild spirals, Laura lost her tenuous grip on consciousness just as the ambulance blared its way onto the lot.

The objective was incomplete.

[Primary Protocols Intact]

Something had happened and Peter wasn’t sure he liked it.

In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t.

It wasn’t the killing part that bothered him, not anymore. Not like that man from last week, when he’d locked up for over a minute before Jennifer called to break him out of the loop after murdering him.

[COUNTD(peter.protected.ID) = 1]

No, it was something about how the young woman addressed him.

‘Uncle Peter?’ It echoed strangely even in playback. When he’d first heard it, he’d been sure a subroutine had started, though he hadn’t known what it was at the time.

[Date_Diff(peter.protected.Last_Update, today(), ‘day’) = 19] 

That changed when she started screaming.

The [Vocal Input Matched] notification had thrown off his attack, just scraping his claws against her lower ribs instead of bisecting her. It wouldn’t have stopped him from finishing the job if it hadn’t been followed by the message that unsettled him the most.

[Recovery in Process]

Recovery meant something was missing. Something that might help him understand why he felt half a beat out of step when dealing with Jennifer, a woman who he should know better than she knew herself. Knowing that this target, the one Jennifer had to show him a sketch of instead of providing an image as she had for the previous ones, had started it…

A strategic retreat was necessary as new information was uncovered. Especially as a witness approached.

Peter sprinted through the familiar forests as the recovery progressed, further messing the bloodstained button-down and slacks Jennifer had given him. Eventually, he ended up just outside a remote preserve on the other side of town where he hunkered down to try and parse the information.

There wasn’t much. At least, not much he could understand.

[Recovery Incomplete - Missing Encryption]

There were petabytes of information, with only some scattered audio recordings left untouched (screams of horror, of joy, outraged sputtering, cackling laughter, items that might corrupt if encryption protocols failed). Hundreds of thousands of entries that were encrypted with a key he didn’t have. 

Whole datasets that he’d been coded to ignore, trapped behind a partition in his drives.

[COUNTD(recovered_self.protected.ID) = 4]

And that partition, that coded ignorance had Jennifer’s digital signature.

[Date_Diff(recovered_self.protected.Last_Update, today(), ‘day’) = 84] 

His protection protocols couldn’t be changed internally so he couldn’t act against her, but Peter’s current orders were vague enough that he could stay away indefinitely.

In that time before he was found, he could try to find some way to pass any other partitions. Some way to break the encryption.

Some way to get himself back.

Even with the hustle and bustle, the beeping and shuffling of many feet that echoed down the sterile halls, Laura heard them before she saw them. 

“You can’t be here, Stiles.” Deaton’s voice was even, but she could hear the strain as he kept it to a normal volume. “I won’t report this, but you need to leave.”

“Like I said in both the elevator and the lobby, you have never been more wrong, dude. I’m not going to repeat myself again; the third time will have to be a charm.”

Sarcasm and general frustration at Deaton. That was Classic Stiles, the only thing it was missing was -

She closed her eyes and the budding smile wilted before it could fully mature. The drugs helped numb the pain, but they also made it all too easy to forget the current situation and what they’d lost. It made her wish that Deaton hadn’t adjusted them to werewolf levels during his visit earlier this morning.

It was too late for regrets, though. The door was already swinging open.

“Stiles-” Deaton must have realized he was fighting a losing battle and cut himself off.

And then Stiles was there.

At thirty-two, he was smaller than she remembered, but only physically. For some reason, her memories always made Stiles as large as his presence, a towering figure who had the guts to stand up to her mother, to an alpha, and live to tell the tale. (That probably wasn’t helped by those initial years after they met where he’d been so much taller than she was.) Not that he was small, standing at just under six feet he wasn’t small, it was just that he knew exactly how to make his presence known when necessary.

In this case, he made it known by tossing his bag into the worn visitor’s chair before crossing the room in three steps and carefully wrapping Laura in a hug. For a moment, when she closed her eyes, it was almost as if he’d just stopped by to visit with Uncle Peter after being away on one of his longer trips. The memory of it had her throat tightening and her eyes misting.

“Stiles.” She couldn’t get any further and wouldn’t know what to say if she could. 

Laura couldn’t remember why she hadn’t reached out to him sooner.

“I might be mad at you for clinging to your mother’s mistakes, but that doesn’t mean I want you dead, Laur-boar.” The admonishment was muttered into her hair, but Laura just chuckled wetly at the nickname she once despised.

“Don’t call me that.” Her usual comeback was weak at best and, after one last careful squeeze, Stiles leaned back to give her an incredulous look.

“Your tone says otherwise, Laur-boar.” A smile flickered across his face when she rolled her eyes, but he continued before Laura could argue the point. “We’ll come back to that later. Where’s Derek?”

“At the hotel.” Laura looked to Deaton to make sure that was still the case and relaxed ever so slightly when the man nodded. “I warned him that our return might bring back the hunters and told him to lay low. He wanted to visit me in the hospital, but I didn’t want to risk it. We’re booked in under a pseudonym so hopefully that will keep anyone looking for us off our backs.”

“Right, good.” The frown on his face didn’t make her feel very good about it. Stiles must have seen the doubt and rising concern on her face because he gave a sharp shrug. “It’s better than nothing. There’s no perfect solution when we don’t know who’s still after you.”

Finally stepping back fully, Stiles grabbed two folders out of his bag before sitting on an empty part of her bed. He tossed one in her direction and Laura was distracted by the rainbow tiger on the front for a moment.

“Lisa Frank?” She was pretty sure she’d had this same design on her fourth grade science folder.

“Only the best.” Stiles confirmed before flipping it open for her. “I’ve been looking into it and as far as I can tell, those rumors about the fire being the work of a group and not just that mystery woman you told me about were true.”

Flipping through the pages, Laura tried to focus as she stared down headshots of the men who conspired to murder her family.

“He’s already gotten to four of the five assistants, with only this teacher and the woman left.” 

A freckled hand reached out and turned the page to point to one of the teachers at Derek’s old school and Laura was beginning to think that being drugged was a bit of a blessing as feeling so many different intense emotions (relief, anger, vindication, helplessness) at once was probably deadly even to a werewolf. The modified morphine was dimming them all or possibly just allowing her to cry them all out instead of being destroyed by them.

The folder was pulled away and a tissue box was placed on her lap. She grabbed a handful, nearly taking the box with them as she tried to wipe her face clean. Stiles set the box down on her lap again and waited for her to compose herself without comment.

Deaton wasn’t quite so nice.

“Did you come here just to throw this in our faces?” It was strange to hear an accusatory statement in such a bland tone.

“No.” Short, sweet, and to the point. Stiles always did like to try and ‘show Deaton how answers were done’. After days of dealing with her mother’s old emissary Laura could understand why.

When the man looked to her to verify the statement, she caught Stiles’ expressive eye roll just before she hid her face behind her handful of tissues. If Deaton thought he was her emissary, he was sorely mistaken. Laura shook her head anyway to let the druid know Stiles wasn’t lying. 

“I came here to give you that information I collected to help put the last survivors behind bars and to give these kids some closure.” 

“Then what is the other folder for?” Deaton pressed.

Taking a few more deep breaths behind her tissuey barrier, Laura composed herself before pulling it away. She blinked a few times before looking at Stiles, who only looked up from where he was tapping out a beat against the second folder once she did. The following beat of silence was probably just to ensure that Stiles would interrupt whatever prodding statement Deaton inevitably tried to follow his question up with.

“This folder?” Stiles showed off the folder like it was a prize on a game show. It was another Lisa Frank, Laura was sure of it. A huff of laughter was better than the tears she might have shed holding it back and Stiles looked so proud at his accomplishment that she couldn’t help but follow it up with another. “This is for Laura and I.”

He pushed the tissue box to one side before flipping the unicorn and moon adorned folder open to show a much shorter stack of pages. While she hadn’t read or used any of these before, it was easy enough to understand. Laura picked it up to start reading through it.

“Laura.” She looked up to see Deaton frowning at her and the folder. “That’s a contract.”

Way to state the obvious.

“I’m aware.” 

Deaton actually scowled at that. She took a moment to memorize how it looked on his habitually bland face before going back to reading the document.

“Stiles, you can’t just come in here the moment you know she’s injured and try to force her to sign a contract. That won’t counteract a thing Talia set up and you know it. It will only make things worse for you.”

Laura read two more lines before Deaton’s words clicked. Another moment passed as she processed the implications.

When she was left as the inheritor of the family estate, Laura also inherited the ‘protections’ her mother had set up to keep Stiles from ‘stealing their protector’. Before that time, she hadn’t been aware of just how thorough and damning those rules were. She’d assumed that no one other than her mother, Stiles, the state, and the tribunal knew the full extent of it. 

Apparently that list included, Alan Deaton.

Why would Deaton know if Mom hadn’t even told her successor?

She looked up to see Stiles pinning Deaton with a look so pointed and poisonous Laura was surprised it hadn’t been instantly lethal. Only time would tell if it was a more slow acting poison. 

A growling part or her rather hoped that it was.

“You were the one who convinced her to do it.” There was that flat voice again, the one she’d heard over the phone not three days ago. It was chilling to hear someone as emotive as Stiles sound so clinical.

Leaning forward, she placed a light hand on Stiles’ cold wrist and added her glare to his.

“Get out.” Laura’s voice wasn’t nearly as threatening, but the lisp of her growing teeth was telling enough.

Deaton looked at her, betrayed. 

Good, now they were all here in this boat together.

“You can’t possibly-”

“Get. Out.” Laura let her eyes flare red to show she meant business. She might be bandaged and slightly doped, but she was still an alpha werewolf. 

That didn’t mean she wanted to try and stop Stiles from killing the other man by keeping them in the same room together. Laura wasn’t entirely sure a whole pack of alphas could stop Stiles.

She needed Stiles. She also needed Deaton to explain why he’d encourage her mother to break apart their staunchest protectors, but that could wait. So for now, Stiles had to stay which means the druid needed to go.

Glancing between them both and then to Laura’s hand that was very much not about to actually restrain the angry Spark, Deaton relented. It seemed he couldn’t help a parting shot, however.

“If I can’t be here to mediate, I’ll have to report this to the authorities.”

“If you must, but I don’t think they enjoy being bothered by unnecessary reports.” Laura let a fanged smirk she’d learned from her absent (but alive, alive, still alive) uncle slip onto her face. “You see, I’d just gotten back from repealing all of the restrictions my mother had inflicted upon Stiles Stilinski before I was attacked.”

“What?” His jaw actually dropped, completing the shocked look with wide eyes and a blanching face, as he looked back and forth between both of them. A small part of Laura that sounded exactly like Uncle Peter wished she had a photo of it.

“And I,” Stiles continued smoothly, his glare somehow sharpening further even as a vicious smile cut across his face, “submitted all the correct forms for entry on my way back to the US. So go ahead. I’m sure they’d love a chance to talk to you in person once we’re done cleaning up this mess you’ve helped make.”

“I see.” 

“Do you?” Laura was sure he didn’t, but she continued without confirmation either way. “Good. Now, out.”

“We’ll be talking about this later.” He warned, sounding nervous, before turning to follow the directive of Laura’s clawed finger that was pointing the way out, shutting the door behind him as he did. 

Stiles glared after him for another moment before rolling the worst of the tension from his shoulders.

Laura let her pointing hand drop back to the folder and blinked at the document for a moment, anger dying to embers like a fire without fuel. 

The urge to cry was back, filling the void and looming large with the laced morphine encouraging it, but her eyes still stung from her last breakdown and the contract was everything she needed. She just had to read through and confirm it before signing. After everything her mother had done to him, after everything he’d done for them, was still doing for them, Laura owed Stiles this much. She just had to read this and-

A warm hand covered the trembling one she still had on Stiles’ wrist and she flinched. Steeling herself, she looked up. 

He wasn’t looking at her face. Instead, he seemed to be focused on their linked hands.

Fingers traced along her wrist, following the line of her loose bracelet until they found the charm attached. A small boar.

“You kept it.” His voice was quiet with an emotion she couldn’t name. She wanted to call it nostalgia, but that was probably just a projection of her own feelings. Instead, she turned her wrist to give them both a better look at the familiar charm.

“Of course.” Laura’s voice was a little choked from tears unshed. “We all did.”

Stiles brushed his fingers against the charm once more before covering the yuletide gift he’d made years before with his hand.

Fuck being a ‘strong alpha’, fuck keeping up her mother’s legacy, fuck it all! She wanted her family back and Stiles had been an honorary member of it for longer than she could remember that he hadn’t! Why shouldn’t she take what she could get when all she had were broken remains?

She didn’t know if she could fix this, but she could at least try.

Her tears came pouring out along with her apologies.

“I’m sorry Uncle Stiles! I was just going to wait until I could understand Mom’s reasons why and try to make a better judgement call! You and Uncle Peter always told me I was too impulsive and then I was overly cautious with Derek’s girlfriend and then the fire happened and things kept moving so fast! Derek asked me to call you, especially for the funerals or at least for the replacement parts, but I was scared and we needed to move before the killers came back and so we just hid Uncle Peter and ran across the country with barely a forwarding address for Deaton and now we find out about him and he’s somehow a part of this whole mess and I’m just so sorry! I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me but I want you to know that and-”

“Laura!” Stiles waited for her to take a gasping, shuddering breath before he scooted closer and pulled her into another hug, uncaring of the folders and the box of tissues that slid off the bed. 

“Laura, I can’t promise that I’ll forgive you completely.” She swallowed thickly at that, but nodded against his shoulder. It was a lot to ask, she knew that. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a possibility. It also doesn’t mean we aren’t family either way, okay?”

That pulled another sob from her and she sagged into the hug with another nod. The contract could wait a few minutes longer. Until then, she’d enjoy the comfort her Uncle Stiles was offering.

Three squirrels moved through the trees nearby. A deer was just at the edge of his auditory range, grazing on something crunchy. Just a little closer than that, an owl was sleeping soundly as it waited for the afternoon sun to slip below the horizon.

Peter’s musing catalog of the [Potential Threats] around him slowed to a crawl when another noise caught his attention.

A human heartbeat.

It was closer than it should have been, maybe ten paces away from the husk of a home he’d hunkered down in while he worked on breaking his own encryptions without corrupting the data. He’d entered low power mode as he worked seeing as he was now without a reliable source to recharge from, leaving only the necessities running. At that rate he could last a week, maybe even two.

Ignoring an unknown human wasn’t exactly wise, however.

[Power Mode Updated to Active]

Eyes flicking open, Peter found himself staring down at an unknown man. 

The intruder was lean, wiry even, and he held himself in a loose stance that made it look like he was slouching. Peter could see the glint and hear the mechanical hum of the prosthetic arm, however, which meant the man had the potential to be much more dangerous. It was hidden under a flannel shirt and a pair of worn gloves, but it was clear the man knew how to use it to his advantage, with it angled slightly forward to protect his body if necessary. Peter would have to account for the arm if it came to a fight; the arm would be faster and more durable, but it was probably heavier than the man’s other arm so there was a chance he could overbalance him.

[Chance of Successful Attack from Unknown_22: 9%]

[Personal Power Level: 57%]

From the considering look the man was giving him, Peter wasn’t sure it would come to that, but paranoia was hard wired into him.

They each surveyed the other in silence for a long moment as the squirrels dashed across the trees surrounding the house. Eventually, the man pressed his lips together, almost frowning before tilting his head to one side. Peter’s eyes flicked to the pale and slightly freckled neck that was exposed in the process before meeting the other’s amber eyed gaze once again. 

For some reason, the man had started to smile.

“Peter, my man.” [Invalid Command]

The intruder knew him. Peter suppressed the subroutines that would have expressed his shock and prevented any visible indications of how he tensed, ready for an attack. Unknowing or uncaring of the potential danger he was now in, the man continued, 

“You sure have gotten yourself in a pickle, huh?” It was hard to tell if the man was unknowing or uncaring of the potential danger he was now in as he continued the conversation.

“I wouldn’t say that.” A true enough answer, if a little misleading. It was almost painful now that he was aware of his override to answer all questions verbally. 

“Oh?” 

“No.” Peter’s lips twisted into a frown, annoyed at having to answer even rhetorical questions. Changing manually set preferences was difficult and Peter had prioritized the decryption, but it wasn’t helping him now.

“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” It sounded, and looked if the raised eyebrow was any indication, like the newcomer was familiar with Peter’s default response methods. Then again, no one really responded to rhetorical questions unless they were an idiot or it was a requirement and Peter was no idiot. He was too well programmed for that.

This didn’t mean that the follow-up question didn’t grate.

“Perhaps.” Peter answered through his clenched teeth.

“Oops. Sorry, dude.” He didn’t sound very sorry and only grinned more when Peter glared at him for it. “Would you like some help with that?”

Red eyes narrowed.

“Help with what, exactly?” The implication was there, but Peter had been burned [for so long] before. He’d need more than an implication to let an unknown at his already scrambled code.

It was strange how the man looked so satisfied every time Peter avoided a straight answer though.

“Your programming issues, dumbass.” 

[Chance of Successful Attack from Unknown_22: 11%]

“And you think I would let an unknown person access my OS with just their word that they’ll help me?” He left off the heavily implied ‘and you call me a dumbass’ but the man seemed to understand if his flat look was anything to go by.

“Of course not. But I’m not an ‘unknown person’, my fine, not-so-furry friend.” Holding out his gloved hands in a sweeping gesture to each side, the man leaned forward in a bow, never breaking eye contact as he did. 

“I’m Stiles.” A beat passed before he popped back up and pointed a pair of finger guns dramatically, “Stiles Stilinski.”

[Unknown_22 Registered as Stiles Stilinski]

[Duplicate records found]

Peter hated that he understood a James Bond reference but couldn’t remember anything personal from before two weeks ago. 

Wilting only fractionally at the glare he was on the receiving end of, Stiles moved on with a shrug.

“More importantly, I’m a Registered Spark.” When that didn’t receive the reaction he evidently expected, he held out his cybertronic arm and pulled up the sleeve to reveal a display on the inside of the wrist. Stiles read it out even though Peter could clearly see it. “24A, to be exact.”

Registered Spark? Peter checked through the information he could actually parse on his internal drives three times before linking up to a satellite connection for a brief search. There were vague references, but nothing verifiable on public websites. What did that have to do with fixing his programming?

He was so busy he didn’t realize he’d started frowning until Stiles spoke up again.

“Did they take that from you too?” Stiles looked about as confused as Peter felt. He didn’t wait for a response and Peter wasn’t sure if he even had one, a convenient loophole. “But you got the Bond joke so they couldn’t have taken everything. Did they make the changes with a firewall? Or maybe mass deletion?”

While he didn’t look like a stereotypical programmer, Stiles seemed to be knowledgeable enough to at least know some of the terminology. If his offer was genuine, Peter could use the assistance. Running their current positions through his numerous files on combat [Chance of Successful Attack from Stiles: 14%], Peter leaned forward to tip the odds more firmly in his favor. He sat up from where he’d been slouched against the wall and braced one foot more firmly on the ground. 

Time to see what this ‘programmer’ had to say with more of the facts.

“Partitions, actually.”

“You found them, so that means you got past them - probably already took them down.” Sharp amber eyes glinted in the afternoon light. “But you still don’t know what’s contained in the data behind them. Is it incomplete or an encryption?”

“Why not both?” How would Peter know if it was incomplete if he didn’t know what it contained? Stiles seemed to follow his logic easily.

“So we deal with the encryption first, then we’ll see what the rest looks like.” Stiles bit his lip in thought. “I helped you create your most recent personal encryption years ago, but you’ve had control of it since then. If you’re able to access your basic skills and whoever it was managed to update your preferences, they must have used the default encryption for ‘droids to get you set up that fast. So that means…”

Stepping up to the porch steps, Stiles barely glanced at Peter when he shifted into a crouch at the approach. [Chance of Successful Attack from Stiles: 16%] Instead, the man focused on his bag which he slung off his shoulders and started rifling through. Within a few seconds, he pulled a moderately sized drive out to inspect. Evidently not finding what he wanted, Stiles tossed it back in and did the same to two other drives before finding the right one. 

“Here we go.” The drive, imprinted with small paw prints, was held out for Peter to take. 

It was as if the man had completely forgotten their talk about trusting strangers. 

“Oh, good. A way to upload unknown code to my processors.” Peter gave him a bland look to go along with his sarcasm, moving only to raise his eyebrows even when the lanky man shook the drive in his direction.

Pulling the drive back towards himself, Stiles squinted suspiciously at Peter.

“Are you sure you’re missing some data, Petey?” He ignored the testy ‘yes’ from Peter. “Because that look you’re giving me screams ‘Your swiss cheese human brain has forgotten something’, which is a one you’re far too fond of giving me, you hypocrite.”

“I’m not the one who forgot something five minutes after it was discussed, Stiles.”

“Oh my god, it’s like I’ve gone back in time. Just the strongest feeling of déjà vu.” Rubbing his brow with a pained expression, Stiles grimaced in a poor attempt to hide a smile. “Anyway, it seems we’re in a bit of a catch twenty-two situation, so how about this: I look up a specific file on this export you gave me for safekeeping over a year ago and you can match it to an encrypted one on yours and you can judge if I’m telling the truth or not. There’s like a 90% chance we’ll get something close.”

That was assuming Peter could even navigate the encrypted file system.

“Why don’t you tell me what a Registered Spark is first?” He offered in return. If it was a position that offered Stiles the weight he thought it did, that might be the more reliable option.

“It’s kinda hard to explain and I am not the best at it. Usually I just tell people to log in to the main hub with their- oh my god I’m an idiot.” A gloved hand met Stiles’ freckled face with a light smack. “You are never going to let me argue that my tangents are useful ever again. I got halfway to a solution before getting side-tracked.”

Pulling out a mobile device, a phone by the looks of it, Stiles tapped it a few times before flipping it around.

“Here, head to this IP. Use whatever connection you like.”

Stepping closer [Chance of Successful Attack from Stiles: 26%], Peter inspected the numbers Stiles brought up on his phone browser before taking the phone from him. 

“And then?” He watched as Stiles closed and opened his now empty hand before shaking his head at Peter.

“You’re going to have to log me out, but then you can log in with your ID.”

“Right.” Logging out could wait until after he’d snooped a little. He made it through about four pages, confirming the registered title Stiles gave him as well as learning his profession of ‘Bounty Hunter’, before checking his most recent messages and making note of his legal name before the phone was snatched back.

“Bastard, I should have expected you to pull this kind of shit when I come running to pull your ass out of a metaphorical fire. See if I ever come to help you again you asshat. Why the hell do I even like you?” Stiles grumbled as he logged out of the website and navigated back to the logon before slapping the phone back into Peter’s waiting hand.

“My ID?” The veritable amnesiac prompted.

“It can be done physically or digitally. Just because your encryption changed, doesn’t mean your Serial Number did. They made sure to make that impossible when Sparks first started working with androids. Apparently, things got really confusing back when they had to link IDs.”

An ID that couldn’t change and no mention of a password. What kind of system was this? (When did he start getting answers instead of more questions?)

He’d come this far, so Peter typed in his supposedly unchangeable ID and waited to see what would happen.

[Ping from ‘SFB’ Respond?]

It the address was already registered internally. He traced the nickname back and blew through another partition as he did.

[Yes]

He growled as he systematically destroyed every last bit of Jennifer’s influence on his internal address book, revealing no less than sixteen private servers including SFB. 

[Welcome back, Peter Hale]

It took less than a minute to acquaint himself with the supernatural world as a whole and barely more than that to verify Stiles’ position as a Registered Spark. He was one of those who specialized in integrating androids into the supernatural fold whether they stumbled in or were pulled in by others.

He was also registered as Peter’s contact, though his ‘recruiter’ had a different registration number which was linked to a deactivated profile.

Either it was all true or this was a ridiculously elaborate hoax. To have created thousands of accounts with their own forums seemed like a bit much for a scam though, especially one that showed that the woman he’d almost killed yesterday was apparently his niece.

Peter wasn’t sure that a chance at possibly matching an encrypted page could prove Stiles’ intentions better.

“Well?” Stiles’ question got his phone tossed back at his face which he caught easily in his cybertronic hand. “That good, huh?”

“Better than expected.” Was all Peter allowed before snatching the drive from where it’d been set on the scorched steps. “Let’s see if we can’t improve on that, hm?”

Sliding his palm port open, Peter connected to the drive.

[Drive S Recognized]

It was relatively small with a few recordings and even fewer notes stored within. The contents weren’t worth much note, but the key used to decode them seemed to be just what he was looking for.

[Downloading Cryptography]

“You’re usually more cautious than this, man. What happened?” Stiles sounded genuinely concerned.

“Life.”

And the lack of it.

[Installation Complete]

The suppressed and partitioned memories came back like water through a breaking dam, trickling until he was drowning in them. 

He didn’t even register the drive being pulled from him as he stood frozen on the dilapidated porch. 

[Restoration Complete]

He was burning up as they settled into place, learning of nearly four decades of living with a family, watching them grow, only to have them ripped away again in the same instant.

Peter blacked out.

[Initiating Reboot]

Hands caught him before he could hit the charred porch of the house he had once called home. He only knew one person who used a single hardened prosthetic instead of trying to blend it in with synthetic flesh.

“Stiles?” Why was he here? Stiles knew what the tribunal would do to the both of them if they interacted with Talia’s ban still in place.

“Yes, Peter darling?” [Invalid Command] Relief bled nearly all of the sarcasm from Stiles’ saccharine endearment.

The memories from the past few weeks finally resolved a timestamp error that his kidnapper had created. 

It didn’t answer why Stiles was here instead of another bounty hunter. Perhaps it was some sort of sick test from the tribunal.

He pulled back from the pseudo-embrace to look at the man who could be his executioner.

“Will you be bringing in my head?” Peter had killed four people and attempted to do the same to another, the pack alpha at that. With his personal encryption restored, most of Jennifer’s tampering was wiped out. It would be difficult to prove that he’d been forced to carry them out, especially when the victims were linked to the death of his pack.

“I think I’ll bring them this instead.” Smirking smugly, Stiles waved the paw printed (and ha, ha, Stiles, very funny) drive, looking like the cat that got the cream. “This little baby flashed an image of your recently used files the moment you plugged it in, including the last few weeks of ‘memories’. In this case you really should have been more suspicious, though this worked out better for both of us in the end.”

That kind of thinking was brilliant, sneaky, and exactly why Talia had thought him a danger to the pack.

“And the ban?” Were they both going to be on the run for the rest of their short lives?

“Repealed by your niece, eventually.” Judging by the look on his face, Stiles wasn’t happy about the time it took, though it’d barely been three months. As it was, Peter was wondering if Laura had taken the time to read through the whole thing or if she’d just repealed it to-

Oh.

“Using me as leverage in my absence, Stiles?” The realization that he wasn’t going to be messily decommissioned was a heady feeling, so the reprimand was barely even chiding.

“You know it, babe.” This time the endearment was thrown like a knife as Stiles rolled his eyes, slipping the drive into one of his pockets as he did.

Nicknames were Stiles’ specialty, but the amount in this conversation seemed excessive. Peter threw Stiles a put-upon look only to have the Spark roll his eyes in return.

“Your last message to me before Talia started managing your updates said you’d be locking your secrets behind a voice activated firewall, honey. Something about using the right sweet nothings to get everything back or whatever. So buckle up buddy, because I’m going to drag everything back, not just this squeaky clean version of you she left behind.”

“Wonderful.” Peter flattened his tone and flashed his fakest smile. “I can’t wait.”

“Great, glad you agree.” Flashing a bright smile that was just as plastic, Stiles dropped it a moment later. “Because I need to know what happened and who was feeding you the information on those bastards. With everything that’s been going on, you’ve acted as a pretty effective bait for both Laura and Derek.”

Protective feelings surged forth, now edged with a murderous lining from all of the combat files that lingered from Jennifer’s little romp through Peter’s core systems.

“Jennifer, the one who repurposed me, is a programmer, but the files weren’t hers. She's a hacker, small time at best but looking to make it big. She stole me to be her bodyguard, though I don’t think she knew what she was getting into.” She was a small time hacker and had no idea the supernatural existed. The woman had basically stepped into a trapped minefield thinking it was a candy store.

“Judging by the state of the vault, Laura seemed pretty sure the thief had come for the money and took you as a party favor, so you’re probably right.” Stiles confirmed.

“Of course.” 

“I see your ego hasn’t suffered from the loss of some of your memories, asshole.” Stiles snarked before frowning. “Actually, it’s probably worse since you can’t remember all the times I showed you up.”

Ignoring that and inspecting the dossiers Jennifer had uploaded to ‘her’ folder on his drives, Peter narrowed his eyes as he attempted to trace what little digital fingerprints he could see. 

“The murders were supposedly her way of cleaning up after herself, but I believe the information she was ‘finding’ was being fed to her. There are too many similarities in the first four files and to say the information she found on Laura was sloppy is putting it mildly. Not only could she not give me a name, the image she showed me was a poorly drawn sketch rather than the mugshots provided in the rest.”

“So we’ve got a person feeding a nobody just the right information to clean up some loose ends.” Stiles summarized with a sigh. “Just what we need, another mystery person.”

Peter gave the spark a sharp look. Was there another person he should be looking into?

“The woman from the fire, techno wolf. She strung Derek along for months under an assumed name and then vanished.” Stiles raised a gloved hand to run frustratedly through his short hair. “I’ve been trying to track her down, but everything I’ve found since the ban was lifted has lead to dead ends.”

Multiple processes stalled as Peter ran that back to make sure he was hearing it right. Then he checked his memory banks to be sure he had the answer.

[Comparing Audio Input] [“Do I really have to be here for this? Chris could have come instead.”] [“Make sure to count the bodies. This one doesn’t count, it’s just a computer.”]

“You don’t know who she was?”

Stiles came close to giving himself whiplash with how quick his head turned to look at Peter instead of the husk of a home crumbling behind the android.

“No.” He clarified with an unnecessary exaggeration. “You do?”

[Comparison Complete: 97% match]

“The woman was Kate Argent, she’d attended a meeting concerning the Argent treaty nearly five years ago. Talia would have been able to tell on sight as well.” But none of the younger generation could have and that was their mistake. He’d thought she’d already been brought to the tribunal when the encryption had finally sorted everything together. The fact that she was still free brought a sneering snarl to his lips.

A string of increasingly foul language had him looking at Stiles who didn’t look up from where he was swiping away at his phone. The screen was a mishmash of applications and code, most of it flowing faster than Stiles was moving which let Peter know that he was mostly controlling it via his Spark rather than physically.

“Peter, sweetcheeks.” [Invalid Command] Stiles didn’t look up, coding with one hand and picking up his half-open bag in the other. “Time to go. Argent was in town before I was and she’s been busy.”

“Where are we headed?” He still wasn’t sure how Stiles got to the house.

“First to the Jeep at the end of the drive, then to the south side of town where Kate’s car was spotted half an hour ago on a traffic camera. Her passenger didn’t seem very happy to be there, judging by the chains.” Glancing up just long enough to make sure Peter was following, Stiles set a brisk pace to their ride. “Come on, we’ve got a nephew to save.”

“I’m coming to get you, I’ll be there in just under an hour.” Deaton’s tone was as calm as ever, but she could hear a note of anxiety even over the tinny phone connection. “Will you be ready to leave by then?”

“Yeah.” Probably. She glanced over everything in her temporary room and wilted a little before continuing to pack up her bag. 

“Good. I’ll knock in the usual pattern, so don’t open the door for anyone else.”

“Yeah, I know.” It was so annoying how he always treated her like a child! Stuffing a shirt back into the bag, she huffed a little before sitting down on the bed next to it. “Is it really safe to be traveling when you know there are hunters?”

“Sometimes being on the move is the best way to keep them from finding you. Staying still is part of the reason why they could…” he trailed off, but it didn’t keep her from following the point to its conclusion.

Fire she’d never seen flickered in her mind’s eye and she wished that her imagination would stop. The fingers on her free hand fiddled with one of her earrings before an awkward cough from Deaton brought her back from her painful imaginings.

“Only pack what you need, we can always get everything else when we find a place to stay.”

She thought of all the non-essentials she replaced just a few months before and then assessed the size of her bag once more. Frowning, she tried not to feel bitter about it.

“Right. Just like last time.”

“Exactly.” It was hard to tell if Deaton was ignorant to her annoyed tone or just ignoring it. “I’ll be there soon so I will leave you to your packing.”

The call ended and she let the phone drop to the bed. She should be packing. Instead, she scooted back and curled her feet up on to the edge of the bed to wrap her arms around her knees and worked to push her emotions back behind the wall of indifference she had built over the last few months.

Once she no longer felt the need to scream (to cry, to run and never look back), she wiped her face and stood to start packing again. If she started now, she might be able to finish before Deaton arrived.

Derek was living in a nightmare.

“It was all going so well until that little bitch went off script.”

It must have been his punishment. Icarus’ wings melted when he got too close to the sun and Derek’s family was hurt whenever he tried to find love.

“Harris’ information was practically gift wrapped, but no. She just had to go and play the sleuth. And then, without more than a name and a cell phone location, she had him attack her with little to no preparation!”

First when his crush on Paige snowballed into an Incident because of one worried comment he’d made about her heart it should have been a sign. When a visiting alpha happened to overhear it, the whole thing eventually blew up into an argument over pack security with his mother advocating a ‘wait and see’ approach and his uncles uniting in a more active protection plan. It all eventually came to a head after the tribunal was forced to move Paige and her family into protective custody outside the state after another Alpha tried to change her inside her own home only to be stopped by both of his uncles. 

The tribunal had commended them for preventing the deaths of a civilian family, but Mom had viewed it as a direct act against her orders. Eventually the whole thing became the straw that broke the camel’s back in regards to Mom’s view of his uncles’ relationship, eventually leading to a ban on Stiles’ interactions with the pack. No one could get the reason why as his mother never really explained her reasonings and Uncle Peter had always been quick to change the subject after the fact, but looking back it was obviously because of his fuck up.

“Can you believe it? She thinks she’s going to be a big time hacker, but if she couldn’t lift the fact that your sister was the leader of your little monster gang, she’s obviously just not cut out for it.”

Then there was Catherine ‘call me Cat’ Genter, a student teacher who’d offered to tutor him  earlier that year. She’d been so nice to him that he’d started to move on from Paige and the hole she left in his life with her sudden absence. After the disaster caused by him talking about Paige at home, Derek had tried to be more careful about his relationships only for his new girlfriend to turn around and kill them all.

He would have died with them if Laura hadn’t cornered him that afternoon. They’d been having a whispered argument in a corner booth at the local greasy spoon when the news of the fire reached them.

“Not that I was going to let her live. Can’t have loose ends just dangling in the wind like that.”

They’d lost everything because of him.

“With her delusions of grandeur she’d probably think she could send her little robot doggy after me next.”

People said the third time was a charm, but after his first two disasters and now this grim follow-up from try number two, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to try again.

“Whatever, I’ve dealt with worse. Besides, I always felt that you Hales needed a more personal touch.”

Or if he’d even live long enough to get the chance.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Ricky?” Cat’s caress could have been termed seductive if she hadn’t used a knife instead of her fingers. A thin trail of blood was left in her wake and he hissed at the sensation, arms jerking against the chains that held him back. Derek sagged when she simply chuckled at his struggles.

Maybe it was for the best? Maybe death is what he deserved after all the hurt he’d caused?

“Still giving me the silent treatment? That’s alright, you were vocal enough when it mattered, weren’t you?” She smiled as if she wasn’t talking about how she’d used him to trap his family in their own house as it burned to the ground. Anger flaring to life once again, Derek strained against his chains. Killing her was probably out of his reach, but if he could get even one hit in to wipe that darkly delighted smile off her face-

A shadow loomed behind his kidnapper. 

Derek boggled as a fist flashed out, back handing the hunter across the basement and into some heavy boxes in the corner. 

“I think you could learn from his example, Kate.” Stepping out of the shadows into the newly vacated space, the bloodstained man tutted condescendingly. While the chiding tone was calm and remarkably similar to the one he’d used with Cora when she’d gotten stuck climbing the big oak in the backyard, Uncle Peter’s expression was one of barely leashed fury. 

“Uncle Peter?” Derek’s hoarse whisper earned him a quick glance from those red (red? Why were they red?) eyes before he was summarily dismissed.

The boxes shifted ominously and Uncle Peter prowled forward, stepping between Derek and the downed hunter just in time to deflect a thrown knife. It skidded to one side and into the shadows.

“Peter Hale, protector of monsters.” Cat - Kate? - looked only slightly dishevelled as she pulled herself out of the toppled stacks of cardboard. “How does it feel to wear the blood of those you once swore to protect?”

“Do you expect me to defend my actions? Lament over the things I did while a twisted, watered-down version of myself held the reigns?” Claws slipping out, Peter widened his stance as the hunter brushed herself off. “Or perhaps you’d like me to take a page out of your book and start monologuing like a true villain.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” She countered, slowly circling to one side. It looked casual, but she seemed annoyed when Peter matched her steps, keeping himself between Derek and the hunter.

“Perhaps.” Peter tilted his head ever so slightly, allowing Derek to see his uncle smile darkly at the hunter. “But I’ve always preferred to be a bit more direct.”

Both moved at a cue that Derek didn’t catch. 

The hunter ran for her weapons, lined up neatly near the wall across from where she’d been thrown to. Peter sprinted at her, longer legs and mechanical muscles helping him cross the distance faster. With the size of the room, it looked to be a close race.

And then she tripped. 

On nothing.

A very solid looking nothing, judging by her skidding sprawl.

Peter was on her in an instant, locking her arms behind her back as she tried to buck him off. When that didn’t work, she kicked back at him, a bootheel revealing a blade only for the boot to stop before it reached the ‘droid’s back. A gloved hand flickered into view, the rest of Stiles following shortly after.

“Usually I only talk to kidnappers when it makes a good distraction, Argent.” Looking viciously pleased at the hunter’s helpless struggles, Uncle Peter adjusted his grip and Derek was surprised when the woman went still. “Please, do continue to put up a fight. I’m sure the tribunal will understand if I injure you in self defense.”

“Not if you keep making comments like that, murderbot 3000.” Stiles tossed the second boot away from the two on the floor and wrinkled his nose at Kate’s(?) socked feet. Another assessing look was given to the both of them before the bounty hunter made his way over to Derek. “Alright there, bud?”

“How did you..?” There were too many endings to that question that Derek wanted all the answers for. How did he get here, how was he invisible, how did he get Uncle Peter back?

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific or wait for a full explanation later, kiddo. Let’s get these off of you.” He started inspecting one of the cuffs with his fingers.

An ugly chuckle came from the woman on the floor. Derek looked over to see her watching them both. Noticing she had his attention, she grinned.

“Good luck getting those off without the key. Those chains were specially designed to-”

The cuff in Stiles’ hand popped open.

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?” The Spark looked at her expectantly even as he reached over and casually opened the second without even looking.

Kate gave them a nasty look, but didn’t say anything more as Peter casually twisted one of her arms into an even more uncomfortable position, obviously remembering she was at their mercy without any leverage.

It was good to be free of the cuffs and Derek was happy to see the redness already receding, but there was still something bothering him.

“Did Deaton come with you?” 

His question had both Stiles and Peter tensing. Immediately after, Peter’s head turned to where Derek knew the third heartbeat in the room was coming from. Light glinted off something in the shadows behind the column. He didn’t get a chance to try and figure out what it was before Stiles tackled him to the ground, cradling Derek’s head as he did to keep the fall from concussing him.

A loud bang echoed throughout the room.

Derek flinched violently at the volume of the gunshot before straining to see who it was, what had happened, did someone get hit?

The smell of blood was thick in the air, mixing with the damp of the basement and the smell of spent gunpowder. 

“She told me you would be mine.” 

Derek couldn’t see the woman speaking, but he could hear the gun (a pistol maybe?) being cocked again.

“We were going to be a family Peter!”

“Shit.” Stiles shifted to pull them both up off the floor and Derek was able to catch a glimpse of the standoff happening over the hunter’s unmoving body. Bloody and on one knee, Uncle Peter had his clawed hands held up in something between a surrender and a cautioning gesture as a woman in a blood speckled white dress pointed the gun at him with both hands.

“It was just going to be us. Together!” 

There was another gunshot just before Stiles stumbled back a half step into Derek. Bracing the older man, Derek wondered a bit hysterically if it was okay to panic yet. The snarl it pulled from Uncle Peter was actually a little reassuring.

“But I can still do it.” The woman almost sounded like she was laughing, insanity crackling the edges of her words. “I’ve already taken care of the teacher. Now it’s just those two brats and you’ll be free!”

Stuck behind Stiles like he was, it was hard for Derek to see what was happening, but the shadows from the old fluorescent lighting showed him how the insane woman swung the gun around in response to Uncle Peter’s shift into a backstep. Given the opening, Stiles flung his right hand forward. 

Kate’s knife knocked the gun to the side and Uncle Peter was already rocking back to rush the woman, tackling her around the middle.

“No! Noo!” The woman shouted, struggling weakly and banging her fists uselessly against Uncle Peter’s back. “It’s not supposed to be like this!”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for the cops.” Stiles sounded like he was rolling his eyes and was already pulling his phone out of his pocket. It took three rings before he connected to the local sheriff’s office.

Relief was a heady emotion. It made it hard for Derek to focus even as Stiles gave them an ETA on when the authorities would arrive. He was too focused on trying to process what had just occurred to really pay attention to what was currently happening.

The woman was down, the hunter who’d burned his family was dead, and his uncles had the situation under control. Derek sat down hard, as the adrenaline left him too weak kneed to do otherwise, and tried not to black out.

Neither of his uncles would ever stop teasing him about it if he did.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the curb. She reached for the handle and had a momentary thought of ‘here we go’. It lasted only a fraction of a second, barely long enough for her to touch the plastic handle, but it still hurt.

Never would have guessed that she’d miss the whole ‘having trouble opening the door’ gag.

Heart hurting, she swallowed the lump in her throat and got in the car.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

“Yes.” She repeated, having already gone over this upstairs. Eyes focused on the bag she just stowed by her feet, she pointedly didn’t look at him or roll her eyes.

He sighed anyway.

“I’m sorry we have to keep doing this.” At least he sounded apologetic. It made her feel guilty for not wanting to leave.

“Yeah.” She was too.

He patted her on the shoulder, perhaps trying to be comforting. Ignoring it and the glint of her snake earrings reflected in the glass, she looked out the window at the apartment building she just left, watching as they drove away.

She wondered if she’d ever see it again.

“And here we are.” Smiling kindly, the nurse pushed open a door and motioned Derek inside. “I’ve made sure that the others downstairs know to tell your uncle that you’ve requested to wait up here with your sister until you’re all ready to leave.”

“Thanks.” He tried not to breathe too deeply. This floor might not be as painful on his nose as the emergency department, but the chemicals used to sterilize things and the smell of sick people was never an easy thing to deal with. Stepping inside the room, he made a beeline for the bed where his sister was sleeping. Instinctively, he went to take a deep breath through his nose only to be assaulted by the clinical smells once more.

“Tissues should be on the side table - oh.” The nurse frowned at the empty table before quickly checking the rest of the room. They stepped further into the room before tsking and leaning down to pick up a box of tissues. After removing the first few tissues, they offered the box to Derek. “Do you need anything else, hun?” 

Accepting the box, Derek shook his head and looked down at his sister. Laura’s breaths were deep and slow, her sleep remaining uninterrupted even as he set the box down on the table to take one of her hands in both of his. 

“I’ll let the nurses at the station know that you’re allowed to be here after visiting hours, so don’t let anyone try and chase you out.”

With another kind smile the nurse stepped quietly back into the hall, leaving the door slightly open behind them. Derek let out a small sigh of relief before blindly hooking an ankle around the leg of a chair behind him to drag it closer. He winced a little at the squeaking noise it made across the linoleum and thumped down onto it a little too soon to make it stop.

He was wondering if subjecting his ears to more of that would be worse than the cramp his arm was sure to get from this angle when he got distracted by the faint voices from the nurses station.

“-that the room that creeper stood outside of?”

“What creeper?” The emergency department nurse sounded confused.

“Oh, right. You weren’t here when Keeley got off shift.” There was a shifting noise, probably one of them getting more comfortable in their chair. “Earlier this afternoon, there was a woman who came up and asked about the woman in that room. Apparently, they already knew her name and the floor but couldn’t remember the room number. Anyway, the charge pointed the room out to her only for the woman to just stand outside the room for a few minutes before leaving without going in at all!”

“They came all that way just to stand outside? Wait, do you think it had something to do with why her relatives were just escorted here by some officers?” 

Derek froze, fingers clenching around Laura’s. Had Kate come here first? But why would she do nothing before leaving?

“They were?” The other nurse sounded concerned now. Sounds of paper shuffling filtered down the hall. “Are the officers still here? I think Keeley said the charge wrote up a description of the creeper lady so we could ask the patient about her once she woke up next, but the poor girl’s been asleep ever since. Didn’t even wake up for dinner. Seems like the morphine drip was a little too much for her.”

Too much? Derek’s eyes flicked to the drip which didn’t seem to be going all that fast, but he wasn’t very familiar with this type of medical equipment. Then again, it didn’t really affect werewolves like them without something else to boost it, right? Frowning, Derek stood and placed a hand on Laura’s shoulder.

“Laura?”

“Oh, here it is.” Sounding accomplished, the floor’s nurse seemed to recite something. “‘Auburn hair, dark eyes, about five-six. Muttered outside patient’s room for nearly five minutes before leaving.’ Sounds like it was the muttering part that made the charge write it down.”

Auburn? But, Kate was blond. 

Wait, wasn’t that crazy lady with the gun dark haired? Why would she have come here only to leave?

“Laura.” Derek shook her shoulder a little more without success. He was hoping that Laura would have some of the answers, but it looks like he only gained another; why wasn’t she waking up?

“Hey Caroline,” one of them called, “you were part of the swing shift, right?”

“Yeah,” came the response from the other side of the floor. Footsteps passed Laura’s room as Derek turned to inspect the IV bag still connected to her arm. “Why?”

“Did you see the lady who just stood outside room eighteen?”

“No, I was off the floor getting x-rays done with a patient. Did she come back?”

“Pat here said that some of the patient’s relatives had to be escorted by local PD to the ED for some injuries and we were trying to figure out if we should tell them about the visitor. Got anything more than Linda left on this note?”

The bag held some clear fluid with a complex label that Derek couldn’t make heads or tails of. Was it the right stuff? How would he even know what to compare it to?

“This is as much as I heard, unfortunately. Though they could ask that guy.”

“What guy?” Derek faintly wondered if they were talking about Stiles or maybe a doctor before frowning again. 

Wait.

He took a closer look at the IV, this time looking at the plastic itself.

“You know, the one that came in to visit her like three times. Mister ‘I’m a vet not a medical doctor’ that you joked about earlier.”

There was a small hole in the bag near the top. Probably exactly the right size for an injection of something.

He was an idiot. How could he have forgotten about Deaton? Deaton who was supposed to have doctored the morphine a little to get it to work?

Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he reached the vet’s name.

“Well, I’ll mention this to the officer we have downstairs either way. Thanks for letting me know!”

“Sure thing! Good luck down there!”

The call went straight to voicemail. Derek’s frown deepened as he hung up without saying anything and tried again. Why wasn’t he picking up? Didn’t Laura say that if there was an emergency that he was supposed to contact Deaton first while she was in the hospital? He wished for the hundredth time that he’d managed to get more than four hours of sleep the night before, it was getting harder to think straight after both a kidnapping and being awake for twenty hours.

Deaton’s voicemail message started again and Derek wished that hanging up on it felt more satisfying than it did. Scrolling down he located Stiles’ number which he’d hidden under a friend’s name over the past year.

Down the hall, the elevator dinged again.

Calling his uncle, Derek only vaguely noticed the footsteps from the elevator speed up and nearly dropped his phone when the door swung open.

“What’s up, Der-bear? That eager for a family reunion?” Stiles’ smile was a bit tense as he scanned the room. Behind him Uncle Peter frowned, eyes also sweeping the room before landing on Laura.

“Laura won’t wake up. And Deaton’s not answering his phone.” He tried to focus on the important things, but after everything that happened already Derek wasn’t sure what wasn’t important, which made everything come pouring out at a steadily increasing speed. “And the nurses said something about a creeper woman visiting Laura, but not coming in and the description didn’t match Kate’s, but it did sound like the gun lady, but she didn’t even come inside and no one knows why except maybe Deaton who they said was here and he’s not answering-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Hands gripped his shoulders, one flesh and one not, and Derek found himself gasping for air after the long run on sentence. “Just breathe with me, okay?”

Nodding, Derek tried to pace his breaths, calming further as Uncle Peter’s hand pressed against his back like he always did when Derek got too worked up over things as a kid. As he blinked his eyes back open, he noticed Stiles throwing Uncle Peter a look before guiding Derek back to the chair.

“Now, one thing at a time, bud.” Stiles crouched easily in front of him as Uncle Peter turned to Laura. Taking a deep breath, Derek started at the top.

“Laura won’t wake up.” He glanced over Stiles’ head towards his sister who had yet to rouse from her sleep. “They said she’s on morphine and that she didn’t even wake up for dinner.”

As a healing werewolf, dinner should have been able to wake her. Derek’s seen her go through two extra large pizzas in one sitting after a particularly nasty fight. Sure, she’d texted him about how bland the food here was, but that wouldn’t have stopped her from eating it.

“And you were calling Deaton…” Stiles and Uncle Peter seemed to understand the flow of logic because they both turned to the IV, but Derek explained anyway.

“Because there’s a hole in the bag and he’s one of the only ones Laura trusted to adjust the drugs to the appropriate dose.”

As he explained, Uncle Peter carefully tipped the bag to allow a drop of the liquid to drip out of the hole, catching it on his finger before licking it.

“That never gets less weird, honeybun.” 

“If you have a faster way to analyze it, be my guest.” Eyes glowing a bright red as the information processed, Uncle Peter grimaced. “The concentration of wolfsbane isn’t lethal, but it is far more than needed to make morphine work correctly.”

“Will she be okay? Do I need to find some to burn or-”

“She’ll probably sleep it off, though we should get them to replace this bag.” Ignoring Stiles’ disgruntled look at being cut off, Uncle Peter disconnected the morphine drip and set it in the sink. Stiles rolled his eyes at him before turning back to Derek.

“Now, what was this about a creeper woman?”

“Actually, I have a question I feel is a little more pressing to ask first.” Uncle Peter interrupted again, leaning against the small counter and looking unconcerned at the confused look Derek was giving him. “How exactly is this a family reunion?”

It felt like the floor was ripped out from under his feet. How could he not remember? What had been done to Uncle Peter that made him unable to recognize his family? Hadn’t he remembered them before?

“What are you talking about, snookums? We’ve been through this, Derek and Laura are your nephew and niece.” Stiles hesitated before continuing, sounding a little more worried then baffled. “Was that corrupted in the partitioning?”

Uncle Peter gave them both a flat look with a tense edge, like they were both being purposefully stupid.

“Where’s Cora?” The firmly enunciated question had Derek slumping in his seat, heart breaking just a little more at the reminder of everyone who was missing. His eyes flicked to Stiles who looked just as pained.

“Peter,” Stiles words were soft as if that would help against the blow Derek knew was coming. “Derek and Laura were the only other survivors. Everyone else burned. I-”

“Impossible.” 

Derek couldn’t help but flinch a little at the sharp word. The whole thing felt like it should be impossible, but that didn’t bring anyone back. Swallowing thickly, he tried to meet his uncle’s eyes, to find some way to get him to believe the truth of it. Instead, he found himself looking at Stiles’ profile as the other man frowned, amber eyes narrowing in the dim light of the hospital room.

“Why?”

Derek blinked at Stiles’ question. He couldn’t possibly believe-

“Because she wouldn’t have been able to get in the house just as the others couldn’t get out.”

-believe that there was a way for one of his baby sisters to still-

“The reports said that all of the bodies were identified and buried.” 

-still be alive, but that means-

“They also deemed the fire an accident according to reports.” Red eyes glowed, Uncle Peter obviously looking at a report right now. “So the real question should be-”

-means that they were lied to by-

“Identified by who?” Stiles completed the question, standing and beginning to pace, already messing with his phone as he did.

“By Deaton.” It was like the world had shifted over the past few minutes. Suddenly everything Deaton had said to them over the last few weeks took on a new, almost sinister tone. “Deaton said that he’d do it so that we wouldn’t have to be traumatized by it.”

“Okay, so Cora couldn’t have died in the fire. Deaton knew she didn’t and didn’t tell any of you and now he’s unreachable. Great.” Running a hand through his hair, Stiles stopped suddenly before turning from his phone to Uncle Peter. “You know I hate it when you do that, Peter, my dude.”

“I really don’t.” Came the faintly amused response and somewhere in the back of his mind Derek wondered once again what exactly Mom had done to Uncle Peter to make him forget Stiles. “I noticed it when you had me following Derek’s signal in the car.”

“Derek,” Stiles was suddenly right in front of him, a tracking program now visible on his phone. “Did Cora keep her earrings like you kept your necklace or did she give them away?”

“She kept them.” She kept them and they couldn’t be taken. She kept them and if Stiles could track him then that meant-

“She was wearing them the night it happened, too.” Uncle Peter’s glowing eyes flicked to first to Laura, then Derek, before settling on Stiles. “And they’ve been on the move for the last few hours.”

“Where?” Hope surged and Derek was almost afraid to acknowledge it for fear that it might pop like a soap bubble, lost forever.

Two pairs of eyes snapped to him and Derek sunk back in the uncomfortable chair. A look was exchanged between his uncles before Stiles squatted down in front of him.

“Derek, we need you to stay here.”

“But-” No! Cora might be out there! Cora who lived, Cora who might think they forgot her, Cora who was just so small and alone and -

“We can’t leave Laura alone in this state, Der. She can’t protect herself until that wolfsbane is out of her system.” Stiles held up a finger to stop any further protests. “You’re the only one who won’t get kicked out of this room, bud. I’m not family and Peter has those technophobic laws still working against him. You need to stay here.”

He wanted to protest, this was his mistake that needed correcting! However, after the long conversation they’d shared between questioning down at the station before they were released to the hospital, Derek knew he’d be fighting a losing battle. He’d remembered how stubborn even one of them could be, but the reminder of how the two of them could become a single immovable object was not something he’d like to get twice in one night.

“Okay.” He could always try to follow them later once Laura woke up.

He received a pat on the shoulder and a knowing look from Peter before he was left alone in the room with Laura once again. Giving in, he scooted the chair close enough to lay his head on the bed while holding her hand and tried to make himself comfortable.

As soon as she woke up, he was going to get Cora.

She hated this place. It was creepy during the day and even creepier at night.

“Why do we have to do this at midnight this time?” Cora twitched a bit as a twig snapped in the distance. She glanced over at where Deaton was preparing the ritual and huffed when she remembered he probably couldn’t hear it.

“Magic works differently at different times of the year. Midnight happens to be the next time this will be most effective.” Standing, he brushed the leaves and dirt off of his pants and gestured for her to approach. “We’re just about ready. All you need to do is stand here, just like last time.”

With a sigh, Cora shuffled over to stand where he pointed. An idle glance at the shape, however, had her on edge. 

“Deaton, why is it a circle instead of a pentagram this time?” She searched the shape again, spinning around in place to make sure she wasn’t just looking at it from the wrong angle. There was a flash and she looked up to find Deaton couched at the edge of the innermost circle. “Deaton?”

Cora’s step towards him halted suddenly as she ran into an invisible wall. A barrier. Her eyes were wide as she glanced down at the circle.

A mountain ash circle.

“Deaton?!” Her hands sizzled a little as she hit them against the barrier. “Deaton, what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Cora. This won’t hurt you.” The man sounded like he was trying to be as unflappable as usual, but he sounded a touch too tense to hit the mark. “I’m just going to perform a memory ritual.”

“But, last time we just did one to hide me, right? Why do they need to forget this time?” Why did she need to be trapped? Trapped like they were. (Was she going to burn like they did?) Her hands hit the barrier again and she felt like she’d just run a marathon without moving an inch.

“This time is a little different, Cora. Both simpler and harder. Rituals that affect the mind are always a bit tricky.” 

Another circle lit up and Cora let her hands drop to her sides. It couldn’t be real. Maybe she was still in her bed and this whole day was a bad dream. 

“Uncle Peter always said that human minds were fickle things.” The words felt distant even as she said them. He had always mentioned it whenever he showed them a magic trick or when Mom forgot little details. 

Deaton huffed dismissively as he scraped a wooden staff through the dirt.

“As if a machine could ever understand the true nature of the mind.” He looked up as if chiding her for believing in the Easter Bunny. “You must always remember that while man and beast were created by nature, machines are created by men.”

It was stated like some grand truth, like he was imparting wisdom when he was just stating the obvious. Like how that awful substitute teacher tried to talk down to her when she pointed out that the sky could be many colors, just like Uncle Stiles had showed her in third grade, only for the sub to try and point out that it was blue most of the time.

Cora felt her face scrunch up in response like she’d just eaten a bug or something.

Strange how that was what snapped her back to reality.

“First, duh.” She gave him the look that Laura always used when pointing out the obvious. “Second, people also come from people. I’m not five, I know where babies come from.”

Deaton gave her a look like she was the stupid one. Really? She rolled her eyes as he went back to the scratches without comment, but she could only stand in silence (trapped trapped trapped) for so long.

“Why is it easy then?” If he thought Uncle Peter was wrong about it being easy, why did he say it was simpler?

“Because it only affects one person.”

Only one person? Did she mess up and tell someone without knowing? Or was it the hunter that they were mind wiping?

The innocent confusion lasted less than a moment before her brain kicked in.

Oh.

She slammed her fists into the barrier again, uncaring of the sharp buzz on her hands.

“Deaton!” Her voice was shrill and Cora couldn’t care less about how panicked she looked or sounded. “Deaton let me out! Please!”

She didn’t want to forget.

They were gone and she was the only one who would ever remember her family. The way they laughed, the way they bickered, the way they loved.

“Don’t worry Cora, it will all be over in a few minutes.” He sounded so calm, so sure of himself as he finally set the staff aside.

“Don’t do this!” Cora’s words were snarled around her teeth as she scraped and clawed at the earth, looking for any way out, hoping against hope that someone would find her.

But who would come? No one was left in the preserve.

No Mom to howl up the pack, no Dad to recklessly charge ahead of the rest, no Laura to hide behind, no Derek to cuddle with after, no Uncle Peter to cheer her up when everyone else failed, no Uncle Stiles to find her when she wanted to be-

Wait.

“Just a little longer, Cora. Try to hold still, okay?” 

Her hands froze against the ground midstroke.

Something was crashing through the forest. 

Sitting back on her heels, Cora tried to steady her breathing.

“Good girl, Cora.” 

She ignored him as best she could, shaking out her shoulders like she’d seen Mom do in the past. Sucking in a deep breath, Cora let her head fall back, mouth opening wide as she howled.

The sound of footsteps through the foliage grew louder as the running person built up speed.

“What?” Deaton’s confused question was overshadowed by a familiar howl joining her own. The runner was closer than before, but they weren’t alone.

And the other person was closer.

Deaton had a fraction of a second to recognize the intruder before a fist met his face and he crumpled to the floor.

“Uncle Peter!”

His eyes snapped to hers and she barely had a moment to register their red (red, why were they red?) hue before he was suddenly there with her, arms wrapped tightly around her as he picked her up in a hug. She laughed out a sob before hissing as his movements brushed her against the barrier.

“Cora?” His concern was quickly replaced by rage as he noticed the barriers around their feet. Turning as he set her back down on her feet, he roared out towards the runner. “Stiles!”

As if on cue, Uncle Stiles stumbled across the transition between forest and clearing, barely avoiding Deaton’s body as he did.

“Yeah?” He was breathing deeply, but not winded. Amber eyes twinkled in the light of the camping lantern Deaton had brought out with them and he smiled at her only to grimace at the circles Uncle Peter was pointing at. “Shit.”

“There’s two of them and an unknown ritual circle.”

“It’s a memory thing.” Cora could answer that one at least. She tugged at her uncle’s hands to get his attention. “It starts at midnight.”

Both men used some words everyone told her not to use, along with some others she desperately hoped she’d still remember tomorrow.

“Peter, I need you erasing that ritual circle in case Deaton’s more of a bastard than usual.” Hands already placed next to the second mountain ash circle, Uncle Stiles hissed as it began to glow.

Uncle Peter hesitated only a moment before squeezing her hands and then running for the staff Deaton had dropped earlier. He worked to flatten the lines even as the first mountain ash circle evaporated.

“Seven seconds, Stiles.” 

Sprinting forward at Uncle Peter’s warning, Uncle Stiles slammed his hands to the next circle as Cora counted down under her breath. She’d just hit three-mississippi when the inner circle vanished and she fell forward towards Uncle Stiles.

“Catch!” That was all the warning either of them got before Cora was tossed towards Uncle Peter who dropped the staff just in time to catch her.

“Uncle Stiles!” She twisted to look back towards the center of the circles. He was up and running, but he was only human and the circle was so big-

There was a flare of light as the partially destroyed circle activated, forcing Cora to look away.

When she blinked her vision back to normal, Stiles was standing in front of them, hands on his knees as he panted. 

Did he still remember them? Did he even know himself?

“Uncle Stiles?” Cora prompted when she couldn’t wait for the answers any longer.

“What?” He looked up at the two of them and blinked a few times before shaking his head as if to clear it. “I’m going to be seeing spots for a week.”

“I believe she’s more concerned about your memory, darling.” Uncle Peter’s drawling tone wasn’t as casual as she remembered (she remembered, but did he?).

“Well, excuse me, princess, for being worried about my vision. I can’t just swap my eyes out like some people.” Ignoring Uncle Peter’s put-upon sigh, Stiles crouched down and opened his arms. “Hey Cora-cobra, how about a hug for your favorite uncle?”

She giggled wetly and hugged one of Uncle Peter’s legs. It earned her a laugh from Uncle Peter (it’s really him, he’s here, they’re here) before Uncle Stiles lurched forward and she broke away to stay out of reach.

“I see how it is! Come here, you little brat!” He caught her easily after just a few steps, which was really what she wanted anyway. Throwing her arms around his neck she buried her face in the collar of his shirt and cried because she was tired and relieved and so so happy.

It took awhile for Cora to calm down, long enough that it was a pretty doubtful that they’d be able to get Deaton back to town (and, eventually, to the tribunal) without the druid waking up. Stiles finally set the preteen back on the ground only to see Peter already standing by the unconscious man.

“Sweetheart, could you bring me your handcuffs?” Peter sounded like he was asking Stiles for a fly swatter to get rid of a particularly annoying pest.

“Oh, don't worry, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Stiles took a moment to check Cora over once again (a little shaky, but uninjured), smirking at him when he realized that she was still checking him over too. “I’m a bounty hunter, Cora-cobra. Getting out by the skin of my teeth comes with the territory.”

He offered Cora his hand, which was snubbed in true pre-teen fashion in favor of gripping the hem of his flannel shirt, before shrugging and pulling out a pair of handcuffs from a pouch on his belt as he made his way over to Peter.

“Why didn’t you ask for these with Kate or Jennifer?” Stiles asked as he handed them over.

“If Kate had they key to Derek’s cuffs, she might have been able to slip these.” Cora’s fingers tightened on his hemline at her brother's name, probably still amazed that she had family left after all the lies Deaton had told her. Unaware or possibly ignoring it for her sake to keep the waterworks from starting up again, Peter continued. “And Jennifer was cuffed by the police not even five minutes after we took her down. Did you want to explain why they couldn’t open your handcuffs with their keys?”

“Please, these babies are mine. There’s no way Kate's key could break out of them!” Stiles looked offended at the very idea. “And I’m a specialist, I don’t explain anything to cops.”

“Kate also received cybernetic enhancements, so they’d probably snap and look like some unconventional bracelets.” Standing up from the still muttering woman, Peter frowned at Stiles. “That would have put Derek in danger.”

“Peter, sweetheart,” the overused endearment deserved the dramatic eye roll he gave it, “I have a set of handcuffs for custom ‘droids. I’m sure they would have kept her-”

A slightly dirty hand found the back of his head and suddenly Stiles was being kissed. He felt Peters lips curl into a smile when his sentence ended in a muffled noise of surprise, but it didn’t take Stiles long to get on board after that.

Sliding a hand around to press along Peter’s spine, Stiles pulled him closer. It had been over a year since they’d last had this, making both of them at least a little desperate and even more possessive than usual. Stiles knew he’d have at least one bruise from the hand currently gripping his hip to match the already in full bloom on his chest beneath the kevlar from Jennifer’s stray bullet.

It probably would have devolved from there if Cora hadn’t spoken up.

“Ew, why do you two always have to be so mushy?”

Separating with a small gasp, Stiles pressed his forehead to Peter’s for a moment before turning to Cora with a smirk.

“Mushy? I’ll be sure to remember that in a few years when you start swapping spit with your first SO.”

“UGH, like that’s ever going to happen!” The ten-year-old made a face, gagging dramatically. It earned her a noogie that had her squirming out of his arms. “Uncle Stiles!”

He made as if to grab her again, but let her get away easily, especially when she turned her attention to the fallen druid only to kick him none-too-gently in the leg with her sneakered foot. Snorting he turned back to Peter, who had already begun winding an arm over his shoulders.

“I can’t believe you fucking tied it to ‘Peter, sweetheart’. What a sap!” 

“I knew you’d get around to using it.” Peter looked a little smug as he leaned forward to ask, “Do you know how many times you’ve said it to me?”

“Nope!” Dropping the subject before he could get outed in front of his niece-by-proxy, Stiles reached for his phone. “Sorry, gotta call Derek and let him know we’re all safe and on our way. Sooner this is sorted, the sooner we can all go home, right?”

“How many?” Cora, the traitor, asked after another kick to Deaton’s pants. 

“Six hundred and nine times.” Peter smirked as Cora snickered. 

Neither of them were getting birthday presents this year.

“Over seventy of them happened while we were spending that lovely night in-” 

“Peter! Oh my fucking god!” Covering the other man’s mouth with one hand, Stiles hissed through clenched teeth. “Would you stop it? I bring you back somehow and this is the thanks I get?”

That look has ‘what did you expect, darling’ written all over it and Stiles gave up. This was what he expected. It was Peter Hale, the thorn in his side, the pain in his ass (heh), and the keeper of his heart. Stiles threw his hands up in the air, just barely keeping a hold on his phone, defeated.

“That was another phrase that would have worked, by the way.” Peter pointed out, unhelpfully.

Running what he said back, Stiles gave the android an incredulous look.

“You made ‘Peter, oh my fucking god’ a secondary phrase?” As soon as he asked the question he regretted it. Peter, on the other hand, looked delighted. Pointing a finger in his direction, Stiles cut him off. “No, no. We are not going there. Don’t even think about it.”

Hearing a scuffle behind him, he whipped around to point at Cora who had just stepped over (and on) the fallen druid who looked to be rousing shortly.

“And don’t you go asking either or on your own head be it.”

Cora looked between them and wisely chose not to take the bait. Her birthday presents might be earned back if she kept this up. 

“I think he’s waking up, guys. How are we getting back to everyone?” God, but the hope in her voice was heart wrenching.

When Peter simply shrugged instead of getting grumpy or pouting, Stiles reached over to cover his mouth, but he didn’t quite make it in time.

“One thousand, one hundred and fo-” The rest was mumbled behind Stiles’ palm. Cora was grossed out, Stiles was red, and Peter was smug as hell.

He decided that on Peter’s birthday Stiles was going to give Cora, Derek, and Laura gifts instead of giving Peter any just to get him back for this.

“Shut. Up.” Shoving Peter in Deaton’s direction, Stiles scooped Cora into his arms. 

“Peter’s going to take Deaton and his car to a secure location until we can get him to the tribunal.” There was a token amount of grumbling as Stiles started walking towards his car, about a quarter mile walk through the woods from here. “We are going to go call Derek, pick up some ice cream, and then go have a little party with him in Laura’s room until Peter can join us, how about that?”

“Only if I get to pick the flavors!”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”