Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first day of the last semester of Scott McCall's sophomore year there was a new kid at the school. Scott was enraptured by Allison Argent, while struggling to deal with his recent werewolf bite. Despite his wishes, Scott got dragged into a world he was never quite prepared for anyway.

The first day of the first semester of his junior year there was a new kid at the school. Once again a single person was like a pebble entering a calm pool, sending ripples out and changing everything it its path.

Scott didn't even look up at first. He was scrawling out the date, preparing for the first day of being the new and improved Scott McCall, better friend, better person, and better son.

Coach began the class his usual way, a loud booming voice as he marched around the room. "Good morning you bunch of inbred excuses for human beings. Today we have a new student. I hope you show him the same amount of care and concern I show you. Got it?"

There was murmured consent from the students. "This is..." Coach paused, squinting at his own writing. "How do you pronounce that?" he held it over for the gangly kid to read out.

"Just call me Stiles," the kid shrugged, with a weak grin. He lingered by the door, gazing around at the room full of strangers.

Scott's head snapped up. His gaze zeroed in on the teenager, his own age. His brown hair was spiky and eyes a soft brown. A bag was slung across his back and he was dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans. "Stiles?" he asked.

The kid didn't hear him, as he sidled along the desks, finding a spare seat diagonally across from Scott's and sitting down.

Scott leaned over but Coach's voice interrupted him. With a frown he sank down, grabbing a pen. For a moment he debated between making an attempt to talk to the boy or to focus on his work.

With a sigh he chose the latter. He could wait.

Class barely finished than Scott was up, standing by Stiles' desk. "Do you need someone to show you around?" he asked.

The teenager grinned, confused but pleased, "Yes, thank you," he rolled his eyes, "I have this amazing skill at getting lost," he sighed, stuffing everything in his bag.

"I'm Scott," he continued, "Scott McCall?" he added, hoping that Stiles would recognise it. It had been years, a decade at least, but he still remembered the boy he'd met as a kid, the pair immediately deciding they would be best friends.

"Is that a question?" Stiles grinned up at him, "Are you actually asking me what your name is? I should hope you'd know it by now, because if not I'm sorry, I can't help. I mean, I might be able to hack into county records for a birth certificate but I think that's a little bit illegal for--" he stops, "Sorry," he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "I think I talk too much."

Scott laughed, a burst of soft, refreshing joy bubbling through him, "No, Stiles… don't you remember? You used to live around here, didn't you? We - we used to be best friends after we met in the sandbox and we were four."

Stiles stared at him before Scott saw him get it, "Oh my--Scotty? That's right - your mom was the nurse! Ohmygod, I'm so sorry, I didn't even think--" he was grinning and Scott grinned right back.

This was definitely going to be a great year.

"So where have you been?" Scott asked, "I mean… you moved away when we were like six…" Stiles trailed behind him as he led the way out of the classroom.

"Yeah," Stiles scratched the back of his head, "Well my mom and dad had a fight, and my mom moved away, taking me with her." his grin was slightly strained and he ducked his head, "She passed away two years ago," he admitted, chewing on his lip, "I was staying with friends, but dad decided it was time I moved back here."

Scott made an appropriate noise of sympathy, "I'm sorry, man, that must have been tough."

Stiles shrugged, and Scott didn't press for answers, "Well this is Biology." he gestured to the door, "Uh, Cora should be there… she's nice. I've got Math, but I'll see you later?"

"Sure," Stiles nodded, pushing open the door, "See you later," he called, just before vanishing and Scott spun away with a grin.

"You look happy," Allison commented when he slipped into Math.

"An old friend moved back into town," Scott told her. "I haven't seen him in years."

She studied him for a moment, "Are you going to tell him?" she asked.

Scott didn't meet her gaze when he replied, "No." he shook his head, "Stiles is my chance to be normal. To be human. I'm not going to drag him into this." If he repeated it to himself it sounded almost like a promise, and he promised himself he wasn't going to break this one.

"And why do you need me again? I can't go back there… I go back there…"

"I know," the alpha drawled, one hand resting on his shoulders, claws sinking in, "But the twins have made themselves known to the pack there. I need someone who can get in close. Someone who can provide an inside perspective without being isolated."

He scoffed, "You want me to spy on them."

The alpha sniffed, "If you want to put it that crudely…"

"I'm not your spy!" he hissed, outraged, "These are just teenagers…"

"You're just a teenager," the alpha interrupted, "And you're perfect. Ties to McCall already, you'll fit right in."

"They won't tell me anything," he says stubbornly, never quite learning when to shut up, "Not if they think I'm human."

"They don't need to tell you anything. Investigate. Poke. Ask questions. Be annoying. Do what you do best."

He sighed, "Fine. I'll talk to them. Make friends. Play nice and keep my claws sheathed. Hale and McCall right? The sister and the true alpha." he spun around, heading towards the door.

"Both have the potential to be brilliant alphas. A Hale matriarch and a true alpha… Oh and Stiles," the alpha added. He paused. "Don't get attached."

"Hey," the new kid sat by her for Biology. Cora looked around, checking he wasn't talking to anybody else before looking towards him.

"Are you talking to me?" she asked, glaring.

He winced, "Rude," he chided, and for a moment he reminded her of her Uncle Peter. "I just wanted to say 'hi'. Scott said you were a friend of his."

And now it occurred to Cora where he had seen this kid, trailing Scott around for most of the day, the pair grinning like idiots. "Yes," she said cautiously, "And no, I don't want to date you."

The expression on the kid's face was priceless. "Well that's good," he said, slowly, "Because I don't want to date you either. Not that you're not pretty or anything, but you don't seem like you want to date, and you've got a mean, mean bark…"

"Wait until you see my bite," she grinned wolfishly at her.

He chuckled, "Oh, Cora, babe you don't even want to see how bad I bite," and he spun around to face the front of the classroom just as the teacher walked in.

Cora frowned, but feeling weirdly happy, a smile resting lightly on her lips, she opened her book. "So Scott told you about me?" she asked sideways to him.

"He had nothing but good things to say," the kid grinned.

"Well he told me nothing about you," she replied, sweetly, "I don't even know your name."

"How about you use that bark of yours and work it out." the guy's eyes looked mischievous. Human too, Cora reminded herself. What the hell was Scott doing making friends with a human?

"I'll do that," she said, "When I decide I actually care enough to learn it," and deciding she was finished she turned away.

Which is why she missed the flash of red creep into the boy's gaze.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me the twins were alphas?” Lydia sat down, dropping her bag at the lunch table with a loud thump.

Allison looked up startled, her dark hair falling in her face. She brushed the curl behind one ear. “You didn’t know?” she asked, surprised, “I thought you knew.”

“No.” Lydia was tight-lipped and obviously unimpressed. “Nobody thought to tell me.” Nobody thought to tell her anything that was going on around here. And she had a right to know after what she had gone through.

With a sigh Allison dropped her pen from where she was scrawling catch-up notes in her French book. “The twins are in the alpha pack.” She said. “That’s the pack that are made up entirely of alphas and they want Derek to join their pack. They kidnapped Erika and Cora and Boyd and set them loose the other night on the full moon.”

Lydia slowly twirled a pen between her fingers. She examined the back of the twins. One was flirting with Danny - Ethan - while the other stood still but just from the set of his shoulders Lydia knew he was smirking, listening in on their conversation. “Interesting,” she hummed. It was all she would allow herself, a quiet contemplative hum.

“What is?” a lanky kid with a wide grin slipped in the seat next to her.

She shot him an unimpressed glance, wondering who the hell this was.

“What is what?” Cora sat down next to the new kid. “Hey Lydia, Allison.”

“And you are?” Lydia’s pen twirled around until it was pointing at the new guy.

He blinked, startled, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you.” Lydia said slowly, enunciating each word.

“This is Stiles.” Scott made to sit down next to Allison, seemed to reconsider and left a seat gap in between them. Isaac somehow found himself the uncomfortable sandwich in the middle of the huntress and the werewolf. “We used to know each other when we were like, four, but he moved away.”

“Hey,” the guy - Stiles - flashed a grin at them, looking nervous all of a sudden. He wringed his hands out, the fingers tapping patterns on the table. “So I’m Stiles. That is, I moved back, and, well, hi.”

The name struck something in Lydia’s memory, “Stiles? The Sheriff’s kid, Stiles?”

Stiles ducked his head, “Yeah,” he mumbled, “Stilinski.”

“Who names their kid Stiles Stilinski?” Isaac had no brain to mouth filter. Stiles however just looked unabashed, shrugging and grabbing a notebook and pen from his bag. He looked uneasy, surrounded by strangers. Lydia glanced sharply from Scott to Stiles, chewing contemplatively on her lip until she realised what she was doing whereupon she promptly stopped. She wanted to ask Scott about the alphas, but with this new guy, now wasn’t the time.

“That’s Isaac,” Scott had a wide grin on his face that Lydia doesn’t think she’s seen since Scott and Allison broke up. “He’s usually a little friendlier.”

“For half my childhood I was locked in a freezer,” Isaac glared at Scott. “I’m entitled to a little bit of cynicism.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it?” Stiles grinned.

“That’s Allison,” Scott pointed her out, “This is Lydia, and I take it you’ve met Cora.”

“We’ve met,” Cora sniffed, seemingly unimpressed with something. “Or more rather he started talking to me and wouldn’t stop.”

“Wow,” Stiles blinked around at them, “I was just trying to be friendly but I didn’t… I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just…” he began to pull away, grabbing his bag. Alarmed, Scott reached out an arm, grabbing Stiles.

“Don’t!” Scott protested, “We want you to stay. Really. Ignore Cora, that’s her usual temperament. She’s been like that since I met her a year ago.”

He looked nervous - Stiles - Lydia realised. Sure he was grinning, but he never stopped moving. One part of his was constantly twitching, fingers tapping, eyes roving nervously, almost akin to how Isaac used to act. A part of it, Lydia concluded, was probably just Stiles, but there was something else that made her lean closer, sly smile on her face.

“So where did you move from?” she asked. “And why move back?”

“Uh, Colorado,” Stiles coughed out, “My mom moved out and I went with her. She… died…” He stopped, shortly, “A little while back.” He finished, suddenly.

“Oh,” Lydia leaned back slightly, “I’m sorry,” she said.

He shrugged. He did that a lot. “It’s okay. My dad was here and when he found out I was staying with friends he insisted I move back.” He waved his arms in some sort of gesture, “So here I am.”

“Do you want to hang out with us later?” Scott leaned forwards. Lydia looked at him curiously and Cora was sitting stiffly the other side of Stiles.

“Doing what?” Stiles asked cautiously, his eyes wide.

At the same time Cora blurted out, “We were hanging out?”

Allison coughed into her book and Isaac just looked nervous. “Yeah,” Scott insisted, “We’re doing a movie night at my place. We’ll make it a pack thing.”

“A pack thing?” Stiles repeated dubiously.

Scott looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. “A group thing.” He repeated. “That’s sort of what we call ourselves…” his tongue stumbled over the lie. “Our little pack of friends.”

It’s dubious but the new kid seemed to buy it with a nod, “Uh, sure. I’ll need to check with my dad…”

“Great!” Scott jumped on it. It was almost pitiful, Lydia thought, his desperation for a friend. It probably would have made his bite last January so much more easier if he had someone better than Cora to talk to.

Then again almost anyone would be better than Cora to talk to.

When Cora Hale was ten years old her whole family burnt to death in a house fire.

Derek and Laura were away at college when it happened. The rest of the family were trapped in the basement while the eclipse blazed high in the sky, rendering them all powerless.

They dragged Peter out of the wreckage and into Beacon Hills long term care ward. Cora crawled out, a small four legged wolf pup that vanished into the forest.

She became something of a myth for the town of Beacon Hills. There hadn’t been wolves in California for sixty years, but throughout the preserve there were rumoured sightings of a lone wolf.

Cora was thirteen when she got trapped in a coyote trap and shifted back. Hikers found her and brought her to the police station. She remembered the Sheriff, newly elected, a tired man with no family. He had leaned down in front of her and wrapped a blanket over her shoulders before asking her a series of questions. What was her name? How old was she? What was she doing in the woods alone?

She lied. Skilfully.

She’d been scared after the fire and after getting out had run away and gotten lost. She had spent time on the streets in her years gone before eventually making her way back to Beacon Hills to look for people she might know. Her family was all dead, and she hadn’t expected to hear that Derek and Laura were still alive, but that the pair had dropped off the radar after the fire.

Cora might not have been the last Hale after all, but she was the last living Hale in Beacon Hills. She used to visit Peter regularly after shifting back, and would talk to him all the time. They’d both been abandoned by Laura and Derek.

That was why it had hurt so much when Peter came out of his coma only to go on a killing spree. He killed Laura, leaving her body for hunters to find. He bit a teenager, leaving Cora to attempt to try and teach Scott control.

And then Derek showed up again. After six years, Cora finally saw her brother again.

She realised now why she had never really missed him, as she watched his sullen expression in the loft. Boyd stood with his arms crossed nearby, watching his alpha pace. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped, after the fifth time Derek moved past her, “I can look after myself. I managed fine when you weren’t here!”

Derek spun around to glare at her, “There is a pack of alphas out there,” he growls, “They want to kill you, like they killed Erica.”

Cora flinched. She knew that only too well. “You realise,” she pointed out, “I’m not technically even in your pack.” She taunted him. Had Derek just inherited alpha status she’d be in his pack, the way she should have been in Laura’s. But instead, Laura died, and Peter died (if not for long) and now Derek stood before her with red eyes.

“What are you then?” he asked, frustrated, “An omega? Or have you got split loyalties like Isaac has now? To Scott?”

“Scott would be a better alpha than you,” she argued, “He trusts his friends. And I trust him not to let anyone kill us while we relax for three hours to watch movies.” She sneered.

Erica was dead and Cora and Boyd spent months locked in a bank vault before Isaac and Scott found them and rescued them, but not before the alpha pack left their mark. Now Cora was left with a choice between a broken, dying pack, or a new, budding strong one.

Derek knew that she had already made her choice. “Go then,” he spun around, “You too, Boyd, if you must.”

“Derek, it’s just with friends.” Boyd attempted to placate the alpha. “It’s kind of like a welcome back get together for this friend of Scott’s.”

“He’s human,” Cora pointed out, “The Sheriff’s kid. Which means nobody is going to be flashing yellow eyes or growling. Safe and harmless. I am going,” she repeated, “And you can’t stop me.”

“Can’t I?” Derek glanced over his shoulder, eyes blazing red.

“No,” Cora ignored the alpha power blazing at her, spinning around and stalking out of the loft. She didn’t do what anybody told her to do, least of all Derek Hale.

Chapter Text

“So I was thinking…”

“We are not watching the Notebook,” Scott rolled his eyes.

Stiles looked around from where he was still standing awkwardly in the doorway. Scott and Lydia were standing in front of DVD shelf arguing while Allison and Isaac made popcorn in the kitchen. Cora hadn’t gotten here yet and Stiles was just standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

He hadn’t interacted with people (werewolves) his own age in years.

“Sit down, dude,” Scott grinned at him, “You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”

Stiles felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin. The house smelt strange and it was mostly the scent of Scott and Isaac, both of whom weren’t part of his pack. Still, he followed Scott’s instructions and sat down, still sitting stiffly, leg bumping up and down impatiently.

It wasn’t meant to be this easy, he thought, as he watched the easy trust Scott had already extended within the first day of knowing him. That kind of trust was the sort that got you killed.

Stiles already regretted his decision to come back here. To listen to his instructions and pick up the phone and dial a number he knew off by heart but never called.

“Hello? Who’s speaking?”

“Uh… hi? Dad. It’s Stiles.”

“Stiles? Stiles? You sound so grown up. How… why…?”

“Mom’s dead. She died a few years ago. I… I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t… Dad, please…”

“Oh my god… Stiles where are you? I’m… give me an address… I… where have you been for the past years?”

“With friends but they… I can’t stay here forever… they kicked me out and I’ve nowhere else to go. I’m in Colorado…”

“Ugh,” Cora stalked in half-way through the movie and irritation that poured off her made Stiles shift uncomfortably from where he is already pressed between Scott and Lydia. “Derek is an overprotective bastard.”

“Derek?” Stiles played ignorant, and for a moment the pack around him all shifted nervously.

“My brother,” Cora seemed uncaring. He liked that attitude on her. She spoke her mind and didn’t care what other people thought.

“Older?” Stiles asked, appearing inquisitive without being overly nosy.

She nodded, grabbing a cushion and sitting on the floor. Stiles squeezed his way out from between Scott and Lydia on the sofa and joined her, ignoring the glare she shot his way. “What about you?” she bounced back, “Any siblings?”

Stiles shook his head, “Only child.” He said, and then chewed his bottom lip, wondering if he would have had siblings had his parents never split. “Mom and I moved away when I was little.” He remembered it vaguely, the arguments between them, before finally Claudia just snapped and left, dragging Stiles with her.

“This will help…”

“This is nonsense! You actually believe in these… in this… loup garou myth?”

“It’s not a myth! It’s the truth! And this solution will cure the dementia! Don’t you want Stiles to have a mother?”

“This isn’t you talking. This is the dementia. This cure you’ve created… it doesn’t exist Claudia.”

“It does! You just have to believe! Trust me.”

“I can’t.”

“Actually,” Stiles uncurled from where he sat, “I should phone my dad, let him know I’ll be home late tonight. He’ll start to worry.” He waved his phone in the air and ducked out, letting the nerves emanate off him.

He headed all the way to the kitchen but he could still hear the pack talking to each other. “You’re scaring him,” Allison chided Cora, “He’s only human.”

Cora seemed unbothered. “I’m not acting soft just for him. If he can’t deal with me, then that’s his problem.”

“He actually seemed to have plenty of snark,” Isaac shrugged, “You should have heard him mouth off Harris in Chemistry. He’s just trying to adjust. I mean, we all know each other, and I mean really know each other. He’s an outsider, and he’s always going to be an outsider.”

“Unless we tell him,” Cora pointed out and Stiles’ fingers drummed on the table top as he dialled his dad’s number. Across the road he could hear the television of the neighbours blaring out, smell what was cooking for dinner three houses down. The phone dialled in his ear and another phone rang across the street.

His dad answered, “Stiles?” he always answered as if he couldn’t believe this was really his son, calling him.

“Hi dad,” Stiles had no idea how to interact with the man. “I’ve met some friends… at least… I hope they could be friends?” his voice tilted up into a question and he was aware of the pack falling silent in the living room to listen in, even as he continued, “I met Scott… McCall? We used to know each other when we were like four or something and we’re watching movies with some others. I won’t be back until later.”

“Okay,” he heard his dad sigh, but it was all relief, “That’s good… Scott’s a good kid. Have fun.”

“Thanks…” Stiles wondered if he should say ‘bye’ or something. “See you later?” he asked, instead.

“Yeah…” the Sheriff seemed equally awkward, “Love you, son.”

Stiles wondered if he should have said ‘love you’ back but then the call ended and he was left standing there.

“You hear that?” Scott hissed in the living room, “That’s normal. That’s human. We’re not dragging him into this. He’s innocent.”

Stiles wanted to laugh, because that word hasn’t applied to him for a long, long time. There are times he liked to pretend that if he ever lost his alpha status his eyes would be the beautiful pure gold they had been the first time he ever transformed. The colour they had been for less than an hour before the blood he spilled stained them blood red.

He knew he was tricking himself. With a sigh and a hand rubbing through his hair he stepped back towards the living room. “No need to stop the movie on my account,” he gestured to the screen where the TV was still frozen on a picture of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, mid-attempt in fixing the aircraft’s engines.

Scott glanced up guiltily, and Stiles was suddenly aware of the barrier these teenagers were already building between them. He was meant to get close to them, and he knew that couldn’t happen the way things were. Which meant things had to change…

Either they had to tell him about werewolves (and he’d nod and pretend he didn’t know, that his eyes didn’t burn red and he was nothing more than the new boy at school) or he had to get in another way.

With an easy grin he ignored the tension in the room and sat back down next to Cora. “And I thought this was awkward for me,” he stretched out, stealing Cora’s pillow and leaning back onto it. “But you guys act like I’m going to go rabid and eat you.” he shot her a weak grin.

She shoved him over. He let himself move slightly sideways and she ended up sprawled next to him on the cushion. “Like you could beat me in a fight,” she growled.

“And besides,” Isaac said from the sofa, “We don’t taste very nice.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Stiles grinned, “I haven’t bitten any of you yet,” and he let his gaze slide over Allison. She let out a weak laugh as Stiles flopped back over, still trying to awkwardly claim his section of the cushion from Cora. She wasn’t budging though.

Stiles felt Scott’s gaze boring into him, and he knew baiting them wasn’t good, but it was fun. Lydia shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, also aware of the potential implications of Stiles’ words. “I’d like to see you try,” she sniffed imperiously, grabbing for the remote where it sat loosely in Allison’s hand.

Stiles glanced up at her upside down, shooting her a coy grin, “Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

Cora hit him in the stomach and his breath huffed out of him, “Stop flirting with Lydia.” She snapped, “She lost her boyfriend recently.”

“Lost as in…?” Stiles paled, rolling back over.

Lydia waved him off, “He dumped me, then we sort of made up but he ended up moving to London. There was also this brief incident when he was injured in lacrosse and declared dead when he wasn’t, but overall I’m over him.” Her eyes bore into Stiles, “Movie?” she asked.

Stiles’ gaze slid away from her. “Sure.” He said, considering his options.

Allison was too tied up with Isaac and Scott, plus she was a hunter and that was dangerous. Lydia was available, as was Cora, but both girls were as about approachable as an ice brick.

Maybe he’d have to stick with plan A and start investigating the supernatural deaths that kept happening. Hang out on a full moon (although that was risky for him, his control had been tenuous for a while now).

It didn’t matter quite yet. He had plenty of time. He stretched out and leaned his warm body against Cora who didn’t protest. He already seemed to be melting one of them, and that was progress already.

“So…” Melissa looked at the teenagers sprawled over her living room, her gaze focussing uncannily on the lanky brunette half lying on Cora over where the pair were still silently arguing over the pillow. Allison and Scott had been watching with amusement while Isaac was making silent bets.

Scott scrambled with surprise and oddly enough so did the other teenager, his eyes widening. “Mom! Hey! I wasn’t expecting you home until eight.”

“It is eight,” Melissa nodded at the clock. “Who is th--“ she stops, staring at the teenager.

“Melissa McCall…” the teen said, blinking and he stepped forwards, holding out a hand, “I’m Stiles. Stiles…”

“Claudia’s boy.” Melissa breathed, “Oh my god… you’re John’s son..”

And Stiles flinched. Melissa reached out, as if to assure herself that it was really Stiles standing before her.

“I didn’t believe John,” she breathed, “But you’re back. You… you look just like her.”

“I… I’ve got to go.” Stiles blurted out, sidestepping around her, eyes wide. His breathing was racing and he seemed near panic, blinking furiously. “It was nice meeting you again, Ms McCall. And thanks guys I’ll see you at school. Bye…” he stepped forwards towards the door, vanishing in a few steps, wrenching it open and he was gone.

“Oh my…” Melissa put her hand over her mouth, “Was it something I said?”

“His mother’s dead.” Scott whispered, “She died. I think it hit him pretty hard…”

“He’s outside.” Cora said with a blink, standing and heading for the door.

“You should give him space,” Scott said.

She shot him a look. “How did he get here, dumbass?” she asked, “I’m going to offer him a lift back.”

“Wait wait…” Scott frowned, “Since when did you have a car?”

“Believe it or not,” Cora smirked, “Derek does on occasions let me drive the Camaro.” And she vanished out of the door.

Stiles could feel his fangs poking through, tearing into his gum. He curled his hand, letting his claws dig into his palms.

Damn it, he had better control than this. He closed his eyes, trying to modulate his breathing.

“Are you okay?”

He spun around, eyes flying open and he met Cora’s gaze. He hoped to anything that his eyes weren’t red, but there was no flinch or surprise in her eyes, only concern. He opened his mouth, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “Sorry.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I used to have panic attacks.” He admitted, “After my mom died.” Panic attacks that usually triggered a shift. He’d been taught to control the shift, using an anchor, but for so long his anchor had been the memory of his mother and the guilt at losing his pack.

It was a fine line though between control and mindlessness. Remembering his mother’s death usually triggered the shift in the first place.

Cora reached out on hand, grabbing his own. “Your pulse is racing,” she noted, using the hand she was holding to pretend she was feeling his pulse when in actuality she was probably listening to his heart, much the same was Stiles was listening to her own calm beat. He used it to pace his breathing. “I’m sorry everyone’s overwhelming.” She said, glancing over her shoulder, “We’re probably really intimidating.”

“Not really,” Stiles shrugged, “I’ve met worse.”

She winced, “Still. We were being rude. Inconsiderate. I’m sorry for their stupidity.”

“What about your stupidity?” Stiles asked, “Are you apologising for that?”

The corner of her lip turns up, “In case you haven’t noticed…” she drops his hand and steps back, “I’m so much better at human interaction with the rest of the pack. And I spent three years living in the wilds after my family burnt to death in a house fire.”

Stiles winced. Of course he’d known that, because this was Cora Hale but hearing it said out loud like that… “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah?” she asked, “So am I. Now do you need a lift back home or do you want to stand her chatting like a couple of freshmen girls all night?”

“When did she die?” John asked Stiles, as his son placed a plate of salad in front of him. It was touching, really, the way his son was concerned for his health.

The plate slipped the last few inches and landed on the table with a thump. John glanced up at Stiles’ pale expression. “I’d just turned fifteen,” he whispered, “End of April.”

The Sheriff toyed with his knife, clenching it so hard his knuckles turned white, “And was it… the dementia?”

“No.” Stiles said, voice calm, “She found a cure for that.” And when John looked up Stiles was watching him. He saw uncertainty and calm in his son’s gaze.

And John let himself grasp onto something he had previously not been able to. “Was she a werewolf?” he asked. He observed his son flinch back slightly, and kept going, “Are you a werewolf?” he asked.

Stiles’ eyes widened and he stepped backwards, lips pressed together in a thin line. “And if I was?” he challenged.

John felt a jolt of realisation, “Oh god no,” he shook his head, “I don’t care,” he insisted. “I don’t… it doesn’t change anything. I just… your mother left because I refused to believe her when she started going on about werewolves and druids but it’s been twelve years. I’ve had time to come to terms that there might be something… supernatural out there. I mean…” he let out a laugh, gesturing wildly, “Have you seen this town?”

Stiles’ expression was still closed off, but he slid into his seat and nodded, slowly, “Yes,” he said simply, and John was about to ask again for confirmation when Stiles blinked and suddenly his eyes were a bright burning red. “It’s complicated,” his son warned him, “You can’t tell anyone, understand? For your safety and mine!” He was earnest, leaning forwards slightly and his eyes were back to brown, but John couldn’t shake the image of blood red eyes.

“Is that why your mom…?” he asked, cautiously.

“There were hunters,” Stiles whispered, gaze dropping to his empty plate, “Our alpha he… he went rapid. Mad. I had to.” And John didn’t get it at first, but then Stiles said it again, looking up. “I did what I had to.” He whispered, and with a sick lurch John remembered what Claudia had said the eye colours meant.

“Well that was a disaster,” Lydia observed as Scott came back into the room. “Scott, this isn’t going to work.”

“That’s because we’re not… we’re not trying.” He sighed, leaning his head into his hand.

“We’re trying,” Allison whispered, “Scott, we know you want to be friends with this guy but he can’t… he can’t be pack. Not like the rest of us. Not unless he knows.”

And Scott had considered that. He could introduce Stiles to Danny; let the pair make friends, keep Stiles safe from the supernatural.

They were right. It was probably for the best.

“Are you avoiding me?” Scott closed his locker to find Stiles leaning on the metal door next to him, staring earnestly at him.

“No,” he said, breath hitching slightly.

Stiles’ head tilted to one side and he opened his mouth. “Liar.”

Scott snorted, “How can you tell?” he asks.

His friend’s gaze was unimpressed, “So you turning the other way when you see me in hallways wasn’t enough? Not to mention you sit the other side of the classroom, have stayed out of my general vicinity not only the whole of yesterday but the whole of today as well…” he stops, voice tight, “I just wanted to say I get the hint. I’m screwed up, I know that. And I… you don’t have to try and be nice to me, just because I’m the new kid. I’ll manage.” He lurched away, spinning around.

Scott’s breath caught in his throat. “What? No… Stiles…” he almost walked into someone in an attempt to catch up to the other boy. “Stiles! Stiles!” but by the time he shoved the other student (damn Greenberg) out of the way, Stiles was already vanishing around the corner.

“Nice one, dumbass.” He turned to see Cora staring at him. “I thought you wanted to be friends with him? What happened to trying harder?”

Scott sighed, “It’s for the best,” he said.

“Bullshit.” Cora snapped, “You want to be friends, be friends. Don’t try and make a decision for him that he doesn’t even know he should be making for himself.”

“She’s got a point.”

Scott turned his back on Lydia and Cora. “Why are you ganging up on me?” he asked.

“Because,” Lydia stepped into his eye line, “Because Scott, you haven’t been that happy since you were dating Allison.”

“I don’t…” Scott shook his head, “I’m not…”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “I’m not saying date the guy. Unless you want to. I’m saying you need normal. And if Stiles can be that normal, then take it, okay?” She glanced over Scott’s shoulder. He turned to see what she was looking at and spotted the auburn hair of Cora vanishing around the corner. “Before Cora beats you to it. I think she’s spotted her new BFF.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Stiles’ back hit the locker with a loud clang. He glared at Aidan. “What do I think I’m doing? What are you doing? You guys are meant to be seventeen! That means no assaulting…” he straightened, pulling his collar straight, “No assaulting teenagers in the locker rooms.”

“What he means…” Ethan stepped out from around his twin, “Is that you’re meant to be twisting your way into Scott’s circle of friend’s. His pack. Not hiding from them in here.”

“I’m not hiding.” Stiles snarled, because he’s not. Not from Scott at least. He was hiding from betrayal and responsibility and stupid, idiotic alphas.

Ethan raised one eyebrow. He’d always been the nicer twin.

Stiles was about to protest when something made him pause. It took him a while to scan all his senses before he picked up the steady beat of Cora’s heartbeat. “I haven’t spoken to Lydia at all!” he blurted out, watching as Aidan’s face twisted, “And I don’t even know which one’s Danny! Trust me, I’m not trying to steal your dates!”

“Danny’s the good looking one,” Ethan snapped, and wow, Stiles wondered when he got that defensive. Then the locker room door slammed open and Cora stalked in.

“Stiles,” she asked, voice tense, “You okay?”

Stiles stepped backwards, sliding out from behind Aidan who didn’t move. “Cora, this is the boys locker room,” he pointed out.

“And?” she shrugged, “I wanted to talk to you.” she glanced at the twins, “Alone.”

“I get the feeling we’re not wanted, Aidan,” Ethan smirked, “Guess we do have nothing to worry about,” he finished, as if their conversation had been about Stiles hanging out with Lydia from the start. “Come on.” Ethan did however have to literally drag Aidan out.

“You know the twins?” Cora watched as they vanished out of the door.

Stiles avoided outright lying. It was easier to keep his heart beat steady, even though he was a skilled liar. “They were warning me off Lydia and some guy called Danny.”

Cora turned to look at Stiles, “He’s your chemistry partner,” she said, unimpressed, “You should really try and learn people’s names.”

“I know your name, don’t I? Cora Hale.” He played with the syllables, dragging out the ‘a’ of ‘Hale’. “That’s one thing you don’t know about me.” At her confused look he grins, “You didn’t really think my name was ‘Stiles’ did you?”

“What’s your real name?” she asked.

He laughed, “Don’t ask me to try and pronounce it. I have said it correctly only five times in my life. My dad only three. My mom holds the limit since she’s the one who chose it.” He fell silent, but he didn’t want to see Cora’s look of pity. “You wanted to talk?” he gestured to the locker room, “Pretty urgently, so it seems.”

She hummed, non-committal. “So Scott’s an idiot.” She said, “But I’m not. I like you, for a hyperactive spaz.”

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered.

She hit him over the head. Gently. “You talk a lot, and a lot of it is mindless babble, but some of it is actually interesting. And it’s more interesting than anything other people have to say, so what do you think?”

“Think about what?” he asked warily.

“Go out with me.” She said, and Stiles blinked, not sure if she meant… “On a date?” and her tone hitched slightly.

“You bowl?” he asked, cautiously.

“Yeah,” he heard the lie but didn’t call her on it, “I’m a great bowler.”

He grinned, “Well good,” he said, “Because I’m crap at bowling.”

“Oh thank god,” she said, “I hate bowling. Ice skating?”

He considered it, “There’s an ice rink nearby?”

“My friend, Boyd, works there. I can get us in there for free.”

He shrugged, “Sure.”

She grinned, and the predatory nature to it made something in him shiver. “Great. Tonight. After school. Meet me in the car park. The rest of the gang may or may not show, so I apologise in advance.”

And now Stiles was confused, “Wait… is this like a group hang out or a date date?” he asked, hating the way his heart beat stuttered. Damn it. He took a deep breath.

Cora had paused, and looked flustered, “Group date?” but it sounded like a question. “As in… a date with you… that the others just happen to crash?”

“After school,” Stiles nodded, thinking they were probably the most awkward pair ever. Cora was cute though, when she was flustered.

He did not just think that. He bit the inside of his cheek, smiling as she turned and beat a hasty retreat.

Get in. Make friends. Get information.

Easier said than done.

Chapter Text

“You’re what?”

Cora felt Scott’s gaze on her and she refused to duck her head. “Stiles and I are going ice skating after school. Which reminds me actually…” she craned her neck. “Boyd!” she called.

The other beta heard her as he entered the cafeteria. Scott looked uncomfortable as the beta joined him, because he still refused to be part of their pack.

But, Cora figured as Lydia and Allison dropped down next to him, he already sort of had his own pack.

“Can we have the keys to the rink?” she asked him. Boyd grunted. Cora took that as a yes. She had spent a period of her time as freshman sitting with Boyd and the pair got along in beautiful silence while judging people beneath various glares. She’d loved it; right up until Scott McCall had gotten himself bitten by her lunatic of an uncle and dragged her sister and brother back to town.

She felt her usual pang at remembering Laura’s death. It had been bad enough when Cora spent her life living in the woods, but to discover that the two siblings who had dropped off the grid were still alive, only for one to be killed…

Cora would never forgive Peter for that.

“Is this a date?” Lydia leaned forwards, fingers tapping against the table top.

“Uh…” Cora shrugged, “Maybe.” She reached out as Boyd dropped keys in her hand. “Or maybe it’s an apology because we invited him to be our friend, and then promptly ditched him at the wayside.”

Scott looked guilty, Cora noted smugly.

“Maybe, sweetheart, isn’t good enough. We might be showing up. Maybe. We might decide to give you two sometime alone. Maybe. Make up your mind.” Lydia leaned back, rolling her eyes.

“I might not want to hang out with you. Maybe.” Cora snarked back, “But Stiles might appreciate the friends. Maybe. But you know what? Right now he is sitting over there making an idiot out of himself as he attempts to talk to Danny without angering the twins. What I am going to do is I am going to go over there before they decide to rip his throat out.”

She slipped away, feeling the alarm that was left in her wake. Because while being friends with their pack may be dangerous, it may be even more dangerous to be stranded just outside of it.

Especially now.

Cora liked Stiles.

She hated that she did, and she tried to pretend she didn’t, like his stupid antics didn’t impress her or anything.

They stumbled off the ice laughing and blowing at cold, wet hands. On the rink Scott fell over for the twentieth time and Allison had given up trying to help him. She was skating around trying to help Isaac, who was even worse that Scott.

“They’re meant to be…” Cora caught the word ‘werewolves’ before she said it and laughed to hide it.

“They’re really bad,” Stiles observed. “I’d hate to see them bowling.”

There was a crash and they both winced as Scott tripped into the barrier. Allison skated up, hand over her mouth. “Where’s Lydia?” she asked, trying not to laugh, “I need some help here, trying to teach these two…”

Cora looked around, and she was suddenly aware that she and Stiles were still holding hands. She let go, self-conscious. “I don’t know. She must have popped off somewhere.” She hummed.

Stiles turned around, “I think she went outside. I saw her wandering a moment ago. She looked ill, actually. Is she okay?”

Cora’s stomach lurched, and she pushed past Stiles, ignoring his protests and unbuckling the ice skates, kicked them off. “I think… where did she go?” she almost fell over herself trying to get out.

“Woah!” Stiles grabbed onto one arm, “She went to the car park. Why?”

Cora didn’t even bother with shoes, she tugged herself away from Stiles and started running.

That was when they heard the scream.

It made Scott’s ears ring, and both he and Isaac doubled over at the sound. Cora was half way out of the open door, wincing with her hands over her ears. Stiles also had flinched back, and Allison was the only one who hadn’t reacted that way. Then again she didn’t have superhuman hearing.

Scott frowned at Stiles, as his new friend doubled over. Not from the noise, Scott realised, despite his first thoughts. He was pulling his skates off.

Because Lydia…

Scott threw himself towards the edge of the ice in a panic. There couldn’t be another dead body. Not now. Not when they’d just made friends with Stiles now. Not when they’d just about made up after spending the last hour watching Cora and Stiles tentatively flirt with each other (and watching Cora flirt was just bizarre).

Cora was gone already and Stiles followed soon after. Allison was next, and Scott was still too slow, and by the time he got out there he could see the other three vanishing into the trees towards the preserve.

“Lydia!” Stiles called, and Scott and Isaac broke into a run to catch up. “Lydia! Lydi-“ his voice stopped in the middle of calling her name.

Scott and Isaac burst through into the clearing where Cora and Stiles stood. Lydia was just in front of them, staring in horror at the body there. The scent hit Scott then and he struggled not to choke, not to visibly react.

“How the hell…” Stiles looked panicked, “How the hell did you know that was there?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia whispered.

“Are you psychic?” Stiles asked, and he’s already fumbling for his phone. To call his dad, Scott realises.

“This is the what?” Cora glanced at Scott. “The fifth?”

“Three virgins, and now three what?” Stiles whispered.

“What?” Allison turned sharply towards Stiles, “What did you say?”

Stiles looked nervous, “My dad’s the Sheriff,” he said, as if that was part of his argument, “He brings all the cases home with him. I look through them, sometimes, maybe.” He looked guilty, “The first three… the only thing they had in common was that they were all virgins.”

“How did you know that?” Cora asked, “Can you smell it or something?”

Stiles shook his head, lips pressed together, “I used to know… I knew…” he swallowed, and Scott stepped forwards, taking the phone from Stiles’ shaking hands.

“I’ll phone your dad,” he said, because Stiles’ gaze kept drifting back to where the body was tied to the tree, throat ripped open and head bashed in, obviously thinking about whoever he knew who had died.

“Come on,” Allison herded Lydia away, and Cora tugged Stiles. He wouldn’t move for a moment, but eventually followed after her.

“I’ll find whoever is doing this,” Stiles said, to nobody in particular.

“We all will,” Allison promised fiercely, “Nobody murders in our town and gets away with it.”

“Well looked what cat dragged in.”

Stiles stalked past Kali’s leering gaze without looking twice at her. She bared her teeth as he paced slowly and calmly towards where Deucalion stood, looking out the window. “I thought you were in California,” he said, sullenly, stopping besides the other alpha.

“I was. But it seems the matter of my investment is proving to be more of a long-term solution.”

Stiles breathed out. “What did you want me for?” he asked.

“I need,” Deucalion turned to face him, staring unnervingly at his face, “I need you to join us there.”

“What?” Stiles blinked, and he glanced to where Deucalion’s second was still grinning, “But you said… you said I could stay here. Finish my schooling. Not move back to California. Certainly not moving back to… there.”

“I did, didn’t I?” the alpha hummed, “Well I’ve changed my mind.”

“You can’t do that,” Stiles protested, “I’m not a puppy to grovel at your feet. You can’t just drag me halfway across the country…” he was cut off with a hiss, head whipping to the side as Deucalion, in one swift movement, snapped the tip off his cane and whipped it across Stiles’ cheek.

The wound should heal almost immediately but it still stung. Stiles kept his head averted, eyes down. He should have known his place.

“Now,” Deucalion stepped forwards, reaching out and cupping Stiles’ face, as if trying to see with his hands. He turned Stiles’ cheek towards him, until Stiles was gazing down at Deucalion’s feet, still trying to avoid the other wolf’s gaze, “Are there any problems with that?”

Stiles swallowed down the comments that threatened to fly free. “No.” he said.

Deucalion relaxed, and stepped back, hands dropping from Stiles’ face. “Good boy. Go and pack. We’re leaving in the morning.”

The younger male stepped back, turning swiftly and heading for the exit. Kali flashed her eyes at him and he allowed a bit of fang to show as he snarled back.

He may listen to the one alpha. That didn’t mean the other alphas had any sway over him.

“It was the music teacher.”

Cora blinked at Stiles standing in the doorway to the loft. “It was the what?” she asked.

“The guy who died. He was a music teacher.” Stiles said, hovering uncertainly with a plastic bag in his hand.

“What is that?” Cora asked, unsure why Stiles was showing up here. In fact she was unsure how Stiles had even found this place.

He looked nervous suddenly, “This?” he held up the bag, “Well… uh… I’m sorry, I read all my dad’s reports, and he said that Lydia found the bodies?” Cora nodded, “Well if she is psychic or whatever, then if we can predict where or who the next body will be, maybe we can help stop it or catch the killer.”

“We’re just a bunch of stupid teenagers,” Cora sighed, “All we’re ever going to do is find the bodies.”

Stiles slumped, all his enthusiasm draining away as she watched. He sighed, “Then what’s the point?” he asked, arms outspread, “You guys have this advantage - why not use it?”

Cora stared, and then stepped aside. “Come in,” she said, “Just don’t mind my brother. He’s a grump.”

“Must run in the family,” Stiles almost skipped inside, “Do you have a wall I can borrow? I’d do it at home, but my dad would freak. So. Wall?”

Cora watched as Stiles went to work pinning up pictures and linking them with red string. There was something therapeutic about how he worked, fingers unravelling the puzzle as he laid it all out for her.

“Three murders, right? Starting, freakishly enough, after I get into town. And they’re all targeting virgins as well…” Stiles shuddered slightly, “But things in three… that’s human sacrifices, right? Three virgins, and now… “ he pointed to the next two. “Three warriors.”

“Warriors?” Cora leaned forwards, “They both had army connections,” she realised suddenly. “So if we know the third…”

Stiles pulled out a picture with a wince, “We kind of already do. Lydia called me. She said Harris is missing. And apparently he left something spelt out on his desk.”

He wrote it out with big black letters.

“Darach,” Cora read, “What is that?”

“From research, some sort of druid,” Stiles shrugged, “So I’m thinking ritualistic killings of a sort? Some sort of…” he was cut off when the loft door slid open and Derek and Boyd stalked in. Stiles stopped, and Cora was suddenly aware of how weird this must look. They had stolen one random wall in the loft which now looked like a murder planning board, while Stiles and Cora were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of each other with a tangle of red string to the side.

“Who is this?” Derek growled, stalking forwards.

Stiles looked alarmed, scrambling up, but Cora got there first, standing between her brother and her maybe-boyfriend. “This is Stiles,” she said, “He’s a friend from school. We were studying.”

Derek eyed the board, “Studying a serial killing spree.”

“It’s for Psychology,” Stiles said, “I’m taking it as a college course.”

Her brother looked unbelieving. “Get him out. We need to talk.”

“About what?” Cora snapped, sick of her brother barging in and ruining her life.

“Stuff.” Derek growled, “Get out,” he snapped at Stiles.

Stiles looked nervous, “Okay, okay…” he ducked down, grabbing his phone from the floor. Cora turned to him apologetically, “It’s fine,” he smiled at her, “I need to go now anyway.” He lied.

“My brother,” she said, “Is an asshole.”

Derek glared at her.

Stiles looked cowed, “He’s still glaring at me. Cora, can you insult your brother when he doesn’t look like he’s about to rip open my throat with his teeth?”

“His bark is worse than his bite,” Cora glared back at Derek, rather bitterly.

“I’ll see you at school, right?” Stiles asked, and then scratched his head, “Or not… there’s that track thing. I’ll see you soon, though?” he stepped sideways, walking around Derek with room to spare.

“Wait!” Cora stepped after him, and grabbed the phone still in his hands, “My number,” she handed it back to him, “Let me know how the cross country meet goes?”

Stiles blinked blankly and nodded. “Sure… uh… sure, okay…” he waved and almost tripped his way out of there.

Boyd stared at her.

“What?”

“You have a phone?”

She crossed her arms, “I need to phone people,” she protested. “And you…” she jabbed a finger at Derek, “Are not allowed to scare him.”

“To be honest,” Derek was examining the wall connecting the murders, “This kid scares me. Because… fuck… how does someone put this together so easily?”

Cora’s stomach lurched, “It’s not Stiles. He’s not a murderer. He…” she examined the pictures of the victims. “This one.” She pointed out, “He knew her. Their mothers were friends. They knew each other from those things mothers apparently do when they hang around together with babies.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone,” Cora said, “And for a long time, neither did I. And that?” she spun around, not looking back at her brother, wearied by the world as he was, “That was the problem.”

“You’re getting rather cosy in their little pack.”

“Kali. What’s the problem? Jealous? And aren’t you meant to be watching the loft, instead of talking to me?”

“I just couldn’t resist a lost cub wandering around on his own. So tell me, how goes your wooing spree?”

“Obviously it’s more successful that your spree of stabbing Hale with a metal pole. They have no idea who’s making the sacrifices. But we have a word.”

“A word?”

“Darach.”

“Druid.”

“Dark druid. Which leads to so many possibilities, don’t you think Kali? Because we’ve barely seen any druids. The only druids we had contact with were the emissaries, and they’re all dead. Isn’t that right, Kali?”

He left her snarling silently with a smug smirk on his face.

Chapter Text

I’m sorry about Boyd.

So am I.

Stiles could smell the blood and the scent of infection in the wound on Scott’s side. He kept shifting uncomfortably, staring morosely into the distance. Worrying about Derek, no doubt, and probably mourning the beta that had died. Near the front Isaac’s claws were curled into his leg in grief, and there was an empty spot next to him.

Behind them Stiles was vaguely aware of Lydia and Allison stalking along. He kind of wished Cora was tagging along with them.

Subtly, he stole Scott’s phone and dialled Lydia, slipping up to the front to sit behind Coach. Finstock shot him a wary look and then decided to ignore him.

“Hey!” Lydia answered, “Scott: how is your… cross country meet?”

“It’s Stiles,” Stiles said, “We’re still in the bus.”

“Oh, okay. Well we are about to go shopping. At the mall. In Beacon Hills.”

“You’ve been following us for the past hour,” Stiles was unimpressed, “And there’s something wrong with Scott. He looks like someone died on him, and it sounds like he can’t breathe.” Stiles played ignorant, “Does he have asthma or something… can I give him an inhaler…?”

“We… stop the bus. We’ll take a look.”

“Why?” Stiles frowned.

“He got… (what is that Allison? what exactly constitutes a skirmish with alphas?) He got injured in lacrosse.”

Stiles decided not to call them out on the fact it wasn’t lacrosse season, and pretended he couldn’t hear Allison in the background as they sat behind them in the pile up. “There’s a rest stop in two miles.” He said, “I’ll see if we can persuade Coach to stop…”

“Stop?” Finstock turned around at those words, “Not a chance. We’re on this bus until the end; do you hear me, Bilinski?”

“Stilinski,” Stiles glared at him, before dropping his voice and turning away, “Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?” Lydia asked.

Stiles paused by the carsick kid. “Chaos,” he replied, before hanging up.

Allison braked the car before she drove into the back of the bus for the fifth time, “What did he say?” she asked Lydia.

Lydia stared at her phone weakly, “Scott.” She says, “Has a very dangerous choice of friend.” She decided.

Said dangerous choice of friend was also remarkably accepting of the giant hole in Scott’s side. “What did he do?” he wrinkled his nose, “Stab himself with a kitchen knife?”

“I’ll stitch it up.” Allison mumbled.

“Are you kidding?” Stiles hissed, “He needs a doctor. A hospital.”

“We can’t,” Lydia said sharply, “Not unless you want to explain where he got that?”

“Where did he get it?” Stiles asked, and when none of them answered he threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. I’m going to fetch him a clean shirt. I don’t like needles anyway.”

Lydia stared after him, “I’ll go with him. Try and explain…”

“Explain how?” Allison asked, threading the needle, fingers shaking, “He… unless we tell him everything…?”

“That’s Scott and Cora’s call,” Lydia decided, “I’ll make something up. Or tell him the truth just… y’know. Use words such as gang and drugs instead of werewolf and pack.”

And that was how Stiles managed to endure the most hilarious talk of his lifetime, trying not to laugh while Lydia attempted to explain lycanthropy to him, without ever actually using the word ‘werewolf’.

Stuckintraffic.suxSc*8tthrtRuondrugs?.,

What’s the matter with your phone?

cantfndthespacebarhELP

I literally have zero sympathy for you. What happened to your other phone?

bRokeit.dadgrounmedemew/thisoldonew/nokeyboard

meetisdelyted.,stayin@’motel

motelsuxsharinw/S88tt

motelsr8lycreepy

rualive

Yes. Hanging around with my Uncle Peter.

Wllisn’theabarrllo/laughs

You can find an apostrophe but not the space bar?

Fuckyou

The flare burned hot in Allison’s hand as she ran towards the room where Lydia was with Isaac. The numbers kept changing on the motel sign. It dropped down by three, and Lydia was hearing voices in the walls. Whispers and screams and so, so much death.

Three deaths. Three werewolves. Isaac was hiding under the bed. Allison had only just wrestled a chainsaw away from Ethan before he cut himself open.

Then they had just Scott to find. That was three werewolves, right? Allison was grateful that Peter hadn’t let Cora come with her and Lydia after the battle the other night. It made things easier now there was one less werewolf to look out for.

She skidded around the corner and collided with a warm body who was staring out towards the parking lot, arms crossed as he rested on the balcony. He spun around, arms flailing as she crashed into him.

Allison recognised Stiles only by the muffled curse as he scrambled backwards, untangling his limbs from hers.

“Get… get off of me!” Stiles flinched back, glaring at her, hands rubbing at his arms as if cold, but there was something about the way he twisted them, trying to keep them away from his body that made Allison think there was something he didn’t want to touch nearby.

“Sorry,” she stepped backwards; stumbling slightly and the flare arced through the air. Stiles jolted back as if stung, eyes widening. The flare made his brown gaze look almost red as Allison re-orientated herself and broke into a jog. “Gotta’ go,” she said, not looking back.

She didn’t see Stiles shaking violently and rub at the burn on his arm with a confused expression on his face as he looked around again. She didn’t see him swipe at his hands as if trying to wipe off the invisible blood he saw there.

Allison vanished around the corner, flare still burning red in the night.

Leaving Stiles standing there, staring at something only he could see.

There was so much blood. Stiles cursed, rubbing at his arms, his hands. It just seemed to spread it further though as he clawed at his arms.

He blinked and his arm burnt and the world shook. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. It wasn’t real.

Dammit who had poisoned him with wolfsbane?

He leaned over the toilet, taking one large heaving breath before opening his mouth and shoving his hand in. He needed to get it out of his system, and quickly.

His mother whispered in his ear, his real name rolling off her tongue. Behind her his alpha laughed like a maniac, eyes rolling as he sneered insults.

They weren’t real, Stiles reminded himself. His pack was dead. His pack was gone, dead and long buried.

He lurched forwards and clenched his eyes closed to their sightless gazes.

Scott stumbled in, kerosene still drenching his clothes. His hand was still numb from holding the flare so tightly, and he tried not to think how close he had come to dropping it before Lydia had screamed.

Funnily enough it was the predication of his death in the scream that had allowed him to avoid death, snapping him out of it.

Scott tugged off his shirt and tripped his way to the shower. He grabbed a towel and begun pulling off his jeans, and he was already down to his boxers by the time he was aware of Stiles, vomiting into the toilet.

“Stiles?” he asked, blinking heavily.

His friend lurched back, eyes closed tightly. “Hey, Scott. I think I ate something that didn’t agree with me.” He paused, “Why do you smell like kerosene?” he squinted one eye open.

Scott shook his head, unwilling to talk about it, “I need to take a shower,” he whispered, “Do you mind…”

In hindsight, Stiles looked just as ill as Scott felt. He made some aborted gesture to the shower before spinning back around and retching some more. Black trailed down in the vomit, but Scott barely noticed, making a beeline for the shower.

He was not sleeping in this haunted motel, Scott decided. The bus would have to do.

Later when he dragged Stiles out of there, his friend didn’t even question why Lydia, Allison, and Isaac had also decided to join them in sleeping on the bus. In fact Stiles seemed almost, if not more, out of it than he was.

Coach didn’t even question it when he found them all sleeping there in the morning. “Meet’s been cancelled!” he grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air. “We’re heading home.”

Stiles blinked sleep from his eyes, head groggy and feeling the closest he would probably get to a hangover.

Thank god for that, he thought, dazed.

So they got back and it turned out Derek was neither dead, nor dying.

But Scott’s boss did end up going missing within two days of Lydia seeing a fiery spectre, and now she sat with Cora and Stiles, pencil in hand.

“You’re drawing a tree.” Stiles announced after a bit, “That’s not… it’s a very nice tree, Lydia… but maybe you could… y’know - tap into your psychic powers and help us a little more before I find my new best friend’s boss strung up and dead as a ritualistic sacrifice?”

“I’m not psychic,” Lydia argued, as always, dropping her pencil and sketchpad.

“You’re something!” Stiles snapped, frustrated. “Okay, how about…” he stopped, “Wait… why wasn’t Danny in chemistry again?”

Cora shrugged, and Lydia sighed, “He was poisoned last night.”

“Yeah, but why?” Stiles frowned, “He wasn’t a sacrifice.”

“No, but…” Lydia stopped, “Huh. That’s a good question.”

“This isn’t helping,” Cora snapped, “And you know what else isn’t helping? You, screwing with one of the…” she stopped, glanced at Stiles.

“One of the other gang?” Stiles frowned, really confused. His new friends not only appeared to share his serial killer hunting vibe, but also were apparently really deep in with drugs and some bad people. He seemed to be considering telling his dad, so Cora moved on quickly.

“Danny was doing a project,” she realised, “For physics.”

“And how is that important?” Stiles and Lydia were looking at her expectedly.

“Harris marked it,” Cora said, “Before he went missing.” Presumed dead, but his body hadn’t been found yet.

They knew it was out there.

Scott never wanted Stiles dragged into this.

But his friend seemed to just go along with it, stealing Danny’s Physic project for them and allowing them to pour over it in Deaton’s clinic. “They’re telluric currents,” Lydia realised for them. “Running through Beacon Hills.”

Stiles stepped back, looking worried. He glanced at his watch occasionally and then at the brick of a phone his dad had given him after whatever fate his old one had met. Cora was worried too, for Derek and Isaac, both of whom were taking Boyd’s death particularly hard.

They were expecting a visit from Kali after Ennis’ death, and soon. Derek was almost looking forward to it though, she suspected.

Scott no longer knew which way to turn.

But first: Deaton.

Stiles picked out a place with his hand, phone already dialling, “The bank,” he mouthed at them, “I’m phoning my dad.”

He wanted to protest, to stop Stiles getting his father involved, but at the same time, it made sense. He watched as Stiles began to talk, then stopped and then frowned. “What?” Stiles asked, “Oh, okay… I… great…” he glanced over at Scott, who was staring at him in disbelief.

Remembering he wasn’t supposed to be able to hear the other end of the conversation Scott asked, “What is it?” but he already felt lighter.

“My dad’s already there,” Stiles said, ending the call, “Deaton’s safe. He’s alive. It’s going to be okay…” the words had barely left his mouth than Cora’s phone rang.

“They’re here,” Isaac said, and Scott’s heart dropped.

“Who’s here?” Stiles asked her for the millionth time as instead of ascending to the loft, they headed down to fix the electrical problem. “What the hell are you guys into?”

“Nothing,” Cora argued, searching for the switch. Stiles’ eyes darted frantically between the electrical power grid and her hand.

“Then why?” he grabbed her wrist, “Are you planning on electrocuting someone?”

Cora snatched her wrist back, “I’m saving my brother,” she snarled, eyes flashing golden. Stiles looked startled, and she regretting that almost instantly, when suddenly there was a howling that echoed throughout the building.

“No,” she whispered, recognising the sound, “Derek…” she pushed past Stiles. He spun around, stumbling after her.

“Cora!” he called, “Cora, wait… Cora!”

She ignored him and kept running.

The loft was a mess. Water pooled on the floor, and blood seeped through it like smoke. Scott let out a snarl next to where he stood with Isaac. Kali and Aiden snarled right back, while Derek limped forwards. Lydia stood backwards, out of the way.

Ethan made a movement forwards, when Cora barrelled out of the open doorway, forcing him to step back. “You’re outnumbered,” she warned, “Leave.”

“Why should we?” Kali laughed, “We’re alphas. There are three of us, against one alpha and three… well… I’d call you betas, but none of you seem to be able to decide what pack you’re in.”

Scott growled, low in his throat.

“Now, Scott.” Deucalion purred from the entrance, “Is that any way to treat your elders? Especially, since I think you'll find that I have the upper hand in this game," Deucalion's voice rang out. Scott turned to him, and froze, spotting the prisoner that Deucalion held.

“No,” Cora stepped forwards, eyes wide.

It was Stiles, standing there. Deucalion gripped the front of his shirt with one hand while his claws rested lightly on Stiles' throat, just above the pulsing vein.

Stiles swallowed. "Uh, hey, guys…" he fell silent as the claws dug in just that little bit harder.

"I believe they call this an impasse," Deucalion hummed, "Isn't that right Morrell?"

The emissary stalked forwards, glancing at Deucalion and Stiles and then to where Derek and his pack outnumbered Kali and the twins. "Now that's not fair," she gestured, "But this," she grinned lightly, despite the worry in her eyes. "This is a bit more fair."

Scott watched as Stiles' eyes fluttered closed, breathing shallowly. "It's okay," he reassured his friend, "Stiles, it's okay, we'll just…" he stepped away from Derek and Kali, and Isaac followed his lead.

"Yeah?" Stiles laughed, slightly hysterically, "I'd like you to look up the definition of 'okay' for me, Scottie. Or find a better word. You must know some, right? Word of the day…" he fell silent, eyes opened to the scene before him.

That's the moment that Kali lunged for Derek, his pack no longer behind him.

Stiles watched as the twins moved in on the betas, as Kali knocked Derek aside. Claws pricked at his throat and then healed, but they were still a warning to him.

Keep quiet. Keep still. Don’t interfere.

And so Stiles stayed silent, watching as Scott and Isaac rounded towards him, both torn between worrying for him and worrying for Derek.

Kali was a raging ball of anger, and Derek should be all means be dead. Ennis as dead and that was all that was needed to set her off, nevr mind the fact that Boyd had been killed as well. She went at him with a fury, and Derek held his own, but not well enough.

Derek’s body dropped to the ground at the same time that Deucalion dropped Stiles and because he wasn’t suspecting it, he dropped heavily, tripping down the stairs and landing in the water with a splash, gasping for breath. Scott was there suddenly, hands on him as he pushed himself up, hair wet and blinking at where Kali stood triumphantly before turning.

Derek looked so small suddenly as he gasped for breath in the water, his own blood spreading from him.

“Until the full moon,” she told him, “Then I’ll burn the rest of your pack to the ground if you won’t do it yourself. You’ve lost one already. It should be easy to end the rest.”

Stiles shoved helping hands off him and pushed himself to a sitting position on the stairs, staring at the dying wolf.

He could smell the moment the scent twisted from life and began to heal. It was painful though. It would be. It was meant to be.

Cora lurched to a halt behind her brother, sob in her throat.

Kali didn’t mess around.

“Stiles,” Scott tried to pull him up, “Stiles…”

“Get off of me,” Stiles pulled away from him.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked again, trying to ignore the presence of Derek, sprawled in the water behind him, "Stiles?"

His new friend was breathing deeply, panic in his eyes.

"Take a deep breath," Scott murmured, soothingly, "Don't panic, just breathe."

"Breathe?" Stiles laughed, "Breathe… y-y-you're…"

"Werewolves," Isaac sunk down on the steps next to them, resignation and sorrow on his features, "Yeah."

Stiles shoved Scott away a little. "I'm not going to hurt you," Scott tried to explain; "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Guys!" there was a crash as Lydia waded through the water towards them, “Guys?” she asked again, weakly as she sunk down next to Stiles and Scott.

Stiles was looking at Scott's face with confusion, "You all--?" he paused to breathe again.

"Not Allison," Scott struggled to explain, "Or Lydia. Or Danny. But yeah."

"They're not scary," Lydia whispered, "They won't hurt you."

"Scared?" Stiles looked at the pair with disbelief and then beyond them to where Derek was healing in the water, "I'm not scared," he shook his head, "I'm just trying to get over the fact that my life was under threat because I'm important to people."

At their searching gazes he added, "Since my mom died three years ago I haven't been important to anyone. I shouldn't be…" he choked a little and his eyes slide down, almost guilty.

Scott let out a whine, and grabbed Stiles, pulling him into a hug. Stiles flinched slightly, and tensed up, before forcing himself to relax into it. Scott let go, examining him, "You sure you're alright?" He reached out with one hand, probing at Stiles' neck where he could have sworn Deucalion's claws had caught the skin.

The pale throat was unblemished. Stiles batted the hand away, "Overwhelmed," he shivered slightly. Isaac let out a huff nearby. "But I don't mind. But for the record? You guys totally suck at the secret keeping. And I’m actually relieved… that it’s werewolves and not…” he waved a hand. “Lydia’s drug story was really beginning to worry me.”

Lydia grinned weakly as Cora limped up. "Welcome to the packs." she shrugged. Derek pushed himself up, looking pained.

"Packs?" Stiles looked around at the four werewolves and one girl.

Scott shrugged, "I'm not one of Derek's beta's. Allison, Lydia and Danny are in my pack, even though I'm not really an alpha. Isaac…" he glanced at the beta, "He sort of drifts between me and Derek. Derek has Cora and Peter. He used to have Erica and Boyd but…" he fell silent. "Jackson left for London." he added.

Stiles closed his eyes, "Werewolves. And I suppose there are vampires and ghosts too?"

"Oh no," Derek shook his head, "Vampires aren't real."

"Did you just make a joke?"

"No, I'm being serious."

"Good to know."

Chapter Text

Stiles got the full supernatural rundown.

They left nothing out. Stiles almost wished they had.

They explained diligently about alphas and betas and Lydia listened in because apparently she had to pick this stuff up as she went along.

And Stiles wanted to tell them not to bother. He wanted to tell them he knew this already, that in fact he was better versed on werewolf politics than they were.

But he stayed silent. He didn’t think he could bear to see the look on Cora’s face when he showed her the true colour of his eyes.

Don’t get attached Deucalion had told him, and it was easy to think about that weeks ago, when he didn’t know these people.

When he didn’t feel so strongly for them. Now Stiles was torn between what he should do. For now though, he kept his head down. Listened, hung around with Cora, joked with Scott, researched with Lydia, bickered with Allison and exchanged sarcastic comments with Isaac.

It was like he was almost one of them. A true friend and not a fake one.

It was like he was part of their pack.

“Be careful, Scott.” Morrell warned, when Scott and Lydia decided to question her on the alpha pack. She hadn’t been helpful, “Deucalion has built his pack up on skills, abilities and raw power. You can’t stand alone against the six of them. Even with Ennis dead, the rest will rip you to shreds. You need allies. Friends.”

“I have my pack,” Scott said.

“And Deucalion has his.” Morrell grabbed a pile of books, pulling them across the desk to her, “But which is stronger?” she stood, stepping around Lydia and Scott towards to door and pulling it open.

Lydia stared at the door Morrell had vanished through, “Did she say six of them?” she asked after a beat. “You can’t stand against the six of them…”

“She did?” Scott asked, “That means there are six alphas?” he paused, “But there were only five. Maybe she was including herself. She’s their emissary, right? Or maybe she didn’t know about Ennis…”

“Deucalion. Kali. Ethan. Aidan. Ennis. She’s the emissary. Not an alpha. And she very clearly stated ‘them’ not ‘us’ and she said she knew about Ennis which mean… Which means…” Lydia turned her green eyes to Scott, “Who don’t we know about?”

“There’s another alpha?” Allison asked, staring in dismay at Scott. Cora cursed, and Stiles frowned at the ground. “But that’s not possible. We’ve only ever met five of them. And one is dead. Maybe he died… or isn’t in the state?”

“Or maybe…” Lydia sniffed, “They’re saving the last alpha for some reason. Hiding him. Werewolves can hide their scents right? They could be posing as a teacher or student.”

Scott could hear Stiles’ heartbeat pounding as his friend cracked his neck, blinking. “Cora, stay with Stiles.” He commanded. Stiles looked up, wide eyed. “If there is another alpha around then Stiles could be in danger.”

Cora huffed and Stiles choked. “I don’t…” he swallowed, “I don’t need a guard dog,” he sneered, but there was some weird emotion in his voice. Guilt, maybe, and a bit of anxiety.

The youngest Hale just gave him an imperial glare, “You think I want to be guarding your scrawny ass?” she asked, “But Scott has a point. You could be in danger. Lydia too, which is why Allison or Isaac should keep an eye on her.”

Lydia didn’t look impressed at needing a bodyguard, but she just settled for glaring at everyone.

Stiles ducked his head and tried to ignore the guilt in his stomach.

It was easier, now that Stiles knows. Cora no longer had to hide who she was, or anything about her past.

It didn’t mean she opened up and spilled all her secrets straight away, but the potential was there.

As it was, it was just as well Stiles was in the know when Lydia called them from the school and told them she’d found another dead body.

“So Lydia really is psychic?” he asked, as he clambered out of the jeep. Cora slipped out of the other side. Allison and Lydia were already there and Scott was just pulling up on his bike.

Cora shrugged, “We don’t know.”

“And there’s going to be a dead body around here?” Stiles looked around, “Wait… you haven’t found it yet?”

“I called you guys before the police,” Lydia said shakily, arms crossed protectively over her chest, “But what… what now?”

“Well we need to find the dead body,” Stiles sighed.

“Guys,” Scott was staring at something, “I think I found the dead body.”

Cora stared at the body on the school’s sign, smelling the blood in the air. “I think we should call the police now,” she said, numbly.

Stiles wordlessly passed her his crappy phone.

Scott was thinking about Morrell and the potentially unknown alpha around. “Hey,” Scott leaned over to Stiles, “What if the Darach was actually an emissary to the alphas?”

Stiles just blinked, “I can’t believe we’re at a point where ‘what if the Darach was an emissary to the alphas’ actually makes sense to me.” He chewed on the end of his pencil, “Problem - we…” he stopped suddenly, and Scott looked up as Stiles’ heartbeat jumped. “The alphas killed their whole packs,” Stiles said, changing what he had been about to say, “Emissaries included.”

Scott shrugged, “We could always check.”

“How?” Stiles asked, and then paused. In unison, they spun around.

Lydia looked up unimpressed, “What now?”

While Lydia distracted Aiden, they talked to Ethan. Cora shifted from foot to foot impatiently on top of the stairs while Ethan lounged against the wall. Stiles kept his head ducked to the ground.

“Our emissary is dead,” Ethan shrugged, “So are the others…”

Stiles brought his head up, and it was jerky enough to turn into a nod. He kept silent, lips pressed together.

“You killed them,” Cora snarled.

“You don’t understand,” Ethan snapped, “We were the weakest in our pack. In a real wolf pack we’d be the omegas. They were all killers, we just killed them first.”

“You don’t know anything?” Scott asked.

Ethan shook his head, “Nothing. And by the way, Deucalion’s getting impatient. You know it’s not just Derek he wants, don’t you?”

“What?” Stiles’ head snapped up. Cora turned to Scott.

“What...” she repeated, “Is he talking about?”

“I’m…” Scott coughed, and he glared at Ethan. The alpha shrugged.

“He’s a true alpha. Has the potential to be, at least. Deucalion wants him in his pack.”

“He can’t do that.” Stiles straightened out suddenly, hands clenched into fists. Ethan shot him a look and he glanced sideways at Cora and Scott, “He can’t just pick up werewolves for his elite pack like he’s shopping for them, and discard the rejects,” he continued, gaze sweeping over them.

Cora glared at Scott, and yes, the Hale glare was obviously genetic. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Scott shrugged, “Deaton wasn’t sure. And it kept you guys safe. I also didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I was potentially going to have to kill you.”

Cora looked surprised, “But I’m in Derek’s pack…” she whispered.

“Are you?” Ethan asked, looking at the three of them, “Because if I didn’t know better…” and he was frowning, confused, “I’d say you were all in the same pack.”

Cora shifted uneasily, because she was meant to be in her brother’s pack. Stiles tapped one finger nervously against the wall, meeting Ethan’s gaze. “Are you threatening us?” he asked, “By telling us that Scott’s going to have to kill us?” He stood up a bit more, “Because if so I’m going to find a rowan stick, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe and shove it up your…”

Ethan held up his hands, “I’m just passing on what you don’t know.”

“Leave it,” Scott put his arm across Stiles’ chest. “Just…” he sighed, tiredly, “Thanks.”

Ethan nodded, “Now can I go and rescue my brother from Lydia? I think she’s close to castrating him.”

Scott winced, and nodded. Ethan hurried off as Scott sank down on the steps, chin in his hands.

“What gives?” Stiles asked weakly, “You’d make a good alpha, you know,” he added, still unsure about how he felt about that. “Better than some I can name,” he added, but what he really meant to say was ‘better than me’.

Cora shook her head, “This is too much. A dark druid, a pack of alphas… we’re just a bunch of stupid teenagers.”

“No,” Scott shook his head, “We can do something. We’re not helpless. We know what we’re doing.”

“You keep kidding yourself that.” Stiles said, head ducking nervously, “But we… we don’t have a clue.”

“We’ll work something out,” Scott promised, darkly, “We always do. Because… because we’re not just a bunch of stupid teenagers.” And when he looked up his golden eyes flashed red for a split second. “We’re werewolves.”

And Stiles examined the ground, hand running through his hair to avoid Scott and Cora seeing his own eyes burn crimson.

“You need to tell your dad,” Scott told Stiles.

Stiles froze, panic racing through him. “No,” he said, immediately.

Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I know you want to protect him, but he needs to know what he’s dealing with.”

“I’ll go with you,” Cora promised. “I’ll transform, let him see proof.”

And wouldn’t that be the most awkward conversation ever. All it would take would be for his dad to let slip one thing, mention about how he already knew about werewolves, how could he not when his wife had died as one and his son still was.

Stiles needed something else. “He already knows.”

That hadn’t been what he meant to say, but as he stared around guiltily at Scott and Cora he figured it would work, “I told him… shortly after I found out. I’m sorry… I should have asked you…” he waved his hands around nervously, “I just needed someone else to talk to about all… all this.”

Scott was looking at him with understanding. There was no hurt, no disappointment, and Stiles wondered what he had done to find such a good friend. Scott was such a good person, Stiles thought guiltily. “That’s fine, Stiles. We’re not mad.”

Cora smiled at him hesitantly. It wasn’t meant to be like this, Stiles thought. He wasn’t meant to like these two so much. And whatever it was between he and Cora… which may be nothing, probably would be nothing… he hadn’t let it become more, had cut off its head every time things seemed to start heading down that road.

“It makes it easier.” Cora said, and Stiles had to think for a moment to remember what she was talking about. That’s right - his dad. “So does he know about the druid?”

Stiles coughed, “Uh… no I might have left that bit out.”

“Then tell him. Tell him everything.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to be at the recital,” Scott looked grave, “This time we’ll catch the druid before there are any more murders.”

“They think it’s an emissary. One of our emissaries.”

“They’re all dead.”

“That’s what I said. Or… Ethan said. Also there’s something up with Lydia. She’s something.”

“Aiden is keeping an eye on Lydia. You just need to watch Hale and McCall.”

“You didn’t tell me you were planning on recruiting them.”

“I thought that was implied when I told you the one was a true alpha. Oh, Stiles. Don’t tell me you’ve grown attached. Well think of it this way - at least you’ll have a friend with us, since we both know you don’t get on with the twins.”

“And Cora? What about her - she’s not an alpha. Not unless Derek passes it to her.”

“She’s a Hale. Do you know something about all Hale matriarchs, Stiles? Each and every one had the power to transform into a wolf. Talia. Laura. And also Cora.”

“But she’s not an alpha.”

“Not yet.”

“You… you want her to kill Derek.”

“She would be a great addition. Do you know how rare true shifters are, Stiles?”

“I’m aware.”

“Well yes, you would be, wouldn’t you? After all, why else do you think you’re in this pack? It certainly wasn’t for your sarcasm.”

“They think the druid is going to strike at the recital. Philosophers.”

“Aiden and Ethan will be there. You too, but all I need you to do is find out who it is. The eclipse is approaching. I want the darach dead before that.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“See that you do. I’m counting on you Stiles. Don’t let me down.”

The recital was going calmly, as if all was well despite the storm brewing outside.

Then the scream shattered the air and everything else shattered with it. The humans couldn’t hear, but Stiles winced, hands over his ears and then dropping them trying to hide the pained expression on his face when Allison turned from where Isaac was cowering to where Stiles stood, frowning.

Scott had vanished from his side, and Cora materialised through the people. “Lydia,” she whispered.

“Come on,” Stiles shoved through people, uncaring, “We need to find her… We need to…”

“This way,” Cora picked up the scent before him, and they raced down the corridor. Stiles skidded on the slippery floor, arms flailing, and in the distance he spotted an open door, and a red-head tied to the chair.

“There…”

There was a shadow behind Lydia, and Jennifer Blake looked up, smirking at them, before thrusting out a hand as the door slammed shut.

“No!” Stiles slammed against it, hard. He strained, but there was something against it, a desk or something that not even his strength could move.

“Move over!” Cora shouted, “Let the werewolf try!”

“No!” Stiles refused to move, because in the instance before the door slammed he had seen two things.

Scott sprawled out on the floor.

And his dad, cradling his arm beneath the window.

“Stiles!” Cora tugged him away and he lashed out, knocking her flying. He froze, eyes wide, stumbling away.

“Cora?”

She stared at him with confusion, hand on her head where he had knocked her, “You’re strong,” she whispered, “Like… that shouldn’t have hurt me…”

There was a howl from inside the classroom, and Stiles thought the timing couldn’t have been better as he and Cora both stopped talking to throw themselves against the door again.

This time it budged under the strength of two werewolves, and the door moved enough for them to slip through. Lydia was bound to a chair, crying and her throat bruised up. Cora rushed over to her, claws slicing through the rope. Scott was standing staring at a broken window, shards scattered on the floor.

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat, and he leaned over to pick up something from the floor. It was twisted and bent and his fingers rubbed at the smooth metal.

His dad’s Sheriff’s star lay twisted and broken in his hands.

His dad was gone.

“Oh my god,” Cora whispered, “My brother is sleeping with her.”

“It was our English teacher?” Stiles repeated, horror-struck. The Sheriff’s badge is still clenched in his numb hands.

“My brother.” Cora repeated, “Was sleeping with her.” She blinked, and she looked dizzy.

“Derek was sleeping with our English teacher?” Scott blinked. “We need to tell him.”

“She has my dad.” Stiles whispered, “Scott… she has my dad.”

“We go to find Derek.” Scott repeated, “Tell Derek.”

“That sounds… good…” Cora closed her eyes and Stiles glanced at her in concern. He hadn’t hit her that hard…

Cora crumpled, and Stiles barely managed to catch her body. “Crap,” he swore. “Cora,” he pushed the hair out of her face, “Cora…”

“What’s wrong?” Scott stared, “What’s wrong with her?”

Cora lurched suddenly, coughing and spluttering. Stiles angled her so that whatever she was trying to cough out hit the floor.

The black blood mixed with the spit and Stiles wiped it away, staring at the small round balls in the vomit Cora had coughed out. “Is that…?” he asked, frowning.

Scott stared. “Yes. Mistletoe.”

“They’re already here, aren’t they?”

Scott called Peter to collect Cora, while Scott and Stiles went to find Derek. They got to him just in time. Jennifer had showed up, begging and pleading but Derek had remained stoic, listening until her voice twisted and went sour.

She turned and Stiles’ heart raced. He needed to pass it on. He needed to tell someone, but at the same time he needed to find his dad.

Scott held up a handful of mistletoe and blew gently. She flinched as her form twisted, magic broken down and Derek stared wide eyed at the person he had come to care for. “You want to find your father, then you need me.” She said earnestly. “Take me to the hospital.” She said.

“Why?”

She glanced at Scott and Stiles, “You didn’t tell him? You told him about his girlfriend being a druid, but not about his little sister dying?”

“What?” Derek glared at them.

“She’s at the hospital,” Scott said, “She’s with Peter, she’ll be fine. She’s… she’s poisoned with mistletoe.”

“I can help her.” Jennifer said smugly, “If you can get me to the hospital.”

Derek’s glare was final. “We’re going to the hospital.”

It stunk of a trap. She was playing them, but for now Stiles figured they were probably better off playing her game.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted to Scott as he drove them there in the jeep.

Scott just looked pained.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed with a message. He didn’t look, because he knew what it said.

Kali’semissary.hos9pitalnow

Wait for signal.

“What’s the plan after she heals Cora?” Stiles shouted through the pouring rain as they ran towards where the hospital was being evacuated.

“I don’t know?” Scott shouted back, “We give her to the alphas?”

Inside it’s chaotic. “Where are they?” Stiles looked around, assaulted by sights and sounds.

“There,” Scott jogged over to Derek and Jennifer. “Where is he?” he demanded of her.

“This way.” She said, leading them quickly through the crowd. “We just need to…” she froze. Stiles could see why, could see the lithe figure of Kali turning around, until her gaze locked with them.

“Go!” Derek shoved Jennifer to the side and towards some stairs.

“How the hell did they know we’d be here?” Scott asked, as they found a lift and slid inside before the doors closed.

They were all breathing heavily and Jennifer glared at them, “They can’t have tracked me down!” she demanded, “Someone must have told them.”

“You think we summoned alphas here who want to not only kill us but kill you?” Stiles snapped, angrily.

The doors to the elevator slid open then, and Derek shoved Jennifer out. She shot him a sideways glance which Derek ignored.

“You could be a bit nicer,” she whispered to him, and Stiles felt sick at her honey sweet tone, when he wanted nothing more than to rip her head off right now. “After all, I know you want revenge on the alpha pack as well, don’t…”

There was a roar from down the corridor. A body was hurtled towards them and Stiles stepped aside as Peter flew past.

“Go…” he gasped out, and Scott moved forwards, towards where Cora lay stationary near the fusion wolf of the twins.

Stiles, against his better judgement, ducked down to help Peter to his feet as Derek went off to help Scott. The pair stood no chance, but Peter and Stiles managed to duck past while they were attacking Ethan and Aiden.

“Where is she?” Peter asked, “The Darach?”

Stiles looked around, just in time to see the doors close to the elevator. He swore.

Voltron wolf snarled and Scott flew past, hitting the wall and crumpling. Stiles lunged, tugging him up. “Come on, go, go go.”

Derek had Cora, cradled in his arms, and Stiles felt a moment of tenderness towards the beta female, before he had to concentrate on not tripping up over his own feet.

They finally halted in a dark operating theatre, panting for breath just as the doors the other side flew open and Jennifer stumbled in.

“Where were you?” Derek asked.

“The alphas…” the Darach looked frantic, “They’re all here. Kali. Deucalion. They’re here to kill me, Derek.”

In his pocket, Stiles’ phone beeped. He didn’t look at it, because he knew what it said already. He chewed on his lip, listening to Peter, Scott, Derek and Jennifer arguing.

“Heal her!” Derek demanded.

“I can’t do it here! Get me out and I’ll do it.”

Derek growled, low in his throat, and the lights overhead flickered from the storm.

“They’ve got us trapped in here like rats,” Scott whispered. He looked up to Jennifer, “You’re coming with us. We’ll get you out, you heal Cora, but you stick with us, okay?”

“Actually,” Stiles voice rang out clearly in the quiet dim operating room, “She’ll be coming with me.”

Scott turned to Stiles with a question sitting on his tongue, but it was forgotten when Stiles looked up, his eyes a brilliant, crimson red.

Chapter Text

Scott stared at Stiles, at the red eyes and thought that maybe if he blinked enough he’d wake up from this nightmare.

Stiles was meant to be his shot at normal. At humanity.

Not this. Never this.

Scott's breath left him in a rush. "No," he breathed, "No no no…" Because Stiles was normal, Stiles was human…

There were six members of the alpha pack.

“No,” Scott shook his head,

His best friend's eyes stared back at him, blood red and his mouth was twisted into a bitter smile. "You can say it as many times as you want," Stiles shrugged, fingers tapping out a pattern on the desk near him, "But it doesn't change anything. So how about we do this peacefully, because I really don't want to have to hurt anyone."

"You're in the alpha pack!" Derek accused him.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “What gave you that impression?” his tone was bitter, “Was it the red eyes?" He curled his lip and there was just a hint of fang int he canines. He grinned, but it was wolfish and his eyes still blazed red. "Or the demand for you to hand over the druid? Or do I have a giant label that says 'member of the alpha pack', except I obviously don't, because if I did you guys wouldn't have trusted me in a million years. I wouldn't have gotten near any of you." he wasn't grinning anymore.

Scott felt anger build up inside of him, "You liar," he growled, "You lied to us." They had trusted Stiles. Let him into their group. Told him about werewolves. They had tried to protect him from a danger that was obviously non-existent and he had played them all.

Stiles' face was tense, and almost as if sensing their anger his eyes faded, losing the unnatural blood colour in them, "Yeah," he shrugged, "That's what being a liar usually entails."

Jennifer pressed herself to Derek's chest, "Get me out of here," she begged, "Before the little mongrel gives me up to the rabid dogs," there was a sneer in her tone.

Stiles growled, and his eyes flared red for a moment, "Says the woman sacrificing people. Innocent people. I used to know Heather. She was only seventeen. And you killed her."

"To bring down you and your pack," Jennifer glared back, righteous in her damnation.

"We're not giving her up," Scott stepped forwards, "Not to you. You're going to kill her."

Stiles' head tilted, "Well, duh," he drawled, "That's generally the idea," he examined one hand, claws curling up. "Why do you think I spent all this time with you guys?" His tone was casual, but his body was tense. He looked uncomfortable, as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"You can't say it wasn't all real," Scott growled, "That you never trusted us. That you never actually liked us."

Stiles' expression was sad, but it flitted to grave in a moment, "I did what I had to," he whispered, "And for what it's worth I do like you guys. Which is why it would make things so much easier if you just hand her over easily. And nobody gets hurt because…" his head cocked to one side, fist uncurling and claws flashing out out, "I really don't want to have to hurt you." And there was no lie in his voice or eyes. Stiles did genuinely like them, but he had his loyalties tied elsewhere.

"As if a little mongrel like you really could," Jennifer backed away, and Derek moved in front of her like a shield. Stiles' gaze slipped sideways to her, assessing for a moment. "Come on, Derek." she sounded commanding, in control of the situation, "We're leaving. He can stop us if he can, but against an alpha and two betas he hardly stands a chance."

Derek followed her backwards, "Don't try anything," he threatened Stiles.

The boy shrugged, "Too late. You played your move. Now I play mine." His eyes sparked with crimson and he moved forwards.

Derek shoved Jennifer back towards the door as Stiles slid past Scott to the side, arms flailing as he jumped up onto the metal table to avoid Peter. He leapt back down, form shimmering as if in a heat haze. What landed wasn't human, no long limbs or brown hair, but four paws and thick, corded muscles. The wolf slid across the floor until he was standing in front of the door, hackles raised. His lips curled back in a snarl and his deep brown eyes flared with a deep alpha red.

Jennifer and Derek pulled up short, the former backing into the werewolf's arms. "So there is a reason you're in their pack," Jennifer considered the wolf in front of her. He was still lanky, but he was larger than a normal wolf, at least a metre high at the shoulder. "Never mind. You'll die like all the others."

Stiles-wolf lunged. Derek tugged Jennifer backwards and towards the other door. Scott stumbled back, and the large brown wolf didn't even glance at him, skidding on the hospital tiles after the Darach and the alpha.

"What the hell is that?" Scott said, staring.

Peter picked up Cora, "He's a full shifter. They're rare, almost as rare as a True Alpha…" he examined Scott carefully, "For two bitten wolves such phenomenon occurring within the same century, let alone the same decade is… unusual…"

"I don't care about unusual," Scott snapped, "Let's get out of here. Before Stiles changes his mind and decides he wants to rip us to shreds."

Corded muscle ripple beneath his fur as Stiles raced after the Darach and Hale. The hospital made hunting difficult, full of trolleys and beds that had been left everywhere what with the evacuation. It was possibly the only reason they had made it to the elevator, let alone have the door slammed shut by the time Stiles got there. He threw himself at it, shoulder making the metal creak, but it stood fast.

Snarling with frustration Stiles lifted his head to the ceiling, throat pulsing as he let out a mournful howl.

With a whine the lights died and the elevator ground to a halt.

Pleased, Stiles paced around, claws clicking on the tiles as he headed back to see what has become of the rest of them. They still posed a threat, a distraction.

Stiles hadn’t shifted since he’d arrived in Beacon Hills, and he was revelling in the use of his second form. There was no separation between himself and the wolf that he knew some bitten people experienced. They were the same, and Stiles might have never chosen the bite, but it chose him.

He was uncomfortable, as he padded down the corridor. The wolf was out of the bag now.

They knew. Scott knew. Cora would know too when she got better.

If she got better.

Stiles’ felt his hackles rise, angry at the darach, angry at himself for letting her go. They knew he was an alpha, which mean that everything he’d built up, the friends, the companionship, it was gone. Ripped away in a flash of red eyes.

And it was in that moment that he was lost in his own thoughts, focus out the window, when three others appeared down the hall. Stiles scented them too later, the bitter acrid taste of wolfsbane and his head turned, taking in the shape of Isaac and Chris and Allison in the distance.

They spotted him. He was a large wolf, probably not what they're used to but he was also flashing red eyes.

Chris pulled the trigger. Stiles threw himself to the side of the corridor, shifting, fur melting into clothes and flesh and the wolf that there had been, taking up the whole corridor became a teenager taking up barely any space. Stiles cursed, but the moment the shooting stopped he stepped out, hands up. "Don't shoot!" he called out.

"Stiles?" Allison called, then froze, "But you… the wolf…"

Stiles walked towards them, eyes wide, trying for scared, but the Argents were hunters for a reason.

Chris' gun came up to point at him, "He's in the alpha pack."

Stiles shrugged, flashing them a weak grin, eyes flaring red. “You know,” he stepped forwards, spreading his arms out placating them, “These things happen.”

Allison was staring at him. “You’re a werewolf.” She said.

“Evidently.”

“You’re in the alpha pack.”

“Oh my god,” Isaac looked distraught, “Cora’s got just as bad a taste in boyfriends as Derek does.”

Chris still had his gun pointed at Stiles. “Can we trust him?” he asked, glancing sideways at Allison and Isaac. “Or can I shoot him?”

He wanted to growl at the threat, but he was still trying to calculate his options. The power was down, and he had no idea for how long. Derek and Jennifer were trapped in the elevator and Scott was trying to get her out.

Scott was trying to help her and Stiles was trying to kill her.

And looking at Allison and Isaac who would always be on Scott’s side, Stiles guessed he knew which side he was on.

And judging by Chris’ hunter instincts, which had the gun still pointed at his head, finger resting on the trigger, he did to.

There must have been something in Stiles’ eye, or maybe Chris was under the motto of ‘shoot first, it won’t kill him’ but either way Chris didn’t wait for Allison or Isaac to reply.

He pulled the trigger.

There were gunshots in the hospital.

Scott swore, as he and Peter skidded around the corridor with Voltron wolf on their heels. Cora was in the ambulance, but the driver was dead and they had lost Derek and Jennifer the moment Stiles had spontaneously combusted into a giant wolf and tried to eat them.

And that… Scott still felt the sharp sting of betrayal, even as Melissa stepped out of nowhere and electrocuted Ethan and Aiden.

“That won’t keep them down for long,” Peter observed, eyes blue from his over dose on probably illegal drugs.

“Long enough for you to get out,” Melissa said.

“We can’t,” Scott shook his head, “We need Derek and Jennifer. But the power is out. They’re stuck in the elevator.”

“Where’s Stiles?” Melissa looked around.

Scott felt his absence keenly. He hadn’t expected that, to feel like a member of his own pack was missing. “He’s not with us.” He said, “He’s with them.”

“Oh, honey…” Melissa’s eyes were soft.

Peter interrupted, asshole that he was, “As touching as this is, I think Argent and your hunter girlfriend may need some help, judging by the sounds of it,” and he pointed a finger to the roof just as a large crash and another gunshot was heard.

Scott just eyed the ceiling warily. “Ah, crap.” He sighed.

Stiles ducked under another bullet fire, spinning away from the hunter shooting at him and maybe he should just be running, but then Allison and Isaac would go running to help Scott, and they really didn’t need Scott’s little pack tricking Kali or the twins. Not that it would be particularly hard, and they almost deserved to be fooled, but maybe another time.

Kali was a floor above him, prowling around near the elevator. The twins were chasing Peter and Scott, while Deucalion waited on the roof near the generator.

Stiles twisted Isaac’s arm around, not quite dislocating it, but using it to manoeuvre the weaker wolf to the side, throwing him down the corridor. He turned, only to snap up one hand, catching a knife by the blade where it was inches from impaling an eyeball.

He flipped the knife around and caught it by the handle, waving it temptingly at Allison, “Not bad,” he shrugged, “I thought you and your dad were retired?” he sidestepped as the second knife whistled past his face, “You call this retirement?” he laughed.

“We trusted you,” Allison spat. Chris was sprawled on the floor behind her, trying to reload bullets. “And you lied to us. You double-crossing piece of…”

“Language,” Stiles chided, and she let out a snarl worthy of any werewolf, pulling out another knife - how many of these things did she have - and lashed out at him.

He leaned back, letting it miss his throat by inches and slashing out with his own claws. She twisted away from and in his hand, the knife Stiles had caught twisted, just a flip away from burying itself in Allison’s soft and too human skin.

There was a low growl and something crashed into Stiles. It felt like an amped up alpha, and he saw gold eyed that flickered orange and back to yellow.

Stiles kicked out, and then just rolled with it, letting his body twist and snap as bones reshaped themselves. It used to be painful, and it used to take ages to shift. Now he’d done it so often, the magic clung to his skin and all he had to do was wrap himself in the wolf shape like pulling on a jumper.

Scott was rolling to the side as Stiles shook him off, suddenly larger and with a large pair of snapping jaws that closed inches from Scott’s hand.

He pulled back though, because he didn’t actually want to hurt them. He was just a distraction, but now he was outnumbered. His ears pricked and he heard more than saw Argent and his gun to his right, and he launched himself out of the way.

The bullets mostly missed, and the three that hit were already being expelled by his body as it healed. He twisted and skidded around the corner before he could get shot again. He didn’t waste time, and he lets the wolf form fade. It was like peeling off a layer of clothing, the way he shed the four limbs and thick muscle.

The magic rippled and his bones cracked back into shape. He twisted his neck, human again. His shirt had holes in it, and there was dried blood flaking on his jeans. The first few times he shifted clothes were a non-option but the more familiar he became with the shifting, the easier it became to let the clothes wrap themselves up in the magic, becoming one with him.

Shifting wasn’t a precise art. It wasn’t scientific and easy to work out how each bone and organ changed. It was magic and if nothing else, Stiles had always been good at making shit up.

Which is what he was going to have to do now, he thought, as he stumbled down the corridor. No Darach, cover blown, his fingers tapped nervously.

And Cora was still dying somewhere.

Guilt made him feel sick, and he paused, considering. Scott had grouped up with the trio he’d been distracting, and Peter wasn’t probably too far behind.

He should probably go and check on the twins, since the pair had obviously lost track of Peter and Scott. Stiles snarled to himself under his breath. So much for their master plan. Their master plan sucked.

That was probably why less than ten minutes later Kali and the twins were out of the building after Allison and Argent, and Scott had gotten the power back on.

The Darach was also gone, and failure dug its sharp claws into his spine.

Stiles skidded on to the rooftop, just in time to see Scott drop his head and take a step towards Deucalion. He wanted to shout out, but he bit his tongue, pacing over to where Deucalion stood. “She got away,” he reported, and Scott barely acknowledged his presence.

The other alpha looked unimpressed, “Yes, that was… unfortunate.” His gaze however was on Scott.

“Do you want me to do anything?” Stiles asked, and he glanced sideways at Scott, “Do you want… She’s got Melissa… the second sacrifice…”

“She’s got my mom,” Scott looked towards him, “There’s… there’s no choice.”

Stiles winced, because was Scott joining Deucalion. “Scott… the alpha pack isn’t the way to go.”

“Apparently,” Scott stared at him bitterly, “Apparently it is.”

Stiles bit his lip.

“Run off, Stiles,” Deucalion said suddenly, “Go find your father. We don’t need you for the moment.”

Stiles frowned, and he turned to the other alpha just in time to see the blind man drop a hand onto Scott’s shoulder like he was some sort of prodigal son. Stiles remembered that same hand dropping onto his shoulders in comfort once. “But maybe you…”

Deucalion interrupted, “Did you know, Stiles, that we were actually after your mother?”

He stopped, cold suddenly, “What?”

“Bitten wolves rarely shift fully. It’s usually limited to the old families, like the Hales. But your mother had always been able to make the change.” Deucalion smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant, “I had wondered how successful the son would be, and I have to say, you’re a bit of a let-down.”

Stiles frowned. Scott glanced between the two of them, confused.

“Still,” Deucalion stepped backwards, the mist swirling around him, “You’ve been useful. It’s been nice knowing you, Stiles.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Stiles couldn’t help the snarl in his words, “Now?” he glared at Scott who wouldn’t meet his gaze, “You found yourself a shiny new true alpha and so you’re kicking me out? What, am I just not good enough for you? Was that why you killed Ennis?”

Deucalion laughed, “You’re too perceptive, Stiles. You always were.” And he stepped backwards, “I don’t need someone like you in my pack.”

“Scott,” Stiles stepped forwards, “Don’t go with him. Please, Scott…”

“Why not?” Scott pulled back, “He’ll help find my mom. Your dad. I’m sorry, Stiles.” And he didn’t seem it, “See you around, maybe.” And he turned away, the pair vanishing through the fog.

Chapter Text

Stiles wasn’t sure when it occurred to him. He was in a daze. Scott had ditched him and yeah, sure, maybe Stiles had ditched him first, maybe Stiles hadn’t really been on their side in the first place but he’d kind of been rooting for them, y’know?

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Stiles didn’t have a clue anymore.

But Cora…

His mind jumped. Cora was still in the ambulance. Peter and Chris and Isaac and Allison had ditched, and Derek was probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

He had to get to Cora.

As it turned out, Derek was lying unconscious in the elevator, not a ditch. Stiles ignored him and headed to the ambulance.

She was lying there, pale and still. Aiden and Ethan’s scents were outside but they’d been and gone, leaving a dead driver in their wake. He ignored the body and the tang of blood in the air, in favour of clambering into where Cora lay and putting his hand on her brow.

Her skin was pale and clammy, cold to the touch.

Her heart wasn’t beating.

He wasn’t sure how he had missed it earlier, the lack of the reassuring thud thud thud that echoed in his head.

He struggled to remember CPR. Compressions. Thirty of them. Three breaths, pinch the nose, tilt the head back to clear the airway.

Stiles began to panic when nothing happened. “I am not losing you,” he whispered, frantically, “I am not… not before I’ve given you a chance to hit me into next week for lying to you all. C’mon…” he repeated everything. And then again.

“Breath dammit!” he shouted, suddenly aware he had no idea how long she’d been lying there. He had no idea how long she hadn’t been breathing.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. He was running out of options.

Why the hell had Jennifer done this to Cora anyway? She’d brought them to the hospital, collected Melissa. She could have done that anytime, couldn’t she? Why did she need them?

Somewhere out there Derek still wanted to save his sister. Derek would do anything to save Cora.

Stiles forced another lungful of air into Cora and then paused. There was a beat in his ears, and it took a moment to realise it wasn’t in his head.

Her heart was beating. There was no great gasp and shuddering breaths. Just a softly beating heart and the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

He sank back in relief. “Next time I kiss you, you better be awake,” he mumbled, wearily. Because like it or not, Cora was still dying. Jennifer obviously wanted Derek pliable. Under her thumb. Sleep with him, and when that no longer worked, mess with what little family he had left.

And Stiles was omega now. Or whatever it was you called an alpha without a pack.

Pack-less.

He chewed on his lip and debated his options for a moment. Cora was dying. Derek was unconscious somewhere and he should probably rescue Derek before the authorities showed up, but he didn’t want to leave Cora.

He never wanted to leave Cora, he realised. He wanted to stay with her, have biting arguments with good comebacks and her famous glares. He wanted to kiss her when she was awake and smirking or maybe when she smiled and laughed at his ridiculousness.

Stiles wanted his dad back. He wanted everything to go back to how it was, and for the first time he wondered what would have happened if he had told Scott and the others that he was an alpha.

He gripped her hand and that was when he decided.

He wouldn’t be an alpha anymore.

By the time Derek had woken up and staggered groggily to the car park, Cora had awoken, blinked around sleepily at him and then fallen asleep again with a happy smile on her face.

Stiles sank down, exhausted suddenly. He could feel the drain, feel something missing.

He didn’t care.

Derek could smell his sister, and he grabbed onto the door, swinging it open before the second scent hit him. He let out a growl, eyes flashing red.

Stiles didn’t move from where he sat sprawled on the floor. He just nodded jerkily to Derek, “Scott’s gone with Deucalion.”

“Why didn’t you go too?” Derek moved over to Cora, but her breathing was normal, “What did you do to her?”

“She’ll get better,” Stiles’ voice was barely a whisper, “She’ll be fine.”

And Cora looked fine. Her pulse was strong and her temperature was correct. “Why aren’t you with your alphas?” Derek glared at Stiles, “Just because you look like shit doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”

Stiles laughed, and it was a bitter twisted thing, “He kicked me out. He got Scott and just like that, BAM!” he clapped his hands together, “He didn’t need me. And Scott just followed after him like a lost puppy.”

“Get out,” Derek growled.

Stiles shook his head, “I’m not leaving her.”

Derek glared pointedly, “I don’t like you. I’m still debating ripping your throat out with my teeth.”

Stiles heaved himself upright, “Nothing new,” he murmured, and for some reason Derek felt a flash of sympathy for him. His dad was still missing, he realised.

Derek lifted Cora up, “I will do it,” he threatened.

“Please,” Stiles said, and for a moment it actually sounded like he was begging.

Derek ignored the other wolf and carried Cora over to where the car was parked, Stiles opening the back door. It was annoyingly helpful, and even more so when Stiles clambered in to help hold her steady for the drive.

“What is he doing here?” Peter glared at Stiles, “He tried to eat you, in case you don’t remember!”

He took a threatening step towards Stiles, crowding the younger male back against one of the loft walls. Stiles glared back. “Your sister is better,” he retorted, “You’re welcome.”

Peter froze, and Stiles refused to meet him in the eye, “Did you…?”

“Derek?” Cora murmured, blinking sleepily. Her eyes were golden as she pushed herself up. She rubbed at her hand, staring at it faintly. “What happened?”

“Cora?” Derek asked, ducking down next to her, “Are you okay?”

She nodded weakly, “Yeah… What… What happened?” she looked around the loft, bare of people except for Derek. Peter was still crowding Stiles against one wall.

Derek shook his head, “I don’t know,” he whispered, “I tried calling Scott but he’s not answering.”

“Try Argent,” Cora suggested, yawning.

“I’m not phoning Chris,” Derek snapped.

“No need to phone Chris. He, Allison and Isaac are off chasing leads.”

“Where’s Jennifer?”

“She got away. She took Scott’s mom.”

“Guardians,” Stiles said, sidestepping around Peter. He stepped towards Cora and stopped three metres away when Derek glared at him. “Parents are the guardians she needs. The final three.” He stopped, chewing his lip.

Derek was still doing his best to level Stiles into the ground with his glare.

“What is it?” Cora looked between them, “What’s wrong… Derek…?”

“I’m sorry,” she turned to look back at Stiles. He ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry.”

“Why?” she asked, staring at him. She swung her feet over the table and faced him properly, “Stiles, what did you do?”

Stiles glanced at Derek who was still glaring at him. “I lied,” he said, “I knew about werewolves.” Cora’s intake of breath was audible but Stiles kept talking, “I knew about them since my mom got the bite to cure her dementia. She was in a pack. I was too. For years.”

“Until you killed them.” Derek accused, venomously.

“No,” Cora stared, “Stiles… please…”

“He’s in the alpha pack.” Derek said, staring. “He’s an alpha.”

“He’s not,” Peter said, stalking forwards, “Not anymore.”

Derek frowned, “Yes he is,” he snapped, “He was earlier this evening when he tried to rip my throat out.”

Stiles shook his head, gaze dropping to the ground, “No. Peter’s right. I’m not. I…” he looked up, sighing and let his eyes flash crystal blue. “I don’t regret it,” he looked towards Cora, “You’re better, and I’d never regret that. I’m just sorry I lied for so long.” He stepped backwards, waiting for her to say something.

There was a horrible look in her eyes, and it made him want to claw his way out of his own skin. He hated it.

He wondered, if he was still sporting red eyes, if she would have ripped him apart right there and then.

Oh, he realised numbly.

Deucalion had let Stiles go from the pack, because he wanted Cora.

Deucalion didn’t want Cora to kill Derek.

Deucalion wanted Cora to kill him.

There was only one problem with that.

Stiles wasn’t an alpha anymore.

“She took your knives. All of them.” The Sheriff pointed out as Chris began contorting his body around.

“Even that one.” Melissa sighed as Chris moved for his boot. With a sigh the hunter sunk down, gritting his teeth.

“Chris, right?” the Sheriff asked. “Allison’s dad? Any idea why we’re here?”

“Oh, I think he knows. In fact, I think you’re the only one who doesn’t.” Jennifer’s voice drifts down the stairs as she appears at the top, stepping down into view. “Ah, good, Chris you’re awake. Maybe you could begin to explain to our good Sheriff here…”

“What are you?” The Sheriff growled, “Witch? Druid?” Her eyes widened, “Emissary?” he added, grinning when she flinched.

“Looks like you don’t need to fill him in,” she snarled, viciously, “I’ll leave you to a nice pleasant chat about your children then.” And she spun around, stalking back out of the root cellar.”

Chris immediately gave his bonds a tug the second she was gone. “You know?” he growled at John.

The Sheriff looked tired when he leaned his head back against the support beam he was tied to. “I never believed,” he shrugged, “Claudia, my wife,” he glanced at Melissa, “She was diagnosed when Stiles was five with frontal temporal dementia. There’s not cure, but she said she found one. Lycanthropy.”

Chris and Melissa look at him sharply.

John just shrugged helplessly, “I didn’t believe her. I thought it was the dementia speaking but she was obviously still coherent enough to grab Stiles and vanish off the map. I looked for them but… until Stiles phoned me one month ago I had no idea where they were.”

“Your son is a werewolf,” Chris accused. Again the Sheriff just looked lost.

“I asked him. He said something to that degree.” John closed his eyes tiredly, “I don’t know how to act around him anymore. I barely know that young man.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Melissa blinked, “Stiles is a werewolf as well? I mean… I knew Scott was one, but he never told me that Stiles…”

“Oh god,” John groaned, “Stiles told me the basics. Pulled out a chessboard and gave me a pack history lesson on himself and Claudia. It was more awkward than when I tried to warn him about safe sex. But now you’re telling me that Scott…?” he paused, “Is Allison…?”

“A hunter,” Chris said.

“Werewolf hunter,” John nodded, “Naturally.”

Stiles couldn’t face school. He wondered stupidly if Lydia was okay. He wondered what Allison and Isaac were doing, and how Scott was coping working with Deucalion.

He stayed at the loft, only because he didn’t know where else to go. Cora wasn’t talking to him, and Peter kept sending him smug looks.

Eventually though Derek walked over to him. “What happened?”

Stiles looked up at him, “What?” he asked.

“Your alpha powers. How do you just… I didn’t know you could just lose them? I knew they could be passed on… but…” he looked distraught, as if losing his alpha powers were the worst thing he could think of.

“You don’t know?” Stiles’ gaze drifted past Derek to Peter who shook his head subtly. “The alpha power is like a spark,” he said to Derek, “In addition to the usual werewolf powers. You can use that spark to do things, sometimes, if you try hard enough. I took Cora’s pain. And then some. I just kept taking it. Taking pain doesn’t heal in itself, but it lets the body do the healing. So I used the spark to…” he waved a hand, “It helped heal her, I guess. I don’t really know the mechanics of, only that I could do it.” He jutted his chin out, “And it worked. And I don’t regret it. And you can rip my throat out now for lying and everything if you want.” Stiles let out a bitter laugh, “It’s not like I’m going to heal.”

Derek made a distressed noise in his throat, “I don’t like you.” he snapped, “But you saved Cora. You made a sacrifice I… It should have been my sacrifice.”

Stiles grinned, “I know. That’s why I made it.” Derek should have saved Cora’s life, and then Cora should have ripped Stiles’ throat out. That was how it was meant to go, how Deucalion had planned for it to go. It just hadn’t quite gone according to plan.

“You…”

Stiles turned to see Cora standing on the spiral stairs. He felt alarmed - he hadn’t realised she’d been listening in. “You saved me,” she whispered, “You gave up your alpha powers - which I didn’t even know you had, by the way  - to save me?” she seemed confused.

He just shrugged.

“I’ve got a message,” Cora said, holding up her phone, “Allison’s dad’s been taken.”

And Stiles could have sworn he heard his heart stop.

His breathing certainly did, because his dad was still there and she had all three sacrifices and now was not the time to have a panic attack.

“Woah!” Cora was there suddenly, hands on his arms, stabilising him, anchoring him. “Breathe, Stiles, come on… breathe…”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t, he wanted to say, and she seemed to realise that.

“Listen to my heart beat,” she whispered, “And breathe. One two three in. One two three out.”

And gradually, bit by bit, Stiles managed to suck some more air into his lungs. “I need to go,” he choked out, “I can’t… I need to find my dad. He’s all I have left.” His voice cracked, “He’s all I have left.”

“I’ll come with you,” Cora whispered.

“No,” Derek stood up.

Cora glared up at him, defiant, “Yes. Tomorrow is the lunar eclipse. Kali and the twins will be back then. If we’re going to find his dad, we need to do it now.” She stepped away from Stiles towards her brother, “I’ll come back,” she promised. “I’m not leaving you, Derek.”

Derek nodded hesitantly, “I don’t trust him,” he gestured to Stiles.

Cora glanced to the other wolf, and he looked up, gaze dark.

“He lied,” Derek emphasised, “He’s been lying since the moment you met him. And he might not be an alpha, but he’s still a killer. You can see his eyes.”

“Dude,” Stiles scoffed, “Hypocritical, much. Cora’s the only one here with yellow eyes.”

Cora shook her head, “Stiles may be a killer,” she said, stepping towards him, “But that doesn’t make him a murderer.” She turned to look at him, “For the record, if you double-cross us again, Derek isn’t the one you should be scared of. I’ll be the one to kill you.”

Stiles nodded shakily.

Message received.

Allison, Scott, Isaac and Lydia are already at the clinic.

That… that was so awkward.

Scott lurched to his feet and Stiles and Cora stopped, standing outside the mountain ash. “Cora,” he seemed relieved. “You’re better!”

“I thought you’d run off with alphas,” Cora stared at him.

There is the sound of a crossbow being drawn. “I will shoot,” Allison glared at Stiles.

He stepped back, hands in the air in a surrender position, “Go ahead,” he said flatly, “But I’d appreciate it if you at least let me find my dad alive first.”

Allison glared and then lowered the bow, leaning forwards to raise the mountain ash barrier. “You know…” she considered, as Stiles and Cora moved into the operation room where Isaac, Lydia and Deaton stood. “It might be useful that you’re here. Deaton has a ritual. It needs the three of us.”

“But…” Scott looked between the two of them. “You’re in the alpha pack,” Scott said it like an accusation.

Stiles shook his head, “Don’t you judge me. Not after you went off with Deucalion. You don’t know… You don’t know anything.”

“I know how you become a member,” Scott said darkly, “You killed your own pack.” It wasn’t a question.

“They were already dead!” Stiles snarled, half shouting, “There was no one left and so I killed the monster responsible. And I will never regret killing the thing that ripped my mother to shreds.”

There was an awkward silence and Stiles began pacing. He let out a breathy laugh. “I used to be human,” he said, wringing his hands, “I never wanted the bite. Then I became a werewolf and an alpha all in the same day.”

“Your alpha…” Scott was hesitant.

Deaton cleared his throat. “I think it would help us if you told us how you were bitten?” He asked.

Stiles shrugged, “My alpha was mad. There had been hunters passing through and they left half the pack dead in their wake. The ones that survived my alpha began to kill off as he tried to create a new pack. A better pack.” Stiles swallowed down a sob, “He bit me around then and because of the stress it wasn’t long before it took.” His voice was dead, emotionless. “I transformed and killed him almost as soon as the bite had healed.”

“And the alpha pack?” Allison asked, hardly daring to ask. “How did you get involved with them?”

“Deucalion found me right after.” Stiles was staring at the floor. “He offered me somewhere and I… I had nowhere else. There was nobody left.” When he blinked his eyes he could still see the blood soaking into the earth and the ruined remnants of his pack lying scattered around him, the same colour as the blood on his hands and the same colour as the crimson seeping into his eyes.

Stiles dreamed in red and for so long it had been the only colour he knew that he could still feel the echoing presence of where it had been.

“So the only wolf you’ve killed…” Allison was frowning, “Was your alpha?”

Stiles nodded, “Deucalion ditched me in a school in Colorado. The twins were there too, trying to finish their education. I wasn’t…” he ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t want to come back,” he admitted, “Not here. Not now. But my dad was here and…” he stopped, throat closing in.

Cora took his hand and it made breathing a little easier.

“There is a way,” Deaton said, “We know, thanks to Lydia, where they are. The Nemeton. But we don’t know where it is. However should you three act as surrogate sacrifices for your parents, you’ll be able to connect to it.”

“Fine,” Stiles nodded.

Deaton looked wary, “This ritual… it will open a door in your minds. You will essentially die and come back, if it all goes well. And it will leave a scar. A darkness around your heart. And you’ll feel it. Everyday, for the rest of your lives.”

“Like a tattoo,” Scott murmured.

“Fine,” Stiles shrugged again. “Nothing new. Let’s do it.”

“One other thing,” Deaton said, “You’ll need an anchor. Someone to hold you under. And someone to pull you back.” He paused, “This needs to be someone close to you. Someone you trust. Someone who trusts you.”

Stiles froze, “Oh… that…” he chewed his lip, realised what he was doing and stopped. No one was going to trust him after what he’d done.

Deaton was still staring pointedly at him. Or not at him, more precisely at where Stiles and Cora’s clasped hands rested.

“Oh,” Stiles blinked, looking up at her, “Are you…” he looked up at Cora.

She nodded, determined, “You saved my life.” She said, “You might be a lying asshole and an idiot, but you sacrificed everything to save me. I can do this for you.”

Stiles nodded jerkily, stepping forwards.

“Isaac,” Deaton said, “You go with Scott. Lydia with Allison.”

“And you?” Scott asked.

Deaton smiled grimly, “I’ll get the ice.”

Chapter Text

Scott drowned in ice and mistletoe, Isaac’s warm hands holding him under as the air slowly turned to poison in his lungs, until eventually he had no other choice than to breath in water.

And for a moment his eyes opened, a bright golden yellow and then the world went black.

“Mom, where are we going? Mom…?” Stiles stumbled after his mother through the woods, tripping over leaves and tree roots. “Mom…”

“We’re leaving.”

“But what about dad? Is he coming too?”

“No, he’s not coming.”

“Are we coming back then?”

“No!” she whirled around, “No, we’re not coming back, Stiles. Stop asking questions.”

In the shadows Stiles stared at his younger self and his mother as the pair set off through the trees again, his younger self trailing piteously after his mother. He remembered this, remembered leaving only for his mom to stop the car on the side of the road, beginning a long trek up through the woods to the house there.

The Hale House, Stiles realised. He’d forgotten they’d visited the Hales.

He stumbled after, vaguely remembering how he had curled up on the sofa while his mother and Talia had talked. A little girl had sat down next to him and asked why he was so sad.

“Mom says we’re leaving.” He had told her. “I don’t want to leave.”

And the girl had taken his hand, “You should tell her that, then.” She said, “It might change her mind. Then you can stay and be my friend.”

Stiles stumbled through the forest and he remembered soft brown hair and eyes that lit up gold. Cora, he realised stupidly, that had been Cora.

His mother had stormed out of where she had been arguing with Talia, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him away.

“I don’t want to go,” he had protested, feeling Cora’s hand slip through his, “Why are we going?”

Claudia had stopped, and crouched down in front of him, “I asked Talia something, something very important but she…” she swallowed down, and her eyes were wet, “She said no. She said it was a bad time, that maybe I should wait but… I can’t wait. So we’re going to find someone else.”

“I don’t want to go,” Stiles repeated again, “I want to stay here.”

“Oh, my son,” and she had hugged him and not said anything.

In the forest, the seventeen year old Stiles stopped, half-way to the Hale house. They had left then, and his mother had found another alpha to bite her. He wondered if it would all have been different if Talia had said yes.

Turning, almost feeling it, he glanced to his right at the large tree trunk. Up ahead his younger self and his mother stumbled away, and he just stared at the massive cut-off trunk.

He knew where it was.

Stiles woke with a gasp and choking on water. Cora heard his heart beat speed up and she was there, tugging him out of the water.

It had been hours. Too long, in Cora’s opinion, but he was here now. Alive.

Scott and Allison were clambering out. “We know where it is!” Scott said to Deaton triumphantly, “It’s near where I was bitten.”

“Near the road,” Allison said, “I drove past when I got into town. My mom almost ran over someone…”

“That was me!” Scott said, “You nearly ran over me.”

“It’s on the way to the Hale House,” Stiles added, and he dropped the towel from where he had been rubbing his hair dry. He glanced up at Cora, “You were there,” he whispered, “You were there when I left town. My mom asked Talia for the bite and you sat with me on the couch.”

Cora blinked, and she vaguely remembered a small boy and her mother looking regretful. “That was you?” she asked.

“My mom asked Talia for the bite.” Stiles said, and he was staring at her with wonder, “And you were there. You asked me why I was so sad.”

And Cora didn’t know what to say. She grabbed one of his hands and refused to let go, grabbing another towel and wrapping it around his shoulders to try and stop the shivering.

She wondered what would have happened if her mother had given Claudia the bite, and then remembered the fire and figured she was probably better off not knowing.

“What is it?” Scott was staring at Lydia, “What’s wrong? How long were we under?”

Deaton stepped forwards, and Stiles’ head snapped around, brows furrowing.

“You were under for sixteen hours,” he said, “Tonight is the eclipse.”

Cora watched as Stiles’ face fell.

They split up. Scott, Isaac and Allison took a detour to Allison’s apartment before Scott went to meet up with Deucalion while the other two went off looking for the tree trunk. Lydia and Cora went with Ethan to try and stop Kali and Aiden from killing her brother.

Stiles paused, not sure where he should go. He needed to find his father, but at the same time he wanted to stay with Cora and make sure she was safe.

“Go,” she pushed him towards his jeep, “Go save your father, go on.”

He stumbled away, and fumbled for his keys. When he looked up, Cora was gone.

It was probably better, this way, he mused, and he opened the car door and slid in.

Trust his luck to have a tree fall on him. He scrambled out, spitting out leaves and clawing away the branches. The eclipse was just beginning in the sky, and he could feel it in his blood as the moon’s power waned.

The moon was only a reflection of the sun, but as the sun blocked out the moonlight, whatever magic helped Stiles transform seeped away.

Moon only affected werewolves when it was not influenced by the sun. It was why they didn’t shift when the full moon was high in the sunlit sky.

He stumbled towards the Hale House, and finally, finally found the right clearing. It was bare, with cracked soil that was splitting and crumbling.

For a moment he panicked. Where was his father?

Then he heard the sound of heartbeats, weak and distorted with his fading senses but clear enough to him. There was an open trapdoor and he darted towards it. The stairs looked ruined but Stiles ignored that in favour of jumping down, landing heavily and ducking under a piece of soil.

His dad was there. Stiles suddenly found he could breathe easily as he slid forwards, putting his shoulders to the ceiling.

Ah crap, he thought, feeling the weight of the soil pressing down. He wasn’t an alpha, and he wasn’t much of a beta either, especially not with the moon’s power fading.

“Stiles!” the Sheriff gasped, and he glanced up at his father. His claws extended and then faded, and his eyes flickered to electric blue and back to brown.

“I can’t hold it,” he said, and a few metres away Isaac met his gaze in worry, slipping down another few inches as the gold light faded from his eyes. Stiles gritted his teeth, trying to summon up the last dregs of werewolf strength.

“Here!” someone slid in the same way Stiles had, and he was aware of brown eyes before Cora shifted a metal pole into place between the soil and the roof.

Stiles collapsed, breathing heavily and he waited for one long moment for the roof to fall down with him.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, staring at the metal baseball bat holding the roof up. Cora crouched there, eyes wide, “What are you doing here?” he asked in disbelief. “And you don’t even play baseball!”

“Kali’s dead,” she whispered, “Jennifer killed her. Then she took Derek to help her fight Deucalion and Scott. Lydia’s with the twins. Jennifer snapped their necks while in a fusion form but they’re healing.”

Stiles scrambled upright. “Where’s my phone…” he searched his pockets, “Phone Scott… someone phone Scott…”

“Woah,” the Sheriff put a hand out on Stiles’ arm. Stiles flinched. “You can’t go rushing off. Not now.”

Cora shook her head, “We need to help them. Deucalion and Jennifer are going to kill each other, and we don’t want Derek and Scott to get caught in the mix.”

“Wait…” Chris coughed from deeper in the cellar, leaning around Allison, “The eclipse was when she was at her most powerful. When the wolves are weakest… do you really think they’re still alive?”

Stiles pushed himself backwards, grabbing Cora’s hand and tugging her with him, “They have to be,” he gritted out.

“You won’t get there in time!” Isaac coughed next to Melissa, “They’re in the abandoned distillery. It would take ten, fifteen minutes to run there at least.”

“Yeah,” Stiles smirked, “But you have two legs. I have four.” And he leaped up, pulling himself out of the cellar.

Cora followed him.

“You can’t come too,” he protested, “Stay and help my dad.”

Cora scoffed, “No chance. Besides,” she grinned, “I spent years living wild in the forest. You really think I did that with two legs?” and she spun around, throwing herself into the trees.

Stiles followed. He let the magic fold over him and landed: four legs and a brown furry coat. Cora was ahead of him, and he knew it was Cora, even though all he could see was a small russet wolf.

If he was human, he’d be grinning like mad. As it was he just ran faster.

They would get there in time.

They had to.

Scott clutched his shoulder. It was bleeding heavily from where Jennifer had tossed him to one side like a rag doll.

The eclipse had ended. He’d used up enough time distracting her before she could kill Deucalion and now she was weaker, but still standing, still radiating fury as she watched Derek and Deucalion fighting.

Scott made another pass at her, lunging forwards but she caught him by the throat, and Scott felt his whole body jar as she held him there in mid-air.

“Sorry Scott,” she said, “Not today.” And she tightened her grip.

Scott choked. This was not how his life was meant to go, he thought stupidly, and he did not want his mom have to not only have him die on her, but to deal with his dad alone.

There was a loud snarl, and Scott hoped in vain that Derek could lose just another fight so Deucalion might save him. Then again, Deucalion didn’t seem to care that much about Scott, more about his true alpha powers.

Scott snarled, clawing at the hands but she held on, the wounds beginning to heal. That was when something barrelled into her, and Scott sucked in a gasp of air as Jennifer let go of him.

She was sprawling on the floor and facing her was a large, russet furred wolf with golden eyes. With a snarl she reached into her pocket, throwing something out seconds before the wolf launched forwards.

The wolf hit a blue barrier and was knocked with a growl.

Scott stared at the wolf. “Cora?” he asked.

There was another snarl and he glanced over his shoulder to see Derek stumble backwards as another wolf, fur a darker brown and eyes a brilliant blue, lunge for Deucalion.

Scott turned his attention back to Jennifer as she stood up in her mountain ash circle, glaring at the two new wolves. “Impressive,” she sneered, “But what now?”

“Now?” Scott asked, raising one eyebrow, “Now we kill you.”

“How?” she asked, looking unimpressed.

And in answer Scott pushed his hands against the mountain ash barrier and pushed.

Her eyes widened in panic but Scott didn’t stop. Next to him Cora ducked her wolf head and when she looked up again she was a human, rising from a crouch to stand and watch Scott push his way through.

And Scott felt it burning through his veins, and a wolf howling and the moon above, and with one last step his eyes flared from gold to orange and finally to a blood red.

“I’m an alpha now.” He said, triumphantly.

Jennifer stumbled backwards, tripping and falling to the floor over the ruined mountain ash, “Will you still be?” she gasped out, “If you kill me? What will happen to the colour of your eyes then?”

“Well I don’t care if it makes a difference to mine,” Cora sneered and she darted forwards to rip out the Darach’s throat.

Derek was safe, stumbling back as Stiles threw himself at Deucalion. The other wolf was looking at him with crimson eyes and Stiles didn’t care.

He wanted him dead.

Somewhere between closing his jaws over the alpha’s arm and ripping off a chunk of flesh and clawing open the vein on one leg, Stiles shifted back to human, grabbing the other alpha by his throat and hefting him up against the wall on the distillery. The alpha was strong, but Stiles was pissed, and he let his claws dig into the wolf’s neck until Deucalion stilled.

“Stiles,” he glared, “You lost your alpha powers,” he seemed surprised.

“Disappointed?” Stiles asked, head cocking to one side, “After you engineered it all for me to become one in the first place?”

“What…” Deucalion stared, “What do you mean?”

“You know full well what I mean,” Stiles snarled. “You know what never made sense to me?” he asked, “How if my alpha was so desperate for a pack that he’d bite me, and believe me I was the last person on his list of people to bite. And if he’s desperate for a pack, then why was he killing off the few members of the pack he had left?”

“Stil-“ Deucalion choked and Stiles gripped that bit harder.

“But then I realised, you were already in the area, weren’t you? You said you knew about my mother, which means you’d been watching for a while. Waiting. He didn’t kill the rest of the pack, did he?”

The other wolf snarled.

“Did he?!” Stiles growled, “So that means… that means you killed them. You killed them all. You killed my mom too, just because you wanted me.” His voice was quiet, deathly still.

“Stiles!” Scott called, and Stiles glanced over his shoulder to see Derek, Scott and Cora standing there. Scott’s eyes were red, and Cora’s were blazing gold, blood dripping off her fingers and onto the floor below. “Stiles, stop it,” Scott commanded, voice a low growl.

“Why, Scotty?” Stiles asked, “Do you think now you've got your own set of red eyes it makes you the boss of me? No chance."

"We don't need any more pointless killing."

"Yeah? Tell that to him."

"I don't know…" Deucalion choked out, but Stiles' claws dug in deeper.

"SHUT UP!" he half-shouted, "Shut. Up." the second time his voice was barely above a whisper, but a hundred times more dangerous.

"We're letting him go!" Derek emphasised, repeating Scott's words.

"Otherwise we're no better than him," Scott explained.

Stiles scoffed, "Oh, yeah? Well I'm not better than him. I haven't been since the day I killed my alpha. Do you know why I did that, Scott, do you know why?" he glanced over his shoulder to where Scott was standing, staring helplessly. Cora stood beside him, eyes sad.

"You said… you said he killed your pack. What was left of them?"

"I thought…" Stiles corrected, "I thought he killed my pack."

"What?" Scott frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you tell them, Duke?" Stiles glanced back around to Deucalion. The once-mighty alpha let out a weak choke. "There were hunters. And wolves died, they always do. But there were enough left for a pack. Except you thought you saw potential - a pack ravaged by death - half gone already - it would be easy, to make the alpha kill off the rest of them. Or if the alpha wouldn't, then you'd quite happily do it for him, right?" Stiles' voice was too light, too flippant, "Except he was already mad with the loss of his mate, and killing the rest of the pack? It just sent him on a rampage. I got bitten. Barely got away before he decided to rip my throat out. Was that really your plan?"

"No--" Deucalion coughed, "That wasn't…"

"He didn't kill anyone." Stiles glared, "You did. You killed my mother."

"No.…

Stiles reached up with a free hand, claws tracing Deucalion's throat line, "I can hear your heart," he whispered, "I know you're lying, you know you're lying. You fucked up our pack, and I was the only one prepared to do anything to fix it when I hadn't even been a werewolf for a day. So I killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog. And then you…" his mouth was suddenly full of fangs and he took several deep breaths to let them recede again, "You got your prize. You… you saw a full shifter; you saw an opportunity, a brand new shiny reward. You never cared you had to go through my mother to get to me, did you?"

"Don't do this, Stiles," Scott begged, "He might have done those terrible things but that doesn't make you a killer. Your eyes…"

"Thanks to him," Stiles looked around, meeting Scott's gaze, "My eyes are never going to be gold again." he let Deucalion go, but in the same movement brought his other hand around to jerk across his throat. The once demon wolf slumped to the ground, choking on blood as Stiles crouched down, eyes burning blue as he reached out and before the wolf could say anything, his hands snapped the alpha of alpha's neck with a sharp crack.

There was a tingle of power in his spine, like a spark of power igniting in him. It was the alpha power he realised, only too late and by that point it was too late to reject it.

Stiles blinked ice-blue eyes and when he opened them again they were a rich, blood red.

"Stiles," he heard Scott's broken whisper as he turned around, letting Deucalion's body slip from his fingers. It fell to the ground and he eyed it for a moment distastefully before glancing up at where Scott and Derek stood. Cora was a little to the side, eyes wide as she took him in.

“Stiles…” Scott began.

"It had to be done." Stiles said, voice rough, "Were you just going to let him walk away?"

"We didn't have to kill him!" Scott sounded frustrated, "Killing isn't right."

"He's your enemy," Stiles snapped, "He would have killed any of you in a heartbeat for power. I don't regret it." he stepped away, shaking his head, "I did what I had to.”

"Stiles, that isn't what I meant..." Scott's voice broke slightly, but it was Cora who stepped forwards.

Her eyes flared gold, and Stiles glanced behind her at the pool of blood where Jennifer should have lain. “So what now?” she asked, “Where are you going?”

I'm leaving," he bit out, determinedly staring towards the door to the distillery, "You won't have to see me again; don't worry. I’m done here.” He ducked his head, glancing at Derek and then Scott, “I’ll be out of the town by tomorrow.” He promised grimly.

"No," she shook her head, "Don't go. You can't just leave. Stiles...."

The alpha stepped away, footsteps echoing in the cold warehouse. He glanced over his shoulder at Cora, eyes deep with regret, "I'm an alpha now. And so is Scott. I can't stay on his territory when it's clear I'm not welcome. I…” he shook his head, “Nice meeting you,” he said, wanting to say something else, apologise again, maybe. Instead he just turned sharply and began heading outside again.

“You… you asshole!” Cora ran a few steps after him, “You’re going to run away? Just like that?”

Stiles didn’t look around. Cora skidded to a halt, more hurt than anything and he felt her gaze on his back as he kept going.

He didn’t look around.  

Chapter Text

“Fine then!” Cora shouted at the retreating figure, anger bubbling up and forcing her eyes to glow eerily in the dawn light, “Fine! Go your own way! Ditch us all again! But don’t come back, because I’ll rip your throat out! With my teeth!” she growled at his departing figure, full of anger and betrayal and deep, overwhelming sadness. “Asshole,” she bit out.

“Go after him,” Derek said.

Cora levelled a stare at him, disbelieving, “What?”

Derek swallowed and gave a little shrug, “Don’t let him walk away.”

“I’ll go…” Scott interjected but Derek shook his head.

“Cora should go.” He met Cora’s gaze. “You’re in his pack, right?”

Her eyes flashed gold and she took a step back, “What?” she asked, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never been in my pack. And I thought you were with Scott, but you’re not, are you?”

“I’m in your pack.” Cora insisted, confused, “You’re my family. You took over after Peter… after Laura… after Mom…”

Derek shook his head, “I was never meant to be an alpha. I know that now.” And he let his eyes glow, but not red. Blue.

"What?" Cora's head snapped around, staring at her older brother, "What the hell happened?"

Derek looked uncomfortably, "Stiles used his alpha spark to save you,” he reminded her, “And during the battle…” he swallowed down the words.

“Deucalion hurt Derek up pretty badly.” Scott answered for the other wolf, “Then when the eclipse set in, Derek couldn’t heal.”

“Like the twins,” Cora whispered, “Jennifer snapped their necks. She snapped their necks and they’re alive, but they’re not alphas anymore.”

Derek nodded grimly, “Go after him, Cora. Bring him back.”

Scott nodded, eyes glancing at the body of demon wolf and then glancing away again nervously, “I didn’t want him to leave.” He whispered, “He’s my best friend… he’s like a brother…”

“I thought you hated him.” Cora directed this to Derek, who was still looking earnestly at her.

Derek sighed, “I’ve never seen you that happy,” he whispered, “Not since I came back. Just provided you two keep the touchy feely stuff away from the loft, I can deal with him. And provided he doesn’t try to eat us.”

“Now go!” Scott urged, “Before he gets too far away.”

“That isn’t a problem,” Cora smiled grimly, “I can run faster than him.”

He didn’t know where he was going. Only that he had to get away.

He knew he should have stayed away from Beacon Hills. He’d come back and brought nothing but destruction with him. Derek’s pack was decimated. The alpha pack was non-existent, except for him, one lone alpha who was going omega.

It was better this way, Stiles told himself, everyone would be safe. They’d be happier without him around.

He’d also avoid getting shot by Chris Argent.

It took him longer than it should to hear the sounds of paws on the forest floor approaching. It took a twig breaking under foot to send him flying around, just as a russet furred shape burst out of the trees and skidded to a halt.

Her fur was the same shade as her hair, he reflected, as the wolf stalked around, snarling until it blocked his path.

“Cora.” He reasoned, half expecting her to leap for him, “Get out of my way.”

She growled again, and then shook her head, fur falling away as she rose from a crouch. “No.” she snapped, “No. You’re not going anywhere.”

Stiles sighed, and then just decided to hell with it and spread out his arms, “Going to kill me, then?” he asked, tauntingly.

She looked alarmed, stepping back slightly. “What?”

“I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Stiles sneered, “So either let me go or kill me and be done with it!”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then what do you want?!” Stiles half shouted at her, letting his eyes flash, “I’m an alpha now,” he snarled, “I’m a killer. I got my power from killing, both times. Scott’s a true alpha. There’s no place for me here. Alphas don’t get on.”

"Alphas can co-exist in one space. Just look at the alpha pack." She argued.

Stiles' laugh was bitter and he shifted his weight uncomfortably where he stood, still looking like he wanted to bolt, "Yes, look at the alpha pack. Or at least what's left of it," he spread out his hands, gesturing at himself, "Ethan and Aiden aren't alphas any more. Kali and Ennis are dead and I ripped Deucalion’s throat out myself. And besides…” he gazed at her for a long moment, “And what do I have left here anyway?”

"What about your dad?" Cora snapped, furiously. "What about Scott? Lydia? What about me?" her voice dropped, and Stiles met her gaze before looking away. “You don’t have to leave. Beacon Hills is a big town. You and Scott won’t rip each other apart. You’re not like the alpha pack. And we… I don’t want you to leave. You’re pack.”

Stiles laughed, “My pack is dead,” he spat out, bitterly, “I haven’t had a pack in a long, long time.”

“Well you have us now,” Cora said angrily.

“Who? Which pack are you in, Cora? Derek’s? Or Scott’s?”

Cora froze, looking unsure.

Stiles laughed bitterly, “Yeah, I thought so.” He stepped forwards, pushing past. She didn’t even resist, and he stepped away, leaving her standing there.

“Yours.”

It was quiet. Barely a whisper, but he heard it. He froze, staring at the trees ahead of him. “What?” he asked.

“I’m in your pack.” Cora turned around to face him and he glanced over his shoulder. She was staring at him with golden eyes, looking resigned but with a hint of desperation. “I don’t even know when, and it’s not official because you haven’t bitten me or accepted me, but without even realising it I chose you as my alpha long ago.”

Stiles was staring at her, having no idea what to say.

“You can stay,” Cora pushed her argument, seeing Stiles waver uncertainly. “Lydia and Allison aren’t even wolves. And you’re Scott’s friend. His best friend. Before the bite… he was kind of a loner. You're the first friend he's had for a long time that hasn't been one of Derek's pack or a girl friend."

"It's not going to work," Stiles stepped backwards, "Because then I turned out to be a werewolf too, lying behind his back. None of you trust me. In fact I’m still deciding whether Derek is going to rip my throat out before Allison shoots me full of arrows.”

Stiles glanced away for a moment and then back to Cora. “I saw the way you looked at me,” he whispered, “You would have killed me. I think… I think Deucalion was counting on that. He wanted you to kill me. He wanted you as an alpha. A pureblood werewolf who can transform fully. It’s much better than a ragtag bitten mongrel like me.”

Cora let out a sharp breath, “No… I would never…” she shook her head and she stepped forwards until she stood right in front of Stiles, in case he decided to bolt. “I don’t want you dead, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked at her and looked down, and even Cora looked confused when she realised she had one hand resting on Stiles' wrist.

"I'm a bitter person, Stiles." Cora said, "You're the first person to look beyond that in a long, long time. And now I'm going to do something stupidly cute and nice and ask you to stay with us. For Scott and for Lydia and for Isaac, and more importantly, for me." and she tightened her grip around Stiles' wrist, grabbing him and tugging him closer. Their heads bumped before she angled her head correctly to kiss him, cautiously. She stared up into his eyes as he frowned into the kiss, lashes fluttering before his eyes closed and he deepened it, twisting his head into it and running one hand along her neck and to her shoulder.

It ended when they both pulled apart for breath. Cora felt her eyes burn with power, and Stiles had red seeping into his own gaze. Stiles swallowed, and then cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure." Cora nodded, "We're sure, right, Scott?" she looked over her shoulder.

Stiles startled, staring with wide eyes at where Scott and Derek had caught up to them. Scott had his hands stuck in his pocket nervously, but he nodded at the question. “We want you to stay.” He said, grinning slightly.

In the background Derek was pulling a face, and so Cora didn’t bother asking his opinion.

Stiles looked lost, confused, but with a half grin and a nod he agreed, "Okay?" he said, "Okay."

“Great,” Cora tugged at his wrist, “Now let’s go and see your dad, before Derek decides to kill you.”

“Food’s ready!” Melissa called, sticking her head into the main room of the loft from where the kitchen stood a little side room. It had been a bare and poor thing, but Melissa had done several shopping trips for one of their pack nights and it looked a bit more homely now. Derek didn’t dare argue with her choice of food.

“Great!” Isaac passed by in a blur, grabbing at least three plates and vanishing with everything. “Hope this will be enough,” she heard him saying to the rest of the pack.

“Honestly,” Melissa shook her head, “It’s like feeding a pack of wolves!” she shouted, and heard laughter from Allison and awkward embarrassment from her son as he appeared to collect the last few plates.

“Thanks mom,” he kissed her on the cheek.

“Go have fun,” she ruffled his hair, letting Scott slip back into main room where everyone was camped out, probably for the whole night. Lydia had claimed the sofa, and had Aiden’s head in her lap, and was running her fingers through his hair. Melissa smiled as her son goofily set the food down, and she turned away to that image, grabbing her bag and heading out to where the Sheriff waited.

“They having fun?” he opened her door for her.

She laughed, “Yes,” she said, leaning in to kiss his gently, “Yeah, they’re going to be plastered shortly, if werewolves could even get drunk. But either way we’ll have some quiet for a while.”

“Perfect,” the Sheriff smirked, “Stiles taught me how to make this bolognaise sauce that is to die for.”

Up at the loft everyone was content with Melissa’s cooking and the various piles of blankets and pillows with the exception of Lydia who was happy with the sofa. Allison leaned against Isaac, while Ethan stretched out at their feet.

“So,” he said, “I think we should tell Danny.”

“Yes,” Allison agreed, “We need another human.” She jabbed a finger at first Stiles and then Lydia, “You two suck. I thought you’d be on Team Human with me forever, but then you turn out to be a werewolf and you’re whatever the hell a banshee is.”

Stiles pulled a face from where he and Cora were tangled up together. Isaac was currently snapping blackmail pictures of them being ridiculously soppy together. “I disagree. I don’t think hunters count as human. Not with how hard you throw a knife. You almost took my eye out.”

“She almost shot me with a crossbow,” Scott pointed out where he sat cross-legged, chewing on a chicken drumstick.

“She did stab me with her ring daggers,” Isaac pointed out. “Didn’t she Derek?”

Derek looked uncomfortably saying anything and just took a mouthful of drink to avoid answering.

“Danny isn’t an innocent human though!” Scott protested, “He’d have made a worse best friend than Stiles!”

“Hey!” Stiles protested, “I am an awesome best friend! Y’know. Asides from the brief time I ran with the alphas, but then you did that too.”

“You got me arrested last week for breaking into the Sheriff’s office,” Scott glared at him, “Danny however would have gotten me arrested when he was thirteen and hacking into government databases.”

“He’s amazing,” Ethan said dreamily, and Isaac kicked him.

“Watch it,” Isaac warned, “You guys are still on probationary status.”

“Am I still on probation?” Stiles asked, craning his neck to kiss Cora. She kissed back and then pulled away, frowning.

“I don’t know…? Scott?”

“Well after that incident with the sinks I’d say we give him another month.”

“What?” Stiles squawked, “But Isaac helped!”

“You guys exploded the sink.”

“To be fair, it just cracked in half.”

Cora laughed, “I feel like I’m your babysitter sometimes, not your girlfriend.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” Lydia asked.

“Well he’s still on probationary period for that, too,” Derek leaned around Isaac to steal a fry of the beta’s plate.

“You guys suck,” Stiles complained, pulling away from Cora and rolling over, shifting as he did so there was suddenly a large wolf lying in a pile next to her.

“Aww, come on.” Cora ran a hand through his fur, “You love me really.” She leaned over him, and shifted herself, then nipped at his ear, chewing gently.

Isaac snapped another picture of the two wolves version of PDA. “Your pups are going to be adorable.” He cooed.

“Cubs,” Lydia corrected, “Wolves have cubs.”

Cora snuffled, burying her nose into Stiles’ side and making as if to go to sleep next to his steady heartbeat.

“Aww,” Scott complained, “Come on guys, shift back!”

“If you shed hair I’m making you clean it up,” Derek threatened.

Stiles and Cora ignored him, listening to the rhythmic thump of their hearts, beating in sync.