Archive of Our Own

Goddammit. God.Fucking.Dammit. All Derek wanted was to make it through the end of the week without someone trying to kill him. That, as it turned out, was not going to be possible. Given that he now had a band of pissed off, trigger happy hunters pursuing him and his pack.

    Coming back to Beacon Hills had been a hard choice. But he was an alpha now, and he wanted to reclaim his family’s ancestral land. Making a pack of his own had gone easier than he had thought. His mother had approved of his choices.

      Isaac was, by far the easiest. Abused, lonely, and desperate for…anything that wasn’t his father. Mother and brother were dead, and there was no one else willing to take him in. Derek saw the opportunity and took it. The young man had learned quickly, and had become a fierce addition.

     Erica was almost as easy. Epilepsy was an accursed affliction that destroyed thousands of lives every day. Hers was worse than most. The bite would not cure her. That was a common misconception. Werewolves could heal from a great deal. But they could not regenerate what had already been destroyed. She would always have epilepsy. But the bite would slow it down considerably. Giving her the freedom she wanted.

      Boyd was simple and straightforward. Lonely. Damaged. Isolated. He was perfect for the bite as he inherently craved connection. That came with pack. And pack took care of each other. Derek was more than happy to add him. He already knew Isaac and Erica. They had gone to school with each other. His pack was small, and that was fine. What wasn’t, was hunters with an axe to grind.

     The Hale name was famous across their world. After the fire, which they barely escaped, and the subsequent decimation of the Argent family, things were not good. They had to flee their home, moving to the literal other side of the country. Derek was older now. Stronger now. Wiser now. He wanted to rebuild and reclaim. And there were those that had wanted to see that thwarted.

       They ensuing fight was not subtle, and or any stretch of the imagination, covert. They just came out of the woodwork, guns coked and ready to fire. They had been trying their best to keep things civil. Trying not to get the humans of Beacon Hills caught up in it. That, for the most part, was a successful effort.

     Today was the day they just let loose, and had abandoned all sense of restraint. They were running through the woods. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd ahead of him. They were fast, and he had taught them that, against guns, particularly ones with wolfsbane bullets, fleeing was always the better option.

      That had been the goal. Fleeing, and keep fleeing. It was an ongoing effort. Derek had been working on training them in the woods. The trees were he had grown up. Where he had known his home. It was a strenuous thing. Given that he still hadn’t been back the house since the fire. He still didn’t have the courage.

     Part of him knew these woods. Knew the trees and the clearings and the little fields of wildflowers. But a lot of it was stranger. Different now. A lot could change in ten years. Something was off, and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Given that they he and his betas were running for their lives, he had better things to focus on.

     The trees become a blur as he sails past them, and as bullets sail past him. The stench of gunpowder burns his nose. It’s acrid and horrid and it brings back all the memories that he had been working to bury. He screams at the betas to run faster as part of a tree explodes next to him. Sharp pieces of bark fly into his face, and arms. They barely pierce the skin, and even if they had gone further, the adrenaline would keep him from feeling all that much. That being said, he could feel blood running down his arm. He had been shot.

     The running and the adrenaline had dulled the pain, but he felt it now. A slow, creeping burn accompanied by a sharp, piercing pain. Thankfully, it was in his shoulder, and nowhere near his fatal organs. That being said, he couldn’t heal the wound without getting rid of the wolfsbane that was now coursing through his blood.

      The hunters don’t seem to know that they’ve landed a shot. As they just keep firing them off, left and right with extreme prejudice. He ducks and weaves as best he can, but wolfsbane, while not immediately fatal, took hold quickly. Derek could already feel himself getting weaker and weaker as he ran.

    At the very least, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were out of sight. They had fled and that, Derek could live with. He could handle quite a lot of bullets as long as they didn’t hit his brain or spine. Though, he could feel the poison really start to take hold. The first time he stumbled…his heart leapt into his throat. He wouldn’t be able to run for very much longer.

   That being said, it wasn’t his most pressing problem. Because as he ran further and further into the trees, above the smell of his blood and sweat and the acrid stench of gunfire, there was something else. Something…dangerous. Something that made his hackles raise in alarm. Whatever it was….it wasn’t human. It wasn’t a werewolf either. It was…different. And not in a good way.

     He’s do distracted by it that he doesn’t notice that the hunters have started screaming. It’s enough to make him come to complete, dead stop. One second, he’s running. The next, he’s perfectly still. The forest is eerily quiet, save for the screaming of his pursuers. All the beasts of land and sky are completely, and utterly silent. Something was wrong.

     Against his better judgement, Derek follows the sound of their screaming. What he finds is…strange. The hunters are swinging and firing amongst themselves. Not at each other. Rather, something that they thought was there. Which was nothing. Save for themselves and Derek. Which, wasn’t entirely true there was…something.

     Out of the corner of his eye stood a man. Just of sight. Downwind, and away from where Derek could see him. The hunters, however, could see him very well. One of them took a shot, and hit nothing but empty air. One moment, the man was there. Then, he had vanished. Appearing several feet away. Moving as silently as a shadow over grass. It terrified Derek to no end. Especially when the man came to stand beside him.

     It happened so quickly that he could do nothing but stand perfectly still. The man, or young man rather, seemed…not human. He had the appearance of a human. Eyes and lips and features of a person in their early twenties. But he noticed that the air around him was strange. Different, in a small, unknowable way. Whatever he was only had the outward appearance of a person.

       “They spilled blood in the forest. I assume that I’m free to do as I please with them?”

He sounded…irritated. There was a slight bitterness to his scent. One that Derek knew as anger. Other than that, he stood perfectly there. Watching as the hunters lost their minds. Screaming at whatever apparition that the man had conjured. Which must have been terrifying.

      “I think that you’re asking me because of something important. But I can’t fathom what.”

“You’re the local alpha. By rights, this is your territory. But, I’m the guardian of this forest. Though, if you wish me to stop….”

        Derek understood in the same way that he didn’t. He was, in fact, alpha of Beacon Hills. It was his family’s territory. And he had come back to claim it. He had no knowledge of any guardians of the forest, however. Never even knew one was in these woods. And a thing like this, a creature like this, did not go unnoticed. Then again, he hadn’t been looking.

       “I don’t want them dead. That will cause more problems than it solves.”

“I can send them to the Faery realm for a week or so. That should teach them a lesson. Or several, actually. Depending on who they run into.” The man smiled viciously. Like a threat. Straight edged and full of teeth.

     Derek swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He had heard the stories of the Fae since he was a pup. His mother had told him, in the dead, darkened hours of the night, the creatures that were older than men. Older than wolves. Children of the trees. Children of the rivers. Children of the land. The Fae were many and varied. And not all of them were friendly. This one, however, at least, seemed to dislike hunters as much as Derek did.

        Though his appearance would betray that. He seemed…ordinary. A perfectly ordinary human. Messy chestnut hair. Flannel shirt. Faded, worn jeans. Dirty sneakers that appeared to have been worn for years on end. Based on how he looked alone, Derek would have never assumed that he was one of the Fae. Save for that lethal edge to his scent. The scent of magic and green and all things that he could never really know.

      Derek wondered when he had arrived. When his family lived here, there was no guardian of the forest. Hell, they hadn’t even encountered the Fae. They were stories and myths. His mother had warned them about the Fae. But they never had any dealings with them. Derek wondered why he was here now.

      “I would prefer if they could return to their own lives. Encountering someone like you probably scared them off.”

“Certainty is only concreate when the actions are. But, if that’s what you wish.”

      The nameless Fae looked back towards the screaming, maddened hunters. They stopped. Silent and still as stone. There was a lost, glazed look in their eyes. As if they weren’t really there. Then, they moved into the trees. Away from Derek. As if he didn’t even exist.

      “They’ll wander about for a little while. And then they’ll emerge somewhere far outside the forest. If you prefer, I can make their memory a little hazy. Make it more difficult to remember exactly what happened. But just enough that they won’t be back.”

“That’s dangerous. The wandering is fine.”

     The nameless Fae just shrugged his shoulders, and left it at that. Derek wondered just what kind of person he really was. Guardian of the forest was all well and good, but the amount of suffering he was willing to inflict on the hunters was…surprising. Yes, they had spilt blood in the forest. Derek’s blood to be precise. But they did not know each other, and he had no real reason for this level of anger.

      “I’m Stiles, if you must know.”

“Miguel.” Derek knew the Fae had powers that extended beyond the realm of what most people knew. Names held power, and those he knew them, held power further still.

        “I can understand why you won’t tell me your actual name. But I’m not here to trick you, or play games. Like I said, I’m the guardian of this forest. And that means, hopefully, we can have a working relationship in the future.”

       Derek didn’t have anything to say to that. Rather, he didn’t know what to say. All he knew of the Fae was that they were ancient, and had a penchant for games and debts. He had heard other stories. Things about how some of the Fae could not lie. Those were among the things that he heard from his mother. He had also heard that they were rather literal.

      Deciding it was best to get back to his pack, he nodded his head and turned to leave. Only to be stopped by Stiles. The Fae had placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Over his wound. There is a tense moment of nothingness, then, a sharp searing pain. It lasts only a moment, and then, Derek feels infinitely better. Stiles removes his hand, and the wound is gone. Completely healed. He had removed the poison, and closed the wound.

      “Consider it an investment and an act of good faith. See you later, Miguel.”

Stiles walks into the trees. Vanishing as soon as he makes it past the first oak. Derek blinks, and the man is gone. Some manner of Fae magic was concealing him. There was the barest traces of his scent, and that was all that remained of him. He knew that he would not see him again. At least, not today. And even though Stiles had healed him, Derek was perfectly okay with that.

***

When he makes it back into town at the loft, all of the betas swarm him. Piling atop his exhausted form. Toppling to the floor. Ensuring that their alpha was alive and unharmed. Which he was. Thanks to the actions of one particular Fae. That’s what upset them even more than they already were. He had been injured, and still smelt of blood. As well as the Fae where had touched them. His scent was…unsettling.

       Derek told them of what had happened. Of what had transpired in the woods after they had made their escape. Of Stiles stopping the hunters. The methods that he used in doing so. The hallucinations. The screaming. That lost, horrible look in their eyes. How they wandered into the trees without so much as a second thought. He also told them to be wary of Stiles, and anything he might offer them.

      “So basically, we see they guy, we yeet his ass into a tree and get the fuck out of dodge?”

“I’d amend the yeeting part, Erica. But yes, that’s the basic idea. He said he was the guardian of the forest. But it’s…sketchy. When my family was here, there was no ‘guardian’. Just us.”

      Derek was rather concerned. Given the fact that there was never anyone in the preserve other than the Hales. No humans. No Fae. No one but them. After the fire, after losing members of their pack, they had moved to the other side of the country. Broken, burnt, but alive.

     After a lot of fighting and sleepless nights, they had healed. Somewhat. They took their revenge and killed Kate and Gerard. As well as all that had worked with them in the act of slaughtering their family. Derek took no pity. He did not enjoy the process of them dying. Killing them was indeed cathartic, but he did not relish in it.

      Peter on the other hand, he seemed rather relieved in the act of killing the Argent hunters. Especially Kate. Namely, and most chiefly, for what she had done to their family. As well as what she had done to Derek. He had told the truth not long after they had moved to New York. After which, he sisters and Peter were more than ready to take their vengeance. His mother had to be restrained the first week. Less she go on a mass killing spree.

      The entirety of the hunter community was left in shock. One pack wolves had decimated one of the oldest, most powerful families in a single night. There wasn’t much that they could do. Given that they had killed a slew of innocent werewolves and humans in the worst possible way. No one could dispute that. No one could argue against it. Hell, not even Chris and Victoria.

      They had survived by the skin of their teeth. The only reason being was that they had been completely ignorant on the matter at the time. Peter, at first, doubted their innocence. And was more than ready to rip their heads off. Laura stayed his hand. And, after seven years, they had found some modicum of peace. At least, with the hunters.

      There were plenty of alphas in New York. It was a big city. Too big for any one pack to claim as their own. That did not mean that people left them alone. There was plenty disputes about territory. And after the latest, Derek had become an alpha. And with that, the desire to start his own pack emerged.

     He had, in the end, decided to return to their ancestral home. To reclaim it. In doing so, cemented his status as an alpha. And that this land, the land of Beacon Hills, belonged to them. He just hadn’t been expecting that there would be a Fae living in the woods. Not that anyone expected that these days.

     “Just, try and avoid the woods for now. Full moons will be rough for a while, but the Fae are dangerous. More so than we can handle. We don’t know enough to risk it.”

     The betas seemed rather crestfallen. But otherwise accepted the fact that the Fae’s presence presented too many unknown factors. Too many risks. Too many dangers. Derek had worked hard to make his pack. To help them become good, functioning wolves that could live freely. Without fear of losing control. Without having to worry about hurting themselves or others.

     He takes a shower, not long after. Washing away the sweat and the dirt and the grime. The stress and the fear. There is no scar on his shoulder as he dresses. The bullet had gone clean through. Which was good. But given that it was a wolfsbane bullet, he had expected some kind of a mark. Whatever magic Stiles had used, it saw to it there was no sign that he had been hurt. Derek goes to sleep wondering just who this Fae was, and what his intentions were.

    When he wakes, he can feel the weight of his betas atop him. They had crawled into the bed whilst he slept. Which was, in no way, a problem. What was, is that he needed to pee. Thankfully, they all were ready to get up, and start the day.

      Moving back to Beacon Hills had been hard, at first. Their home had been reclaimed by the county. But given the amount of money they had, in multiple accounts, Derek had no issue purchasing new real estate. When he was in New York, he had majored in architecture. With a minor in finance. He knew a good investment when he saw it.

      The loft was, in certain terms, disused. There was some very minor structural damage, and some water leakage. But the main issue was that it had not been developed properly. Lots of concreate floors and bare, brick walls. Very industrial in feeling. And not all that tempting to young buyers.

       Renovating it was well worth the money. As soon as it was done, people came flooding in. Namely, it was quiet and out of the way. Secondly, contrary to most California real estate prices, he charged a fair and reasonable rate. He could afford to do so, and the people who he rented to were exactly the type he was hoping to attract. Young, intelligent, and driven. So far, he had not had any issues with any of the people who had taken up residence.

       Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all had their own apartments. When Derek had given them the bite, he had explained all that entailed of being pack. The attachments. The submission. The trust. So on and so forth. But he also explained the parts of how he expected them to be functioning members of society. Just because he had money did not meant that he was going to coddle them.

       They all had their own jobs, and paid the same rent as everyone else who had rented from him. They were also all in school. It occupied a large deal of their time, and Derek wanted them to assert their independence. But given that he had found a Fae in the forest…his instincts were screaming at him. Screaming to keep all three of them close and out of harm’s way.

      He text Laura and his mother when he had the chance. Not that it was the best idea to text them about being attacked by hunters. Then said hunters being driven half-mad by a Fae calling himself the ‘guardian of the forest.’ He got the response he was expecting. Which was a slew of phone calls that did not stop until well after eleven in the morning. He simply responded, to each one, by text. There were plenty of things that he had on his list today.

     Namely, looking at new properties to purchase. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly what anyone would call a prime location. They were well enough in terms of development. Good schools, good hospital, well-maintained infrastructure. There weren’t many attractions. No malls or movie theatres. It was a quiet place. Just under an hour drive from the local community college. Some people liked that. The quiet. Derek certainly did.

      He had run a quick patrol around the preserve, and the woods surrounding it. Sure enough, there was no trace of the hunters. Or their weapons. He didn’t pick up any lingering traces of blood, or pain, or death. So, at the very least, he could assume Stiles, the Fae, kept his promise and left them alive. In what condition…that remained unknown.

       His mother always told him that a Fae’s magic varied from what kind of Fae was in question. The ones that dwelled in the trees were the most common. And by far the most mischievous. Always playing tricks. Always playing games. Stiles, however intimidating, did not seem the type to engage in such things. He also appeared entirely human. At least in terms of appearance. So, at the very least, Derek knew that he had to have some manner of activities in town. Otherwise there would be no need for him to try and blend in.

      Given that the Fae had not been outright malicious, or dangerous, (apart from the hunters), Derek decided to shelve his concerns. If only for a moment. There wasn’t anything he could really do at the moment. As he had no way of actually combating the Fae if he did present himself as an actual threat.

      All the alpha knew was that all the worlds Fae, the ones of the trees, the ones of the rivers, the ones of the barren mountains…All of them despised iron. It weakened, and in some cases, burned them. He knew that they were quite literal, and liked playing tricks. Well, some did. The Fae were literal. In the most extreme sense. And the more one spoke, the more likely you’d be drawn into their games.

         The properties that Derek looks at…they aren’t promising. The owners ask way too much, as a start. Never a good sign. Once he inspects them…things are even worse. He doesn’t want to bulldoze anything. Two of the places are riddled with water damage and black mold. The third as a serious rat problem. Which, realistically speaking, would be cost negative to remove and clean up. Filthy little bastards.

         He leaves without any hope of purchasing any of them. Though, he is not entirely rude about it. By the time the later part of the afternoon rolls around, he realizes that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. His stomach rumbled in displeasure. Demanding that he eat something. Having nowhere pressing to be, he stops by a local café.

     Beacon Hills may not have been a start attraction as for as California went. But it had plenty of small, tucked out of the way spots that were enticing and charming. This particular café was called Up-Top. Catchy, and trendy. Derek didn’t really know what it meant. Nor did he care to. All he cared was that they had good food, and decent tea.

      He was rewarded with his choice upon entry. The entire place smelled warmly of coffee, spices, and milk. It was a comforting scent. One that he let himself fall into. Sometimes, being a werewolf wasn’t all that bad. Sometimes, however, it wasn’t all that great. He hadn’t noticed it as the barista took his order. But once he sat down…once he was away from the counter and the crowd, he did notice it.

      That strange, wild musk that only meant one thing. Alpha. There was another wolf in here with him. Which sent plenty of alarm bells in his head ringing off. He hadn’t noticed any traces of any other packs within a hundred miles when he first moved back. No alphas. No betas. No omegas. So for one to be here now….

       As his mother taught him…he tried to trace to whom the scent belonged. Above the smell of coffee and fresh cut vegetables…of other people. Alphas had a distinct scent about them. One that was easy to trace…but he had to focus. Focus and not get distracted by the others around him.

     When he finds it…the man does not, in any way, appear to be an alpha. He is the most unassuming person Derek had ever seen in his life. Young, early twenties at best. Dark floppy hair. A tinge of bronze to his skin one shade too dark to be a tan. Surprising that someone like him would be an alpha at his age. It either meant that he inherited from a member of his pack after their death. Or he killed another alpha in some kind of dispute.

     That being said…he didn’t seem like the violent type. The one that killed because he could. Or because he had a lust for power. Derek didn’t exactly feel threatened. Only on alert. Even more so when someone came to stand beside him. Stiles looked the same as the day as when they had met in the woods yesterday.

      Baggy shirt, torn jeans, and a mess of brown hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Though, he didn’t have the same aura about him as when Derek had first seen him. There wasn’t that lethalness that became apparent of what he really was. He seemed…human. Perfectly human. There was nothing that betrayed his Fae blood. But there must have been something that betrayed Derek. Given that Stiles’ head lifted, and turned right in his direction.

       “What’s up, alpha-boy?”

Stiles had made his way over. Quietly, and without a fuss. No one had even noticed that he had come to sit down in front of Derek.

        “What are you doing here?”

“Having coffee with a friend. Maybe a bagel if I find the fancy.” Stiles rested his chin in his hands as he spoke.

       “I meant what are you doing outside of the forest?”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s not the type of gig where I gotta be there twenty four hours a day, dude. If I sense some fuckery, I just pop on over. I don’t actually live there.”

        Derek couldn’t hear a lie in the man’s heartbeat. He had been trained from a young age to know when someone was trying to deceive him. Then again, he hadn’t ever encountered a Fae before. So, he didn’t exactly have a baseline for this kind of thing.

       “Does your ‘friend’ know what you are?”

“Rude, and yes. Has since we were kids. And I know what he is. We’re kind of a pack dude. Well, me, him, and a few other people.” Stiles smiled like that cat that got the canary.

       “This is my territory.”

“Relax, dude. No one’s disputing that. We grew up here, and Scott’s on break from college. The rest of them are as well.”

      Derek could feel his hackles raise. There had been another pack living here. Completely off the radar and entirely under his nose. He didn’t like it. He also didn’t like the fact that it was most likely Stiles using his Fae tricks to keep them hidden.

       “I don’t like packs coming into my territory without my permission. It’s disrespectful.”

“Well, Miguel. To be fair, we were a pack before you came and claimed Beacon Hills. Not that we ever had any intention of doing so. Seems like a lot of responsibility, and I’ve got that in spades.”

      “Listen, I…I don’t know you, and I don’t know him. We’ll have to find a way to make this work.” Derek words seemed to choke him. He wasn’t expecting to have to deal with this. At least, not this early on.

“Well, yesterday I did offer a working relationship. Me being part of pack doesn’t change anything. Unless you make it that way.”

      Stiles wasn’t wrong. Derek was being…aggressive. But he had every reason to be. Given that this was his family’s ancestral land, and he had just come back to reclaim it. Having a Fae in the woods was bad enough. Having a whole other pack was an issue altogether separately.

      “You have an emissary?”

“No, well. Not officially. I guess I fill that capacity out. Sort of. It’s weird, dude. We’re not what you could call a ‘traditional’ pack. Only three of us are even werewolves.”

     “Irrelevant. We’ll need to set up a meeting. Make terms and conditions.” Derek made sure his tone was firm.

“Slow your roll, alpha-boy. We’re peaceful, and just want…well…we just wanna be us. I was the only one that had any blood of the supernatural. The rest got…Well, you’ll learn their stories soon enough.”

        Stiles smiled. He stood and left. Walking back towards the alpha. In his place, there was a card. Derek hadn’t seen him put it down. There was a number written down in messy handwriting. He assumed he was meant to call and or text the man. On the back of it, a scribbly little heart that looked ridiculous. Derek put his face into his palms just as the barista called out his name. He wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into.

***

“I don’t like it.”

    Laura had called and this time, Derek answered. They had set up the meeting with Stiles and the rest of his pack this coming weekend. Which, in of itself, was fine. Given that that’s when they all had the most free time. It was the perfect timing. It didn’t make anything easier, or less tense.

     The betas were already disturbed because of the presence of a Fae. They, like Derek, had never encountered one before. There was also the matter that they had been attacked by hunters. All of them were still recovering from that whole damn mess. So the fact that there was not only a Fae, but an entire pack that they now had to deal with…

    “I don’t like it either, sis. But part of being an alpha is engaging in diplomacy. They were here before we reclaimed Beacon Hills. That’s the part that...I couldn’t sense them Laura.”

        It was the truth of the matter. Derek had scouted and ran and ran some more. Combed the woods through and through for a good hundred mile radius. There was no trace of a wolf or any shifter for that matter. So for him to discover an entire pack…he wasn’t ready for that.

     Part of making a pack was not only teaching the betas how to control their shift, but how to act around other packs. They hadn’t really gotten to that part yet. Hell, they were still learning how to submit to Derek properly. Erica was the worst. She was playful, and at times, disrespectful. Derek was by no means going to be a tyrant. But his betas needed to know that he was their alpha first, and their friend second.

           “You’re doing the right thing, but that doesn’t make it any better or easier for us. We’re on the other side of the country Derek. If something happens…”

“I’ll be fine. So long as those three behave themselves.”

       “I HEARD THAT!” Erica shouted from the next room.

       “That’s not what I’m worried about little brother. This is a Fae we’re talking about. They’re not known for being the most honest of folk.”

Derek could hear the fear in his sister’s voice. The worry. The desperation. Derek may have been an alpha now, but Laura was still his big sister. She was always going to fret over him. She was always going to worry about anything and everything. His decision to go back to Beacon Hills, and to build a pack. To make a life where theirs had been destroyed.

     Their mother was…hesitant. To say the least. He was her only son. Moving back to where their lives had been broken, trying to mend it. That’s what he had decided. That decision was now complicated by not only a Fae, but the fact that this Fae was in a pack. Which was still mind boggling to think about.

       Generally speaking, Fae stayed amongst their own kind. They only involved themselves outside of their realms for very specific reasons. Usually, at least in the stories, it was to play tricks on mortals. Or, depending on if they had been offended, worse than tricks. A Fae’s anger lasted three lifetimes. Sometimes longer. The stories were endless, and varied depending on the culture. There wasn’t really any telling what kind Stiles was.

     Generally speaking, Fae of the forest were the most common. The ones that took a human shape were the most powerful. The smaller ones, sprites and spriggans and so on, were usually their subservient. They were also the most peaceful. Like Stiles said, they were usually guardians. But that did not exempt them from the Fae’s capriciousness. That’s what had concerned him. That being said, he knew how to conduct himself. And how to make sure that he did not get on Stiles’ bad side.

       “I’ll be fine Laura. I’m not a pup. We’ll get through this. We’re taking back our home. I promise.”

“Just….keep in contact, baby brother. Please.”

        “Of course.”

They end their call there. Derek knows his family is nervous, and afraid, and on edge. They were taking care of things in New York. They couldn’t just fly to the other side of the country on the drop of a dime. Even if they wanted to. So, he would settle and sort these things on his own.

      On the actual day Stiles and the others were due to arrive, Derek was surprisingly calm. The betas…it varied. Erica was as giddy as a damn schoolgirl. Isaac was, as the alpha expected, unnerved. Boyd was as stern and stone faced as ever. When the knock finally came at the door, Derek answered it with a breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding.

      Stiles is at the font, smiling like a hatter. Waving slightly, and peering past Derek into the loft. The betas tensed behind him as the man’s scent came through. Scott was the same as the last time Derek saw him. Entirely too young looking, and entirely too friendly. Alphas were supposed to be open and amicable, yes. But Scott seemed…carefree.

     The others were eclectic. To say the least. The first one was a man Stiles’ age. Athletic, and built. Blonde, with a sneer that made Derek wanna punch him for no discernable reason. Who was behind him was even more…unsettling. Soft strawberry hair, and five foot with heels. She was striking and terrifying. There was an edge to her scent. The same kind that was in Stiles. She, like him, was Fae, but of a different variety.

      The woman behind her was…bubbly. Jet black hair and gentle, slender eyes. She was…something. A kitsune, Derek thought. With the way the air around her seemed to vibrate. He had never met one, but he knew that they were exceptionally rare in this part of the world. She stood beside a young man that was devilishly handsome. And entirely human. He seemed…unhappy to be here. Though there was something…comforting about his presence.

     The last of the pack was the youngest. He looked as if he could still be in his school. There was a tangible scent of fear and anger coming from him. Nothing strong or hostile. But it was clear that he did not trust anyone in the loft. Derek figured that he was mere seconds away from shifting. It was obvious that he was bitten, and still months, if not years away from learning how to fully control his wolf.

    They enter the loft, each of them looking around. Taking in their surroundings, and the three wolves in front of them. Erica is smiling viciously. Red lips stretched wide. Derek felt himself tense ever so slightly. Isaac was fidgeting, and Boyd clapped a hand on his shoulder. Steadying the other wolf.

       “Gotta say, very modern. Or maybe post-modern. I never did keep up with architecture trends.”

“Can it, Stilinski.” The blonde male spat.

      “Jackson, please remember that I can send a legion of toads into your bedroom. Any. Time. I. Like.”

Stiles smiled like the devil. Scott wacked him upside the head. The female with the strawberry blonde hair huffed in derision. The jet black haired woman giggled heartily. Skipping past all of them, into the loft. Right in front of Erica. The she-wolf smiled wider. And Derek knew that they were going to be friends.

       As it turned out, his betas behaved themselves rather nicely. Scott was…charming and magnetic. It was hard to dislike him. (Though Derek still didn’t care for another alpha in his territory.) Jackson seemed to be the only one with any issue being at the loft. As if the action of meeting another pack was beneath him. Lydia, (Derek assumed she was the beta’s girlfriend), was frighteningly intelligent. And witty to boot. He knew better than to think of her as a lesser.

      The bubbly one, Kira, smelled like the air before lightning struck. Derek could tell she was powerful. But in no way a threat. She wasn’t the type to needlessly use violence, even if it could come to her naturally. The youngest one, Liam…He was…well…hilarious. It was obvious that he had been bitten. And was still trying to balance the intimacies and intricacies of being a werewolf. His reactions are…amusing.

       Stiles was the most fun of them all. He seemed to get along with everyone. Even Jackson, and all his orneriness. Isaac was partial to him. The Fae had a…personality. Yes, his scent was alarming and powerful. But, he didn’t feel like a threat. At least, not the way he did when Derek had met him in the forest. It was…relaxed. As if he was actually human. Well, at least half-human anyway.

       “Yeah, mom was a changeling. Swapped at birth with a human child that was taken to the Faery world. She grew up and didn’t really notice anything until she was about…sixteen. After that….Well, her parents were surprisingly adaptable.”

      Stiles’ mother was, in fact, a full blooded Fae. Having lived in the human world her entire life, she knew nothing of it until, one day, her powers manifested. She quickly learned to keep them under control. For years, she just lived her life as any ordinary person would. Even got married and had a family things were fine. Until her people came for her.

     The Fae were capricious, yes. But stern when it came to matters of blood. Changelings returned to their realm eventually, and it was decided that it was time for Stiles’ mother to return. Rather than risk her family, her husband and child, she left. At least, she tried to.

      “Wait, so your dad, your human dad, went to the Faery world?” Erica asked astonished.

“Yep. Walked right into the court and challenged their right to my mother. It was great. He got em good.”

     Apparently, Stiles’ father decided to play the Fae at their own game. And challenged to the leaders of the Fae to a duel. They sent their best knight, sword in hand. Ready to take the man’s life. Only, that’s where things got interesting. Stiles’ father challenged them to a duel, and they had accepted. But there were no clear rules. So, the man drew a pistol and fired four rounds into the Fae’s chest.

     It hadn’t gone over well. They had tried to void the duel. Saying he violated the conduct of the contest. The man retorted with that he never promised to play by their rules. And was a common tradition in the human realm, duels were conducted with guns. There was no dispute. As he had plenty of bullets left. And could kill more than a few before they managed to take him down.

       “Dad, single handedly, made the entirety of mom’s people shit themselves. The Fae are long lived, and not keen on change. Hence why they never developed firearms in the first place. Dad also made sure to pack iron bullets. Just to drive the point home.”

      Stiles seemed to be immersed in a fond, loving memory. The story of how his father won his mother back. How he won their family back. Derek understood well enough why the Fae was…complicated. His blood was from two separate worlds. Part of each, but wholly separate from both.

       “They tried to come for me down the line, but he already took care of that. I enlisted myself as guardian of the forest. A title which no one else had taken, and by that right, they couldn’t remove me from this world.”

“I was wondering how a Fae suddenly appeared in the preserve.” Derek had never heard of them in this part of the world, let alone California.

      “It’s a pretty easy gig. I make sure all the little sprites and spirits keep themselves in line, and ensure that the forest stays pristine and free from…unsavory forces.” Stiles smiled viciously.

      He did not seem like an overly violent man. Nor one who relished in making other suffer. That being said, the punishment that he had delivered to the hunters was…terrifying. Magic was…varied. Sometimes, small and subtle. Other times, grand, unmoving, and catastrophic. Stiles had performed the latter.

     Magic that could affect, distort, and even alter the mind was a daunting thing to consider. And Stiles hadn’t even seemed to put any real effort into it. Derek wondered just how it worked. Werewolves, all shifters, had magic. But it was, in a way, unlike magic. Their powers were to change shape. To run equal with nature both as a part of it, and wholly separate. Stiles’ magic was to affect the world around him. To make change, whether good or bad, and to leave an impression. Derek didn’t want to know what he could do when truly angered.

      They had managed to get along well enough. Though, at first, Stiles was the only non-human resident in Beacon Hills. The rest of his friends had been perfectly ordinary humans. That is until some demented alpha came barreling through town. And attacking people left and right. Killed three, and bit Scott, Jackson, and Lydia. Which started a whole slew of problems.

      For one, Stiles’ secret was revealed when he had to protect his friends. The second came in teaching them how to be werewolves without an alpha. As the bastard had simply just run off. Leaving them to fend for themselves. And with no knowledge of the hell to come. Amazingly, they had managed to survive and form a pack. It worked.

     Then, one day, Scott woke up with red eyes. Wherever the alpha had gone, wherever he had run off to, he ran afoul of someone or something. Doing so had resulted in his death, and that meant that the mantle of alpha passed to Scott. The adjustment had not been easy, or pleasant. Derek could tell that from personal experience.

     One of the first, in born drives of any newly minted alpha was to make their own betas. Jackson was the only other werewolf in Beacon Hills. The instinct to form a pack would have been crushing. Shockingly, Scott resisted. For years. That is, until more uninvited guests came running through. This time, of flesh eating variety.

     Wendigoes were not peaceful, kind, or even remotely considerate. Given that they literally ate people. Naturally, Stiles sent them packing with a fury. As guardian of the forest, he had every right to kill them. Which he didn’t. But a trip to the Faery realm with no return was just as bad. Given that, in the world of the Fae, they could only be seen if they so desired it. The wendigoes would have starved to death.

     That’s how Liam came about. Scott gave the boy the bite, saving his life. And in the process, learning just how difficult it was to make a beta. Kira came not longer after that. Her family had moved to Beacon Hills for the purpose of unfinished business. Her mother’s that is. Derek flinched at the mention of demonic spirit. He had never met one, and he never wanted to.

       Stiles and the others had, apparently, been through a lot over the years. But now, here, they were moving on with their lives, and going to college. Making the best of what the world had thrown at them. Derek at least admired them for that. If nothing else. They were small, and bumbling, and maybe a little bit afraid. But they were honorable. That’s what mattered.

       Derek gives them the rundown as his right to Beacon Hills. No one contests it. (Though Jackson looks positively unpleasant at the knowledge.) He had no problem with them living in Beacon Hills, or the surrounding outlies. But there were rules, of which he very clearly stated. Even to Stiles. The self-imposed guardian.

       The afternoon ends…amicably. Erica and Lydia bond rather nicely. And Derek worries just where that relationship is headed. Both of them were full of fire and quick wit. Together, without anyone to watch or supervise them…he shuddered at the thought.

      Boyd and Danny were…pleasant. The both of them had similar interests. Both in sports and in hobbies. Surprisingly, Jackson and Isaac got along like peas in a pod. Despite the glaring difference in their backgrounds. Derek wondered just what the hell was going on while he watched the two of them talk. And just what his life had become.

      “You look surprised. I told you, we’re just a bunch of nuts trying to make the world work.”

“I’m glad everyone’s getting along.” Derek didn’t bother trying to lie or hide the truth.

      Yes, he was anxious about the whole thing. Yes, after becoming an alpha, he worried over this exact thing. Well, not this exact thing. Because this was the most unusual pack he had ever come across. But dealing with another alpha so soon after settling back in Beacon Hills…it had been the last thing he expected.

       “Cheer up, sourwolf.”

“Don’t call me that.” Derek growled. It was a stupid nickname.

     “Jesus, you’re no fun. Live a little.”

Stiles produced a bottle from nowhere. Must have been a Fae trick. It was wine. Without a label, and unassuming. Derek had no reason to drink, nor did he enjoy it.

       “Dad said when visiting someone’s home for the first time, it’s polite to bring a gift. It’s wine made by forest nymphs. Even with your freaky, alpha werewolf metabolism, you’ll still be able to feel this. Trust me.”

     The only reason he accepted it, was because he had been raised properly. Stiles had, on peaceful terms, gathered his pack for peace talks. Had dispatched the hunters in the ways that Derek asked. And, henceforth, offered no malice or ill will. It was traditional to bring a gift when visiting an alpha. He hadn’t been wrong about that.

        “I’ll try some later. We’ll see if it’s as strong as you say.”

“First time Scott tried some after becoming a werewolf…He was out for two days. Those nymphs do not fuck around when it comes to their alcohol. Had to warn them a few times about letting it get into human hands. Some Rip Van Winkle shit was bound to happen.”

     The alpha laughed without meaning to. As much as he still reserved himself about Stiles. As much as he found himself on edge…the Fae was charming and funny and entirely hospitable. Derek wandered just what his life was before the world turned on its head. What kind of person was before Stiles knew about the things that went bump in the night. Before his friends got caught in it. Regardless, things were going well. He just hoped that they would stay that way.

***

“So, nephew, regale me with the stories of your resident Fae. Is he as handsome as the stories say?”

Derek had been on and off the phone with his family for the last three days. Scott, Stiles, and the others had left. In the few hours they were at the loft, they managed to strike terms of agreement and forge a solid foundation for coexistence. As well as friendship. The alpha had been rather pleased with how the afternoon had gone.

         Ever since then, Laura and his mother had been texting at an alarming rate. And if they weren’t texting, they were calling. Which was irritating. As he had assured them that everything was fine, and that the meeting had gone rather well. And that they were on the path to getting to know another pack. Even if said pack was…unorthodox.

     The fact that their alpha was Cora’s age was…concerning. Derek was nearly thirty and he had been struggling to come to terms with his powers. Having someone who was barely in their twenties seemed…daunting.

     Stiles did a lot of the legwork from what he could see. Even as a Fae, or rather half-Fae, he held a considerable amount of influence over the members of his pack. His was the official/not emissary. So, in part, it was his job to manage connections both within his pack, and with others. So far, Derek had seen a rather wonderful demonstration of that.

     The other surprising part, was Lydia. Derek had heard of banshees before, and their reputations. They were all, in their entirety, false. The stories described them as hags shrouded in mist. Wailing and shrieking into the night. Derek had not seen one bit of that in Lydia. She was a perfectly ordinary young woman. That being said, there was a certain…air about her. One that he could not explain, only. He knew only that it was best if he remained on her good side.

      Kira, the kitsune, was the next anomaly. As far as he knew, her kind did not form, live, or travel in packs. As well as that her species was almost entirely female. And that kitsunes, traditionally, reproduced by seducing and tricking men. He didn’t know if this was the case with her mother, but she seemed to fit in nicely with the rest of her pack. Even if she did smell like a lightning storm.

          He wondered just how all of them met, and just what kept them together. Scott did not seem the authorative type to begin with, and neither did Stiles. There was an alpha, and there were betas. But they did not, in any way, follow the traditional hierarchy that came with werewolves. It was all very…strange.

     “He looks like an average twenty year old. There’s nothing mystifying or enchanting. He’s half-human after all.”

“Oh, nephew. Anything with Fae blood is Fae, period. His magic will always be forward. There’s no changing that.”

      “Is there a point to this phone call, uncle?” Derek was irritated at this point. He was trying to find new listings to check out, but his family had been eating up far too much of his time.

“As nice as it was that he dispatched those hunters for you, remember. Half his blood comes from a world beyond our knowledge and understanding. They play by different rules, and that means…Just be careful Derek. We can’t protect you from the other side of the country.”

       There was a small, barely tangible twinge of anger at the back of his brain. Yes, Stiles was…unsettling. But that was because Derek had never met, encountered, or interacted with his kind before. Half-blooded, or full blooded. The Fae were a mystery to him. Therefore, he had plenty to learn. And that wasn’t going to happen if he treated Stiles like something that needed to be kept at arm’s length.

      “He hasn’t given me any reason to fear or distrust him. In fact, he helped get his pack together for peace talks. I think, above all else, should be applauded.”

      There was a tense moment of silence. And Derek knew, he fucking knew, his uncle was plotting something. He could practically hear the gears turning in the man’s head through the phone. Which, of course, meant nothing good.

      They end their phone call there, and not ten seconds later, he starts receiving texts from his sisters. He answers them in short, concise responses. As he has no desire for his phone to ping ever two minutes. They were all curious about Stiles and Scott and everyone else that had apparently been living in Beacon Hills.

      Derek, for the moment, was satisfied with their arrangement. Beacon Hills was Hale territory. His pack took precedence, and authority. They, in some way, deferred to him. Which, by extension, meant that he could be held accountable for their actions. The alpha made sure that they knew this, and that any directives that caused pain, misery, suffering, or otherwise brought it would be severely punished.

    For the most part, things went well. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were all attending the local community college. They all had their own jobs, and were drawing their own income. Respectably earning themselves a living. Just because Derek had money did not mean that he was going to spoil them. He would help where it was needed, but betas were expected to contribute to a pack. And he, unlike many other alphas with wealth, encouraged his betas’ independence.

        He, on occasion, would buy them a gift in recognition of their efforts and hard work. (Erica, the minx, enjoyed that immensely. As it allowed her to expand her wardrobe.) Derek was not above such things. But he did not want them becoming dependent on him.

          They, repeatedly, had been told that an alpha provides and protects. But betas were not children, and not to be coddled. And while the temptation to simply hand them money would have been easy to succumb to, Derek resisted. And ensured that they learned the responsibilities of being in a modern werewolf pack.

       He had still be scouting properties. Some large, and other a little more put together. One or two looked promising. But with the market the way it was, properties that needed too much renovation were too risky to take. So, he settled for the smaller ones. Opting to modernize them. While keeping their rustic aesthetic. He already knew half a dozen people who would be interested in such properties.

     Everything was going fine. He was sending out emails left and right for the better part of the afternoon. Then, there was a knock at the door. The betas were either at school, or at work. So there was no reason for them to be home yet. Regardless, he answered it.

     Cora looked older than when he had left New York. She seemed wizened, and more put together. There were lines under her eyes. Dark circles as well. Her hair was a bit longer. He was surprised to see her. Derek knew that his family was worried that he had moved back. Worried that he had been targeted by hunters. Worried that there was a Fae in the woods. But he hadn’t actually expected them to show up.

        “I need a shower and a drink. Sharing a flight with Peter damn near brought me to murder.”

She doesn’t say anything else, and lets herself in. throwing down her duffle bag and heading straight towards the back of the loft. Derek did not question her, nor wonder why she had chosen now to fly to the other side of the country to see him. Or why, of all of their family, she had come with Peter. Who was nowhere to be seen.

      Cora does not take long in the shower. And goes straight towards the cabinet. How she knew Derek kept the liquor there was, he didn’t know. She simply grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and drank straight from the bottle. While not impossible, it was very difficult for werewolves to get drunk. Drinking that amount, that quickly would at least give her a buzz. For a short while.

     When half the bottle is gone, she simply throws herself on the couch, and lays back. Exhaling harshly. As if the weight of the world had been lifted off of her shoulders. Derek did not blame her. While they loved their uncle dearly, Peter had a tendency to be quite the pain in the ass. So, sharing a one way flight with him would have been damn near maddening.

     He sits down next to her, leaning against his sister’s shoulder. It was the first contact they had had in months. It was warm and soft and familiar in a way that the both of them had missed. Derek was an alpha now, and that meant he had his own pack. That his connection with his family was weaker now. But he still felt it. He still craved it.

       “Better?” he asked.

“More than you could ever imagine. He wouldn’t shut up the entire time. Thankfully, we were in first class, and I was able to move freely.”

      Derek laughed at his sister’s frustrations. He had missed her, and he had missed Peter. While they always had their differences, and they didn’t always get along, they were still family. They were still pack.

       “Where is the man in question?”

“Said he had some business to take care of. What, I don’t know.” Cora was clear that she didn’t want to talk about their uncle anymore. But her words sent a shiver down Derek’s spine.

      When they had last talked, Peter had been inquisitive of the things happening in Beacon Hills. Particularly, Stiles. And while his tone had been playful and full of banter, Derek knew. His uncle was a clever, deceptive man. One that prided himself on his wit and double meanings. He didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what Peter’s ‘business’ was.

      The alpha was barely on his feet before there was another knock at the door. Both he and Cora turned towards the sound. Unable to focus on anything else. With any luck, it would be Peter. Perfectly fine and having caused no mischief or anything that Derek would have to clean up. That, as it turned out, was not the case.

     Peter was, more or less, the same as the last time Derek had seen him. Flawlessly put together and impeccably dressed. The man never dressed casually, and always had to strut wherever he went. It was one of the many things that was irritating about the man. This time, however, there was a slight difference in is appearance. In that there was a very annoyed Fae standing behind him.

      “I believe this belongs to you.”

Stiles pushed Peter forward. He stumbled into the loft. Instantly retreating behind Derek. As if to use him as some manner of a shield. Like Derek could do anything against Stiles if the Fae decided to retaliate or harm any of them. He may have been an alpha, but he could little to nothing against magic. Which the Fae had in spades.

        “I was just looking around the forest. Inspecting things. Honestly, I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

“The satchel of iron sand you had, as well as the horseshoe charms says otherwise.” Stiles smiled like the devil. Violent, and full of teeth.

      In all the olds myths, every Fae shared one thing in common. Be they of the forest, the sea, the river, the sky, or the earth itself…they hated iron. The effects of the metal varied, but in all the tales, it was said to repel the Fae. Weaken them. Even harm them. So, Peter had been walking around the preserver with a bag full of it. And Stiles had discovered it.

        “He didn’t do anything stupid, did he?” Peter scoffed at Derek’s question, but he ignored the man.

“Apart from acting like I’m the worst thing to walk creation, and lying about it, no. The sprites were amused at his antics, so at least they got a kick out of it.”

        Derek breathed a sigh of relief. Thankful that Peter hadn’t pissed Stiles off. A Fae’s anger was a dangerous thing. That’s what all the stories told. That’s what all the warnings were about. In this instant, however, it was his uncle’s foolishness that he had to worry over.

       “I’ll make sure the next time, my uncle maintains his dignity and respect.”

“You say that as if he had any to begin with.” Stiles smiled a bit softer this time. Charming, and inviting.

      Cora laughed as the Fae bid them goodbye. Peter was still tucked behind him. Cowering at the mess that he had made. Thankfully, Derek didn’t have to appease the man, and things could, hopefully, get back to normal. Right after he strangled his uncle into the next life.

***

It had been a week since Peter and Cora arrived. A week after Peter went traipsing through the preserve, and coming back with Stiles dragging him in tow. Thankfully, that had all ended peacefully, and things were back to normal. Stiles and the others from his pack occasionally stopped by. And that was that. Except, it wasn’t.

      Peter was beginning to aggravate damn near everyone. He was invasive, didn’t respect anyone’s right to privacy, and always had to make a joke at someone’s expense. The fact that Derek hadn’t struck him was bordering on a miracle. The same could be said for the betas. Their willpower was almost as impressive as the alpha’s.

      His uncle was a simple, if luxurious man. He enjoyed the finer things in life, and constantly despaired at the state of the food that they ate. Derek ignored his requests, and simple told the man to do his own shopping. His uncle’s reaction was to act as if he’d been slapped. But obeyed regardless.

      The other thing that had changed, was that Stiles was coming around more and more. They had agreed when their two packs met, that Derek was the alpha of Beacon Hills. And that, despite Scott being an alpha, he would defer to the former in any and all matters. This included his pack. So far, the structure of the agreement had worked. And they had kept in consistent contact since.

      But it was…strange. Stiles was stopping by to report on things that could have easily been said in a text, or a short phone call. He was over so much that the Fae’s scent had started to permeate the loft. That green thing. That powerful thing. Derek smelt it every time he sat down on the couch. His wolf felt…intrigued.

      Stiles was powerful, and charming. Hell, he had sent a band of hunters packing without hardly lifting a finger. The wolf valued strength. It valued cleverness. Stiles had all of that in spades. He was good and right and Derek found himself enticed by the idea that he was going to be coming over more and more. Unfortunately, his betas had already sensed that, and they have him absolute hell for it.

     Any time that the Fae came over they, (mostly Erica), would find some manner of reason for him to stay. And, in no way that could ever be considered subtle, would scent mark him as pack. It both irritated Derek, and pleased him beyond measure. Stiles, smelling like pack. Like he belonged. Like he was a part of them.

      The young Fae said nothing on that matter, or was entirely ignorant of it. Derek was thankful for whichever one it was. As the days went by, he felt his wolf grow from content, to interested. And not in a platonic way. The wolf did not care that Stiles was a man, nor that he was a Fae. It saw potential, potential for a mate. And that, more than anything, scared the shit out of him.

     After the fire…after Kate…Derek hadn’t thought about anything close to that. Not for years. But now, with Stiles, and the stress of reclaiming his ancestral home fading away, he found himself thinking. Wondering. Hell, even hoping. Stiles was…different. But in a good way. A way that he hadn’t encountered before.

      So, he did the only reasonable thing that he could think of. Which was to buy Stiles a present. In all of the old tales, the Fae loved gifts. Which ones varied. Ones of food and wine were the most popular. But this wasn’t the Middle Ages. And Derek ignored his wolf, which was telling him to go and hunt down the biggest stag that he could find. That, would have probably driven Stiles off.

       What he instead decided on, was a simple necklace. No matter the Fae, or the human for that matter, everyone appreciated a bit of finery. When he takes it home, he finds a good place to hide it. Away from his betas, and especially away from Peter. The man had recently joined in Erica’s venture to keep Stiles around. And it irritated him more than anything else.

     The next time the Fae came over, Derek could feel sweat beading at the base of his spine. Feel his heart pounding in his chest. Thundering and hammering away. Thankfully, the betas did not say anything out respect. Peter didn’t say anything because he knew Derek would thrash him.

      He sits down next to Stiles was they play a movie. Erica didn’t even have to try and convince him to stay. The Fae decided that all on his own. Content to munch on obscene amounts of popcorn and candy. He had a real taste for junk food. One that was both impressive and terrifying in the same moment.

       The alpha doesn’t pay attention to the movie. Not one bit. He appears, for all intents and purposes, to be doing just that. But anyone could see that his attention was solely on Stiles. His breathing. The way his throat moved when he swallowed. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. All of it. Every motion was fascinating.

      When the movie was over, the betas dispersed to go and raid the pantry again. Stiles did not move. Instead, he leaned back. Stretching his hands above his head. His shirt went with the stretch. Revealing the expanse of the man’s happy trail. Derek had to remind himself to breathe. Less he pass out in front of god and company.

     He produces the box which he had been hiding in his pants since the movie began. Stiles, now returned from his stretching, looked towards Derek with sleepy eyes. When those eyes spotted the box, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. Taking it with excited fingers. Opening it like a child.

      He smiles. That smile that his real smile. Not the one he wore when he wanted to threaten someone. Or the smile when he was being a mischievous little shit. It was the smile that Derek had only seen a handful of times. That smile that was…pure.

     The alpha doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out that Stiles loves the necklace. That being said, he’s still surprised when the man leans forwards and kisses him. The Fae’s lips are soft, and taste like sunshine. Bright, and unyielding. Derek can feel his wolf howl in triumph. He cups the man under his jaw, pulling him ever so closer. Stiles doesn’t seem to disagree with the action.

       “Hot damn! You owe me fifty bucks Peter.” Erica’s voice was elated. Derek should have expected that they were going to place some kind of bet. He doesn’t have time chastise them.

“I will curse your beds to be filled with cockroaches for a month if you don’t leave. NOW!”

        Derek didn’t need to look towards his betas to know that they went scrambling out of the loft. Peter retreated upstairs. Cora, thankfully, was out with some of Scott’s pack. Something about getting to know them a little bit better. So, for the moment, they were completely alone. And Derek was already thinking about all the things that they could do. He could always buy a new couch.

***

As it turned out, they didn’t do much of anything. One minute, they were on the couch. Stiles splayed atop Derek. Pinning the alpha’s hands above his head. Licking into his mouth like a starved man. Grinding their growing erections together. Then, he was sitting up. Eyes trained towards the bay windows. Looking towards something that Derek couldn’t see. Or rather, he didn’t want to see.

        “Remember how I said I could always sense some fuckery in the woods?” Derek nodded at the Fae’s question. He needed no further elaboration.

        Stiles left after kissing Derek one more time. Pressing himself into the alpha as if they could actually occupy the same space. He whined, actually, whined at the loss of contact when the man left. But he knew that he had work to do. As a Fae, and as guardian of the forest. Derek knew it was best to let the man do his job, and only move when needed. Which, as it turned out, wasn’t that much later.

         Derek had sent a group text out to the betas. Telling them that something was going on in the preserve, and that Stiles was taking care of it. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd returned in record time. A palpable tension came with them. As well as the sour stench of anxiety. They liked Stiles. They considered him pack. Even if he wasn’t. Which made the Fae’s arrival back all the more jarring.

      One minute, they were mindlessly watching a movie, and the next, Stiles was in the living room. The left side of his face and neck were covered in blood. He smelt of pain. The alpha was the first to move. Catching the man as he fell. His eyes turned into the back of his head just as Derek caught him.

       Peter was already on the phone with Scott. (How he had the alpha’s number, Derek didn’t know.) He searched Stiles over for any obvious wounds. Which he found rather quickly in the form of a bullet hole in the man’s shoulder. It was a through and through shot. With no round left lodged inside. But there was still a trickle of blood flowing out of it. Stiles was pale, and felt cold to the touch. He was going into shock.

       Derek did the only thing that he could think of. Which was to take the man’s pain. The thick, nasty lines crawled up his arms. Turning his veins black. Stiles shot up. Eyes wide and shining an even brighter shade of their normal amber. The Fae took a deep, shuddering breath. And then, he was back down. The bleeding had stopped.

        Scott was at the loft in what felt like minutes. Hurried over to his friend, his beta. Eyes a dangerous shade of red. Derek had seen that color before. It was the color that came out when an alpha was prepared to kill. Someone had harmed Stiles, and Scott had every intention of making them pay for it. Derek had every intention of helping him.

     He orders Isaac, Erica, and Boyd to stay out of the preserve. The same for Peter and Cora. Anyone that was quick and clever enough to get the drop on Stiles was someone that they should be wary of. Scott calls his pack and tells them the same. At the very least, they knew the enemy was human. And more than likely a hunter. Derek didn’t have to think too hard on who it could be.

      The hunters that had attacked them were back. Back for vengeance, and that vengeance was targeted towards Stiles. The Fae had glamoured them into a nightmare, and sent them on their merry way. Probably scarring them in the process. Whoever they answered to hadn’t decided to take that lying down. Derek knew that there was a fight ahead.

      Scott hunkers down on the couch next to Stiles. Curled around him in a way that reminded Derek of his pack after the fire. Raw. Vulnerable. Afraid. The Fae had barely escaped death. And he would have died if Derek hadn’t taken his pain, and allowed him to heal. He wasn’t going to tell Scott to go anywhere.

     No one sleeps. No one rests. They were all on a razor’s edge. Pin pricks creeping across their skin. A sick, gut wrenching tension in the air. No one says anything. The loft is permeated by a dead, unyielding silence. It makes Derek shiver. Right down to his bones. They were afraid. And they had every right to be.

       Just as the sun started to kiss the edges of the sky, the first shades of pink and soft orange, Stiles wakes up. Or rather, he tries to. There is a sharp grown and a noise of strain as he attempts to sit up. Scott, not missing a beat, keeps him laying down. Tightening his grip on the Fae. It was rather obvious that he was in pain. Derek slipped his hand over Stiles’ arm. Once again taking away his discomfort. The man was back to sleep in a matter of seconds.

    The next time he wakes, Scott is too tired to keep him still, and Stiles sits up. Eyes groggy and heavy with sleep. Derek can only smell the smallest hint of pain, so he leaves that well enough alone. He still comes to stand beside Stiles. Lacing their fingers together. The Fae perks up at the contact. Looking at Derek like he was the most wonderful thing to grace creation.

       “Morning, sourwolf.”

“Good morning, Stiles. Feeling better I trust?” Derek smiled, but his voice was laced with concern.

     “As much I can, given that I was shot with an iron bullet just a few handful of hours ago. Hunters are assholes.”

     Derek swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. His assumption was right. The hunters were back. He didn’t need to ask if they were the same ones. The alpha already knew. People like that didn’t take kindly to being humiliated. He had hoped, against all hope, that the presence of a Fae in Beacon Hills would deter them. That they wouldn’t come back, and that they’d stay away given who guarded the woods. He had been wrong.

        “They won’t get away with this Stiles. I promise you that. You’re in my territory, under my protection. And anyone who harms you will pay the price for it.”

“Is that the only reason you’re so gung-ho and ready to slash some throats?” Stiles’ voice was low and sweet. Tempting and charming. The Fae side of him was showing.

    It wasn’t the only reason. Derek knew it. Stiles knew it. Hell, his betas knew it. In the days and weeks that they had spent together, the alpha had grown…close to the Fae. He was funny, and charming, and wonderful. Fierce and loyal. Everything that Derek could want in a mate. Someone that satisfied both the wolf and the man. Someone that he…wanted.

    Instead of answering him with words, Derek leans down. Placing himself even closer to Stiles. When their lips meet, he feels the tips of his ears go hot. A blush creeping up his neck. Like he was a teenager all over again. Stiles laughed in a small way. A beautiful way. Like wind over clean stones.

        “You could have absolutely saved that for until after I got up.”

Scott’s voice was gravely with sleep, as well as immense irritation. Stiles ignored his alpha, and kissed Derek again. This times, making a point to be even louder about it. The alpha groaned in disgust and shoved his way off the couch. Hopping off the other side. Stomping off towards the bathroom.

        “Serves him right. I had to listen to him and Kira suck face for months before they calmed down.”

Derek laughed and kissed Stiles again. He could still smell pain, and the air still smelt of acrid copper. The alpha offered his shower, and the Fae gave the response that he had expected. Which wherein Stiles offered to share a shower with Derek. And as much as the idea intrigued him, as much as his wolf rumbled at the idea, he declined.

       Stiles pouted like a disappointed child, but went to the shower anyway. As fun as the experience would have been, the Fae was still healing. And shower sex was only a good idea in theory. Practically, it, more than likely, would have ended rather badly and a broken tailbone on one of their parts.

      Scott returns not that much long after Stiles had left. Eyes still heavy with sleep and not all that there. Derek didn’t blame him. One of his betas had been assaulted and narrowly escaped death. Given that, he would have been exhausted. He offered the other alpha breakfast. Which he readily accepted and devoured.

      Not long after the alpha had finished, the loft door slammed open. Lydia marching through. Heels clicking across the floor in a furious tempo. Jackson was not far behind her. Decidedly calmer in the way he moved, but no less angry. Rage poured off the two of them in waves. Derek could almost see the ripples the emanated from them.

       He offers them breakfast as well. Which they readily accepts. The kitchen smells of syrup and bacon fat just as Stiles comes back into the den. Hair wet and mussed from the shower. Little droplets falling to the floor as he made his way into the kitchen. He didn’t even have time to register Lydia and Jackson before they swarmed him. Damn near knocking him to the ground. He laughed lowly, and returned their embrace.

        “I’m fine, Lyds.”

“No, you’re not. You almost died. I felt it.” the young woman looked at Stiles as if he just might break. And Derek was still convinced he just might.

      “Sorry, I forget that you’re like me sometimes.”

“Only in that I can feel when someone is about to die, and it sucks. You were closer to it than you think.”

     Lydia’s words made Derek shudder. There were only a few creatures in the supernatural world that had ties to death. Among them, the oldest, and most feared that Derek knew of, was the banshee. The wailing woman. The hag in the mist. In traditional Irish folk tales, they screamed to herald someone’s demise. She would have no doubt felt that compulsion for Stiles. He had nearly died.

       Derek doesn’t ask questions. What Lydia is remains none of his business. Banshees were never portrayed as malevolent, or cruel. Just unfortunate. That their powers only determined someone’s death, and little else. They were long lived, and had little else to do in life but scream. He pitied her, in a way. Because, as far as he knew, they had no control over whose death they sensed.

      They eat breakfast and talk not one word during. There is no lively chatter. The common discussions and raucousness that takes place with werewolves, gone. No one felt giddy or excited or elated. One of their own had been attacked, and now, they had planning to do.

***

Lydia and Jackson left two hours after breakfast had finished. The food had been demolished entirely, and all of the dishes had been loaded into the washer. Derek had kept himself busy. Trying to keep his eyes off of Stiles and Scott curled together on the couch.

      They had known each other since they were kids. And now, after the whole fiasco of the rouge alpha, their connection was even deeper. That of alpha and beta. Even though Stiles wasn’t a wolf, Scott would have felt that pull. That drive to protect him. To keep him safe and out of harm’s way. Derek was jealous of it.

       There was no logical reason for him to be. Given that he had only known Stiles for a sparse number of months. Yes, they had their first kiss and were…something. Boyfriends? Mates? There were a lot of words for it. They were indeed…something. What, Derek wasn’t entirely sure of as of yet. But, as he thought of certain things, stranger things, he knew that one thing was clear.

      When Stiles was in danger, when he had been shot and was slowly bleeding out, he hadn’t gone to Scott. Or to Lydia. Or to Jackson. Or any other member of his pack. He had used what magic he could, with what power he could conjure, and teleported himself to Derek’s loft. Even without the certainty or guarantee that he would be there. Or that Derek would be able to even help him. Still, he had chosen Derek over his own alpha.

      It was a staggering thing to think about. That Stiles had chosen Derek over his own alpha. Over any member of his pack for that matter. He tried not to think too far into it. Because the implications of that train of thought made his head spin. Made him wonder why Stiles trusted him so much. Why, above anyone else in Beacon Hills, he trusted Derek Hale.

        Scott leaves towards the later part of the afternoon. Albeit reluctantly. He had to coordinate with the rest of the pack. To keep them safe. To keep them ready. The hunters may have been here for Stiles, but there was little doubt that it would be their only goal. Once they were finished, once they had killed the Fae, they would move on to everyone else they deemed unworthy of life.

       Derek is by Stiles’ side as soon as the door to the loft is closed. Not even waiting for Scott to be out of earshot before he kisses the man. The Fae reciprocates wholeheartedly. Laying Derek down. Something the alpha with his lithe form. Running his tongue along the expanse of the man’s neck. Derek growled low in his throat. But not in warning. It was in pleasure.

       “Were I not currently still healing from being shot, I would have loved to take this further.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. But you are still healing, and we do need to talk.” Derek’s words were firm, and he tried his best not to be distracted by Stiles’ lips.

     The Fae’s face fell ever so slightly at Derek’s words. There was a small, barely there twinge of fear. A glimmer at the edges of his eyes. Something that let the alpha know, Stiles knew exactly what they needed to talk about. And that it wasn’t exactly going to be an easy conversation.

      “You came here, instead of Scott’s. Or any other of your pack. Why?”

“A number of reasons. Scott would have first panicked, then been too enraged to do anything. Secondly, because the other members of the pack couldn’t help me. I was in pain and disoriented and needed someone to help me heal. Only an alpha has that much power, but mine would have been too flustered to do anything.”

       Derek couldn’t detect a lie in Stiles heart. His words were true. At least, what he said was true. But the alpha could feel it. Could feel that the Fae was hiding something. Something that he was afraid to say. Something that just might ruin him.

      “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“You really gonna make me say it, sourwolf?” Stiles leans in, and presses himself to Derek’s neck. Holding there. Unmoving. Unflinching. As if it was the most perfect place in the world.

         “I would like the truth, and nothing less.”

“It’s because I like you. And that scares me. It scares me more than anything.” Stiles’ voice cracked at the edges. Almost as if he was about to cry.

       “I like you to. There isn’t a reason to be scared.”

“You don’t get it. Fae are long lived. Very, very long lived. Even outside of the Faery realm, and being a half blood, I could live for centuries. I don’t wanna make any more lasting attachments that necessary.”

       Derek understood well enough the power and weight of Stiles’ implications. The Fae, however many types there were, all shared one thing in common. Their lifespans greatly exceeded that of any other living creature. Both the beasts and the ones that took human shapes. Stiles would not live as long as his full blooded people, but it would be a long life regardless.

       He was young by both mortal and Fae standards. He aged like a normal human being. But Derek knew…one day…that would stop. He would be stuck in whatever age his Fae blood decided on, and that would be the form he would be stuck with for the foreseeable future. That would be the form that he had to keep until his death. While he watched everyone else around him age and die.

       The alpha couldn’t comprehend that kind of burden. True, werewolves were far more vivacious and tenacious than humans. And could easily live to be well over a hundred while still maintaining the appearance of someone decades younger. But he had never heard of someone of his kind living for centuries. Derek would, even as an alpha, one day die and be buried. He would join his ancestors. Stiles would have to wait infinitely longer for that end.

       “You’re afraid.”

“Terrified actually. No one really knows how long I have to live. Mom died a normal death. A changeling is always supposed to return to the Faery realm. To receive its magic and power. To embrace the full power of that. She only got a taste of it before dad brought her home.”  Stiles’ voice cracked again.

       “So, there’s no guarantee that you’ll live for centuries.”

“I can feel it. I haven’t grown at all in the last few years. None of my features have changed. My aging is already slowing down. Half of me belongs in this world, and the other to the Faery realm. Split down the middle. Unable to fully belong in either. I’m an anomaly.”

      Derek held Stiles closer to him. Resting his chin atop the other man’s head. Enjoying the soft green things of his scent. He didn’t need to say anything else. Nor did he feel like it. He had gotten his answer. Painful as it had been. Stiles was afraid, and he had admitted it. That was the first step. Derek could take that, if nothing else.

***

The hunters kept themselves out of sight. They were difficult to track. Whoever they answered to made sure that they were well prepared this time. Armed with iron bullets, and the means to conceal themselves from werewolves. Derek cursed himself for being unable to do anything. That being said, that weren’t idle about it.

    Stiles was decidedly unhappy about not being able to return to the forest. He was its guardian, and its protector. Not being there when he needed to be made him uneasy and uncomfortable. Derek did the best he could to remedy that. So far as the Fae was willing to stick around the loft.

      In the hours that they weren’t searching for a solution, Stiles spent most of his time with the alpha. They did everything and nothing. The Fae had a wide range of taste in movies and in music. All of which he enthusiastically shared with Derek and the rest of the pack. He was particularly adamant about Star Wars. Derek bared it as best he could. Sci-fi was never really his thing.

      There was no movement from the hunters. They did not try and ambush them, or sneak their way near any of their houses. Derek knew this tactic. It was a false complacency. They were trying to lure them into being relaxed and content. He did not mistake their inaction for cowardice. They weren’t afraid. They were clever.

     The last time they had come to Beacon Hills, an unknown force had sent them packing. There were very few ways to guard against magic. Fae magic in particular was tenacious. It came from the earth. The wind. The trees. There was no elaborate rituals. No sacrifices. Nothing of that sort. The Fae had magic in their blood from the time they were born. It came to them as easily as breathing.

    He knew Stiles was planning something. The Fae had smelled of magic more often than not. Which, given half his parentage was magic, that made sense. But the strength of the scent is what was so alarming. Derek had smelled Stiles’ magic when he used it. Several times. This…this was something different.

     They don’t talk about it. They don’t need to. Derek has no right to say anything about Stiles’ magic. He was a werewolf and an alpha. He had no magic, and no right to make a comment on it. That being said….the alpha found himself concerned. They were going to fight. He was going to fight. But Stiles did have one fatal flaw. In that he took far too much on himself, and let his friends take the wayside. So, in light of that, Derek could only support Stiles as much as possible.

       Lydia was also…well, she was doing something. That cold, dead smell that emanated from her grew stronger by the day. As a banshee, she always had that sharp, chilly smell of a graveyard about her. But like Stiles, that particular part of her scent seemed amplified somehow. Derek did not have the nerve to ask her about it.

      He focused on his own preparations. Training and drilling Isaac, Erica, and Boyd with a relentless fury. They were tired at the end of the day, and collapsed into bed without even being able to take off their clothes. Scott practiced similar measures. They were getting ready for the fight that they knew would determine their future in Beacon Hills.

       The break came several weeks after Stiles had been shot. Apparently, the Fae had, in no way, been idle. He had not been able to return to the forest for fear of being ambushed again. So, he worked with the other denizens of the trees. The sprites. The nymphs. All the ones that could not be seen unless they truly wanted to.

      When the fight came, when it came to driving the hunters out, Derek didn’t show any mercy. But it was their resident Fae that were truly terrifying. Stiles had command over all the things that crawled along the ground and lived in the greenery above. Both of this world, and the Faery world. Derek heard them before he saw them. Screeching battle cries and laying into the hunters without so much as an ounce of mercy.

      Lydia’s actions were even more…..terrifying. Derek did not know the breadth of a banshee’s powers. Today, fighting with the hunters, he learned that in spades. When the scream cracks through the air, everyone drops to their knees. Unable to stand in the wake of the sheer force of it. After that, with what happened next, he knew to never cross her.

      Much like when Stiles had glamoured the hunters, they ran around screaming. Shooting at things that were not there. Literally foaming at the mouth. Unable to do anything other than to be absolutely terrified. Lately, he would learn that Lydia had cursed them. Cursed them to see the faces and deaths of everyone they had ever killed.

       The fight didn’t last long after that. It was, of all people, Stiles that ended it. His command wasn’t just over the creatures of the green. It was the green itself. The power that he wielded shaped and bent and broke. Reconfiguring nature as he saw fit. With was to ensnare and trap and impale any hunters that hadn’t been caught in Lydia’s curse. Still having the fight left in them.

      The hunters that don’t die, flee. Well, at least they tried to. Stiles and Lydia weren’t having any of it. As Fae, they cherished the green and the woods. The hunters had violated that. Hurt their friends. And the Fae were not known for taking any offense lying down. Between the two of them, they send the remaining hunters to the Faery realm. Derek can hear their screams fade into the distance.

       They lose none of their own that day. They are battered, bloody, and bruised. But they are still victorious. Derek holds his head high as Stiles kisses him. He tastes of copper and iron. That strange, metallic tinge that came with blood and adrenaline. He savors every last bit of it. The Fae holds him closely. Tightly. As if he might vanish off the face of the earth. Derek holds him back as the others celebrate. They were here. They were alive. A taste of emerald and amber.