Chapter Text
Stiles watched as Jackson roared transforming into a werewolf for the first time. He saw Lydia and Jackson hug and kiss with a passion. In that moment he knew he would never have a chance with her. For it was the power of their love that had saved Jackson. His eyes glisten with unshed tears at the realization.
Scott sent him a look of concern.
Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand Stiles mumbles. “I scratched my Jeep.”
Before he could say anything else Scott’s eyes focused across the room. Stiles glanced over to see Chris ushering Allison out of the warehouse. Scott headed off in their direction calling for Allison.
Seeing Chris reminded Stiles about Erica and Boyd. Scanning the warehouse he saw Isaac and Derek heading for one of the bay doors and headed toward them. “Derek, Derek wait up.” Flailing his arms a bit as he came to a stop by the pair.
“What do you want Stiles.” Derek’s eyes narrowed at the teen.
“I need.”
Derek cut him off. “I don’t care what you need. Not after what you and Scott just pulled.” Turning away he growled. “Your not pack.”
Not knowing what else to do Stiles headed for his Jeep. Before he opened the door a hand touched his face. His eyes went wide and he slammed back into the side of his Jeep. His breath was knocked from his lunges in pain. Standing in front of him was Peter freaking Hale.
Peter’s eyes were near slits, his voice full of anger. “I should have ripped his head off.”
“W-W-What?”
“Gerard Argent.” Peter growled holding up a hand covered in black goo. “Now what did you need from my nephew?”
Stiles eyes darted around the warehouse looking for anyone to save him. But they where alone and he was going to die. He swallowed hard trying to calm his racing heart. He decided to just go with the truth. “I saw Erica and Boyd in the Argent’s basement. They where hanging by their hands with electrical wires. I tried to get them down but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything.” The last words came out a little wobbly.
“Easy dear boy. I want you to go home.” Peter’s left thumb grazed his unbruised cheek. “I will find Derek’s wayward pups.”
“That’s all you wanted. Your not going to kill me for setting you on fire again?” Stiles wanted to kick himself for his inability to keep his mouth shut. It was going to get him killed.
Peter removed his hand from Stiles’s cheek. Reached behind him and opened the Jeep’s door. Stepping back he ushered Stiles into the driver seat. “I want you to go home. Take a hot shower and get some sleep.” Once Stiles was in the Jeep he closed the door. “I will see you later, Stiles.” Then he turned and walked away.
~~~
Peter took a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping Gerard’s blood off his hand as he watched Stiles drive away. With a sigh he headed for the door, it was quite a ways to the Argent house. He needed to get there before Chris and his little span got back, if he had any hope of getting his nephew’s wayward betas.
Once he got to the house Peter scanned the grounds. He stretched out his hearing listening for heartbeats. He couldn’t hear any from the edge of the property, but the Argents could have sound proofed the basement.
Coming up to the house from the back Peter decided to forgo finesse for speed. He kicked the back door in and followed the scent of wolf to the door just to the right. He opened the door and growled, the scent of pain and fear filled his nose. But the strongest scent was that of Stiles’s blood. At the bottom of the stairs he saw a small generator on a table, with wires going from it to the ropes hanging from the ceiling. The betas were gone, he smelled their scent next to a broken window not far from the wires. He went out the window and was able to pick up the sent heading through the side yard.
Peter cursed the weakened state that he was in. If he was at full strength he would have been able to pick up Erica and Boyd’s scent before he entered the house. He followed the scent through the neighborhood and back to the preserve. Peter had only tracked them for about ten minutes in the woods before he had to stop. The trail had crossed over it’s self twice already, it was obvious that the betas had no training. He took a deep breath scenting the air and stretching out his hearing. It only took him another five minutes before he got close enough to see the two runaways. He took off at full speed so he could get in front of them. They froze when they saw him, Peter held his hands out by his sides, to show he was not a threat. “You must be Erica and Boyd, my name is Peter. I am Derek’s uncle. I know that you made the decision to leave his pack. But with how easily the Argents were able to trap you. I think you may have learned that being in a pack is better than going it alone.”
“Derek’s uncle? He never mentioned you.” Boyd spoke as he stepped in front of Erica, smelling of defense and caution.
“I’ll admit we’re not on the best of terms.”
“I don’t want to go back to him. He never teaches us anything. He just beats us down and expects us to follow every word without explanation.” Erica looked to be on the edge of tears. The smell of stress and fear rolled off the beta in waves.
“Things will be different now that I am here.” Peter tried to reassure them.
“I’m not going back with Jackson still running around killing people.” Erica clung onto Boyd’s arm.
“I was able to help my nephew turn him into a werewolf. He is no longer being controlled.”
“I still don’t see why we should go back with you.” Boyd still did not budge.
“Because the last thing you want is to become an Omega, and without a pack you will.” Peter was getting tired of trying to get these children to come with him. If Stiles had not seemed so worried he would not have even bothered.
“Is that so bad, it’s just the bottom of a pack right?”
Peter rolled his eyes so hard he felt they might roll out of their sockets. “You’re an Omega when you have no pack and when you have no pack you go insane. Then you will attack and kill anything or anyone that crosses your path. And then the hunters really will kill you.”
The two smelled terrified but agreed to return with Peter. Once they were back in town Peter told them to go home, tell their parents that they were out with friends and lost track of time. He told them to get some sleep and meet the pack at the Main Street Diner at nine the next morning. After he sent the pups off towards home Peter headed for the Stilinski house. He needed to make sure Stiles had done as he was told.
~~~
As Stiles pulled out of the warehouse he saw Lydia and Jackson walking arm and arm. He sighed heavily pulling the Jeep right up next to them. He plastered the brightest smile he could on his face and asked. “Need a ride?”
After a little back-and-forth between Lydia and Jackson they agreed to let Stiles drive them to Stiles’s house so she could get her car. About half way to his house Stiles asked Jackson what he was going to tell his parents. When he just gave Stiles a blank look Stiles flailed his hands around. “You can’t just walk in their and tell them that you turn into a freaking werewolf.”
Lydia decided that he would tell them that he woke up in the morgue confused, left and tried to walk home. She had been headed towards the hospital when she saw him and helped him get back. They would handle it from there. Stiles knew how smart Lydia was and knew that if anyone could handle it, it would be her.
After Lydia and Jackson drove away, Stiles went into the house. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he felt a bone deep weariness hit him. Going up the stairs he thought that he had not been this tired in his life. Not even after holding Derek up in the pool for a few hours. Once he reached the top he saw his father take a step out of his room.
“Did she get in to see, Jackson?”
“I don’t know she’s still at the hospital.” Stiles lied. He could not tell him the truth, not yet. He needed to keep his dad safe. “I’m going to just take a shower and hit the hay.”
“All right, son. I have an early shift in the morning, but I will be home tomorrow around three.”
“Okay, Dad. Good night.”
After the door to his dad’s room closed, Stiles stepped into the bathroom. He looked at the bruises on his cheek. Closing his eyes he turn the shower on. Taking off his shirt he winced as a bolt of pain shot up his side. Tossing the shirt to the floor he finished taking off the rest of his clothes.
Stepping into the shower he let out a half sigh, half hiss. The hot water felt good, but also made all the cuts on him sting. Stiles stood under the spray of the water until it started to run cold. Getting out of the shower he started to towel off his torso and nearly screamed in pain. Gritting his teeth he turned to look in the mirror. Stiles could see his entire lift side was turning a purpleish red, from where Gerard had kicked him.
Before he could really think about how bad he could be hurt there was a soft knock on the bathroom door. Stiles had not meant to wake his dad but obviously he had made a sound without realizing it. “I’m fine dad, just stubbed my toe.” The only response he got was another soft knock. Opening the door Stiles nearly fell on the floor. Flailing his arms he dropped the towel. At Peter’s suggestive smirk he bent over, hissing in pain, picking up the towel and wrapped it around his waist.
Peter stepped into the bathroom closing the door quietly behind himself. Stiles watched as Peter knelt before him, hands reaching out. When they made contact with his hips he let out an indignant squawk. But before he could tell ‘mister bad touch’ to back off an involuntary sigh left his mouth. Black veins started to creep up Peter’s arms as all the pain melted away.
“How...how are you doing that?” Stiles whispered.
“Werewolves have the ability to drain the pain from others. This will also help kickstart your healing.” He raised his right hand, ghosting his fingers over the bruises on Stiles’s side. “I think you may have a cracked rib or two. We will need to wrap this.”
Raising smoothly to his feet Peter left the bathroom. A few minutes later he reentered the room with saran wrap and the athletic tape from Stiles’s lacrosse bag. “This will have to do for now. I will bring you a proper wrap in the morning.”
“In the morning. What do you mean in the morning.” Stiles whisper shouted. He knew that his heart was beating a mile a minute but he couldn’t control it. There was a psycho killer in his house, with his father. He needed to stay calm and pray that he would leave them alive.
Locking eyes with Stiles, Peter said. “Yes, in the morning I will be here to pick you up for breakfast. We will be meeting Erica and Boyd at the Main Street Dinner at nine to talk. Please be up by eight.”
“You saved them?”
“Not in the strictest of sense, but they are home now. Lets get you patched up.”
Stiles had about a thousand questions running through his head. He wanted to rattle them off and have Peter answer them all. But instead he bit his tongue and kept quite. Raising his hands above his head to let Peter treat his bruised ribs. By the time Peter was done Stiles felt like a mummy. He had wrapped the saran wrap around his torso three times, rather tightly. Then wrapped the athletic tape over top it.
Stepping back Peter gave Stiles a once over. “Can you breath?”
“Yeah, but it’s not very comfortable.” Grimacing Stiles tried to twist his upper body a bit.
“Come dear boy, let’s get you to bed.”
Stiles’s eyes went wide and his heart was rabbit fast. “I’m not having sex with you.”
Peter gave Stiles a knowing look. His eyes flashing supernatural blue for just a moment. Stepping behind Stiles he gently push him out the bathroom door and across the hall to his bedroom. “Stiles you are hurt. You will need to be healthier before we have sex.”
Jaw dropping open, Stiles could not believe the audacity of Peter’s ego. “I am NEVER going to sleep with you.”
Leading Stiles to sit on his bed, Peter said. “Never say never.”
Once Stiles was sitting down, Peter started going through his chest of drawers. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants throwing them next to Stiles.
“Dude, underwear.” At Peter’s arched brow Stiles gave him a raised eyebrow of his own. “Yes, I sleep in underwear.”
“Very well.” Going back to the dresser he pulled out a pair of Batman boxers and tossed them on the bed.
They stared at each other for a little bit before Stiles couldn’t take it any more. Making circle motions with his hands he huffed. “Turn around.”
Smirking, Peter tilted his head. “I’ve already seen all that you have, sweet boy. It’s a little late to be shy now.”
“Dude, turn around.” Stiles twirled his hands, then pointed right at Peter. “And stop with the nicknames.”
Sighing like it was the biggest inconvenience of his life Peter turned to face the door. “I can smell the curiosity on you, Stiles. Ask me anything you want.”
Stiles wrestled his clothes on as he watched Peter. Taking a deep breath he ask the question that was bugging him the most. “How are you alive?”
“Forty percent necromancy and sixty percent luck.”
“That’s it? That’s all your going to say?” Stiles was indignant. He was at his wits end. The day had gone from amazing to shit in three point five seconds. He had scored three goals in tonight’s game, three, and he had never really gotten to play before. But then he got kidnaped by a madman, couldn’t save his friends. Was beaten senseless by said madman, dumped back at the school and to top it all off. He had driven the love of his life to declare her undying love to the asshat that always picked on him and Scott. And just when he thought the day would finally end he got a midnight visit from the once dead psychopathic serial killer, Peter Hale. Who just wanted to be vague and cryptic.
Stiles let out a deep sigh, looking around he realized he had jumped to his feet and was pacing. When he looked at Peter and saw the amused look on the mans face, he knew he had just said all that out loud. He froze in place, heart pounding.
Peter stocked towards him, backing the teen up to the bed. He put a hand on Stiles’s shoulder gently pushing him to lie down. After he had the covers pulled over Stiles he ran a hand through his short hair. “The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.”
~~~
Taking Stiles’s phone Peter set the alarm for eight a.m. He placed it on the night stand before heading for the window. As he slipped out into the night he heard Stiles mutter. “Tolkien? Really.”
He had one more thing to do before he could go and get some sleep himself. And that was to convince his nephew to meet him at the Main Street Diner for breakfast. He hoped that Derek was not still squatting in their burnt out house. The place was more of a tomb, it would never be the safe home that it was before. And remaining in it was like admitting that the Argent’s had won, that every Hale was dead. Now that Peter was back he was going to make sure that the Hale pack became strong again. Even if he had to play puppet master to the throne.