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Stiles was reading, as he often did, when his phone rang. He looked down at it and saw Scott’s name on the caller ID. He sighed, putting his bookmark into the book and placing it beside him on the nightstand.
“Hello?” He said, answering the phone after a moment.
“Stiles, I’m glad you answered. There is something going on at the Nemeton. Could you come down here and see if you can figure out what’s going on?” Scott said.
“Why don’t you call Deaton? He is more qualified to tell you about that tree than I am. Him or Peter,” Stiles said, scratching behind Shadow’s ears as the puppy laid on his chest.
“I did. Deaton said he’s too busy at the clinic and I don’t have Peter’s number. Please, I don’t want it to start calling other supernatural creatures again.”
Stiles sighed, scratching down Shadow’s back.
“Okay, I will be there in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Stiles hung up his phone and looked down at his little familiar.
“What do you say, pup? Want to go and see what’s going on with a silly tree?”
Shadow barked and started wagging his tail. Stiles took that to mean yes and stood up. He held Shadow tight to his chest as he slid his shoes on and pulled on Derek’s coat before grabbing his keys.
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Scott knew that something was wrong as soon as Shadow put himself between Stiles and Deaton. He had seen how protective the puppy was over Stiles, so he wasn’t sure what the vet had done to warrant that level of protection.
“Really, having my best friend call me and tell me he’s worried? You have reached a new low, Deaton,” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You used to trust me, Stiles. What happened to that trust?” Deaton said.
Scott didn’t miss the fact that Deaton was casting behind his back, making him a little more confused by the entire situation. He wanted his best friend to be safe, but he couldn’t understand why Deaton was so set on binding his spark.
“Well, the fact that you are currently casting behind your back has a lot to do with it. Are you trying to bind my spark again?” Stiles said, glaring at the vet.
“Not at the moment. You don’t know what magic you are messing with Stiles, you could hurt yourself or someone around you,” Deaton said.
“You see, Peter has a lot of friends in the supernatural world, ones who are better versed on magic than even you are. According to them, Druids are threatened by Sparks, because our magic is natural and you have to learn yours. So, what is your plan?”
Deaton didn’t say anything, simply casting a spell to knock Stiles out. He then cast a similar spell on Shadow, as the puppy went to bite him.
“Scott, help me get him on the Nematon. We have to bind his spark before he wakes up,” Deaton said, looking over at the younger Alpha.
Scott shook his head and walked away, realizing how bad this situation was now. When he was out of sight of the clearing, he pulled out his phone and called Derek.
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Peter’s hands were shaking, shaking, shaking, as though the blood dripping off his fingertips stole away his control. The breath caught in his throat as he looked at it—as he looked at him—on the ground but spilled over and out into gushes and gurgles, as tears mixed with the blood beneath him.
It hadn’t just been his attack on Stiles, it was also Deaton’s lack of help when his pack burned, the lack of help when he had been burnt in the hospital and in a coma, it was the clear intent to get Scott to do his dirty work and damage the budding pack in Beacon Hills.
“Peter?”
He turned around, finding his nephew standing there. Stiles, and Shadow, were in the car, still asleep.
“I…”
Derek pulled him into a hug, unconcerned about the blood that covered him.
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Derek looked down at Stiles as he began to stir. He could smell his magic as he opened his eyes, and he was quick to shift so Stiles could see him.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you are safe,” He said, cupping Stiles’ face and pressing his forehead to his.
“Where is he? I want to tear him apart,” Stiles growled, imitating a wolf almost perfectly.
“Too late, Peter already beat you to it. He kind of lost it when Scott called and told us what was going on,” Derek said, shifting his hand so he could run his fingers over his cheek.
“Scott? Where is he?” Stiles asked, sitting up.
Shadow, who had woken up a lot faster than Stiles, huffed at him from the foot of the bed. Peter, who was in wolf form behind him, whined and tried to get close again.
“Scott is at home, thinking about everything. I told him to come back tomorrow and we would figure out where we are going from here. I...I can’t have him in my pack. My wolf is angry about his hand in all this.”
Stiles sighed, burying his fingers in Peter’s fur.
“I can understand that. I don’t think we can be packmates, especially since I’m your mate. We will figure it out,” Stiles said, looking over at Derek.
“We will. I’m going to get you something to eat. Maybe you can convince Peter that he’s okay to come out of his shift.”
Derek climbed out of bed, picked Shadow up, and went out to the kitchen. Stiles turned his attention to the wolf, who refused to look at him.
“Peter, you did what you had to. After everything that we found out about him, there was no other ending for him. Thank you, for saving me. Who knows what would have happened if he had been able to complete that spell.”
Peter huffed at him, turning to look at him.
“Come on, Zombie Wolf, Derek is bringing back food and I would like him to see both of us. I like when he gets all growly because we are cuddling.”
When Derek returned to the room, Peter was in human form and Stiles was cackling at the indignant look on Derek’s face as he looked over at them.
“Really? You planned this, Mischief,” Derek said, growling at them.
“Yes, I did. Now, feed me, Alpha. Peter deserves some food too, since he did tear someone apart for me.”