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Kistousun, translated literally into English as Sky Space, was a place that people only dreamed about, a place that art was made for with its vibrancy and embellished landscape. For eons, the Kis, the realm, housed all kinds of creatures of the air, but there were two main species that kept the peace: the Patatus and the Kisantus, the bright ones and the dark ones. The dark ones served the moon, and the bright ones served the sun.

Living in Kistousun was amazing, at least according to Stiles it was, but he was a little biased.

Stiles was one of the creatures of air, but he didn't get to be in the Kis as much as he would have like to be, because he was a Kisantus, a dark angel. His job was to watch over Earth from afar then retire to his own realm when his shift ended so one of his wing-siblings could take his place as the Guardian on duty.

He was young by Kisantus standards, but he was old enough that he had watched the Creator mold Earth into what it was now then hand the planet over to the Mothers.

“How are the Hundirs, brother?” asked Stiles’ sister Rakis, a Kisantus of the waters.

Stiles grinned, his wings ruffling as Rakis darted around him. “You know that they call themselves werewolves, my sister. But to answer your question, they seem to be doing well. Mother Moon has blessed me with these creatures, surely.”

“Only you would see one of Mother’s creatures as yours alone,” Rakis snorted. It was playful, just as all of his wing-siblings treated each other.

“Are they not mine?” Stiles fluttered his two bottom wings to adjust with the winds. “Firmitas the Truth Bringer himself has given me my new name because he sees my upcoming participation in the Hundirs’ lives. Surely Mother accepts this as truth.”

Rakis hummed. She flattened her feathers and spun softly in the wind. Her aura darkened somewhat in a nostalgic sorrow. “Does Firmitas know when you must leave us?”

“Not yet, sister, but do not worry. Mother thinks it will be a few centuries before I have to fall to earth. She is waiting for a special Hundir to be born, as Firmitas tells of a boy who will need my protection.”

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Stiles knew the moment his werewolf was born. Centuries had passed since Stiles had received his new name and purpose, but to him it felt like only a few years. What was a millennia when you had been alive for billions of years?

His boy was born on a new moon, surrounded by the family that he would call pack. All the Kisantus gathered to watch as the boy cried out to the forest, his eyes flashing yellow, and Stiles felt something heal in his heart. This was what he had been waiting for. This child, this pup.

Derek Hale, the pup was named. Younger brother to heir Laura Hale and son of the alpha to the Hale pack.

Stiles’ wings quaked as his magic seeped through his feathers and into the wind. He kept his eyes locked on the pup. His wing-siblings whirled through the air around him, creating a symphony of magic and color, a blessing on the pup from Mother Moon.

“He is yours,” Firmitas spoke from above. He took the form of a bird to deliver this message, and his feathers matched Stiles’ in their inky black and purple. “You will leave for him soon. He will have a difficult path, and I am afraid that you will not reach him until he is already lost. It will be your job to make him found. Will you do this, Moonis?”

The address of his past name made his magic recede slightly. “Yes, I will keep Derek Hale from falling too far from his path, if the Mothers let me.”

Stiles let his wings fold into his sides and dove towards the forest that housed the pup. He had to see the child up close before he was reborn, his magic told him.

The pup squirmed in his mothers arms, his soul sensing Stiles’ presence. Stiles reached out gently to stroke the pup’s back, the touch of a higher being soaking into the mortal’s skin and causing the pale flesh to darken. A triskele on his back. That would be his mark, the mark of the Hale pack.

Those on earth knew Stiles’ kind as angels, and in a way they were. From now on Stiles would be Derek Hale’s guardian angel.

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Mieczysław “Stiles” Stilinski was born on a full moon in Beacon Hills Hospital. Just an hour before, Moonis “Stiles” of the Kisantus said farewell to his wing-family and gave in to the Mothers’ plans.

As he grew, Stiles retained no knowledge or memories of his past life in Kistousun. He was a normal kid, and even when he was introduced to the supernatural world the only thing that changed was what Deaton called his “spark.” He had access to magic, though nobody knew the true strength of his spark.

After the timid union that the latest monster had caused, the pack had dissolved into factions once again. Scott and Allison stayed away from the other wolves, and the other wolves stayed away from them. Jackson was only seen when Lydia was around. Stiles was the go between, something that he absolutely despised even though it meant he got to see a certain sourwolf every so often. He knew they needed unity, they needed to be a true pack, but he didn't know how to fix it.

The Mothers that held the earth in their orbit had a plan for their Kisantus, a plan that officially started a week before Stiles turned 18, near the end of his junior year of high school.

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“C’mon Sourwolf,” Stiles groaned, “it’s simple! All you have to do is order enough pizza for the pack then plop your butt down in a comfy chair and watch a movie with us. Literally I don’t see the problem there.”

Derek scowled, the scowl that Stiles noted as the ‘frustrated with your idiocy but also scared to take chances’ scowl. Oh, he probably didn’t think that the rest of the pack would want to be in his presence for that long. Shit.

Stiles squared his shoulders and looked Derek in the eye. “If I make sure that no fights will break out in your living room, will you order the pizza for tonight?”

Derek lowered his eyebrows and squinted. He was considering it. Stiles tried to stifle his grin at the change.

“Fine,” Derek grunted, “just keep Argent away from me. It’s bad enough to have Scott in my territory.”

Stiles did a little happy dance, just a quick flail of limbs, and grinned. “Done. You won’t regret this, I promise, Sourwolf.”

The wolf huffed, his eyes narrowed again. Stiles had to get out of there before Derek changed his mind, so he tried to dart toward the exit.

“Wait.” Derek caught his wrist gently and pulled him back. His scowl was present once again, though Stiles recognized gratitude in his eyes. “Get here before they all show up.”

It was a thank you and a warning all in one. Stiles grinned.

“ Your wish is my command .” 

A burst of magic flared through his body, and he noticed his voice came out smooth and silky. He blinked slowly, warm all over, feeling weightless.

“Woah.” As Stiles tipped slowly to the side, his muscles not keeping him up, he vaguely saw Derek’s eyes flash a brilliant red. He smiled dopily at the sight. “Pretty wolfy.”

His head lolled into a strong shoulder. The body keeping him steady was warm, and Stiles nuzzled into the arms that hefted him up, closer to the warmth. His shoulder pressed against the chest of the body holding him. He felt harsh vibrations echoing from the warmth. 

Oh, Derek was trying to talk to him. He should probably start paying attention, but the warmth was so compelling.

Then the warmth was gone, and Stiles was back to himself, laying on the couch, alone, in the loft's living room. He exhaled slowly, magic leaving his body in each breath. He looked up to see Derek standing near the couch. He had his worried scowl on.

“Sourwolf?” he asked. His tongue felt weird in his mouth, and his words came out slurred. “What happened?”

“Stiles,” Derek breathed out his name, scowl slightly relaxing, “you collapsed.”

He pushed himself up onto his arms to lean heavily against the back of the couch. “Yeah, I got that.”

“Before you fell over, you said something in a language I didn’t recognize. Any idea what that was?” Derek huffed, his scowl returning, though it held more relief than anger.

“Nope,” Stiles rubbed at his shoulders, trying to soothe an odd ache that was building up. “What’d I say?”

Derek furrowed his brow as he concentrated, which Stiles found adorable. “Something tan sue lease kai, that’s all I can remember.”

“Hm, that sounds familiar, but I’ve got no idea on what it means.” He pushed the words to the back of his mind. There were more important things to thin about. “Anyway, I should probably get home to tell dad we’re having a movie night here.”

He smiled as Derek scowled, the scowl that meant ‘I’m worried for you, you idiot.’

“No worries, Sourwolf,” Stiles pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll go see Deaton about this tomorrow. Tonight’s about the pack, not whatever thing my magic’s doing this week. Besides, I feel great!”

Stiles secretly loved that Derek watched him leave with that same worried scowl.

Getting the rest of the pack to Derek’s loft was easier than Stiles thought it would be. Once he got Lydia on board, Jackson and Allison agreed. With Allison came Scott and Isaac. WIth Isaac came Erica and Boyd. Soon enough, everyone had agreed with the condition that if Derek tried anything, they would all get to leave. Stiles held back his reply that Derek wanted his pack close more than he wanted to start a fight.

His dad told him to be safe, that he had a late shift and wouldn’t be back until early morning so Stiles should stay over at Scott’s.

True to his word, Stiles showed up at the loft before anyone else in the pack.

He met Derek in the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. The kitchen table was piled high with pizzas of all types. A grin slowly spread over Stiles’ face. Derek looked up from the cabinet he was rifling through and grunted in question.

“Good job, Sourwolf,” he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Absolutely amazing thinking. This will feed us all until at least midnight.”

A slight blush gathered at the tops of Derek’s ears, and Stiles had to hold back a coo. How was the alpha this adorable? Probably the bunny teeth. Definitely the bunny teeth.

Lydia and Jackson arrived first, with Lydia walking in like she owned the place and Jackson following at her heels. Lydia quickly set to work dividing up the pizza and using her boyfriend as a pack mule to carry the food to the living room.

Stiles sidled up to Derek’s side.

“Good?” he kept his eyes on the rest of the room, carefully not looking at Derek. He had learned early that emotional conversations were best had when there was no eye contact. It was less likely that Derek would clam up that way.

“Yeah,” Derek’s voice was gravelly, “Good.”

As the rest of the pack arrived at the loft, Stiles stayed by Derek’s side, just in case. They set themselves up in the living room. Lydia, Jackson, Scott, and Allison sat on the big couch across from the tv, while Isaac settled on the floor at their feet. Erica and Boyd took the loveseat to their left, and Derek and Stiles claimed the small couch near them.

The pizza was distributed quickly, but what broke the silence was ultimately Boyd’s suggestion for the movie night.

“Seriously,” Stiles smirked, “You wanna watch Princess Bride for the first pack movie night?”

“You have a problem with that?” Erica drawled, her smile sharp. She pulled herself closer to Boyd with a low hum.

“Not at all, I just expected someone to suggest a more pop culture related movie.” He turned to look at Derek. “You good with Princess Bride?”

Derek grunted, and Stiles smiled softly at him.

“Then Princess Bride it is. Scotty, you wanna put it on?” He threw the remote towards the couch without looking. His magic told him that Allison caught it, humming warmly about her good intentions.

Wait, what? His magic had never done that before. Usually it was more like ‘let’s explode some shit’ or ‘oops you had a nightmare and now your desk is floating,’ but it hadn’t told him anything that deep about anybody until now.

His face must have shown his confusion, as Derek nudged him with his shoulder and scowled that worried scowl again. He raised an eyebrow, a silent ‘are you okay?’

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip before nodding. He was okay, right?

The movie clicked on, drawing their attention to the screen.

Well, that had been weird.

The movie had been one of his mom’s favorites, one of the few things that Stiles could watch to feel connected to his mother since she died. He loved this movie, so much.

It looked like the pack was having fun. Isaac was quoting the lines with Lydia and Boyd, while Jackson and Allison looked intrigued by the concept of the storyline. Erica stayed cuddled up to Boyd’s side, but she shared a look of amusement with Scott as the others recited the dialogue.

Stiles let himself relax on the couch next to Derek, his magic content to suffuse the air around him. Derek didn’t seem to mind the close proximity. If anything, Stiles’ magic told him that the alpha liked the closeness.

They went through two more movies before they called it a night. They all had school tomorrow and needed their rest, but Stiles could tell that the others were having so much fun that they didn’t want to leave immediately. That was what pack was supposed to feel like, his magic thrummed in his chest. Like home, like family.

As the final credits rolled, Stiles pushed himself up and shook out his limbs. The weird tension in his back from earlier was back, but that was probably from sitting in one position for too long, he thought.

“Alright, bedtime for the puppies,” Stiles said. He watched as the others slowly stretched and went to get up. “Scott, is it okay if I stay over at yours? Dad has a late shift tonight.”

Scott nodded, making his hair flop. Adorable. “Sure! I’ll text Mom that you’re coming over.”

“Sweet, thanks dude.” Stiles picked up a few empty pizza boxes from the floor and motioned for a tired Derek to do the same. “Now, you bunch of ungrateful puppies, why are Derek and I the only ones cleaning up ?”

A rush of magic and warmth flooded his body as he finished his question. His muscles relaxed fully, and his hands lost their grip on the pizza boxes. Everything around him got fuzzy. Strong arms caught him as his legs gave out. They were warm.

He caught a flash of red eyes through the haze.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice broke through, sounding angry which meant he was worried. “You back with us?”

Stiles blinked a few times and hummed, his breaths coming easier as the fog slipped away from his mind and body.

“Yeah,” he pushed himself into a sitting position, once again on the couch, “It happened again, huh?”

Derek pursed his lips in response.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jackson’s voice interrupted. He looked worried but covered it with a scowl, just like Derek. Stiles smiled at the comparison. “It sounded like you were possessed, I’ve never heard any language that sounds like what you were saying.”

Lydia nodded slowly. She made quick eye contact with Allison. “I haven’t heard anything like that, and languages are my specialty.”

“I think I was trying to ask why no one was helping us clean up.” Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. “But I have no idea what I actually said. It was like a wave of magic took control of my body. But it didn’t feel hostile. What’d I actually say? Maybe I’ll recognize it.”

The others looked at each other, and Lydia sighed.

“You said,'' she looked into space, recalling his exact words, “ Kat soo tonal Derek ti kai poiumno durg , which doesn’t follow any language that I’ve studied.”

“Huh. Well, that’s weird.”

“Wait,” Scott said, brow furrowed, “When you woke up, you asked if it happened again. This has happened before?”

Derek raised an eyebrow in Stiles’ direction. The alpha would be no help, he was handing the reins to Stiles and wouldn’t change his mind. All that was communicated from an eyebrow. Sometimes Stiles wondered if he knew Derek too well.

“It happened earlier today, I was about to leave the loft when I lost control of my body and said stuff in this mystery language instead of english like I had planned. At the time I thought it was just my magic acting up, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m taking you to Deaton after school tomorrow,” Derek grunted.

Scott narrowed his eyes. He glared at the alpha, eyes flickering yellow. “How do we know that Derek’s not the one doing this?”

Stiles huffed, exasperated. Nobody else agreed with the theory, but nobody disputed it either. He watched Derek hunch in on himself at the accusation.

“It’s not Derek, Scotty.”

“But how do we know that? He could be poisoning you or something!”

The other betas shuffled nervously.

“Scott,” Stiles tried to keep the snarl out of his voice. “This has nothing to do with Derek. If you imply one more time that it does, I will throw you through the window.”

Silence in the room as Scott’s eyes went wide. Okay, maybe he hadn’t been successful in keeping the snarl hidden. But he couldn’t help it, he just felt so angry at the accusation. Couldn’t the others see how much Derek was trying? How he needed pack just as much as they needed it?

Stiles took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Sorry, man. Guess I’m just stressed out ‘cause my magic seems to be exploding at the seams. But seriously, Derek wouldn’t do anything like this. Trust me on that.”

“Okay.” Scott nodded, jaw set with new determination. “Then Derek’s right, we need to take you to Deaton.”

“Tomorrow,” Stiles said. “I am way too tired to put up with him tonight.”

Derek huffed but nodded anyway. “Tomorrow.”

The pack said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, with Stiles driving his jeep to the McCall house while Scott dropped Allison off at her house. It was just past midnight, so Stiles collapsed in Scott’s bed and didn’t bother fighting the drowsiness that came from using his magic twice in large magnitudes in one day.

He was shifted out of his sleepy haze some time later. Scott lacked all subtlety as he noisily made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom, though he audibly paused as he noticed Stiles under his covers.

“Stiles? You okay, man?”

Oh, he sounded so worried.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, just tired from all that magic my body decided to have fun with.”

A rustle of clothes as Scott got ready for bed, then the sheets were moving as he tucked himself in beside his brother.

“Everything’ll be okay, right?” Scott’s warmth seeped through the sheets.

Stiles looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. “I hope so, Scotty.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then we deal with it.” He smiled. “I mean, once you’ve faced an Alpha Pack and a kanima, I’d say you’re ready for anything.”

Scott hummed, sleep in his voice. “Love you, Stiles.”

“Love you, man.”

Sleep claimed him without much fanfare.

Oddly enough, Stiles woke up as Scott’s alarm blared and not before it. Usually he had trouble sleeping through the night in one burst, but he felt well rested and didn’t get up at all during the night. He thanked whatever gods were out there for letting him sleep.

He pulled himself out of bed and flung a pillow in the direction of the Scott-shaped lump buried in blankets. 

“Get up, we have school.”

“Don’t wanna,” came Scott’s muffled voice.

“We only have three more days of school ‘til spring break, you can make it to then, Scotty.”

The lump jolted, and Scott peaked his head out of the pile with a bright smile.

“Your birthday’s on Saturday!”

Stiles chuckled. “Yes, it is. You gonna get up now? Or are you gonna stay in your nest for three days?”

Scott threw himself out of bed almost violently, which left him and Stiles laughing as they got ready for the day.

As they boarded the jeep, sleep fading from their minds, Scott’s eyes found his. Gone was the levity from before, replaced by a gentle worry. It was one of the looks Stiles now associated with Allison.

“Last night went well,” Scott started, though his voice wavered slightly.

Stiles grinned. He could put on an easy confidence to ease his brother’s worries. “It went great. Well, besides the whole magic freak out thing. But other than that, yeah. It was good.”

Scott took a deep breath. “Do you think we’ll ever be a real pack? ‘Cause sometimes it’s like there’s a weight on my chest the longer I’m away from Derek, even though we argue all the time. And I don’t know if it’s because he’s meant to be my alpha, or if it’s because he’s the only alpha in town, but sometimes it takes all my willpower not to collapse into his arms and beg him to take me back.”

Shit, that must have been building for a while. C’mon Stiles, handle this with tact.

“I think that if we all put in the work, everything will work out.” He saw, out of the corner of his eye as he was watching the road he drove on, that Scott didn’t look as pleased as he hoped for. “Listen, Scott, I want our pack to be whole as much as you do. I can guarantee you’re not the only one feeling like this, but everyone in our pack is stubborn, so it’ll take some effort to get them all on the same page.”

He stopped at a red light and glanced to see Scott’s open face before continuing.

“The big thing that will bring us all together isn’t gonna be the monster of the week. It’s gonna be friendship. Family.”

Scott chewed on his lip, considering. “But what if Derek will never be able to see Allison as family? He has his reasons, I know, but she’s… she’s my mate, Stiles. I can’t have an alpha that won’t have her.”

Stiles smiled softly. They were so sweet for each other.

“I’ll talk to him about it, promise. Once he gets to know Ally, he’ll grow to love her just like we all do.”

Scott breathed a full breath, his shoulders relaxing. He nodded and turned back to the road.

Now they just had to get through Wednesday intact.

It was at lunch that something went wrong.

Stiles set his half-eaten corn dog back onto his plate with wide eyes. “Anybody else see that?”

There was an odd fog around Coach Finstock. It was an indecipherable color with new thoughts and feelings bubbling up with each passing moment. Stiles caught the feeling of excitement and mischief coming from the odd fog.

Erica followed his eyeline to see Finstock talking to another teacher near the cafeteria doors. “See what?”

He groaned and rested his forehead on his hand. Of course his magic was acting up again, what else would it be?

He described what he saw to the table, and Lydia narrowed her eyes.

“You’re seeing auras. Or, at least, you’re seeing Finstock’s aura. Can you see anything else out of the ordinary?”

Stiles glanced around the cafeteria, now focused on seeking out more fog.

“Yeah,” he cocked his head to the side, “there are a couple more people with auras.”

“One more thing to ask Deaton about after school,” Scott said. He looked worried, his brow furrowed and his mouth in a slight pout. Stiles wanted to pinch his cheeks.

He looked back to Finstock and his aura, his magic reaching out to pick at the tendrils of fog. He smirked, “I think Coach is giving a pop quiz in Econ today. He’s weirdly excited, which usually means suffering.”

Scott and Erica’s eyes went wide, and they hurriedly pulled their econ textbooks out to start studying. Stiles laughed.

He gave up on quizzing them halfway through lunch, which was about the fourth time that they had stared blankly at him in response and practically begged him to tell them the answers.

A slight tap on his arm drew him away from eating his fries. Lydia scooted closer to him. With the noise from the rest of the pack, she managed to affect her voice so only Stiles would hear her.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. It was clear what she meant, but Stiles grimaced at the thought of answering honestly.

“Many things,” he said instead with a plastered-on grin. He sighed as she frowned. “I’m a little scared, but I think that’s to be expected. I mean, Deaton said my magic was stronger than most magic users, but I really didn’t expect anything like what’s happening to happen. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. “Yes, it does. Remember when my banshee magic started coming in? I had no idea why I was hearing voices or being directed to do things or go places. But once I realized what it was and what it wanted, I learned to direct it into better things.”

“Right,” Stiles squinted. “So you’re saying I just need to understand why my magic is going crazy? ‘Cause if I do, I could control it better. That makes sense, I guess.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “You sound hesitant to agree.”

“I mean,” he sighed, “everything in me is telling me that whatever’s happening isn’t bad, that I need to wait it out to see the bigger picture. But at the same time, if my magic is acting up, my internal voice might be messed up too. How do I know if I can trust it?”

This got a smile out of her. “Stiles, how sure are you about Finstock’s pop quiz?”

“Almost 100 percent.”

“Then there will be a pop quiz. Your intuition hasn’t let us down so far, and if it turns out that your intuition has been backed by your powerful Spark this whole time, then I say you should listen to it.”

He hummed and chewed on a fry. Lydia went back to leaning against Jackson, like their little conversation had never happened. She was good at that.

At the end of the day, after an unsurprising pop quiz in Economics, the pack walked out of the school to see Derek leaning against the hood of Stiles’ jeep. He had on sunglasses and was deftly ignoring the gossip surrounding him.

They loaded into their respective cars, Derek taking the passenger seat in the jeep, and drove to Deaton’s vet practice.

Slamming the jeep door behind him, Stiles went to follow the group into the building, but his attention caught on a bird perched on the roof of the entrance. Its black feathers looked out of place with their intensity. The bird focused one of its eyes on him, and Stiles got the distinct feeling of home from its aura.

“Batman,” Erica called out from inside, “You coming?”

“Yeah, on my way.” He turned away from the bird and entered the building.

Throughout the visit, Deaton was even more cryptic than usual, but Stiles managed to get him to admit that he had no idea what was wrong with Stiles, which was not good.

After saying his goodbyes to his pack, Stiles drove back home, ready for the day to be over.

“Hey, Pops,” he greeted on his way up the stairs. “What are we doing for dinner later?”

“I was thinking burgers.” The Sheriff made pointed eye contact, a challenge.

“Salad and turkey burgers it is then,” Stiles smirked.

Truthfully, he would make his father a ‘real’ burger along with a salad, because he had a feeling that he would be explaining his magical mishaps over dinner. His dad deserved beef for dealing with his shit. But the salad was non negotiable.

The pain hit Stiles in third period the next day. 

It was an all-consuming type of pain, the kind of thing that wipes your mind blank of thought and makes you feel like vomiting.

It seared across his back, from his waist to his shoulders, everywhere. With a cry, he toppled from his seat and collapsed onto the floor. It felt like fire searing into his skin. His breath froze in his chest as his eyes watered.

He pushed himself to his hands and knees. His back was wet, and he had a moment of confusion before the tangy scent of blood hit his nose. Another round of pain hit, like blades slicing his skin. He lost muscle capacity once again and dropped towards the tile.

Hands grabbed his arms as he fell. His magic settled in his chest, it recognized the person that grabbed him, Allison. She pulled him up, avoiding touching his back. In the little part of his mind that was still aware, he knew that his formerly white shirt was a bloody mess.

People were calling his name, he was sure from the buzzing in his ears. Each time he tried to focus on the sound, another wave of pain muddied his mind once again.

New hands, his magic told him this was Boyd. Why was Boyd there? He was supposed to be in Econ across the hall. Oh, Stiles realized with a start, he had been screaming. His throat was sore, and his chest was vibrating with an unheard sound.

Boyd and Allison moved his body while his mind tried to recover. He blinked teary eyes open to see red staining the front of his t-shirt and the floor below him. That was going to be a bitch to clean up. He let out what must have been a slightly hysterical laugh at the thought.

More hands got involved. Scott, Isaac, and Erica. All of them were carrying him somewhere. Somewhere in the struggle of limbs a stray arm brushed against his back, and he let out a choked scream of pain.

A sense of calm pierced through the haze of pain. Stiles latched onto the feeling, his magic recognizing the calm as Lydia’s banshee magic. She was reaching out through their pack bond. She and Jackson must be wherever he had been dragged. He clung to the feeling of pack and hoped that the pain would pass sooner than later.

Only Derek was missing. The thought of the alpha caught the breath in his chest, and tears fell from Stiles’ eyes.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, all that existed was the pain. 

Something cold touched his forehead. 

With a deep, rattling breath, Stiles realized that the burning of his skin had stopped growing in intensity. It still hurt, but it wasn’t all-consuming.

He was laid out on his stomach, the metal table cold against his bare skin and a wet washcloth pressed under his forehead. His shirt was off, which he was grateful for as the feeling of fabric pressed upon his raw skin would have sent him into another screaming panic.

A hand rested on his shoulder. It could have been holding him down or trying to calm him, but he wasn’t sure which. He decided to take it as a comfort.

“Are you with us, Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton’s smooth voice filtered into his mind. Oh, he must have been taken to the vet’s office. That explained the lack of pain.

He managed a grunt in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Deaton’s tone did not falter. “I’ve administered a numbing salve, but I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for the wounds themselves. They don’t seem to be reacting to my healing medicines at all.”

Wounds? Oh yeah. That’s where the blood had come from. But how did he get multiple wounds on his back without noticing?

The hand on his shoulder stroked his skin gently, just above where the pain was being numbed slowly but surely. The hand was Derek’s, his magic told him. His alpha. When did Derek get here? Was the rest of the pack somewhere in the examination room too?

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice pulled him back to the present. The grip on his shoulder tightened, and he took a deep breath in to steady his thoughts. “Good?”

Through the decreasing pain, Stiles murmured, “Better.”

When he was able to take a full breath without feeling like he was rubbing up against sandpaper, Derek helped him into a sitting position.

“Can I see it?” he asked, voice a croak. He was sore all over, but he needed to see what had happened to him, to see where the large amount of blood that he had glimpsed earlier had come from.

Derek didn’t ask if he was sure, though his jaw clenched in response. He guided Stiles onto his feet, hand steadying him with a grip on his shoulder, and led him to the mirror above the sink in the corner of the room.

Shit.

Six wounds. Three on each side of his back, mirrored perfectly on the other side. They looked as if someone had pulled his skin taut and sliced through the tension, making leaf-shaped openings bloom throughout his back. The top two were lined up with his shoulder blades, just simple vertical slashes exposing muscle and sinew. The middle were slanted, their thin tops pointed towards his spine. The bottom two wounds were almost completely horizontal, smaller than the ones above them.

It looked like someone had mutilated him.

Blood had stopped seeping out of him which was good, but the image of exposed muscle made him swallow hard. What the hell was happening to him?

His magic tingled, pointing Stiles to face toward the doorway to the animal cages, to look away from the mirror. There was a shimmer in the air, a path to follow. He took a breath, blinked, and started walking in that direction. He felt Derek move with him, just behind him, but noted that he did not make any move to stop Stiles.

Stiles opened the door, ignoring the protest of his muscles. What was he looking for? Oh, there…

He followed a trail of magic to one particular cage. The bird with black feathers sat inside. No, not black, dark purple that appears as black until they catch the lights. Why was that so familiar?

He unlatched the door to the cage in something close to a trance and offered up his hand for the bird to perch on, patiently waiting for the bird to work up the courage to move even as Derek grunted in concern. He wasn’t sure where Deaton was.

The bird was lighter than Stiles thought it would be as it carefully lifted its talons, one by one, to perch on his forearm.

“Hello,” he said softly.

The bird cocked its head towards the door.

“Do you want to leave?”

A chirp.

Stiles hummed. He maneuvered around Derek’s still form and crossed back into the examination room. Deaton watched him with careful eyes.

“May I ask what you are doing with that falcon, Mr. Stilinski?”

He blinked a few times as his mind processed the question. What was he doing with the bird?

“I don’t really know.” He frowned.

The bird gracefully flapped its wings to push itself into the air and onto Stiles’ shoulder. Its beak nudged his ear, almost thoughtfully. It gently ruffled its face through his hair and clenched its talons tighter against Stiles’ bare shoulder.

Deaton approached, his steps slow yet purposeful. Stiles watched as Derek took Deaton’s side, his arms crossed and worried scowl in place.

Without much thinking, Stiles lifted a hand to stroke the bird’s beak. A thought came to him out of nowhere, a word, a name that had been tucked away in his mind for so long now.

“Firmitas,” he breathed.

Vaguely, as he came out of the trance that the bird had him in, he saw Deaton go still. The vet swallowed hard, and his facial expressions went through more emotions than Stiles had ever seen on the man before.

“Oh dear,” Deaton muttered. “I would never have thought…”

“Deaton,” Derek growled, eyes close to flashing red. It was both a question and a demand.

The man cleared his throat. He locked his gaze onto the bird perched on Stiles’ shoulder, onto Firmitas.

“My greatest apologies,” he bowed his head while maintaining eye contact. “I did not mean to interfere with the Mothers’ business, I was simply trying to do my duty as the druid of the territory. Please bless me in forgiving my trespasses.”

The bird unfurled a wing and extended it, its head moving down as if mirroring a bow to the vet.

“I will not take any more of your time,” Deaton said, resolute. He turned to meet Stiles’ confused eyes. “I think it is best if you take your pack and leave, Mr. Stilinski. There are forces at play here that even I cannot understand.”

“But what about my back?” His focus was only half on Deaton’s answer. He watched Derek clench and unclench his jaw, and he pushed away the impulse to smooth the divot between the alpha’s eyebrows.

“If the wounds are what I think they are, they should be healed enough by the end of today, though they will never truly fade.” Deaton tapped his finger to his chin. “Am I right in thinking that your eighteenth birthday is within a week of now?”

Stiles nodded. “Two days from today.”

“Well then, I am confident in saying that all will be revealed when you wake up that morning.” Then Deaton’s voice faded to a whisper, as if he was talking to himself, “Though the records suggest so many possibilities on what will become of this. No one can know for sure.”

Without another word, Deaton excused himself and fled to his office. The bird seemed to take that as its cue, and it flapped its wings a few times to get into the air before diving back straight into a wall and disappearing. Stiles watched it in awe.

Derek was looking after the man with an ever-growing scowl, though it was more frustrated than concerned now.

“Hey, Sourwolf?” Stiles called his alpha’s attention back to himself and ignored the shiver that went through him at those eyes meeting his. “Where’s the rest of the pack?”

“Outside. Deaton made them sit in the waiting room. Said it was for the best.”

“Alright. Can we go now? I’m kinda freaking out.”

It was almost comical the way Derek’s eyes widened, but in this situation it only brought a small smile to Stiles’ face.

As Derek ushered him from the room and into the waiting room, the pack flocked around them. He couldn’t hear their overlapping voices, but he knew they were there. His focus was locked firmly on leaving the building.

Time passed in a blur after that. Stiles figured it was due to his racing pulse and head foggy from pain. That would make sense.

Nothing made sense these days.

Derek carefully guided Stiles into his house and onto the couch, hands gracefully avoiding his back. It seemed that the pack was too shocked to help him, which was probably best as their exuberance often hurt more than helped.

Jackson looked uncharacteristically concerned, though that was common on every one of the pack’s faces since Derek had told them on the way over what had happened in the examination room. The memory of vibrant blood and screaming that echoed through the school’s halls certainly didn’t help.

“So we wait until Saturday to find out what’s going on? That’s still a day away,” Jackson said.

The Sheriff ran a hand through his hair with a low sigh. “Did Deaton say anything else?”

Derek shook his head.

Stiles caught Derek glancing over at him every so often, but he was more concerned with finding a position on the couch that didn’t rub against his still-open wounds.

“Here,” Isaac stood up to grab a soft blanket from the basket in the corner of the living room and handed it to Stiles. “This shouldn’t scrape at your skin like the couch does.”

Stiles blinked up at him with a soft smile. “Thanks, pup.”

The term of endearment slipped out so easily, and he was about to take it back, but then Isaac’s face lit up with a delightful blush and a barely noticeable smile, so he tucked the blanket around his shoulders instead.

“What do we do now?” Allison asked. Her shirt was splotched with dried blood, the vivid red of the past now a dull brown.

“First you all change clothes ‘cause I cannot look at my blood anymore. Then we wait,” Stiles answered.

Everyone turned questioning eyes to him, but he shook his head.

“Spring break starts after school ends tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of time to deal with all this when we actually know what’s going on. Until then, Deaton didn’t look too worried about my safety, just surprised. That’s gotta be a good thing, right?”

Derek’s scowl lessened, just barely, at the words. He sighed. “Stiles is right. We have nothing to go on at the moment.”

“But what about his back?” Scott asked, his voice close to a growl. He did not seem to like this plan of action.

“My back is already healing,” Stiles declared, drawing Scott’s anger away from their alpha. “It hasn’t bled since you guys got me to Deaton, and the pain is already way better than when we left the vet’s office. Trust me, Scotty, I’m going to be okay.”

“How do you know that?” Lydia’s eyes were hard. She was worried.

Stiles softened his expression and smiled at her. “I have a feeling that everything will work out, and if we’ve learned anything these past few days it’s that my feelings are usually right.”

Her eyes flickered over his features before she relaxed back into Jackson’s chest. “Fine. But if anything happens, it’s going to be on you. Got it?”

“Got it,” he grinned.

His dad stood up, his joints popping as he stretched, and brushed his hands down his work pants. “I assume everyone’s staying over tonight?”

A chorus of nods in response.

“Alright, I’ll order some pizza.” He sounded so defeated, a little too defeated to be genuine, that Stiles had to laugh, his pack joining him in it.

It was a good moment.

It wasn’t a surprise when he fell asleep on the couch at some point within the next few hours, surrounded by the warmth of his pack and with a stomach full of pizza.

Since his introduction to the supernatural world, Stiles’ dreams had a high chance to be nightmares. They weren’t always lucid, but he definitely had his fair share of watching his loved ones be ripped apart by creatures he saw in the bestiary.

This dream was different. It didn’t come with the immersive sense of fear that his nightmares had nor did it have the inanity or safety that came with his regular dreams. This dream felt more like… more like a memory.

As a young Kisantus, Moonis loved flying over Earth’s cities at night. The wind beneath his wings was thrilling, but the best part of the experience was trying to sneak past Todalistun, the All-Seeing Patatus that watched over all the comings and goings of celestial beings.

It was a bit of a game between Moonis and his wing-siblings, sneaking past the clever Light One.

A cackle of laughter raced past him as his wing-sister Rakis maneuvered her wings in a complex pattern. She rose with the wind currents and shifted her middle wings into glide position, her bottom wings acting as steering for her too-light body. The swirl of air that she took with her pushed Moonis into a new windstream, and he laughed.

They played in the sky above one of Earth’s many cities until their wings ached from overuse.

Now came the time to sneak back into Kistousun, and Moonis was well known for getting caught. It was in his name, Moonis, the Thalis word for animal or creature. He was not subtle in the least. Sometimes it was as if his wings had a mind of their own, or at least that was what he said when he accidentally knocked over any important vases.

Rakis was the best at sneaking of the Kisantus wing-siblings. Todalistun had only caught her twice in all the milenia that she had been sneaking out for, which was a record amongst the wing-siblings. Moonis had been caught too many times to count.

“Does your Kampo know you’ve been sneaking into the Kisshoksa, little Kisantus?” The booming voice of Todalistun came from behind Moonis’ back, who’s wings jolted in surprise.

He turned slowly to see the towering Patatus, their golden four wings fully extended, probably to look more intimidating.

“Well, now that you mention it,” Moonis smiled wide, pointed teeth on display, “my Kampo definitely gave me permission. How else would I have gotten out without you noticing, oh great Patatus?”

For a moment it seemed like Todalistun might accept the explanation, no matter how odd it was, but luck was apparently not on Moonis’ side tonight.

“Your lying has not gotten better, Moonis. If anything it has gotten worse. Your wings still twitch when you lie like they did when you were smaller.”

Moonis looked over his shoulder, awkwardly, to glare at his wings. “So not fair.”

Todalistun chuckled, “You can come out now, little Rakis. I know you are there.”

Moonis’ wings drooped, and he watched as Rakis crept out from behind a nicely placed antique. She pouted in his direction. He raised his eyebrows, flicking a middle wing in an offensive gesture that Todalistun definitely pretended not to notice.

“Go on, you two. I’m sure your wing-siblings are waiting to see if you made it out unscathed.”

“Have we?” Moonis inched backwards, towards the dropoff of the midpoint between Earth and home. “Made it out unscathed, I mean.”

Todalistun smirked. “That depends on your Kampo. You are their responsibility, so they will decide how to discipline you.”

With a scowl, Moonis tucked his wings into his body and dropped backwards from the platform, head first. Rakis was right behind him, her own wings ready to flare out to direct her body toward Kistousun.

Stiles jerked awake with a shout, his arms raised, ready for impact with the ground. Instead of the cold dirt he expected, his body found the strong warmth of Derek. He blinked open sleepy eyes.

Oh. What was that?

“Stiles?” Derek asked, voice rough with sleep. It was a whole load of questions packed into one name, but he understood it nevertheless.

“I’m okay, promise.” He pushed himself out of Derek’s arms, no matter how much he wanted to stay in the alpha’s warmth, and rested himself on the couch where he had sprung from. “Just had a weird dream.”

“Weird how?”

Stiles stretched his arms out to try to fight the soreness of his shoulders. It felt like just moments ago he was flying on six dark wings through the windcurrents way up high.

“Way too real. I think this whole situation is messing with me. I could swear that I heard that weird language in my dream, but they were words I haven’t heard before. It was just weird .”

Derek hesitantly settled onto the couch near Stiles, close enough that they could touch if they tried.

“You were mumbling in your sleep. Saying words I didn’t know.”

Stiles sighed. “Is it bad that I kinda can’t wait for my birthday? I just want to get this over with. I hate worrying you guys, especially my dad, he doesn’t deserve this.”

“Neither do you.” The light that came from the lamp near the couch highlighted the side of Derek’s face. Stiles’ fingers twitched, that distracting impulse to reach out and touch present once again.

He cleared his throat, time for a subject change. “Where’s the rest of the pack?”

Derek gestured up the stairs. “They decided that they were too good for the floor, so they piled onto your bed. Last I checked, Isaac and Jackson are the little spoons.”

Stiles smiled. Wait…

“And you stayed down here? C’mon, Creeperwolf, watching me sleep is a bit too stalkery for even my tastes.”

Pink rushed to the tips of Derek’s ears. Adorable.

“Shut up,” he huffed. Then his expression cleared, eyes back on Stiles’, “I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “This is way too emotional a conversation for how late it is. Late? Early? What time is it?”

Derek pulled his phone from his pocket to show him the time: 4:31.

“Shit,” Stiles grabbed the blanket that had fallen off the couch in his flailing and pulled it to wrap tightly around his bare torso, “School starts in four hours.”

“What.” Derek scowled harder than he had in a while and flashed his eyes red. “You cannot really think you are going to school with open wounds on your back. You are not that stupid, right?”

He pouted. “Derek, it’s the last day of school I’ll have for three weeks. I have to be there. Plus, if I miss one more day Finstock said he’d fail me in Econ. I really can’t miss anything else.”

Derek seemed to consider this, though grudgingly.

“How about,” Stiles grinned, “we wrap my torso with some kind of cloth before we leave for school, and then technically I won’t have open wounds anymore.”

He watched as Derek closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His grin grew at the sight.

“Fine. But you have to try to sleep until morning.”

Stiles chewed on his lip, eyes narrowed, then nodded. “Deal.”

Ultimately, he was able to get three more hours of sleep before his pack came rushing down the stairs, all in various states of disarray. They paused as they saw Derek sitting on the couch, Stiles’ head in his lap and his sleepy eyes staring up at them.

He blinked, taking in the situation. Slowly, he came to the conclusion that he was curled up in his alpha’s lap, but he didn’t move away right away. After all, Derek would have moved him if he didn’t want to cuddle. Right? Right.

So, Stiles looked back up at his rowdy pack and grunted sleepily in question.

“Breakfast?” Allison asked with a cheery smile, dimples on display. Nobody could deny those dimples.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, dropping the soft blanket onto Derek’s head, ignoring his growl, and went to get breakfast ready. Ungrateful brats.

By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Stiles’ torso was bound with enough layers of ace bandages that he had limited flexibility, and the pack was aware of his weird dream. Every time he complained about the bandages, Derek would fix him a glare, the specific glare that promised nothing good. So Stiles wore the bandages.

Isaac stubbornly pulled himself into the passenger seat of the jeep, glaring at anyone who tried to get in. Stiles chuckled. Clingy pup.

Little did he know.

Throughout the school day, his pack checked in with him almost every ten minutes. He received hourly requests for updates from Derek by text. None of his pack would allow themselves to stray too far from his side when they were in the same class, which wasn’t that bad, but a man had to have his space!

By lunch nothing bad had happened, and Stiles was getting tired of the constant questions. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his pack. They just were a tad overbearing when they worked together to try to keep him safe.

“Erica,” he sighed, “please stop sniffing me. I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t fine, what good is sniffing me gonna do? Does my smell change when I have a weird magical episode? ‘Cause that would be freaky.”

She pouted. “We’re just worried. Why won’t you let us be worried about our packmate?”

“Yeah,” Isaac leaned in and set his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “Let us be worried about you, Stiles.”

The gesture made Stiles smile against his will. He rolled his eyes. “Fine, do all the worrying your little wolfy hearts desire. But, please, no more sniffing.”

He saw Erica’s mouth open to reply, but his mind went blurry before he could find out what she was going to say. It was like he had just walked into a dark closet, like he was driving through fog. Distantly, he felt his body fall forward. Shit. Something was happening.

“Are you an angel?” The little girl looked up at him with big eyes. Her hair was braided back in fancy weaves, and Stiles felt his heart melt.

This wasn’t the first time since christianity spread that he had been called an angel or a demon, but it was one of the few that made his wings flutter in joy. This little girl looked at him like he was the answer to her prayers.

“That depends on how you look at it, little one,” he cooed to the girl. “Would you like me to be an angel?”

She nodded hurriedly, her braid bouncing with each jolt of her head.

“Mama says that angels help people.”

His breath caught in his chest. “That’s right. Do you need help, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” her big eyes turned sorrowful. One so little should not have had to deal with something so sad, no matter what it was. “Mama’s sick, and Daddy says it’s a bad kind of sick. Our druid can’t make her better. Can you fix her?”

Stiles had already known what had happened, as Mother Moon had sent him down to a small village on Earth for this particular reason. The woman, this girl’s mother, had caught one of the few sicknesses that affect werewolves. Without intervention from the Mother Moon, she wouldn't survive. Firmitas said that she would be important in the future, so she had to survive.

“Would you take me to your Mama, little one? Then we can see if I can help her get better, yeah?”

She nodded, a new determination shining in her eyes.

“Stiles,” Lydia’s sharp voice cut through the fog in his head. “Are you back?”

He groaned and jerked his head in a nod.

“Oh, thank god.”

“Come on, Stilinski, you’ve gotta stop causing a scene every time you want something. It’s getting old real quick,” another voice cut through, Jackson this time, his voice worried with a bit of false levity forced in. He was concerned.

Stiles croaked out a laugh. He lifted his head from the lunch table and blinked up at the pack. “Trust me, it’s already old.”

A hand stroked up and down his back, over the bandages so it didn’t hurt the wounds. Scott’s hand. Oh, he loved his brother so much. So thoughtful.

“What happened this time?” Boyd asked, voice low, solemn.

“Just a quick little hallucination,” Stiles tried for a grin, but he knew it fell short. “It felt like my dream this morning, like it was more than something my imagination came up with. Like it was a memory.”

“But that’s not possible right?” Isaac pressed his shoulder to Stiles’.

“Right,” Lydia agreed, but she didn’t sound so certain to Stiles.

Boyd frowned, “Stiles, are you sure you’re up to going to three more classes today? Nobody would blame you if you wanted to go home for the day.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he tried for another smile, more successful this time. His heartbeat had calmed its staccato rhythm in his chest. “Besides, Harris will kill me if I don’t hand in my report in eighth period. It’s best for everybody that I stay.”

Scott didn’t look happy about that at all. “Allison and I are in your sixth period, so we can stick with you until seventh.”

“We share seventh,” Isaac volunteered. “I can take that shift of Stiles Watch.”

Lydia smirked, “Jackson, Erica, and I can take eighth period.”

He huffed and resisted the urge to facepalm. His pack was the worst.

“Stiles,” Allison said, eyes worried, “let us take care of you. What would happen if you had another episode in class? We managed to get you out of class yesterday without giving too much away, but there are already rumors everywhere about what’s happening with you. We can’t risk you being alone. Think about the safety of the pack, not just your own.”

Damn, she made a good point. It was the dimples.

“How did you guys explain the blood and the screaming yesterday?”

Jackson smirked, “We just told everyone you were practicing for a play, some kind of horror show premiering in another town. Said you wanted to test if it looked realistic enough.”

What.

“Who let Jackson be in charge of the cover story?” Stiles asked the group.

“Well, you were screaming like you were being murdered, so we had enough to deal with without worrying about exposing the supernatural world to our high school.” Erica glared at him, though her smile broke free after a few seconds of trying to look angry.

Stiles sighed dramatically through his grin, “My pack is so mean to me.”

“You love us,” Scott declared, his shoulder bumping Stiles’.

“Maybe.”

He managed to make it through the rest of the school day unharmed, which he was unbelievably grateful for.

Like on Wednesday, Derek was leaning against the hood of the jeep as the pack exited Beacon Hills High. He lacked the sunglasses this time, so Stiles got to see his wonderful eyes. Okay, maybe he should rein that in.

“Home or the loft?” Derek asked as he swung himself into the passenger seat. Isaac took a seat in the back.

“Home.” Stiles twisted the key in the ignition. “I have a feeling Dad’s not gonna let me out of his sight until school starts again.”

Derek grunted in agreement.

“Actually,” Stiles started, “Now that I have you here, trapped in a car with no escape, I have to ask something of you.”

This earned him narrowed eyes. Isaac snorted in the background.

“It’s about the pack. I feel like we’ve come together recently, probably because you guys think I’m dying or something, but I’m worried that after this crisis passes we’ll go back to how we always are. So, here’s my question. What do you need from the pack to really let them in? Especially Allison.”

There was a quiet, choked sound, and he knew that if he glanced over he would see a broken expression on Derek’s face, but glancing over would break him. Since the fire, no one had considered Derek’s feelings in the way that he was doing now. Which was a damn shame.

“I think,” Derek swallowed and cleared his throat. “I think I need them to trust me.”

Stiles nodded, directing him to go on.

“Trusting my pack is obviously important, but I don’t think I know how to be an alpha that is distrusted by his pack. My mom was the best alpha I’ve ever known, and I remember trusting her completely. It didn’t matter what choices she made, she was my alpha , and that meant something. I want you all to feel like that with me.”

By the end of his speech, his voice trailed off into something meek. It took all of Stiles’ energy not to pull the jeep over so he could take Derek’s face in his hands and tell him that he was everything.

Instead, he cleared his throat of any emotion and asked, “And Allison?”

“I don’t know, really. In her case I might need to trust her a little bit more, but her worry for your situation has shown me that she isn’t like her aunt or her mother. Being around her has helped, but it’ll probably just take time for us to get to know each other.”

Stiles nodded. “That makes sense. I don’t wanna rush things, but I know Scott is worried about only having a pack when there’s something to fight against.”

Derek grunted. It seemed he was done being hyperverbal today, which suited Stiles just fine. He could do enough talking for the two of them.

“And just in case you’re wondering, Derek,” he kept his eyes on the road but made his voice strong, “You are my alpha. You are the one I look to when I’m unsure about anything. I trust you with my life and the lives of those I care about, which is not common. I wouldn’t pick any other to be my alpha.”

Isaac cooed in the background, his voice barely a blip in Stiles’ focus, but it brought a smile to his face nonetheless. Derek didn’t respond, but he seemed to be breathing easier. No doubt Stiles would be brought into a tight hug later on, physicality being Derek’s comfort language.

As he pulled into the driveway, his back twinged. Oh yeah, his back. He hoped it had healed somewhat from what it was the day before. Deaton said they would never heal fully, but he would love for them to stop hurting almost every time he moved.

Like he expected, his father was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hey, Pops,” he greeted with a quick smile before dropping his backpack to the floor and rifling through the fridge. “How’s your day been?”

His father sighed and set his cup down. “You’re asking how my day has been when I have it on good authority that you started hallucinating in lunch today?”

Derek and Isaac slowly settled in the open seats at the table, both looking so timid that Stiles had to turn back to the fridge to hide his smile.

“Yup.”

“Fine,” he looked to the ceiling in exasperation. “Things at the station have been mercifully calm lately.”

“Is that why you’re home so early?”

“Son, you know why I’m home early.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t ask.” He set an armful of ingredients on the table, going back for a second batch.

His dad eyed the pile and raised his eyebrows. “Is the rest of the pack coming over soon? That’s enough to feed an army.”

“Yeah, they’ll be here within the next hour.”

Derek grunted in question, his scowl confused. “How do you know that?”

“I feel it,” he shut the fridge and moved to start making sandwiches. “Kinda like how I know what your favorite sandwich is without asking, or when my magic reads someone’s aura. It’s instinct.”

He slid the finished sandwich to Derek and smiled at the hum he got in return. Next was Isaac’s, his hands moved effortlessly amongst the ingredients. Through his concentration, his back twinged.

“Is this not weird to you, at all?” Isaac asked, concerned.

“I mean, kinda, but it also feels like everything that’s happened in the past few days was meant to happen, like it’s natural. It was always supposed to be this way.”

His dad’s head snapped to face him, eyes narrowed. His voice was tight when he asked, “You know what’s happening, don’t you?”

He sighed. Maybe he should stop distracting himself with making sandwiches en masse but he couldn’t bring himself to.

“I have an idea, based on the dreams that I’ve had, but I can’t be sure until tomorrow. I’m not gonna tell you what I think it is, ‘cause if I’m wrong, it would be really embarrassing.”

That got a smile from his audience, strained as they might be.

His magic hummed, and he knew that the rest of the pack was on the way. He sped up in his sandwich making. He slid two others to Derek and Isaac, already made up to be their favorites, and grinned as Derek looked up at him with eyes tinged red.

Wait, red? Oh shit. He was taking care of the pack, giving them somewhere to stay and feeding them without being requested to. He was totally being the Alpha Mate without realizing.

But if Derek didn’t want it to happen, he would’ve said something, yeah? Even with the guilt complex that Derek had, Stiles knew that with the pledge of allegiance he had said earlier Derek felt comfortable enough with him to tell him when to back off. So…

Did Derek want Stiles to be Alpha Mate? His research told him that it wasn’t always a romantic or sexual relationship that defined a Mate, it might just be a really strong platonic relationship. That sounded right, he thought.

He raised his eyebrows in question, a silent check-in, asking if it was okay to be acting as the Alpha Mate. Derek swallowed hard, his eyes flashing a brilliant red, and he nodded. Good, he had understood the question.

Stiles smiled. They would talk about it later, after the pups had gone to sleep.

As if on cue, the rest of the pack barreled into his house, loudly clamoring amongst themselves.

The first thing Lydia did when she entered the kitchen was glare at Stiles. She clucked gently and moved towards him.

“You should have taken this off as soon as you got back,” she muttered as she gently tugged at Stiles’ shirt.

“Sorry. I forgot about it.”

“That’s a lie,” Isaac chided. “He’s been in pain since we got here.”

He shot the wolf a glare. “Traitor.”

“Let me do it, I probably have the most experience” Scott set down the sandwich he had been eating and grabbed Stiles by the arm, leading him to the living room. He tugged Stiles’ shirt over his head.

The bandages were gross, with a thin layer of blood sticking them to his skin and a rancid smell from sweating through it all day. When it was off, Stiles exhaled in relief. He stretched his shoulders with a sigh, ignoring the slight pain at his actions.

Derek came into the living room, washcloth in hand and a scowl on his face. He glanced at Scott before nudging the beta out of the way and lowering the wet cloth to Stiles’ back. He pressed it to the wounds with a low grunt. A warning for Stiles to brace himself for the upcoming pain of the process of cleaning his wounds.

Stiles grit his teeth throughout the process, his nails biting into his palms.

Derek grunted again, it was over. He could relax.

Without words, Stiles walked to the first floor bathroom and turned to look at his back through the mirror.

Deaton had been right, they were more healed than they were yesterday, but they were still prominent. The blood was clotted, and there was a fine layer of something biological between his exposed muscle and the air, not quite scarred skin. As he flexed his muscles to get a better look, the pain only made him blink a few times. It was nowhere near what he had felt yesterday.

He caught Derek’s eyes in the mirror.

“Good?” Derek asked, eyebrows raised.

“Good.”

Stiles finished the rest of the sandwiches shirtless, but no one complained. There was an odd sense of dread hanging over the house, and he knew it was because once they woke up the next day, everything would change.

He had his theories, mainly due to the memories, if he was right, he’d been experiencing. He hoped it was true, as he couldn’t take any more bad news.

His pack insisted he sleep in his bed that night. They spread themselves around him, draped across the bed and the floor around the bed, not quite touching him but in close proximity. 

Before Derek took a seat at the foot of his bed, Stiles reached out for him. He gestured to the head of the bed next to him, wanting his alpha close through the night. He knew Derek would protect him, no matter what happened. Derek flashed red eyes and took his place leaning against the headboard next to Stiles.

He would have thought that sleep would take a while to come for him that night, but it flooded his senses surprisingly quickly. His eyes closed to the restless energy of his pack, then they opened to darkness.

Something he knew, intrinsically, was that darkness was not an inherently bad thing. Amazing things came from darkness: fog, shadows, the night sky, the new moon, the moon itself, and most important to him in this moment, magic.

The Kisantus were literally the Dark Machines. They were Mother Moon’s first creations, and their darkness had nothing to do with evil, everything to do with shadow. They worked in the darkness, acting as angels to humanity at night but gone in the morning. Patatus were the opposite. They were the Light Machines, working in the light of day and claiming glory, bringing boisterous awareness to their kind where Kisantus only brought whispers.

He had forgotten, until now, about Mother Moon and his wing-siblings. It was on purpose, he was sure, but he could not remember why it all had been hidden from him…

Ah. There it was. 

Firmitas, the prophecy, Derek Hale.

Derek , he thought into the darkness. Derek , his Derek .

He was sent to protect the wolf. Even when he was human, in the dark about his Grace and the history of creation, he helped his wolf find a way out of the maze he had been suffering in. He did not have to be a Kisantus to help Derek. Human Stiles Stilinski helped bring Derek to life mentally and emotionally, but Kisantus Stiles, formerly Moonis of Kistousun, would help his wolf physically. He would protect him with everything he had.

And what he had was power . His people called it Nusoo, though those on Earth knew it as an angel’s Grace. He was full of it, that thing that separated mortals from immortals.

Now human and Kisantus combined, and Stiles was both mortal and immortal at once. It was the perfect combination to save his Derek and his pack.

“It is time for you to be whole, Stiles,” the sweet, silky voice of the Mother told him. “You are you once again. My Moonis, my son, my Stiles, you have a great destiny ahead of you, and you will no longer be alone in your Kis. Your family, both mortal and immortal, will help you from now on.”

That was a relief. He missed his wing-siblings, but he already knew he couldn’t leave his pack, his family. They were both a part of him now.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the darkness.

There was rustling beside him, and he smiled.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice asked, full of sleepy gravel. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Sourwolf,” he closed his eyes against the darkness, “I’m okay. Go back to sleep, it isn’t morning yet.”

It wasn’t. He knew in his heart that the sun would rise in three hours.

Derek seemed to accept the answer, as he shuffled closer to Stiles and exhaled slowly, lulling himself back to sleep while no doubt listening to Stiles’ heart.

His smile grew into a grin. He kept his eyes closed, though he could sense each member of his pack in the house around him. Their auras stood out in the darkness behind his eyelids.

Well, he would deal with all that in the morning. It was time for his first rest as the whole Stiles, and he would enjoy it uninterrupted.

His mind lulled into delicious blankness.

Time passed, he didn’t keep track of how much, but he knew by the feeling of sunshine on his face.

“Stiles!” A familiar voice shouted as hands gripped his shoulders and shook.

“Scott?” he asked, eyes blinking open. “What’s wrong?”

A breath hit his face, Scott’s morning breath, and his brother’s face relaxed. “You’re okay.”

A beat of stillness, then the bed was shaking around him as his pack climbed up and towards him.

“Was Deaton wrong?” Allison asked by Scott’s side, her eyes worried. “Did nothing happen?”

Stiles smiled, his head tilted towards them. Adorable.

Lydia tugged on his hair until he looked at her, her face fixed into a concentrated expression. She scanned his visible body and met his eyes. Her hand relaxed in his hair, but her eyes narrowed.

“You’re okay. How are you okay?”

“That,” he said while pushing himself to sit, “is a long explanation. Where’s Derek?”

“Here.” Derek was at the corner of the bed, face oddly relaxed. Stiles cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, a question to why he looked content. “I have a feeling that’s something that will be explained in your long explanation, Stiles.”

“Ah, okay.” He took a breath and looked into Derek’s eyes. His red tinted eyes. 

It hit him then, the odd newness that came with receiving his full memories and Grace while still being the human Stiles. It hit him that he was looking at the pup that he had sworn to protect.

“ Hundir-kai ,” he whispered, voice smooth as silk as he resorted to his native language. My wolf, he said. Derek’s eyes widened in slight recognition. Did he remember the moments that Stiles had visited him before he was reborn as a Stilinski? Did he remember the inky black wings that held him close to Stiles’ chest as he sang an old Kisantus lullaby?

“ Moonis-kai ,” Derek whispered back.

He remembered. But how? His memories of Stile should have disappeared when he was reborn. It was why Derek hadn’t recognized the language the first time. The how wasn’t important, he decided, all that mattered was his Derek, his wolf in front of him.

Stiles opened his arms and tilted his head, a question. Words might have been hard for Derek with the emotional situation, so physical gestures were probably best.

He watched his alpha’s eyes burn fully red. The next thing he knew his arms were full of his alpha wolf and his body was pressed back into the mattress to make room for Derek’s body on top of his own.

His head was nudged to the side as Derek pressed his face into his neck, beard scratching his jaw.

“Mine,” a rumbling growl reverberated through his body from Derek’s chest.

“And you are mine, Sourwolf,” he murmured into the shoulder pressed against his mouth.

A sudden wind swept through the room, and he watched as most of his pack shifted at the smell of foreign magic in the air. It was a specific type of magic, Stiles felt. Was that…

“ You’re welcome, Stiles ,” Rakis, his wing-sister, sang through the wind in Thalis.

Ah, so she was the one who gifted Derek his memories back. He would forever be thankful for her.

“What the hell is happening?” Jackson snarled. He looked scared, Stiles realized. Maybe they should explain, but this wasn’t the place to do so.

He nudged Derek off of him, though his wolf didn’t go far. He wrapped himself around Stiles’ back.

“How about we go downstairs and talk? I’ll even make you all breakfast if one of you gets my dad and updates him on the situation.” He stretched, the soreness of his back slightly distracting.

“But we don’t know what the situation is,” Erica kept her worried eyes on him.

Derek growled and stared at her over his shoulder, eerie red eyes and fangs in clear view. She held her hands up and went to get his dad.

They reconvened in the living room, with Stiles on the loveseat and Derek by his side as the pack took the couch and the floor. His dad stood, arms crossed, near the couch.

Stiles bumped a shoulder against his wolf’s. “You wanna tell the story?”

“I don’t know the whole thing,” Derek scowled, the scowl of concentration. “I was five when you last visited me, so I don’t remember everything you told me. Except for the language, I remember most of that.”

Stiles nodded.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning,” he told his visibly confused pack.

So he did. He told them of Kistousun, Firmitas’ orders, the other Kisantus, the Patatus, and his destiny with Derek Hale. He was a protector, a guardian, reborn into human form.

The fact that Derek believed him was enough for the pack to not dismiss his words without any thought. Scott, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd seemed to take his story as truth, but the others were wary. His father looked particularly full of disbelief.

“What can I do to prove this to you all?” he asked. 

He kept his eyes on the pack but his breath stuttered as his father shifted on his feet. Derek hesitantly pressed his shoulder to Stiles’, which Stiles leaned into. Lydia, Jackson, and Allison shared a look before Lydia cleared her throat, she had apparently been chosen to talk for the group.

“Stiles,” she said, tone placating, “You’re asking us to believe that you’re an angel and lived in heaven for some millenia. I hope you can hear how that sounds impossible.”

They thought he was crazy. He huffed. “I’m not an angel, and Kistousun isn’t heaven. I explained all of this already.”

Derek’s hand trailed across the bare skin of Stiles’ back, making him shiver. Once this was all done they would really need to have a long conversation about the whole Alpha Mate thing. He had a feeling this wasn’t just a very strong platonic relationship.

“ Little Kisantus ,” a familiar voice called from the corner of the room, “ It is good to see you awake once again .”

Stiles snorted. He turned to look and saw a shimmer of light near the wall, his mortal eyes only able to pick up the essence of the being. Todalistun had decided to visit. What other Patatus would visit a human Kisantus?

“I am hardly little anymore, Todalistun,” he smirked, though he kept his words in English. “Just because you were old before the Creator made the Earth doesn’t mean I am little for being only five billion years old.”

Derek’s hand froze on his back.

“And why have you left your position? Surely a great Patatus like you is too important to drop by for a social visit.”

The shimmer became a vague shape, then Todalistun began to corporealize, something that Patatus inclined towards from a young age. They gathered light from the air around them as their figure gained detail. Finally, they stretched their four wings with a groan and cracked their neck.

“The transformation never gets easier, even as my mind longs to fully form in this Kis.” They smiled towards Stiles and his pack, who now could see them with help from their Grace. “Greetings, Hale Pack. We in Kistousun thank you for keeping our human Kisantus safe all these years.”

They made eye contact with Stiles, and the only reason he did not burst into flame at the action was because of the Grace he was slowly regaining.

“As for why I am here, Mother Sun has been persuaded by Mother Moon to lend you a Patatus as proof of your tale.”

Stiles sighed. “You still talk as if we are in the Middle Ages.”

“If we were in the Middle Ages, I would talk like this: He preeveth folk al day, it is no drede, And suffreth us, as for oure excercise, With sharpe scourges of adversitee Ful ofte to be bete in sondry wise; Nat for to knowe oure wyl, for certes he, Er we were born, knew al oure freletee; And for oure beste is al his governaunce. Lat us thanne lyve in vertuous suffraunce .”

This tore Lydia out of her haze, and she raised an eyebrow. “Chaucer, really? And to use a quote at the end of Clerk’s Tale about God’s will? That’s a little on the nose, even for an angel.”

They raised an eyebrow and fluttered their wings in a teasing gesture of nobility. Stiles went to return the gesture without thought, just a quick tensing of the muscles he had previously used to direct his wings, and his back erupted into pain at the phantom movement.

Tears of pain came to his eyes as he felt his body go limp, his torso falling onto Derek’s lap. His back was wet with blood once again. The pain was both physical and emotional, an acknowledgment to what he lost when he was reborn.

He turned his face into Derek’s thigh and wiped his tears on the rough fabric of the jeans. The world around him slowly came back into awareness. The pain was being dulled by his remaining Grace, the magic wanting him to be clear-headed.

“Sorry,” he croaked, sniffling. He didn’t raise his head from Derek’s leg.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Todalistun said, voice low. “I had temporarily forgotten what you had lost in your quest to save your Hundir. I should not have acted as if everything was normal.”

A deep growl started in Derek’s chest, lightly touching Stiles’ back, and reverberated through his chest. Stiles knew that if he looked up Derek’s eyes would be alpha red as his face was likely shifted. From Derek’s point of view, a strange being had invaded his den and attacked his mate. Stiles was lucky this hadn’t happened at the first appearance of the Patatus.

He should probably intervene before a fight broke out; a fight his wolf would lose.

“Der’,” he shifted onto his back so he could look up at his wolf, uncaring of the blood that would be staining Derek’s jeans, “I’m okay, promise. It was my fault, not Todalistun’s, trust me, Sourwolf.”

Derek took his eyes from the Patatus with great willpower to stare down at Stiles. His growl softened, but he stayed shifted. He needed an explanation.

 Stiles reached a steady hand up to stroke his wolf’s furry cheek. “They motioned with their wings. If I were still in Kistousun, I would reply with a similar motion. My body tried to return it even though this body lacks the anatomy needed to direct the wings that I used to have, and my back reacted by tearing open my wounds again. Also, it was my first time feeling the loss of my wings, which kinda messed me up.”

The sideburns and fangs slowly retracted. The eyes stayed red.

“Sorry ‘bout your jeans,” Stiles tried for a grin, just to see his wolf react in fond exasperation. “I hadn’t really expected my body ripping itself open again so soon or I would have positioned myself to fall near Scotty.”

There it was, a hint of emotion in Derek’s eyebrows. He was back.

“What the hell just happened?” his father’s gravelly voice asked, sounding pained.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered. “Didn’t want him to have to see any of that.”

Derek guided him back into a sitting position, though he kept his arm around Stiles’ back, carefully between bloody wounds, even as Stiles’ turned his attention fully onto his father.

“Hey, Pops,” he gave a tight smile. “Sorry you had to see all that. You okay?”

“Are you kidding?” His dad’s eyes were misty and he swallowed hard. “An actual angel just appeared in my living room, and you had a conversation with it like you’re old friends. How is any of this okay?”

Stiles’ smile dropped.

“And worst of all, I had to watch as my son writhed in pain as blood poured from his back like an open artery. And then he asks if I’m okay? No, I’m not okay.”

The sheriff stumbled towards the loveseat and sank to his knees. His hands came up to frame Stiles’ face. 

Stiles’ lip trembled as he croaked, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh son,” his dad smiled through his own tears, “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I do. I doubted you when you told us about your past. I’m so sorry, Mieczysław.”

“What?” Stiles’ eyes widened. “No, don’t apologize! It’s my fault! I knew you would be stuck with me when I found out you would be my father. I should have taken care of you better. You should never have had to see me like that.”

Steady arms pulled him into a hug. He tucked his face into his father’s shoulder, a horrible mix of tears and blood being transferred onto his dad’s clothes as they held each other tightly. He let out a shaky breath.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, son.”

They took a moment to just hold each other, but Stiles forced himself to pull back as he felt the blood on his back dry. He looked behind him to Derek and raised his eyebrows. His wolf quickly got up to get something to clean him off with.

With a small smile, Stiles turned back to his still-kneeling father.

“Why don’t you take the couch? I’m sure the puppies won’t mind sitting elsewhere. Your old bones need some love after all that emotion.”

“My old bones?” His dad smiled. “Apparently you’re older than I am. What about your old bones?”

A joke! His dad must have been feeling better. They were closer to normal.

He gasped dramatically and brought a hand up to his chest. “My own father! He wounds me!”

His dad shook his head and rose to his feet, joints popping. “Drama queen.”

The puppies scattered off of the sofa like the good Hundirs they were, and his father fell onto the cushions with a huff.

A grunt at his back, Derek had returned from the kitchen. Stiles nodded and clenched his jaw. Now came the pain.

The washcloth was surprisingly gentle against his skin. It wiped soothing stripes as it cleared the blood from his back and delicately brushed over the six open wounds. The blood had clotted deep in the wounds, so the bleeding had stopped. But there was plenty of blood to clean up elsewhere.

“Stiles?” Scott caught his attention, eyes wide and mouth in a trembling pout. The rest of the pack looked like they had seen a murder, tears in their eyes while they clutched at each other.

“Oh, Scotty,” he shut his eyes tight. “I’m so sorry you guys had to see that.”

Lydia sniffled. “It’s true, isn’t it? Everything you said is true.”

“Yeah,” he opened his eyes to give her a soft smile. “It’s all true.”

“And you were Derek’s invisible friend when he was a kid?” Erica asked, grin slowly forming. “That’s adorable.”

Stiles felt a blush travel up his chest. He knew if he looked back he would see that cute pink tint to Derek’s cheeks and ears, but he held his position as the cloth worked on his back.

Allison cleared her throat and bit her bottom lip, drawing attention to herself. The mood in the room became serious once again from the expression she wore.

“Stiles, why are you here?” She asked, head tilted. She had that look in her eyes, like she was figuring something out. “I know you were sent to protect Derek, but what is so strong that you would be sent just to take care of it? Or is Derek the important one in this? Does he need to survive so he can do something down the line that your people know will happen?”

Those were definitely good questions. At least the Argents were smart when it came to threats, he thought to himself.

“I don’t know the details, and I don’t think anybody but the Mothers and Firmitas know the true reason that I was reborn.” He peered over his shoulder to catch Derek’s barely red eyes. “I do know that Derek is important, but I don’t know if it is because he has to survive to keep the Hale Pack healthy or if he does something in this lifetime that impacts this world.”

He turned a grim look back to Allison.

“Though I feel like now that I have my Grace back, there’s gonna be something big coming. The Mothers wouldn’t be so careless in their choices otherwise. They decided I would need my Grace for the upcoming monster, so they gave it to me. Simple as that.”

“Only you would label divinity as simple,” Boyd muttered, making the pack laugh around him.

Stiles grinned. Maybe they would be okay.

“Hey,” Isaac said, “Where’d that angel go?”

Without looking, Stiles could tell they were gone. Their Light Grace was absent in his own Grace’s radar, and he knew that they would have gotten overwhelmed by all the mortal emotion that took place earlier.

“Todalistun’s probably back at the midpoint between Earth and Kistousun. Their job is to guard it and watch all that come and go from each world, which is why their name is what it is.”

Lydia’s eyebrows raised, a question to elaborate.

“Most Patatus and Kisantus primarily speak Thalis, the old language. The way the language works is by combining vague terms to get specific words. For example, the word Thalis is made up of Tha, gray, and Lis, language. The words by themselves have many meanings, but together they are the Old Language. Todalistun is named from the words Todal and Istun, ‘all’ and ‘listen’ combined to make All-Knowing or All-Sensing.”

“What did your first name mean?” She had the look she usually wore when she found a good tome to read.

Derek spoke for the first time since Stiles’ episode, “Moonis means creature or animal. It has the same ambiguity that all words in Thalis have, but its many meanings revolve around the idea of impulsive life.”

Stiles’ smile softened, and he peered back to make eye contact with his wolf. “You remember.”

“Of course I do. I remember everything you told me, even if I didn’t understand it at the time.”

Oh, his wolf was the best. He loved his wolf.

“Anyway,” Derek cleared his throat, pink at the tips of his ears, and held up the cloth, “Your back is all cleaned up. I’m just gonna put this away.”

Stiles let the alpha have his escape from the moment and instead turned towards the rest of his pack.

“Anything else?”

They erupted into questions, voices mixed together in one big clamor.

This was going to be a long night.