Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles had spent years dreaming of the day he’d finally escape the sleepy town of Beacon Hills, where nothing ever happens, to go to university. Then, he’d dreamed of escaping the town of Beacon Hills, where everything goes wrong, to just face normal young adult problems. Stiles should really know better, things never go his way. When Stiles learnt that Scott would be leaving in order to go to university, he wasn’t surprised (and of course he wasn’t, they’d all been planning to go to university together, it was the Big Plan) but some part of him expected Scott to change his mind. He was the Alpha of the McCall Pack, he had betas to look after and problems to solve, but it seemed that Scott was even more eager to leave the trouble behind than Stiles himself. He’d been laying in bed alone one night when he realised that he would have to stay.

Of course, in reality, he didn’t have to do anything. Stiles was Pack but he was still human, he didn’t have the same pull to be near his pack as his little Were family did and so he could leave at the drop of a hat and never return. It was more a moral obligation that he had to remain. He’d spoken to Deaton frequently at the beginning of the summer about his steadily growing spark - Deaton would never be his first choice, but his options were slim - and they’d covered the topic of the Nemeton. They’d woken it just over two years ago now but it was always going to cause issues, particularly for Stiles as it would appear.

“Anyone home?” Issac asked with a look that Stiles had come to know meant concern, waving his hand in front of Stiles’ face.
“Sometimes.” Stiles responded absently, shaking his head out of the thought tunnel he’d been falling down, refocusing his eyes on what was happening around him. It was Scott’s going away party which meant the whole pack was there. Scott, Kira and Lydia were all leaving Beacon Hills to go to university, the rest of the pack was staying at home. Allison was forsaking university in favour of helping her father with his new protection business alongside Isaac - Stiles was surprised the two were still going strong. When Allison and Scott had broken up, he hadn’t been too surprised, he knew that high school romances didn’t last; then Isaac began to date her and they lasted long term instead. It’s hardly the most surprising thing that had happened during his time at high school, but it was one he had to regularly think about.

He pushed up from the chair he was sitting in and stretched, smiling over at Liam, Mason and Corey all curled up in a mess of teenage limbs on a love seat that didn’t quite fit three. In some aspects, he felt responsible for Liam. Liam was Scott’s beta, there was no questioning that, his best friend turned the boy, but it was Stiles that was there for him whenever something went wrong. Liam would go to Scott and Scott would hand him to Stiles. It was Stiles that had helped pick up the pieces of Liam’s broken heart after Hayden decided she was done with Beacon Hills at the end of the school year; it was Stiles that took Liam out to drink for the first time so that he’d be safe doing it; it was Stiles that had encouraged him to repair his broken friendship with Brett and he’d been the one to help do so. Scott was his dad and Stiles was his mum, as Lydia had once put it. Liam glanced up and met Stiles’ eyes and tilted his head, just like a dog, and Stiles had to resist going over there to pinch his cheek. Stiles half shrugged to gesture that he was alright and headed through to the kitchen. He didn’t really need anything but he didn’t want to sit down for any longer.

Stiles decided that, while he was standing, he’d make himself a new drink and called out to see if anyone else wanted a refill. Jackson walked into the kitchen behind Stiles, placing a few glasses down onto the counter.
“Apple for the twins, Malia wants orange and Lori just asked for ‘the good stuff’.” He explained with a snort and Brett then entered.
“I hate her.” He muttered, only making Jackson laugh again and Stiles joined them, the three boys set about making the drinks requested as well as their own (‘the good stuff’, Stiles discovered, meant apple juice with some water - disgusting). They dished out the drinks accordingly and Stiles found that his previous seat had been taken by Erica, who was in a playful back and forth with Theo, who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table.
“Coffee table isn’t a chair, Theo.” Stiles scolded with a shake of his head, perching on the arm of the chair that his Robin was sitting in.
“Buy more chairs then.” Theo replied with a roll of his eyes. Stiles slipped his arm around the back of the chair for more support, but still almost fell when his father coughed loudly from the doorway.

He handed his drink to Erica for safekeeping and turned to his dad, giving him a quick side hug.
“Did we really need to host this?” He mumbled into his son’s ear.
“I suggested it so everyone decided it was my job to host. Plus, I’m the chef.” He shrugged and his father ruffled his hair, then slipped off his jacket to hang it near the door.
“Scott, son, your mother said she’s going to come by with the cookies she promised soon.” Noah called out into the living room, not bothering to identify where the boy was sitting amongst the large number of teens. Then, with a final smile to Stiles he began toward the stairs, but just before he could slip away Lydia caught his attention.
“Sheriff, do you know if Parrish is on his way?” She asked with a smile, she tried not to look too hopeful.
“I think he mentioned that he’d be coming by tonight.” Noah replied with a knowing expression, then reached out and gently squeezed her hand before he finally made his escape from the masses.
“Parrish, huh?” Stiles teased with a smirk and Lydia elbowed him on her way back to the living room, only succeeding in making Stiles laugh at her.

Just as Stiles made to return to the living room, Liam emerged with his phone in hand, and took Stiles’ shoulder to steer him along. Stiles let him, smiling fondly all the while. Distantly, he realised that he hadn’t smiled this much in some time and how nice it was to have everyone together, but he filed that away for later. He’d bring it up with Scott. Liam finally exhaled and showed Stiles the texts from his step-father. David was a nice enough man and when Liam had reluctantly caved and told him about the supernatural, he accepted it easier than Stiles' own father. Though, Melissa helped with that. The texts were stressed ones, demanding to speak to one of the older teens. Stiles took the phone and wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulders then hit the call button. He spoke with David only briefly, assuring him that Liam was safe and the Sheriff would never dream of allowing underage drinking in his home, he listed everyone in attendance and everyone that could be expected to arrive later. The mention of Melissa arriving eased David’s worries significantly and so they were allowed to return to the party. Liam thanked Stiles enthusiastically, with a tight hug to match, then returned to the loveseat where he’d previously been, almost spilling both Corey and Mason’s drinks in the process.

Stiles returned to the living room and chose to sit, instead of with Erica, with Jackson and the twins. Jackson had changed a lot since the kanima issue, London had clearly changed him and it was for the better. Upon his return he’d apologised to Lydia, becoming good friends with her and in turn, the twins. Jackson being gay wasn’t something that Stiles had anticipated but once he’d said it it almost made sense. Their conversation floated around lacrosse and how they thought the team would fare without them, but they settled on the fact that with Liam they couldn’t go wrong - the kid was practically perfect at it. The younger boy perked up at the sound of his name and shuffled off the loveseat to sit beside Stiles on the floor, joining their conversation. He shared who they thought would be joining the team from his year and the year below and how they’d treat and freshmen that tried out. Liam was in the lead for the role of Captain now, but there was always the chance that it’d be given to someone else (not).

When there was a knock at the door, Stiles knew nobody would make the effort to answer except him, so he did. Parrish and Melissa had arrived together, at least that meant he’d have to stand up at least once less, (though he wished the Hales had also arrived at that time, so he wouldn’t have to stand again at all). He greeted Melissa with a warm hug and shook Parrish’s hand, then announced their arrival as he took the cookies from Melissa’s hands to set them in the kitchen.

Melissa followed after him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder as he reached up for a plate to put the cookies on.
“I love watching you interact with them.” She murmured, smiling as he faltered at her comment.
“Why?” He asked, turning to face her with a questioning tilt of his head that he’d picked up from Liam.
“You.. mother them.” She answered, searching his eyes for what type of reaction he’d have. Stiles stood frozen for a moment then, processing what he’d been told. He didn’t see any of his mother in himself, certainly not in the way he interacted with the pack. Sure, his time with his mother had been brief and atypical, but he didn’t understand. Once he considered his own mother, he decided that perhaps Melissa herself was a better example of how mothers should be (though, he knows his mother did her best and nothing was her fault) and then he came to the conclusion that perhaps she was right.
“If any of them call me mom, I’ll kill them myself.” He muttered, though he couldn’t help but smile despite himself.
“I believe you.” She whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before heading off to find Noah, opting to spend the evening in his company rather than that of the teens.

Stiles paused again once she was gone to consider what she’d said and his smile only broadened.
“Guess I’m a dad now, then.” He muttered to himself, then set the cookies on the snack table, rustling Liam’s hair playfully as he passed the younger boy.

Chapter Text

The evening was in full swing when there was another knock at the door, signalling the arrival of the Hales. Stiles untangled his legs from Isaac’s, using Boyd’s broad shoulders to push himself to his feet so he could open the door for the older men. He smiled at Derek warmly and nodded to Peter, stepping aside to allow them inside. Peter gently nudged Stiles as he passed through to the kitchen and Stiles kicked out, making contact with Peter’s shin. The werewolf simply shook his head as he continued on his path and Stiles rolled his eyes, turning back to face Derek.
“Any success with Cora?” Stiles asked, noticing Derek’s sun kissed complexion.
“No, she wants to stay where she is and we won’t force her to come home.” He replied with a sigh and Stiles gently squeezed his shoulder in his attempt at a comforting gesture. Normally, he was good with people but he had never quite been sure what to do with himself when it came to Derek. Erica would call that a crush but Stiles called it ‘Derek is just difficult and that makes everything involving him difficult’. Derek half smiled, an appreciation for the comforting gesture and Stiles used his hand, still on his shoulder, to guide the Were into the living room. He was much less tense when the topic was clearly over. Scott lifted Kira into his lap so that Derek could sit on the couch so sit he did, resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa. Stiles settled back in his position on the floor and Isaac was immediately almost on top of him again, Stiles grunted and attempted to push him away but was very unsuccessful, only making him, Allison and Boyd laugh.

When Isaac had first joined the pack, he wasn’t physical in any way unless it was to fight. He wasn’t withdrawn with Derek, Erica or Boyd but he definitely was with everyone else. He grew more comfortable with the pack as a whole as things shifted and changed, his relationships with everyone developing well despite all the trouble they faced but he still wasn’t the touch-y feels-ey type. Stiles made an effort with Isaac where others didn’t, recognising the side effects of his abuse and always taking care to watch for them, checking in when he thought the werewolf may need it. That made him an exception to the affection rule. It happened slowly, with soft nudges or Isaac reaching out to grab Stiles to gain his attention and so it had taken a long while to get to where they were now. Now, Isaac bordered on too affectionate, though Stiles refused to admit that he secretly enjoyed it, only with him and Allison. Finally, Stiles caved and he rested his head on Isaac’s shoulder, turning to face Boyd once again to return to the conversation he’d been previously having with him and Erica.

The night continued with no further interruptions, the pack just content to be together and the house was practically humming with it. Noah returned downstairs to collect some snacks for himself and Melissa and caught Stiles in the kitchen, he made the observation to his son and Stiles could only be glad that he wasn’t the only one that felt it. After so much hardship and near losses, they deserved this. Noah agreed, it was only then that Stiles realised he’d admitted it out loud and he only realised that he was teary about it when Noah wiped a lone tear from his cheek. Thankfully, his father made no comment and instead just took the things he’d grabbed back upstairs.

Stiles regarded his living room for a moment, letting his eyes wander over his guests before his face fell in a frown. They were supposed to be having a party, not a get together tinged with sadness. While he'd noticed the way there was an undercurrent of contentment through the house, like the Stilinski home was an oasis away from all they'd been through, something was off. Of course, they'd be separating for the first time, losing some of their key players, three of Beacon Hills' greatest defenders - everyone was worried. He'd known the party would be bittersweet, but this was wrong. Stiles wasn't having it, not at his party.

He shook his head and grabbed the TV remote, flicking through the channels until he came to one of the radio station channels then turned up the volume.
“Right, get off your sad asses. This is a party, not a fucking wake.” He got a few chuckles and Kira was only too happy to stand, then pulled Scott behind her to begin the dancing. Once Kira was up and dancing, Lori convinced Brett to join her in goofing around, not truly dancing and Erica followed suit. The usual suspects didn’t move, Derek and Peter remained solidly where they stood and Theo moved to sit where Erica had previously been so he was out of the way of the dancing. Stiles took that opportunity to move the coffee table to make the living room floor into a dance floor, turning quickly to smirk at Theo who only rolled his eyes in response. It wasn’t much but it did help lift the cloud that was almost looming over the room.

Stiles made another quick trip to the kitchen for drinks and refills, tossing out some used paper plates and cups and by the time he’d returned, most of his friends were dancing. It made him flush with pride and happiness that he’d managed to get everyone out of the weird stoop they’d been in.
“I’m not dancing.” Derek commented, suddenly stood beside him and it was only years of adjusting to Derek’s uncanny ability to appear out of thin air that prevented him from physically jumping.
“I don’t expect you to, I know what you’re like.” Stiles replied, turning to face him with a lopsided grin, feeding off the increased energy in the room.
“Are you calling me predictable?” Derek asked, the corner of his lips tipping up in what Stiles would guess to be amusement.
“Completely and totally.” He clapped Derek on the back before taking Erica’s hand and allowing her to drag him into the group dancing, just managing to catch the bird that Derek flipped him out of the corner of his eye, barking out a laugh.

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Liam and Mason were the first to leave, they had a curfew of eleven, but had gotten permission for a sleepover at Liam's. Stiles greeted David at the door and gave both boys hugs as they left, gently assuring them both that he’d still be here if they needed him. Corey left not long later with Theo; Stiles wasn’t sure where Theo was living because he knew it wasn’t with Corey, but he didn’t care enough to ask just yet. Once Corey was safely inside Theo’s truck, he texted Mason to let him know how Corey was getting home just in case something happened.
“You can never be too careful.” He told Lydia when she scolded him for still being distrustful of Theo, though she couldn’t entirely blame him for it, after all she had still yet to grow to trust Peter. Chris came by at around midnight to collect Allison and Isaac but also extended an offer to anyone that was struggling for a ride. Boyd and Erica took up his offer and the four headed out, Stiles made sure to hug everyone as they left. The fewer they became the more the energy decreased and he almost felt like if he at least extended his affections to everyone as they left that he could hold onto the feeling for a little longer. Jackson took the twins with him when he left; Parrish took Lydia and Malia home, something about making sure the girls got home safe; Melissa offered to take Kira, Brett and Lori home when she left, asking Scott to be quiet whenever he finally came home and Peter slipped away at some point without saying goodbye and Stiles found that he didn’t much mind.

The house felt incredibly empty with everyone gone, like Stiles was missing something, but Derek and Scott remained. Their journey into the supernatural had begun just like this - Scott and Stiles facing Derek and looking for answers.
“You’re sure the pack will be okay without me?” Scott asked, for what felt like the hundredth time, because even after all they’d been through he still felt like he needed Derek’s permission.
“I’m sure,” Derek began, laughing as he caught Stiles’ eye, “Stiles has got them.”
“I do?” Stiles asked, rubbing over his face with his palms.
“You do. I’ve seen how you are with them, you’re Scott’s second even if you don’t realise it.” Derek explained, leaning back to be more comfortable in his chair.
“That’s why you’re staying?” Scott asked, turning to Stiles with a look of concern.
“No, not on purpose. I just felt like I should. Instinct I guess.” Derek and Scott looked at their friend with twin expressions and when Stiles realised why, he laughed, shaking his head at their accusatory looks.
“Nobody has turned me while you weren’t looking. You just spend so much time bothering me that I talk like you now.” He shoved Scott playfully and they fell into laughter with him, Scott slinging his arm around Stiles’ shoulders.

They continued in easy silence for some time, chatting idly about things that truly didn’t matter, not with huge upcoming life changes or the possibility of future threats. There was so much to do, even if Stiles was remaining at home for his studies, but he allowed himself just this moment. Things rarely go his way, so this moment he’d let himself have. As he pondered that very idea, the information he’d filed away earlier floated to the front of his brain and he figured that he may as well bring it up, to check if it was just him that had felt it, the atmosphere in the house.

Stiles reached out and grabbed his glass, sipping at it as he readjusted on the sofa.
“Did you feel that tonight?” He asked after a moment of silence, glancing up at Scott and then to Derek.
“The peace?” Derek asked, raising a brow.
“Yeah, that’s one word for it. It felt just happy. Safe. Like we’re finally getting a break.” Scott added, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I wish the summer had been longer, that we’d had more chances for times like tonight.” Stiles said then, absently rubbing his glass with his thumb.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives.” Derek assured them both, standing to wish them both goodnight. Noah joined them in the living room then, a glass of his own in hand. Scott greeted the sheriff and fell into easy conversation as Stiles took Derek to the door.

“You really think we’ll be okay?” He asked softly, leaning against the door while Derek leaned against the door frame.
“I know we will be. We’ve survived everything so far. We’ve got work to do on the pack itself, or at least that’s what Peter keeps saying but I’m not worried.” He reached out and gripped Stiles’ shoulder in a reversal of the moment they’d shared when Derek had arrived. Stiles smiled and shook his head, pulling Derek into a quick hug.
“I’ll need to corner Peter soon and ask him about that.” Stiles muttered as they pulled apart, making the two of them laugh, the idea of Stiles managing to corner Peter was quite a ridiculous one after all.
“You don’t need to do anything.” Derek replied, emphasis on the need.
“I do.” He responded firmly, finally wishing Derek a goodnight and he watched as he climbed into his car and then drove away.

Chapter Text

Even though they’d had Scott’s going away party the night before, there was still a few days before he actually had to leave (that night was just the only day everyone would be free at the same time). So, the following day, Stiles and Scott found themselves in the back of the vet practice with Deaton, going over some final parting details. Every interaction they had seemed to be about their impending parting, it was driving Stiles mad. Scott refused to stop working, absently completing tasks that Deaton had assured him he didn’t need to do, he just couldn’t let go of the few things that made it feel like nothing was changing. They were, in their own ways, tired of remembering that they would soon be separated and for the first time it was a real and important decision that they had made for themselves. It made Stiles smile despite himself, it didn’t matter how much Scott wanted to get out of Beacon Hills, he was also scared of the change, they both were. What a pair.

“Scott, you need a change of scenery. A break from Beacon Hills.” Deaton said softly, taking a syringe away from him with a fond smile. Scott shrugged off his comment and reached to take the tool back but Stiles took it from Deaton and set it on a countertop.
“Dude, stop. It’s getting ridiculous. We’ve got like three days to relax before you leave, no more work.” Stiles said, shaking his head.
“Stiles is right, you need to have a respite before you go, however short.” Stiles tilted his head and waved his hands in Deaton’s direction as if to say ‘see?’. It wasn’t often that Stiles agreed with Deaton nowadays, they butt heads more often than they didn’t, but this was definitely something they agreed on. Scott just needed to stop, for five minutes.
“Then we should talk about Stiles.” Scott said, turning to look at his best friend with one of his brows raised and Stiles could’ve killed him right then, alpha werewolf or not.

“I think you’re right.” Deaton said, coming to stand beside the table then and reluctantly Stiles came to stand opposite the older man, Scott at his side.
“We do not have to do this right now, or ever, maybe if we just ignore it, it’ll go away!” Stiles declared, visibly crumpling when Deaton gave him a disapproving look. He’d spent the entire summer avoiding moments like this one, wanting to completely avoid addressing his magical ability. He didn’t trust Deaton as far as he could spit, so he certainly didn’t want to get his information and training from the druid, but there were few other options for him. So, he figured he’d just pretend the magic away.
“You’re a spark Stiles, you have an innate ability to do magic without ever learning it, that isn’t something that will just go away.” Stiles wanted to scream.
“I don’t know why you’d want it to, that’s awesome dude.” Scott added on, only making Stiles crumple further. He was so over having supernatural things thrust upon him, especially ones that affected him directly.
“It appeared out of nowhere, who says it won’t go away just the same?” He asked, gesturing vaguely with his hands, glancing up to see the same disapproving look on his would-be-mentor’s face.
“You need to learn to control it, whether you like it or not this is a part of you now and if not trained you could become dangerous.” Deaton replied, turning away from the boys to look in a cabinet. Stiles was more than sick and tired of things being dangerous, everything seemed to be dangerous now. He missed living in oblivious bliss, but part of him also was glad that he understood what had been happening for the last few years - he couldn’t imagine how scared anyone who didn’t understand was. Knowing about the supernatural was both something Stiles was elated about and terrified of. Werewolves, werecoyotes, hellhounds and kanimas, they were all fascinating, he was always learning something new.

After the kanima issue, when he first discovered the supernatural, Stiles had taken it upon himself to do as much research as he could, discerning fiction from reality and keeping notes on it all. Gerard Argent had kept a bestiary intended to help kill, Stiles wanted to create one that would help supernaturals survive.

Stiles pulled himself from his thoughts as Scott poked him and he realised that Deaton was holding a book out to him.
“This book is a collection of my own personal findings on sparks, a combination of all the reading that I’ve done. It may be an easier introduction to the topic for you.” Deaton explained and Stiles took the book, regarding it suspiciously.
"You've never worried about giving us a head start before." He pointed out, looking back up from the leather cover to Deaton.
"This is different. Spark information is scattered and hard to come by, whereas werewolf lore is plentiful if not always fully informed." Stiles slowly nodded, accepting the explanation but still not entirely believing it. He didn't doubt that Deaton cared about Beacon Hills but he primarily cared about the balance, and so he found himself questioning the druid's motives - what was his play here?

They continued, flitting between topics but never saying anything substantial - that was just the way with Deaton, he was intent on making them work for everything they had. When they finally left, Stiles paused just beside the jeep making Scott pause in turn.
"You okay man?" Scott asked, closing the door he'd just opened in favour of moving to stand beside his friend.
"You gotta stop feeling guilty for leaving Scott." He said, figuring this was a better route of conversation than the mess really in his head.
"I don'-"
"Yes you do. You're desperate to leave, you never wanted to be a werewolf nevermind an alpha, but you're still clinging on to what you know. You're allowed to want change and escape." Stiles turned to him with a watery smile and Scott embraced him without a thought.
"Thank you." Scott mumbled against the side of his head and Stiles only held him tighter. Scott would never stop looking for permission and Stiles was only too happy to be the one to give it to him - his friend deserved it.

When they separated, they climbed into the jeep without another word and Stiles backed out, pulling onto the road toward Scott's.
"You going to read the book Deaton gave you?" Scott asked, watching as the world passed by outside the window. He'd miss the jeep, no matter how much he complained about it, Stiles knew.
"I will but I'm not only going to read this. You know me Scotty boy, I'm going to get sucked in and find everything I can." He responded, sparing a moment to glance over at him just to take in the sight of his friend in the passenger seat.
"Where else will you look?" Scott looked to Stiles then, doing much the same, memorising the sight of Stiles sitting at the wheel.
"Library, Derek's place, Chris and Allison's place, I'll even ask Peter and ask about the Hale vault. I need all the help I can get if Deaton is right about me becoming dangerous." Scott just nodded along, glad he wasn't leaving his friend totally high and dry.
"Hey, maybe I can check the college library too, they have a folklore course so they might have some interesting stuff." Scott offered and Stiles couldn't restrain his smile.
"I can't stop you, can I?" And they both laughed - of course he couldn't. Scott might be going away but he'd never truly leave Stiles to fend for himself. You can take the boy out of Beacon Hills but you can't take the Beacon Hills out of the boy.

"I'll ask Lydia too and Kira, doesn't hurt to check three different college libraries." Stiles suggested, slowing to a stop outside Scott's.
"Put it in the group chat. Malia is heading out to France soon so she might be able to look there too."
"Werewolves started in France, they might have something we don't." Stiles agreed.
"We could ask Chris if he's got any family stuff Malia could pick up while she's there." And Stiles only nodded.
"Go see your mom, dude. I'll see you when you head out." Scott nodded too then, smiling sadly before hopping out of the jeep and heading inside, not stopping to look back because they both knew if he did they'd turn on the police radio and get themselves into trouble.

Chapter Text

After dropping Scott off at home, Stiles spent a few hours just driving around in the jeep and thinking - he found that having to focus on being safe while driving helped to condense and focus his thoughts and so all his best and most logical thinking was done in the driver’s seat (and in the shower, but that wasn’t usually logical thinking, more emotional).

Being a spark meant that Stiles would likely take on the role of emissary for the pack because being emissary for the McCall pack was just not something that Deaton had signed up for, he’d wanted to leave behind his life as a druid and just focus on his human, real world career. Whether that was something Stiles wanted didn’t really factor into the equation - it was simple fact - once Stiles was in control and as well-read as he could manage, he would take over the role of emissary from Deaton so that the older man could retire, leaving Stiles to do the things Scott never could (not too unusual, but certainly higher pressure when the job has a name). Stiles cared about the pack more than he cared to admit, at least out loud, so taking on a formal role of care was something he was less against than he would’ve been just a few years prior - still stressful though.

While he was doing university work, Stiles was going to have to balance magic lessons and learning of pack culture amongst the packs of born wolves across the country, that was necessary if he was to become the emissary. He’d never been so glad that he’d decided to stay home instead of accepting Agent McCall’s offer for the FBI programme, that would’ve added a whole other layer of stress to everything he needed to do. At least when he was at home in Beacon Hills he had less to hide. When it came to picking his major, Stiles had barely known where to start because he still didn’t know what it was he wanted to do. Part of him wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a cop but at the same time he’d seen what that job had done to his own dad and wondered whether it was worth it. He’d had a long talk with his dad about college once he’d decided that law enforcement might not be for him and they’d decided he should just pick something that he was passionate about, that was the best way for him to get through it. So, he chose to major in sociology and minor in folklore because he just couldn’t resist.

Lydia and Stiles had spent an afternoon considering what he could pursue after college. They'd floated around a few ideas, his major could lead just about anywhere he wanted, and they kept coming back to his want to protect and provide. With policing kept out of the conversation deliberately, they'd ping ponged between a few other career choices but ultimately the conversation had been fruitless. He tried not to worry about it, he knew that it'd come to him eventually and in the worst case scenario he could always try Beacon Hills High.

He parked up on the edge of the preserve and rolled down the front windows. The air in the preserve was cooler as usual and less polluted, so when Stiles took a deep breath it was like the air itself was cleansing his mind. Druids worked for balance, often working alongside nature to do so and Stiles figured that he would take a similar route. He knew it would be different because Deaton had told him so already, but the preserve would become his second home soon enough. He briefly wondered whether it was disrespectful to ask about fixing up the Hale house, not for himself but generally. The Hale family had stood for something before the fire, they'd made Beacon Hills what it was and Stiles had known the moment he'd become aware of the wider supernatural world that losing that family power had changed Beacon Hills. Then, there was the issue of the Nemeton.

The Nemeton had been activated when they'd been working to beat the Nogitsune and since then had caused nothing but trouble. Though, when his spark had been awoken, Stiles' feelings about the tree had changed dramatically over night for a reason it took Deaton to identify - the Nemeton was the hub of all magic in Beacon Hills and likely all of California if not farther and Stiles himself was housing a spark of pure magic. The Nemeton was tied to Stiles and he to it in ways that it was unlikely any of them would ever come to understand and it first came in the need to protect the tree, even if it was just from teenage slander. Sometimes when he came to the preserve, Stiles was half way through the woods before he realised he was looking for the Nemeton's clearing, it didn't always let him in but on the occasions that it did, he savoured the way it made him feel.

He climbed out of the jeep and slammed the door closed - it had been giving him difficulties recently - then he locked it before setting off along one of the trails again. It had been years since the night Stiles and Scott had driven out looking for a body and since then he'd learnt most of the frequent trails and even a few of the lesser ones. The one he took to the Nemeton was barely a trail at all, but he knew the route on instinct, as much as he knew the sight of the back of his hands. Sometimes he wandered to the Nemeton even in his dreams, it was rare that anything happened when he found himself at the huge stump in his sleep but he made it his business to visit it in person the day after whenever he did. It was those days he usually found it. He'd not told Deaton about the dreams but he did spend upwards of half an hour staring at the ceiling, considering what the Druid may say if he did tell him. Eventually, Stiles had come to the conclusion that the dreams were the tree's way of requesting his presence, how it chose to communicate - and who was Stiles to ignore it?

Today appeared to be a Nemeton day because one moment Stiles was tripping over a tree root and the next he was just a few paces from the large stump. The tree's magic baffled him and understanding it was high on the list of his priorities for his studies. Whenever he arrived in the clearing, Stiles took a deep breath. The air in the Nemeton clearing was different to the rest of the preserve, it was rich with energy. He spent what could have been a minute or ten letting himself breathe in the crackling, crispy air, letting it centre him. Perhaps he did his best thinking right here.

Once he felt present enough to be in the clearing, Stiles took his first step toward the tree. With just the stump left behind, Stiles could only imagine how the tree must have looked before it was cut down, how incredible it must have been. With that thought in his mind, he felt compelled to touch what remained of it, and so he simply did. Hesitant, Stiles reached out and gently rested his open palm on the top of the stump, considering all its many rings. A tree's age could be figured out by counting the rings it had, each ring representing one year of its life. In the clearing, his senses were more fine tuned, like there was something extra guiding him and so when he felt the bone deep need to lay down on the tree stump he did exactly that.

Truly, he hadn't meant to fall asleep. It was just.. the Nemeton was more comfortable than he'd expected and the clearing felt so safe, and he hadn't exactly been sleeping all that well.

He opened his eyes in his dream as if he was blinking into awareness, that was how all his Nemeton related dreams began. With just some effort, Stiles rose from a familiar spot in the preserve and set about following the invisible string tugging him toward the tree. When he reached it this time, something was different. Instead of finding the stump of the tree, there was a figure. He couldn't speak, so he reached out blindly and his hand passed directly through it. That was unusual, nothing like that had happened before. When he made to walk away from the clearing, the way he usually abandoned Nemeton dreams, he simply re-entered from the other side of the clearing. This time, he could see the face of the figure.
"Erica?" He asked, tilting his head as if it would give him a new angle, already having forgotten his previous inability to speak.
"Well hey Batman. What brings you out here?" She asked in return, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary here.
"This is a Nemeton dream. Why is Erica here?" Stiles mumbled mostly to himself - people getting offended in his dreams didn't impact real life so he didn't care that he was ignoring this phantom friend.

"You are quick in your thinking, Spark." Erica spoke again, though this time her voice was distinctly different.
"You are the Nemeton, aren't you?" He asked then, approaching quickly to study the image before him, Erica speaking to him with a voice that didn't belong to her.
"I have no physical form that permits me to communicate, but I can take the form of those you know." The tree explained, Not-Erica's hand reached out and cupped his cheek and the familiarity of the hand touching him stopped Stiles from backing away.
"Why have you never done it before?"
"I couldn't, you were too far. My magic is not what it was, but when you are with me in my home I can do almost anything you need from me." Not-Erica explained, regarding Stiles with a familiarity the real werewolf never had, as if this being knew him since long before even Stiles knew himself.
"So when I sleep in the clearing, you can reach me." Stiles concluded, unsure whether he needed to voice his thinking or if the tree understood without the words.
"You remind me so much of Claudia." The voice whispered, Not-Erica's face smiling at him as if she was tearing up, though her eyes weren't even glossy. Could trees even cry? When the Nemeton's words finally set in, Stiles woke.

The Nemeton knew his mother.

Chapter Text

Since his afternoon in the Nemeton clearing, Stiles had barely been able to think straight. He wandered through the rest of his day as if on autopilot, still processing what he had learned. Briefly, he’d considered telling Scott just so he wasn’t the only one that knew but some part of him understood that this was something he needed to do alone - at least for now. He wasn’t even sure he was in a state to be explaining it, Scott didn’t even know that Stiles had been visiting the Nemeton. Definitely a conversation best left for literally as far in the future as he could get away with, though there was no telling how long that would be.

Before he knew it, Stiles was standing outside the McCall house with Lydia on one side of him and Allison on the other, watching Melissa give her son one last hug before he set off in the car he’d just managed to scrape the cash together for to drive himself out of Beacon Hills and to a new place. The only reason Stiles knew he’d been taking care of himself while in his haze was the fact that nobody pointed out otherwise - that at least meant he’d been showering, brushing his hair, changing his clothes, eating and sleeping. It was the minimum but it was all he needed.

Lydia and Allison each embraced Scott, having their private moments with the boy that had changed their lives so much and all for the better. Stiles felt that sober him up, as if the mist that had overtaken his brain had cleared and he was finally present again. He made a mental note to ask the Nemeton if that was a side effect of what it had done, or his own shock. It wouldn’t be ideal if that happened every time. Isaac came rushing up the driveway and dived on top of Scott, knocking the two of them to the ground, a mess of laughter and tears. Isaac may be dating Scott’s ex-girlfriend, but they were friends first and foremost after Scott had opened his home to the homeless beta. They lay there on the floor for perhaps longer than was necessary, just breathing the same air and feeling each other’s heartbeat - another mental note, speak to Peter soon. Stiles took out his phone to turn his mental notes into physical ones, the more tangible they were the less likely he was to forget them. Just as he was typing, Scott cleared his throat. When did he stand up?

“You do know that you’re allowed to relax too, right?” He asked, reaching out and sliding the phone from Stiles’ hand. Out of curiosity, Scott glanced over the notes and he couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at the sight of the words ‘ask the Nemeton’ but to his credit he concealed his confusion and shock well. He wrapped Stiles in a hug and used his position to slide the phone into the pocket of the paler boy’s jeans.
“Have you ever known me to relax, in my entire life?” Stiles asked from his position against Scott’s shoulder and everyone laughed. They knew better than to assume he would.
“You act like I’m the only one that needs someone to tell me I’m allowed to be selfish.” Scott whispered into his ear, knowing that even Isaac wouldn’t hear. Stiles flushed and laughed, squeezing Scott even tighter.

His best friend may not be the most intelligent of their group, but he certainly wasn’t stupid and especially not where Stiles was concerned, he felt foolish for forgetting that. He clapped Scott’s shoulder and the two separated. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, both of their gazes glazed over with tears.
“What a pair of drama queens we are. You’ll be home for Christmas.” Everyone laughed at that and Scott took out his phone under the guise of checking the time and texting Kira. Instead, it was Stiles’ phone that vibrated and Stiles knew better than to assume Scott was going to let the Nemeton detail go. He was like a dog with a bone, pun intended. Apparently he wouldn’t be keeping this one under wraps for very long at all. Scott gave Stiles a final questioning look, then climbed into his car and everyone waved as he drove away down the street. He would pick up Kira before leaving Beacon Hills but then he’d be gone until Christmas. Stiles was planning to overhaul everyone’s Christmas, not that anyone else knew that yet.

It’d been about half an hour before Stiles got the call from Scott that he’d been waiting for. The text Scott had sneakily sent had just told Stiles that they would be talking about whatever it was he was keeping, because they did everything together and him being away didn’t mean Stiles had to do everything alone.
“Kira is here, now spill.” Scott immediately demanded, making both Stiles and Kira laugh.
“Not even a hello?” Stiles asked and then Scott laughed too, realising how quick he’d been.
“Sorry man, but talking to the Nemeton? That’s kinda important.”
“I don’t want to tell Deaton yet. I wanna do this on my own for a while. Not totally on my own cause obviously you two know now but.. Without magic help.” Stiles explained first, adjusting the driver’s seat in his jeep so it lay further back, that way he could relax while they spoke. He’d once again driven out to the preserve to feel the calm it exuded.

“Alright, that makes sense. Now tell us.” Scott agreed, making Stiles sigh in relief. Scott was always on his side when it counted.
“I’ve been dreaming about the Nemeton for a while. I should really ask its name.. But anyway, I don’t really know when it started. Some time after my spark kinda happened, I guess,” he explained hesitantly, unsure how to lay out the foggy timeline he had of everything that had been going on between himself and the tree, “sometimes I come to the preserve to relax and just feel the peace and if I had a dream about it the night before, I always find it. No exceptions. Sometimes I find it even if I didn’t dream the night before.” He then told them, deciding he’d wait to see if they have questions.
“What happens in the dreams?” Kira asked and Stiles could imagine the exact look on her face.
“Nothing, really. I’m usually in the preserve just wandering around like I do in the daytime. But I always find it, and it’s always there. Usually, it’s the stump but there have been times where I’ve woken up just before I could get into the clearing but there was definitely more than a stump there.” He explained, setting his phone on speaker so that his hands would be free. With one hand, he ran his fingers through his hair while the other drummed no specific beat into the jeep door.
“Alright. Since when could you talk to it?” Scott then asked, then swore at someone a little further from the speaker and Stiles assumed he’d been cut off, Kira scolding him and telling him to focus. Stiles explained to them what had happened just a few days prior, his concerns over trying it again as well as his determination to do it again anyway just to test.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Kira asked, voice gentle. Stiles wouldn’t have caved if it wasn’t that voice, something Kira had picked up from Melissa to help with soothing the boys.
“It knew my mom.” The silence that followed couldn’t have been louder if it had tried.
“The Nemeton knew your mom?” Scott then asked, as if he may have just heard wrong.
“It said I reminded it of her. It didn’t just know of her, it knew her personally. I can feel it.” He sighed, rubbing his face with his palms, glad to finally be talking about it openly.

“Sounds like you need to start plan Peter sooner than expected.” Was what Scott said next, surprising both the people who heard him.
“What’s plan Peter?” Kira asked and Stiles could hear her shuffling in her seat.
“Peter is the oldest supernatural we know, other than Satomi, but I don’t want to bother her. I’m going to pester him for information and books. He might be cryptic about it, but he always provides.” Stiles explained, pulling his seat back up so that he would be ready to drive.
“You going now?” Scott asked and Stiles could hear the clicking of his indicator faintly.
“Not sure. It’s that or go looking for the Nemeton.” Stiles replied, tapping his fingers now on the steering wheel rather than the door.
“I say Peter first. If you go back to the Nemeton and it puts you in a weird daze again it’ll set you back.” Kira said and Scott voiced his agreement pretty quickly.
“Peter it is then. Thanks for the help you two, I’ll keep you posted.” Stiles assured. They all wished each other luck then Stiles hung up and twisted the keys in the ignition - time to go see Peter.

Chapter Text

Peter worked at the library. Stiles knew this because he’d had the sense to ask Derek, then equal sense to ignore the Were when he asked why he wanted to know. When he pulled up outside, Roscoe was giving her loud protests at being moved so many times in one day. Stiles sighed and hopped out of the jeep, patting the bonnet fondly as he locked it. He would worry about the noises she was making later, when it inevitably became an issue when he couldn’t start the jeep to get home. It didn’t matter that the thing was a hunk of junk, more duct tape than car parts, it was his mom’s and now it’s his - he’d keep driving it until he physically couldn’t.

He pushed open the door to the library with ease. He’d been coming to Beacon Hills library for years and there had been a time when Scott and his dad had joked that it was his second home and Stiles couldn’t deny that walking in did feel like coming home after a long time away. When he was a kid, Stiles would come to the library when his dad was working during the day at weekends, the librarians loved him. He’d curl up in the corner with a book that was out of his age range, holding it up with one hand and both knees so he was out of the way and could still fidget with the strings of his hoodie. With all the supernatural issues they’d had over the last few years, he’d had less time to visit, to just sit with a book and read, but he promised himself in that moment that he’d find the time to do so again. He greeted an older woman as he walked in, one that recognised him as the Sheriff’s son and so he paused to spend a little while talking to her. Some people were just lonely and he quickly found out that was likely the case for the woman he’d spoken to. She mentioned the death of her husband in passing, as if it was always on her mind but had stopped hurting. Fleetingly, he wondered if he should ask how she dealt with the loss, but remembered that he’d come for a reason so when she asked the direction to the romance section, he pointed it out to her and then was back to looking for Peter.

Stiles felt his phone vibrate and a quick peek at the display revealed that it was the fourteenth text from Derek to ask why Stiles wanted to know about Peter. He set his phone to silent, firing a quick ‘don’t worry about it’ before pushing it back into his pocket. It didn’t take long to find Peter after that, he was taller than the majority of the shelves (the minority were those fixed to the wall, but of course they didn’t actually create a problem) so when he actually put his eyes to work and looked, he spotted the man almost instantly. Stiles strolled up to the older man with a comfort he’d had some years now to practise and leaned against the trolley of books he was in the middle of sorting.
“Heyo Zombiewolf.” He greeted with his usual, slightly lopsided, smile, and Peter only arched a brow in return to acknowledge the younger man.
“I’ve got a few questions to ask you, nothing major, just wolfy stuff.” He replied casually, though he could see the way that Peter’s lips pulled just slightly further into a small smile, indicating that Stiles was free to continue. He shuffled around for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a few times, vaguely gesturing, considering how to ask what he was trying to ask. The amused look on Peter’s face was one that Stiles chose to ignore, refusing to cave to the Were’s silent teasing. Eventually just decided he’d open his mouth and let it come out and it would become Peter’s job to understand.
“I’ve been thinking about coming to ask some stuff for a while and had no idea where to start - until today. Plus, you’re usually like totally unapproachable and not the most helpful guy ever, even if you’re way less cryptic than Deaton and therefore way cooler,” he paused to take a breath, “When Scott was leaving, Isaac like tackled him to the ground and then for a while they just kinda lay there.. Like no words, nothing special at all actually they just.. Lay there on top of each other in the dirt. Is that a ‘those two being weird’ thing or a werewolf thing?” Stiles went ahead and asked, taking care to lower his voice slightly so people wouldn’t overhear him talking about werewolves as if they existed and were totally real - he didn’t need the trouble of people thinking he was crazy.
“Born wolves can be rather affectionate, it’s something about the bonds between us. Something perhaps 60% instinct and 40% lack of impulse control.” Peter explained. He spoke simply and rarely said more than was asked of him to, but Stiles had known that would be the case walking in. The older man hadn’t so much as looked up to address Stiles directly, instead continuing his work without a moment’s pause.
“Can you tell me more about pack bonds? The way that they’re supposed to be, I mean.” That question had Peter finally pause in his actions and fully turn to face the young spark in front of him.
“Finally.” He groaned with a roll of his eyes. He put away the book he’d been holding, then gestured for Stiles to follow him when he abandoned the cart to head for the librarian’s desk. He slipped behind the desk, quickly unlocking a door that read ‘staff only’, leaving it propped open just enough for Stiles to follow. That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting to get to that question but it seemed better than the alternatives that Stiles had considered.

Stiles closed the door behind him as softly as he could manage given the intense weight of it, though it still made quite the thud. Peter didn’t comment. He dropped down into a chair at the small table in the centre of the room and indicated the chair that sat at the opposite side of the table. Stiles regarded Peter and the table with some level of confusion and worry but Peter simply stared at Stiles until he complied.
“Of course, you understand we couldn’t have spoken outside,” and Stiles simply gave Peter a look that meant ‘well, duh’, “this may be a longer conversation than you were anticipating, so this is why I insist that you sit. I refuse to listen to your inevitable pathetic complaints.” He then added and Stiles only slowly nodded at that. Looks like he’d signed up to Peter stealing the rest of his day. The things he did for this pack.

Peter relaxed in his chair and shrugged off the cardigan he’d been wearing to get more comfortable and Stiles decided to follow suit, removing his small jacket, which Peter seemed to approve of.
“I get that you might not wanna talk about this ‘cause of what happened to you, but I came here to ask questions. If you’re not gonna answer that one I have others.” Stiles rushed out, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table and Peter tilted his head slightly, curious at his outburst.
“How uncharacteristically considerate of you, Stiles. While I appreciate the sentiment, I will be just fine. I’m trying to find my words, pack bonds are an unusual concept to explain to those who have never felt them.” Peter responded, folding his hands on the table in front of them.
“I suppose the best place to start would be to say that they feel almost like a limp line of string connecting you to those you share a pack with. The string remains slack no matter how far they go from you, unless the bond is snapped or tugged intentionally. We can use them to understand each other’s feelings and tug them toward us, like a text message that just says ‘come now’. They’re forged between pack members but vary in strength, they are strongest and easiest to manipulate when you’re closer to the person you have the bond with. For instance, your bond to Scott would be much stronger than your bond to me, you’d feel his feelings more clearly and be much more able to tug on your bond should you need to,” Stiles nodded his confirmation that he understood all that had been said thus far - he considered taking notes but deep down he knew he wouldn’t forget a single piece of information that he was being given, it was too important,
“They’re forged between an Alpha and all their own, though it’s stronger with those who they have bitten. It was once believed that the bond between an Alpha and their bitten was unbreakable, though we know better now, Scott and myself being a prime example. The bonds within our own pack are almost.. faded, for lack of a better word. It’s like they’re only there in half, we’re missing some of the key elements. This is why I wanted to tell you about it, as much as it is often a pain in my backside you do not do things by halves so if there’s anyone who may be able to fix this issue, dear boy I believe it may be you.” Stiles laughed at that, unable to stop himself from making a mock sympathetic expression.
“Oh, Peter, you’re so kind to me.” He joked, making Peter only roll his eyes.
“Is there anything else you need to know?” The older man simply responded.
"Our pack. It's different. Half of us aren't even werewolves, some of us, like Chris and Melissa and my dad aren't even really in the pack. It's not normally like that, is it?" He asked with a soft sigh. Stiles had worried that things may need to change while Scott was gone and that it would be his problem, apparently that worry was coming true.
"You're correct. Ten points to Gryffindor," Peter joked with a small amused twinkle in his eye and Stiles only snorted, "humans being in packs is more common than you may think, but chimeras exist only here in Beacon Hills, werecoyotes are typically lone, hunters are the enemy of the werewolf and kitsunes do not get along with wolves. Our pack is somewhat of a miracle, truth be told." Stiles nodded along, rubbing his face as if he was world weary.
"So.. the pack bonds. Do I need to do something different to fix them because of it?” Stiles asked, not bothering to remove his face from his hands.
“This I don’t know. There’s two ways it could go really. Either it would be the same as with a pack of werewolves because the Alpha is a werewolf and they’re still in a werewolf pack, even if they are not werewolves. Or, you’d have to find a way to have everyone bond the way they would in communities of their own.” Peter explained with a casual shrug, as if he wasn’t entirely aware of how daunting a task that was.
“How would I even go about that?”
“No.” Peter said simply, eyeing Stiles as if he was waiting for something.
“No? Are you just refusing to answer my question?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
"Yes. I'm waiting for you to ask the right question." Peter replied, studying his nails.
"I take it back, you're not cooler than Deaton. You're an ass."
"And yet here you are. Ask the question, Stiles."

"How do werewolves bond, then?" Stiles asked, figuring that Peter wanted him to be more specific, to choose a specific path for action.
"Not that one." Stiles studied Peter then, a bewildered look on his face.
"You have another question, one not about the pack."
"How did you-"
"To answer that question, I’ll need to tell you a little something extra. Werewolf packs have formal roles, usually. You have an alpha and emissary, both of which you know about, but you also have a right and left hand. The left hand is the pack's enforcer, they go into the world beside the emissary to ensure the pack is kept safe and nothing is agreed to that the pack would suffer for later. The right hand is the advisor, they stay with the alpha to ensure that everything is alright at home and everything is working well in the grand scheme. There is also the pack parent, usually a pack mother, though we have a pack father." Peter eyed Stiles knowingly but Stiles had yet to catch up.
"Why is that relevant?"
"Before the fire, I was right hand to Talia while her husband was her left hand. She trusted me to keep an eye on her pups, our sisters, their pups.. everyone. It was my job to pay attention and know things I shouldn't,” He paused then, taking a breath to seal the memories of his family back into the depths of his mind, “Your magic has changed, Stiles." Stiles blinked owlishly at Peter then, this reveal of his past catching him entirely off guard. It took him a few further moments to process what he'd been told and the relevance it had to their conversation.
"You know stuff about my magic that I don't."
"I know a lot of things you don't. But you will know. The McCall pack is unlike any other and in that way it will never be like the Old Hale pack, it may never conform to usual roles or what is expected of it - you yourself are an example of that. You are in training to become the next emissary when you are already the pack parent, you've created yourself a unique role and only you could balance it the way that you do. Anything you wish to know that you believe Deaton will not share, you may ask me." It was an olive branch Stiles had never truly accepted, it made him consider the consequences of accepting the offer and what Peter may perhaps stand to gain.
"In exchange for what?" He asked, staring directly into Peter's eyes to demonstrate his lack of fear. He wouldn't let himself be intimidated.
"You will make an excellent emissary." He mused with a smile, pulling at his cuticles absently.
"In. Exchange. For. What?"
"You will be the one to adjust the pack, to formalise it, yes? I want to be considered for right hand again. It was a role I rather enjoyed and to an extent I am already playing that role. I am not asking for a final decision, just that I be considered. Wolves go feral without a pack, Stiles, I do not wish to become feral again." It was in that moment that Stiles understood. Peter was on the edge of their pack, hardly accepted and desperately clinging on to what he had. Their pack was held together exclusively by the human bonds they shared, their connections to each other and Peter did not have any. He stood to lose what sanity he had regained if Stiles didn't get the pack in order.
"Alright. I'll put your name forward myself. Do you.. have recommendations for left hand?" He asked then, pleased when Peter smiled in acknowledgement of what he'd done - he'd asked for Peter's explicit advice, clearly something that would fall to the right hand.
"Boyd or Theo would be good candidates. They're both strong, motivated, intimidating but calm forces. Boyd has more points for intimidation but Theo truly gets the job done. Either would likely be an excellent choice." Stiles nodded thoughtfully, processing the advice before determining that it was good.
"The other question I had.." he paused, sucking his lip between his teeth to worry at it, trying his hardest to tie down a train of thought, "how much do you know about the Nemeton?"

Before Stiles knew it, he was in a very dusty room. They'd left the small conference style room they'd been sitting in before and headed down a series of small hallways, until they were in the room of dust. Peter walked slowly, careful when his fingers danced over the spines of books as if they were delicate - Stiles assumed they were.
"Here it is." Peter mumbled with a soft smile Stiles wasn't sure looked quite right on his face, very carefully removing an old tomb from the shelf, turning it to look at the cover. He brushed off the dust more gently than Stiles had ever seen him do before.
"This is a book on Nemeton." The older man told him, taking the tomb to a small stand, opening the cover slowly.
"Nemeton? Not The Nemeton? Plural?"
"You didn't think there was just one, did you? Just here in Beacon Hills, California?" He laughed softly, carefully flipping through the pages until he landed on a world map and he gestured to it.
"A map of the last known location of all the Nemeton. There's usually two per continent." Stiles nodded, in awe as he looked at the map.
"How do you know all of this?" He asked, not bothering to look up at him.
"Before the fire.. I had just begun to court the pack's emissary. She was a.. truly lovely woman. Losing all our bonds killed her, she was only human." He confessed, sounding unbothered by the information though Stiles knew that wasn't the case given the way he'd murdered everyone involved in the fire.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"To prove I can be trusted. You know now my only real secret.. I fear being allowed to become an omega again. Giving you my story, sharing with you things I would not usually, should hopefully show you that I am willing to work alongside you." Stiles nodded thoughtfully before turning to look at him with a smirk.
"Not going soft are ya, zombiewolf?" He snarked, watching Peter's face return to something much more familiar.
"Never."

Chapter Text

Stiles spent the rest of that afternoon tucked away in the room of dust, pouring over the book that Peter had given him on Nemeton - he wasn’t allowed to take it from the library so he resigned himself to the inevitable damage that it would do to his lungs to spend his day inhaling dust that looked like it’d been gathering since before he was born. He’d never imagined the information that he was finding even in his wildest dreams, and they got pretty wild. Since he’d spent a while now being somewhat linked to the Beacon Hills Nemeton, Stiles felt almost guilty that he hadn't tried researching it sooner, that he had been too nervous about what he’d find to truly focus on what his next steps were. But he’d now taken the first step and he wasn’t the only one who knew what he was doing, he had Scott, Kira and Peter in the know and for now that was enough. He left the library only when Peter came to collect him, letting Stiles know they were closing, so reluctantly he reshelved the book and followed the werewolf out to his jeep. There stood none other than Derek, leaning against his camaro.

“Hey sourwolf, what are you doing here?” Stiles asked, passing the older man as he headed toward Roscoe, to which Derek followed, Peter not far behind.
“Peter said your jeep was busted and you’d probably need a ride home.” Derek explained, the amusement clear in his voice as Stiles turned to glare at Peter who only batted his eyelashes innocently.
“Roscoe is fine, she’s yet to fail me.” Stiles returned, opening the door for the driver’s side. Derek and Peter watched and waited as Stiles put his key in and tried the engine a few times, then as he got back out to open her up.
“Is that right?” Peter asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched Stiles equip his trusty duct tape, climbing up so he could look in at the engine properly.
“Let me give you a ride home, Stiles. The jeep will be here tomorrow.” Derek said, trying valiantly to mask the smile slipping onto his face. Stiles continued to diligently work on the engine, taking pieces out and moving things aside to attempt to locate the issue - though he was entirely clueless about cars and everything he did know was from hands-on learning with the very jeep he was trying to fix.
“Nobody in their right mind would want to steal it.” Peter added, easily stepping aside when Stiles tossed a small wrench at him.
“Besides, Peter said you’ve been making some plans for the pack, if you tell me I can help out.” Derek said after Stiles spent a few minutes ignoring the older men in favour of deciding who was more stubborn - him or Derek? He sighed and closed the bonnet, then closed the driver’s door and locked it before turning reluctantly to the Were in question. Derek was definitely more stubborn and it was getting cold.
“You’re lucky I’m too tired after a day of research to argue.” Stiles simply said, trekking across the parking lot to head over to the camaro.
“What did you have him looking at?” Derek asked his uncle, glancing at the older Were out of the corner of his eye.
“Nemeton.” Peter said simply, elaborating no further before he left his nephew to process what he’d said, retreating to his own car.

Once Derek was driving, Stiles launched into the plan he’d been forming during the day while he was researching, then about what he’d been learning. He failed to mention the dreams to either Derek or Peter and he intended to keep it that way, with his new knowledge of Nemeton under his belt Stiles was confident that he’d be able to figure it out himself. Only if he couldn’t would he then ask one of the Hales. He fired a text to Scott to let him know he’d been doing some learning and that Peter had been helpful, to which Scott was pleasantly surprised. Then, when his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep almost immediately.

That night, he didn’t dream of just the Beacon Hills Nemeton, instead he dreamed of all the Nemeton, of what they may look like and how they may be different from the one that he was familiar with. When waking, he wondered if they would react differently to the magic he carried inside him and while asleep his brain answered the question for him - he wondered if that was his imagination or the Nemeton communicating with him. He decided then that he needed to visit again soon, as soon as it would let him and he let Scott know as such. But, he had different plans for that day.

He flicked away from his messages with Scott and moved to the pack group chat Scott had insisted on having at some point during the summer. He fired a message in there to let everyone know they were having a pack night that night, that the only excuse to not come or be late was work and Scott voiced his Alpha Agreement despite having no idea what Stiles was doing. Get you a best friend like that. Derek explained that they’d be meeting at his loft for, in quotes, quality time and that nobody was to argue. They got complaints, but some thankfully were looking forward to seeing each other.

After that, Stiles lay in bed and allowed his mind to wander. With his college course kicking off soon he’d need to start actually planning his visits to the Nemeton - sometimes it took longer than he’d thought it would to find and even more often he got distracted and spent half the day in the clearing when he’d planned to be back before sundown. He knew that he’d make it work because he truly didn’t have much choice in the matter. Eventually, though, he did need to get up, so he tossed aside his duvet and trudged to the bathroom, ignoring the piles of unwashed clothes on his floor. He showered, ate breakfast and drank enough coffee to sink the titanic again. He was sitting idly on the sofa when he realised he would probably have his first bit of work to do for his course, how he’d managed to let that slip his mind when he’d been thinking about it just that morning was less a mystery and more an annoyance. He was exactly right on that front, he’d missed the lectures he was apparently supposed to attend that morning, so he settled down in his dad’s armchair with a can of coke before letting himself fall into his work. It was easy for him to get lost in academia, especially something new even if it wasn’t as interesting as his research on Nemeton the day prior. He poured over every word, analysing the value of information and opening about six hundred tabs in his browser in the process. He worked with no break, letting himself fall beneath the waves in his brain while he clicked through power points, glanced over word documents and downloaded PDF files. The work wasn’t hard, thankfully. It was the first day so he wasn’t too surprised if they would be starting slow then building up to more difficult work, but he was still thankful that he wouldn’t be too lost from the very beginning. Stiles barely looked up until his phone began to ring loudly, the screen reading ‘Sourwolf’.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Stiles asked once he’d picked up, hearing Derek sigh on the other end of the line.
“Have you seen the time?” Derek asked by way of response and Stiles muttered in Polish under his breath.
“Sorry, I know I said I’d be early. I’ll leave now and raid the kitchen before I do, I’ve been doing work.”
“I text you at two and three and four.” Derek responded flatly.
“I was doing work!” Stiles replied with a roll of his eyes, setting aside his laptop gently so he could stand and get ready even with grumpy wolf of the year still on the phone.
“What were you even doing?” He asked and Stiles was sure he could hear someone that sounded a lot like Peter laughing in the background.
“College work. My course started today and I missed the lectures laying in bed so I had to catch up then do my work.” Stiles explained, doing his best to avoid being too defensive but judging by the increase in laughter in the background he had failed to do so.
“At least it wasn’t something stupid. Just get over here, I have no idea what to do for them.”
“Dude, it’s just a movie night. Chill out.” With that, Stiles hung up and opened just about every cupboard in his kitchen, stealing bags of chips and peanut packets, he emptied the fridge of soda and stole all the sweet things he’d hidden beneath or behind fruit and veg. A successful purge of the kitchen, if he said so himself, which he did.

Without his jeep, Stiles was going to have to walk. He weighed the pros and cons of walking to the library to grab the jeep, then driving to Derek’s versus just walking to the loft as he pulled on his shoes and headed out. He was just deciding that it would be just best to walk to the loft when he was startled by a car horn. When he turned to look out at the street, he was greeted by Jackson waving at him with a smirk through the window of his porsche.
“Alpha’s orders.” Jackson explained, fake frustration on his face as he pushed open the door of his car for Stiles to get in. Stiles would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been busy being both a little startled and more than a little bewildered that Jackson had listened.
“How did Scott know I don’t have the jeep?” Stiles asked dumbly as he settled into the seat, Jackson pulling away from the curb with a smile.
“Derek told him.” Jackson explained with a shrug, batting Stiles’ hand away from the radio when he went to change the station.. Three times.

When they got to the loft, the only cars outside were Derek’s and Peter’s, meaning they were early like Stiles had wanted to be. He bounded up to the door while Jackson locked the car, following slowly after him. The lift ride was silent, but not uncomfortable. Stiles walked right inside, not even bothering to knock once they were out of the lift. He greeted Peter with narrowed eyes and Peter only smiled innocently back at him, making Stiles instead roll his eyes as he sought out Derek.
“Stiles, you’ve finally shown up.” Derek greeted from the kitchen where he was looking in the fridge. Stiles pushed the soda toward him and without much thought, the Were took it all and put it safely inside the fridge.
“Apologies, college comes first. I got plenty of snacks though.” Jackson grunted noncommittally from the living room at that and Stiles spun to face him.
“Speak or forever hold your peace.” He demanded, his eyes on the kanima in front of him, engaging in a brief but intense staring competition.
“How many people said they were coming tonight? Basically everyone, right? That won’t even feed half the pack.” Jackson said with a tight smile, brow raised. He wandered into the kitchen, sorting through a few drawers while Derek looked on, mildly displeased, until he presented a pizza menu. He dropped it onto the island and looked between Stiles and Derek as if to say ‘see? Tell me I’m smart’.
“Who’s paying for that?” Derek asked with a raised brow, looking at Jackson expectantly - if he wanted to be difficult he could apologise for it with his wallet.
“If you make me pay, you won’t be eating any.” Jackson replied, folding his arms over and leaning on the kitchen island.
“Ladies please, I’ll pay.” Peter called out and Stiles was sure he could hear the older Were rolling his eyes, making him snicker.

“So, what movies have we got, Sourwolf?” Stiles asked, abandoning the myriad of snacks he’d brought on the kitchen counter for Derek to do what he pleased with, wandering into the living room to look.
“Uh.. I have the Godfather?” Derek replied, though it sounded more like a question than a real answer. Stiles glanced at Peter who only shrugged. He looked through the cabinets in his TV stand only to find that Derek was correct - he only owned the Godfather.
“You volunteered to host movie night.. When you own no movies?” Stiles asked, turning on his heel to face back toward the kitchen. Derek didn’t respond but Jackson was laughing. They appeared to be taking it in turns to do that. Stiles looked back at Peter, then to the kitchen, then back to Peter once again.
“You’re looking at me like this is my fault.” Peter eventually said, raising a brow.
“You’re the cultured one, I figured you would be the one to make sure he wasn’t.. Like this.” Stiles muttered vaguely, waving his hands around non-committedly.
“Like what? Himself?” Peter asked, amused and just loud enough for Derek to hear. He emerged from the kitchen to eye the two men in front of him, signature scowl on his face.
“I’m just glad I got here early because it looks like I’m going back out.” Stiles then said after a moment of waiting to see if Derek would cease his staring - the answer was no. Jackson dropped onto the sofa at the opposite end to Peter. Looking at them for a moment out of the corner of his eye, he considered the similarities between the two and just about managed to contain his amusement at the idea.
“I’m not taking you. It’s his place, his problem.” Jackson told Stiles with a shrug, biting into an apple that Stiles truly didn’t know how he’d found.
“I’ll drive. Come on, before the others start arriving and one of these idiots has to host them.” Derek said, walking away to grab his keys from the kitchen counter, leaving Peter and Jackson to complain, offended at his comment. Stiles was struck again by the similarity between the two and this time did not manage to contain his laughter, only making Derek look at him confused.
“I’ll explain in the car.” Stiles said softly before heading back out of the loft with just as much energy as he’d entered.’

Once they were in the car, Stiles explained as he’d said he would and with a short moment of reflection Derek snorted and laughed like Stiles could never remember him laughing before. He’d never seen Derek smile so freely and laugh the way he was doing - he smiled and laughed sure, but never like this.
“Sorry I just.. Don’t know how I didn’t see this sooner. Jackson is just like Peter was when we were younger.” Derek explained, not quite having reigned in his smile from his bout of laughter.
“I would’ve said ‘except less reptilian’ but he’s totally still a snake.” This only made Derek laugh again and Stiles flushed with pride at that. Derek looked so happy and Stiles had caused it - he promised himself then that he would do it again, make Derek laugh like that. He immediately decided not to think too deeply into that promise, it didn’t have to mean anything important, it just meant that he wanted his friend to be happy. Derek sobered fairly quickly though if he was a werewolf he’d probably still be able to smell the remains of his amusement.

They got in and out of the store with minimal issues. Derek let Stiles pick films he thought everyone could enjoy, some comedy, some action, some fantasy, some romance and a few he wasn’t sure really had a genre but sounded like something at least one person in the group would want to watch. They also made a pit stop to pick up some extra snacks, Jackson’s comment about there not being enough still innocently ringing in the back of Stiles’ mind. They spent the ride home mostly silent and they pulled up at the same time as Theo closed the door of his truck, Liam, Corey and Mason waiting for him at the door to the building. Stiles hopped out of the camaro before Derek had even had a chance to park, leaving the werewolf yelling at him as he stumbled forward toward the younger members of the pack. He wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulder and gently bumped Mason with his elbow. They waited for Derek to finish parking and then all headed up together.
“So you’re friends with Theo now, huh?” Stiles asked Liam, watching as Derek clapped Theo around the shoulder, their approach less rushed and excited.
"Well, he's stuck at school with us. He had no friends, we kinda felt bad." Liam explained, glancing up at Stiles with something that resembled nervousness.
"I get it. It's good of you to do that for him." Stiles replied and Liam sagged with relief, making both of them laugh as they stepped into the elevator up to the loft. Stiles still didn't trust Theo, even resented him just a little, but if the chimera had proven anything since he'd returned from hell it was that he could be trusted with Liam. Stiles had thoughts on that, thoughts he filed away to discuss with Lydia soon.

When they got up into the loft, Liam took some things from Stiles and headed into the kitchen to set them up, Mason and Corey following after him hand in hand. Derek followed them after handing the DVDs to Stiles, who headed right for the TV cabinet and set them all on top of it. He kneeled down in front of the small stack of boxes, sorting through them to organise them by genre to make voting easier. He could feel Theo's presence in the room, looming behind him, so Stiles glanced back only to realise how awkward the chimera looked. With Liam and his friends in the kitchen, Theo no longer had anyone there to make it look like he belonged, and it was quite the sorry sight. Theo glanced around, no doubt feeling Stiles' gaze, but then something caught his eye and he moved toward the sofas. He sat down in the armchair beside the sofa and when Stiles whipped his head around to look, he realised that Peter was talking to him. He couldn't hear much of their conversation but Peter was talking away about something Stiles probably wouldn't understand and Theo was trying not to smile, nodding along, chipping in where he could and Stiles couldn’t deny the way he felt his heart swell, even if he wanted to. Peter was worried that he was on the outskirts of the pack, but seeing the way Theo felt comfortable with him and how Jackson was pretending that he wasn't listening, he had a feeling Peter would pull all the others who were nervous of their place into the fold with him.

The other pack members arrived slowly, slotting into different spots around the room. Liam dropped into a large bean bag chair, one that was evidently made for two and eventually Theo moved from the armchair so Derek could sit in it, moving to sit beside Liam instead; Corey and Mason sat near Liam, on the plush carpet that Lydia had insisted Derek buy; the twins sat either side of Jackson on the sofa while Peter remained at the other side - Stiles hadn't believed until that moment that the sofa could fit just that many muscular men; Erica and Boyd walked into the loft hand in hand and Derek beamed at them in a way that was reserved for the two of them and Isaac, his approval made the two only smile more in return; Brett and Lori arrived later than the others as Brett had stayed late leading lacrosse practice while their coach was out sick and he was Lori's ride; Alison arrived with Isaac and a curious Chris as Stiles had extended the invite to any adults who were in the know and had the time. When Peter caught sight of the man, he made an effort to catch Stiles' eye, just to give a small but firm nod of his approval.

Once everyone was settled, Stiles informed everyone first of the genre options and opened the floor to debate before votes would be cast. As Erica was making a very enthusiastic case for them to watch a superhero movie, there was a knock at the door to announce the arrival of the pizzas they’d ordered. Peter stood, wallet in hand, to go to the door to pay for the food and was followed by Stiles so they could carry in the pizza boxes with minimum casualties. They returned and set the boxes on the table in stacks of two. They’d ordered two cheese, three meat, one veggie, one pepperoni and one everything pizza - it was quite the order but thankfully very little was out of the price range of one Peter Hale. Everyone tucked in quickly and Erica took the chance to put The Dark Knight in the DVD player with a little smirk dancing on her face. Looking at her reminded Stiles of his last visit to the Nemeton and so he took that moment to set a reminder on his phone for the next day, he had to go back, he had so many questions he needed answering. Stiles settled in on the floor between the armchair and the bean bag, leaning up against the chair just beside Derek’s legs. The chatter between them was idle, varying from movie commentary and criticisms to school work, their missing pack members and why they were there. The last question went unanswered.

Following The Dark Knight, they watched Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. It was fun and they found themselves laughing the whole way through, chatter increasing between them as the movie drifted from their thoughts in favour of enjoying their time together. Stiles found his eyes drifting around the room as he recalled Scott’s going away party - it felt like that, he assumed the only reason it wasn’t even better was because they were missing four of their most important members. At that thought, he sent a text to Malia to ask how her flight was going (she was due to arrive in France in a few short hours). She quickly replied to confirm that all was well, even if the plane food was gross, and she was sad she’d had to miss their movie night.
“Hey Stiles?” Liam asked softly from Stiles’ left, glancing at him with a small smile while Theo was distracted by a conversation with Corey.
“What’s up, bud?” Stiles asked in return, focusing on the young beta beside him.
“How come you did this? I know you don’t really wanna tell us but I figured I’d ask again just in case.” He replied, smiling innocently and batting his eyelashes. That was a learnt behaviour and Stiles vowed to gut whoever taught it to him because it was absolutely his new weak spot.
“Can’t tell anyone, okay?” Stiles simply asked and Liam nodded eagerly, shifting slightly closer to him, in danger of falling from the bean chair. “I had a chat with Peter about wolf packs, what they’re normally like, the older ones. He told me a bunch of stuff but the most important one was that the strongest werewolf packs have strong bonds. Hence.. Pack bonding.” Stiles briefly explained, smiling at Liam as Theo turned to focus on Stiles, having only caught the end of his sentence.
“Why not tell us that?” Theo asked, raising a curious eyebrow.
“In case it doesn’t work. I don’t know everything, I’m not even a werewolf. For now, this can just be us hanging out.” Theo nodded slowly while Liam contemplated the idea for a moment, brows furrowed.
“What doesn’t work? Is there something wrong with the pack?” Liam asked as softly as he could manage, thankfully realising that if he was right it was something the others didn’t need to know. Supernatural hearing be damned, if they were distracted enough they’d never know.
“Not wrong.. Just different. Peter was concerned, but he’s Peter so it could be nothing. Just better to be safe than sorry, you know?” Stiles asked and with that answer Liam seemed satisfied. He shuffled back into the beanbag properly, leaning comically over top of Theo who only rolled his eyes and the two went back to watching the film. He looked over at the others and realised that Derek was looking down at him. Stiles glanced up and met his eyes, smiling as best as he could. Derek glanced over at the kitchen, the signal for Stiles to make his way over when he could.

Derek stood and offered to get a round of drinks and when, as he’d been expecting, most of the pack asked for a refill he asked for Stiles to help him. The two wandered away, fake bickering about his choosing Stiles of all people to help until they were out of wolfy earshot.
“You told Theo and Liam?” Derek asked immediately as he leaned over slightly to set down all the glasses he’d picked up on his way through.
“They were asking. I didn’t tell them everything but eventually I was going to have to say something, I couldn’t avoid it forever. And Theo was an accident.” Stiles explained, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands, leaning back against the kitchen counter. They’d never outright agreed that they weren’t going to tell everyone but it had been almost second nature - the pack was closer than ever and yet still half way falling apart and they didn’t need to know that. Stiles would fix it and he only needed a few allies to do that. It would be fine.
“And Nemeton research?” Derek followed up, pausing where he’d been filling a glass with juice to lean back against the counter perpendicular to Stiles, looking at him intently.
“Don’t worry about it. Just wanted to ask Peter in case Deaton was keeping secrets. The spark stuff is still weird as shit, I just wanna make sure I have the full picture.” Stiles tried, tugging at the string of distrust he knew Derek still held for the druid. Stiles didn’t believe the distrust was misplaced either, so really it didn’t hurt. Thankfully, he seemed to get away with it and he returned to the living room with a few glasses in hand, returning to get some more to be followed closely by Derek who carried the rest.

As the night drew to a close, they elected to mostly remain at the loft, it had gotten late and therefore dark so Derek was antsy about sending everyone home without supervision. He’d never cared before so Stiles took that as a sign that he was doing something right. Chris voiced his support for the idea and even drove home to gather some clothes of Alison’s for the girls and some extra pillows and blankets for everyone. Then, with some effort, they managed to make the living room into the ultimate sleepover zone - though Peter elected to go up to his room alone, which Stiles noted to address (he was going to need to start making physical notes for the things he needed to remember to do). He was the last person to fall asleep, but he fell asleep with a buzz of contentment knowing (almost) everyone was together and safe.

Chapter Text

When Stiles woke, most of the other pack members were still deep in slumber. He sat slowly to avoid waking Liam, who’d ended up sandwiched between him and Theo, though he was sure neither were that close when he’d fallen asleep. On his other side were Erica and Boyd, who also seemed closer than when he’d fallen asleep, but he figured some movement during the night was inevitable. He slowly shuffled, watching as Theo slowly opened his eyes then helped to move Liam so he could stand. Stiles gave him a nod of thanks, then stood fully and stretched out, shaking off the final remains of sleep. He’d not slept so well in some time but once again had seen the Nemeton; in the back of his mind, Stiles was aware of the alarm on his phone and the tingling at his fingertips which he hoped wouldn’t come to be too destructive. He padded through the room, stepping over the figures of his sleeping packmates and gave a small, still sleepy smile to Derek who was nursing a cup of coffee. Peter nodded in greeting from a stool at the breakfast bar and gestured silently to the coffee machine, which Stiles greatly appreciated. He poured himself a mug and sipped at it, glad for the beverage even if it didn’t work for him as it did others - damn his ADHD. He settled beside Peter at the breakfast bar, the three in silent companionship while they woke up enough to be considered even vaguely humanoid.

Once Stiles was awake enough, he placed his mug in the sink and raided Derek's fridge for its eggs, bacon and sausages, then stole almost an entire loaf of bread to begin making breakfast for the pack. He worked in relative silence, softly humming while he scrambled eggs and fried others, bacon sizzling in another pan. He could feel Derek and Peter watching him but neither spoke so Stiles did his best to ignore their gaze in favour of trying not to burn the sausages. He set another pot of coffee to brew, collecting enough mugs for everyone, then remembered that it was unlikely everyone drank coffee so he also collected some glasses then made up a jug of orange juice for those who may prefer that with their breakfast.

Slowly, pack members began to wake and with each one that did, Stiles collected another plate to place on the dining table. When people began to ask to have food sooner or, God forbid, take food from the pan, Stiles batted them away and told them that they would need to wait until everyone was awake. When people asked about coffee, Stiles wordlessly poured it for them and delivered the mug to their hands, not a complaint slipping from his lips. Once most of the pack was awake, he found the premade pancake mix he'd insisted they buy the day before and began to make pancakes for everyone. Derek then began to assist, collecting condiments for the pack and setting them out on the table alongside the jug of orange juice and the glasses Stiles had already collected.

Liam was the last to wake and he wandered over into the kitchen to ask about having ice cream with his pancakes and Stiles smiled fondly at the still sleepy boy and pointed out the freezer, mentioning both the vanilla and mint ice cream tubs inside to which Liam could only grin. Once everything was ready, and miraculously still warm, Stiles placed each thing on its own plate and delivered them to the table. Unbuttered toast, a small dish of butter, sausages, bacon, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and pancakes all laid out over the table with the drinks and condiments. The pack waited as patiently as they could manage for Stiles to give his approval and then they dove at the table to steal food for themselves.

Stiles sat back to watch, perched on the breakfast bar, legs crossed at the ankles. He nursed a second mug of coffee and wore a grin as he watched the bustling and fighting over his food. The only person that really ate his cooking was his dad and that's only because Stiles forced him to - he was sure the man would eat only greasy takeout if he didn't - so watching people fight over what he'd prepared made his heart feel oddly full. Peter walked over to stand beside Stiles and handed the younger man a plate with a little bit of everything on it.
"Figured you'd want to eat something. Lord knows you wouldn't if you waited until everyone was done." Peter commented when Stiles furrowed his brows at the gesture and he could only laugh and agree.
"I probably should've made them wait while I made a plate up for myself but I think they would've ripped off my head." Stiles replied, cutting off the end of one of his sausages with the side of his fork.
"I don't think even Scott can control them like that." Derek mentioned as he approached the two, his own plate in hand which was mostly meat.
"Of course he can't. They walk all over him." Stiles replied with a snort, making both of them look at him with confused expressions as if they never expected Stiles to say something so negative about Scott. "Don't get me wrong, I love Scott, but he has zero authority. That's what I'm for." Stiles shrugged and filled his mouth with egg before washing it away with a gulp of his coffee.

In the living room, Liam, Mason, Corey and Theo had stolen the couch for themselves, all leaning on or laying on top of each other in some way with Mason and Liam in the middle and Corey and Theo on either end; Jackson had taken the armchair for himself, though he appeared to be engaging in a conversation with Theo as best as he could manage with Liam trying to be involved; Boyd, Erica and Isaac had somehow convinced the beanbag that all three of them fit there, with Erica mostly in Boyd's lap and Isaac bordering on being there too while Allison sat on the floor beside him; Brett and Lori were sitting on the coffee table opposite Mason and Corey, Brett and Mason looking as if they were in some sort of competition judging by the matching looks on Corey and Lori's faces; the twins were hovering together between the couch and armchair, content to just be observers in the conversation between Jackson and Theo, though Stiles could tell they wanted to interject occasionally even if they refrained. It was a lively scene and one he hoped would happen more often.

"You've done quite the number here, Stiles." Chris commented, making Stiles startle. The three men around him laughed and Stiles kicked out, just missing Derek's stomach.
"It is quite the effect he has on them, isn't it?" Peter replied, blessedly ignoring Stiles' pathetic reaction.
"He's pack parent, right?" Chris asked then, directing his gaze right at Peter, who nodded.
"I barely realised he'd move into the role, took Peter mentioning it for me to realise." Derek added and Chris nodded.
"This right here? The talking about me like I can't hear you? I hate it. It stops now." Stiles commented with a scrunched nose and they only laughed again.
"Sorry pup. After this I suppose you've earned yourself a spot at the grown ups table." Peter teased and Stiles reached out then to fake an attack on Peter, but before Stiles knew what was happening the man had fallen back onto his ass.

The room fell silent, Peter and Stiles staring at each other with wide eyes and if Stiles had to guess he would assume the others would be looking at them in a similar way. Chris, of course, was the first one to speak.
"How did you do that?" He asked, eying Stiles as if he'd suddenly become a threat. Old habits die hard, he supposed.
"I.. don't know. Didn't mean to. Funny though." He couldn't help but laugh and Peter shook his head in mock offence.
"The man has knocked me on my ass and he is laughing." Peter said, accepting the hand Derek offered to pull himself to his feet.
"It was a little funny." Theo then said, sending both Jackson and Liam into a round of laughter and it wasn't long until everyone else had joined in. Stiles gave a soft apology to Peter, nervously folding his hands together. Everyone else returned to what they'd been doing or talking about while the four men in the kitchen stood in a tense silence.

"Deaton hasn't started training you?" Chris asked, once again the first to break the silence.
"I don't want him to. I hate the guy." Stiles replied on instinct, releasing his hands from their steel grip on each other so he could rub his palms over his face.
"I don't blame you. Even Seuss spoke in less riddles." Chris grouched, shaking his head and years of frustration with the vet became evident. Peter and Derek nodded along. So the Deaton Hate Club becomes four.
"I don't know what to do if I don't ask him though. Right now all I've got is a book he gave me. Said he couldn't really train me anyway." Chris raised a brow and pulled out his phone.
"I think we've got some things in the family library in Paris you might like. I'll speak to Maman and Malia about it." Stiles beamed, the weight on his shoulders lessening just a little.
"Scott did suggest asking but it's a weird conversation to start. 'Hey Chris, I know you hated me until recently but can I interest you in donating some of your valuable family books so I can train the magic I didn't know I had to stop me potentially killing everyone I care about?' it's a weird situation." Peter pulled an expression then that Stiles couldn't decipher and didn't care to - if he wanted to share then he would and Stiles wasn't about to spend valuable mental energy on trying to convince the Were to divulge.
"That why you invited me? To use me for my wealth of knowledge?" Chris asked and Stiles almost dove into an explanation to defend himself but then he saw the man's mischievous smile and instead just laughed.

When he was finished with his food, Stiles shuffled into the living room to collect all the empty dishes then returned with the coffee pot to do refills, taking away any cups that were finished with. Without much thought to what he was doing, Stiles opened the dishwasher and began to load it, slotting in cups and bowls and plates, allowing himself to relax with an activity that had long since become familiar. Once it was done, Stiles opened his phone to check his calendar for when his classes would be - not until the afternoon - so he could organise his day. The younger pack members didn't start school for another week (the only reason Stiles had started so soon was because his course was online) so there was every chance they'd loiter for a good few hours which would keep him in Derek's loft if he wasn't careful. He also still needed to collect Roscoe from the library parking lot, damn.
"You look like you're trying to solve world hunger." Isaac commented, gently nudging Stiles aside so he could add his own mug to the dishwasher.
"Trying to organise my day."
"You? Organised? Unheard of." Isaac joked and Stiles could only roll his eyes.
"I have stuff on the to-do list and I'm trying to decide what order to do them in."
"What do you need to do?" Isaac asked, leaning back against the counter top, looking at Stiles with an easy, friendly expression. Stiles was reminded then of how much Isaac had been through and just how much work it had taken for him to get to the point of easy affection and careless smiles.
"Gotta get the jeep from the library parking lot, got classes this afternoon and need to visit the Nemeton." Isaac knew well about Stiles' connection to the tree so he only hoped he wouldn't question his final task.
"Well the preserve isn't far from here, could do the Nemeton first. Should ask Peter if he's got work today cause if he does you can catch a ride to the library with him." Isaac suggested, glancing over at Peter to see if he was listening. Of course, he wasn't, because he never was when Stiles actually wanted him to be.

Chapter Text

Stiles chatted with Isaac for a little longer, just enjoying his company. The two didn’t often get to spend time together but with the rest of the pack occupied together it gave them some time alone. They talked about what Isaac was doing at college, comparing their timetables to see if they could actually do more together, since they didn’t often get to and the two got along well. When Alison called him to come back to the living room, the two laughed and Isaac clapped Stiles on the shoulder, promising they’d go out some time soon to catch up properly before he headed back to her with a lovesick smile. Stiles admired them, they’d been through a lot of ups and downs but they still looked at each other like they’d never left the honeymoon phase. Stiles approached Peter and hopped up onto the countertop so they’d be a more similar height and asked about his work before suggesting Peter very kindly drive him to the library. Peter was difficult and he teased, but ultimately he agreed to take Stiles there to pick up his Jeep.

“Have you any particular plans that leave you in such dire need of your Jeep?” Peter asked as the two were leaving, keys in his hand while Stiles continued waving to the pack as they slipped through the door to the loft.
“I need to visit the Nemeton.” Stiles said simply, shrugging casually. Peter more than the others would understand that, he knew more about his bond to the Beacon Hills Nemeton than anyone else did purely based on their conversation the day before.
“Be careful, pup, I don’t want to have to come find you at sundown.” Peter said with a laugh as he climbed into his car and Stiles slipped into the passenger seat, rolling his eyes dramatically.
“I have classes today so I need to be back home before two, but I have to go see her.” He relaxed into the comfortable seats, surprised at the general lack of noise Peter’s car made - it didn’t just make less noise than the Jeep because that’s to be expected, but it made less noise than the Camaro, in fact it was practically silent.
“Her?” Peter probed gently, never looking away from the road as he drove them along, flicking on the radio to a classic rock station that Stiles never listened to despite liking the genre. A good pick.
“Yeah, I think so. Just a feeling I’ve got.” He replied, still at just as much of a loss about the Nemeton’s connection to him as he had been when he first realised it was there. Sure, Stiles now knew more about Nemeton as a species but not about his own specific connection to the one here in Beacon Hills.

Peter made no further conversation, just tapped along to the music playing from the radio and let Stiles sit in his thoughts. He drove them to the library and told Stiles to be careful in the preserve with a snarky comment about not wanting to ruin his shoes looking for him, to which Stiles just gave him the bird and was more than glad when Roscoe started without trouble. He climbed inside and waved Peter goodbye before heading straight for the preserve. Peter hadn’t been wrong with his assumption that Stiles may lose time talking to the Nemeton - which was terrifying after the Nogitsune debacle - so he wanted to get to her as soon as he could so that he would still have a chance of making his afternoon classes.

It took less time than usual for Stiles to find the huge stump, almost like she was as eager to see Stiles as he was to see her. When he breached the clearing, all the nervous energy creeping around his body and the energy buzzing at his fingertips eased. Everything was easier when it was just him and the stump. Once, she’d brought him anxiety and stress but now she was a beacon for a perfect calm that Stiles had never thought he’d find, even when he remembered to take his meds regularly. He approached the stump with care, nervous to see what she would do to him this time when she took her place in his mind to speak with him. Then, with a final look inside to take refuge in his temporary calm, he rested a steady hand at the centre of the great stump and closed his eyes so she could get into his head.

Stiles rushed into the clearing with a grin, looking around to see what form the Nemeton would take this time. She’d last taken the form of Erica, he wondered whether she’d choose the same body again or someone new. When there was nobody, he left the clearing only to reenter at the other side as he’d expected and there stood one Lydia Martin.
“Young Spark, you seem recovered from our last conversation.” She said, perfectly in the voice of the girl Stiles had spent so much of his life pining over.
“I have questions that don’t have answers because my mom is gone. So I didn’t have much of a choice.” Stiles said with an easy shrug. Truly he should be more worried or perhaps intimidated, but he could only find the peaceful calm that the clearing blessed him with.
“You’re rather fond of this girl and her ginger hair. I do see the appeal of her brain, though.” The Nemeton said conversationally, sitting down on the leaves beneath their feet.
“She’s strawberry blonde, and yeah her brain was.. Most of the appeal. She’s gorgeous, don't get me wrong, but I always wanted someone who could keep up with me.” Stiles replied, pleasantly surprised by the easy way the conversation flowed where it would usually be tense or he expected it to be awkward.
“She is a good body to take the form of for you then, but not the right one.” She said with a cryptic smile. Stiles wondered what the Nemeton would consider to be the right body, how many of his friends she’d cycle through before coming to a decision.
“You called me here, right? What do you need?” Stiles asked, leaning back on his palms with his face to the trees above them, admiring nature and enjoying the gentle, cool breeze. Stiles could feel her eyes on him but he ignored them in favour of basking in the fictional space that made him feel light and free. Free of everything that troubled him when he was out in the real world.
“Interesting. You ask what I need, not what I want.” The Nemeton observed, but she didn’t need Stiles to reply and he knew that on a level that was bone deep. “I wanted to tell you about your mother.” She then said, after taking a moment to consider how to say what she needed to.

“You called me here, to help me?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to look at the familiar face beside him that was smiling fondly.
“It helps me as much as it helps you to understand the bond I had with Claudia. I believe it may be uncomfortable for me to help, you have hidden memories that I may dislodge as I tell you our story.” Not-Lydia told him, and Stiles could find himself nodding. Hidden memories. Nothing in Beacon Hills could ever be easy.
“I have limited time today so I think maybe we should start another time but can I ask a question first?” He asked, brows furrowing as he considered her and his question.
“I will answer all questions that I am able to.”
“What’s your name?” And Stiles could see the moment his question registered and the way it caused some amused confusion for the Nemeton.
“I never had a name, not until the colonists came. The Natives worshipped me almost as God and revered me, they never had the gumption to outright name me. But, the settlers gave me the name Arabella.” She said, and Stiles could see the way that it hadn’t entirely answered the question that he had asked her.
“Is that what you want me to call you?” Stiles followed with, only making Not-Lydia’s smile grow.
“You and I will get along well, young spark. You may call me Arabella, it is the only name I have ever truly known, or some variety of it.” She told him, reaching out to run gentle fingers through his hair the way a mother would do to her young child and Stiles couldn’t help but bask in the attention. It felt different coming from Arabella than it did anyone else, perhaps because of her age.
“I should probably get going.” Stiles said, though his reluctance was clear. He felt safe, warm and calm within his visions of Arabella, who would want to return to the real world from that?
“You have normal life to tend to, I understand. You do not need to be summoned to return, I will always grant you safe passage here from this point on. Come when you need, I understand you have been benefitting from the quiet of my small pocket of the preserve.” Arabella offered as she pushed to stand and held her hands out to Stiles to help him up.
“Thank you, Arabella.” He replied, her name feeling strange on his tongue in the way that it felt so entirely right to refer to her that way. What a strange thing magic can be. Then, Arabella placed Lydia’s hands over Stiles eyes and gave him a gentle push with the other hand.

The push sent Stiles right back into his body, a soft gasp escaping him. He blinked slowly into awareness, the world around him shifting from blurred to sharp and clear, his heart and breathing returning to something more normal. Since Stiles had been asleep last time, and awoken quite abruptly, the return to his body and right mind had been so disorienting it had bordered on distressing, but this time it had been slow and he’d been expecting it so it was much easier. He took a few short minutes to fully reorient himself and ground himself in the now, assuring his over anxious brain that he was alright. He’d been there for a few hours, but he still had time to get back home and eat before classes, he was suddenly very hungry. He thanked Arbella in his mind as he stood and wondered briefly whether he should be doing more to honour her for what she was doing. With that in mind, he left the clearing to head for his Jeep.

When he found the parking lot, Derek was there leaning against the hood of the Jeep and it caught Stiles entirely off guard.
“Hey grumpy wolf, can I help?” Stiles asked as he tugged the keys from his pocket, unlocking the Jeep without much thought to the werewolf watching him approach.
“Peter said you were going to the Nemeton and he thought you might lose track of time. Sent me to watch for you.” Derek explained and Stiles didn’t miss the way the Were looked him up and down to assess for damage. Stiles laughed and opened the driver’s door, leaning his head against it.
“Well, I am here in one piece and feeling more balanced than this morning. I’m also on time to get home for lunch before classes.” Stiles explained before climbing into the Jeep. He reached to grab the door to close it but found Derek’s body in the way.
“You were in there for more than three hours.” He said, as if he was making some grand point.
“Yeah, I’ve been in there for longer before. She let me go early cause she knew I was busy.” Stiles said, brows furrowed with confusion at the distaste Derek seemed to hold for Arabella and her occupying of his time.
“And you’re just okay with that? It’s stealing huge chunks of your day.” Derek said and suddenly Stiles could place the concern. The pack had felt guilty about missing the Nogitsune and Derek perhaps more than others when it had been suggested to him and he’d outright denied the possibility. Stiles rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.
“I let her. I don’t need to go to her, I choose to do that just like she chose to reach out. Besides, she’s going to help me with some things. So far I benefit from this way more than she does.” Stiles explained, relaxing in his seat when he figured he wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.
“Since when was the tree a she?” Derek questioned, some of the tension leaving his shoulders with Stiles’ reassurances.
“Since I asked for her name.” He replied with a grin as he watched Derek go through various stages of confusion and awe.
“Get in.” Stiles said after a moment, tilting his head to reference the passenger seat.
“What?” The Were in front of him asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“You’re not going to relax, you’re stressed cause you thought you were going to have to come save me or something, so just come home with me. I’ll make lunch and we can just hang out in silence while I do class work.” Stiles offered, patting the seat with his hand and a patronising smile on his face.

Despite the tone Stiles had taken, Derek agreed and climbed into the Jeep to head back to the Stilinski house. The ride there in the Jeep was a quiet one, though it wasn’t awkward even if Derek was still holding tension in his shoulders. Stiles planned to help ease that as best as he could. The knowledge that he was the Pack Dad and this was the role he was supposed to fulfil allowed Stiles to ignore the implications about his own feelings even if he could practically hear Lydia yelling at him.

They did exactly as Stiles had suggested once they arrived; he’d managed to pull together a slightly questionable lunch for them and they watched shitty daytime TV while they ate and waited for Stiles' classes to start. The conversation between them was still minimal aside from Stiles’ running commentary about whichever programme Derek decided was entertaining for five minutes before he changed his mind again, but Stiles always had something to say. And if Derek was deliberately changing the channel just to see what Stiles could come up with to say about it, well that was a secret just for him.

When Stiles logged in to attend his online lecture, Derek took control of their home computer to do some work of his own and they worked in a companionable silence until Stiles’ final class at six. Stiles had offered to wear headphones so that Derek could concentrate but the Were had denied, saying that he’d prefer to have at least some noise in the room that wasn’t them tapping at the keys of their respective computers and so Stiles had readily agreed, happy to escape from the inevitable discomfort he would’ve had at the end of the day had he needed to wear headphones. Despite what Derek had said, the rambling of Stiles’ lecturer and the keyboards weren’t the only sound in the room, it was also filled with Stiles tapping his pen, tapping his fingers, tapping his feet and making various noises with his mouth in his effort to remain concentrated for an extended time. Back to back double lectures? Evil.

When he was done, he suggested they order takeout and watch some movies just as they had with the pack the night before but Derek declined, making an excuse that both of them knew was a little lame for why he needed to go. Stiles didn’t call him on it, just walked him to the door. Werewolves are touchy creatures, Peter had confirmed that for him, and yet Derek hadn’t touched Stiles so much as once during all their hours together that day so just before he could leave, Stiles pulled him into a hug. Derek stood stiff for a moment before returning the hold with a smile he’d deny until the day he died and when Stiles closed the door it only widened, though he’d never admit it. It was a good day.

Chapter Text

Today was going to be an interesting day. Not that other days recently hadn’t been interesting, but today he was going to Skype Lydia for lunch and catch her up on everything that was happening. He knew she didn’t like being out of the loop, so he was bringing her into the fold over lunch. He’d been shopping the day before to make sure he could make something for his lunch that Lydia would actually approve of, that way she wouldn’t scold him and distract him away from the topics that he needed to cover. He’d even made a bullet point list of points so that he wouldn’t forget anything - college had made him a new man.

“Hey Stiles.” She greeted with a smile and a mug of presumably coffee in hand when she answered the call. She was sitting in what Stiles assumed was her dorm room, while he was sitting in the same bedroom he’d had since he was thirteen. Some people, some things, just didn’t change.
“Hey, Lyds. How’s college?” He asked as he sipped from his Dr Pepper can, muting his phone so that nothing pack related could keep him away from making sure Lydia knew everything she needed to and any advice she might be able to give him. After that, they spent about two hours catching up. Lydia told Stiles all about college and the people she’d met, Peter had gotten in touch with someone at her college that he knew in order to get her onto a special extra class given only to those who were in the know and she was taking full advantage of it. Stiles made sure to tell her everything that he’d been learning about the Nemeton, the way she’d been taking the forms of people he knew and shared every detail down to Arabella’s comment about Lydia’s body being the wrong one.

“She’s an all powerful being, she wants to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible when you interact. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried Scott next.” Lydia replied with a shrug. She’d been the first person that he’d told when he first felt the pull of his connection to the tree - he’d figured that she was the best to ask considering she was also pulled to locations against her will.
“And she said I have some hidden memories.” He said with a sigh. Just thinking about that idea gave him a headache. More things he had to think and worry about.
“About your mother.” Lydia pointed out with a single raised, perfect eyebrow. She sipped from her drink, looking to be in thought and Stiles just waited for her revelation to fully form. “You’re a spark. You’ve formed a connection with the Nemeton. You have missing memories about your mother. Maybe.. Your mother also had a connection with the Nemeton.” She said, as if that was something perfectly normal to suggest.
“But my mom was human.”
“Was she?” Lydia asked, looking up from her drink to look at him and it felt like she could see directly through him when she looked at him like that.
“I have missing memories. If she wasn’t.. I might not remember.” He conceded, figuring that was where she was going with it. “So what do I do about it?”
“Let Arabella do what she plans to. Let her unearth the memories.” She said with a shrug. She had a point. Peter too had had memories of his taken and he’d never managed to restore him, only find out that they were missing to begin with, so he’d leave it to Arabella to help.
“Think you can find me some books?” He asked her hopefully. That was something else they’d covered - if she had supernatural classes, she must have access to supernatural reading and Stlies was desperate for it.
“If I find anything of note, I’ll copy it for you.” She said with an amused smile that had Stiles narrowing his eyes at her.
“What’s that look for?”
“You just can’t slow down, can you?” She asked with a slight tilt of his head and the two of them laughed together. They spent a while longer talking before eventually Lydia had to go so she’d make it to her next lecture on time.

Stiles spent a while pouring over some things Scott had already sent to him and took that time to think about what Lydia had said. His mom might not have been human. It made sense to him now, that if she hadn’t been and he’d had those memories taken from him, that he could so easily settle into a life surrounded by supernatural creatures that could kill him faster than he could so much as step out of arm’s reach. He wondered whether that’s why he had so easily taken to magic, whether on some level he could remember seeing his mom do it, even if he couldn’t recall the memories. He had no classes tomorrow, so he’d spend the day with Arabella, uncovering the things he’d lost.

It was dark when Stiles looked up again, and spotted an amused if not slightly frustrated werewolf at his window. He shuffled over and opened it to let Derek inside, dropping back onto his bed while he waited to see what the wolf wanted.
“You’ve been ignoring your phone again.” Derek said, walking over to Stiles’ desk where the phone in question had been left and then tossed the device over to him. When he checked, Stiles saw a myriad of missed calls from his dad, Peter and from Derek as well as texts galore.
“I’ve been busy.” Stiles said with a shrug, scrolling through the texts before deciding to ignore them since they were all just about him ignoring them.
“Doing what?” Derek asked, leaning against the wall behind him with folded arms.
“Why are you here? Why did you come from the window?” Stiles asked in return, waving his arms around as he spoke.
“I’m here because the Sheriff called me when his son wasn’t answering the phone to ask if there was a new supernatural threat. I called Peter to ask if you were at the library again after I couldn’t get hold of you either. Now I’m here.” He explained, looking nothing if not tired.
“The window?”
“Figured if you were ignoring us cause you were doing work, which you were, you were more likely to hear a knock on the window than the door.” Derek replied with a one shouldered shrug.
“Well, I was doing research.” Stiles said, standing to go back to his desk and put his phone on charge, then dropped back into the chair he’d spent most of his day in, grabbing some papers to wave at Derek as proof.
“You’re obsessed.” Derek accused, perching himself on the edge of Stiles’ desk to see what he’d been looking at. The pages had things crossed out, circled and highlighted with various extra notes written in about whether things were credible or what they may have meant.
“It’s a hyperfixation not an obsession. Besides, this is kinda my life so excuse me if I wanna know what’s going on with me.” Stiles replied, folding his arms over his chest and raising his brows in a poor imitation of the look he’d received from Derek so many times over the years. Derek in response just rolled his eyes and pushed away the papers Stiles had been looking at.
“Eat something, drink some water, leave your room even for at least ten minutes. Your dad is worried.” He said, heading for the door to leave, thankfully not the window.
“You’re starting to sound like him.” Stiles accused, standing from his chair to see Derek out like he was supposed to.
“Then maybe you should take proper care of yourself.” Stiles waved him off as he followed him down to the front door, brushing off more comments made during the short walk.

“Oh, one last thing since you want to play concerned.” Stiles started, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m going to the Nemeton again tomorrow and I’ll be there for.. A long time probably. She has some things she wants to talk about and I have a feeling it’ll take a while.”
“Okay?”
“Thought you’d want to know so you don’t start greying when I don’t reply to any texts.”
“Want me to come with you in case something happens?” He offered, opening the door to his car while he waited.
“You can come if you’re worried about it, I’ll be okay though, Arabella protects me.” Stiles said with an amused smile. He figured that Derek would come given the way he’d been acting more recently around Stiles’ relationship with the Nemeton, though he said nothing about it and just got into his car with a roll of his eyes, and drove away.

Chapter Text

The next day, Stiles headed to visit Arabella like he’d planned. Thankfully he’d remembered to take his phone off silent before heading to bed so when Derek text him asking when to pick him up, Stiles just laughed as he replied. A spark and a wolf walk into a forest to talk to a magical tree - it sounds like the start of a bad joke. They spent the drive over in the Camaro in silence. Stiles, for once, had nothing to say. At least not to Derek. He only had questions for Arabella.

When they parked up, Derek looked a lot like he wanted to put Stiles back in the car and take him home, so Stiles walked over to stand beside him and squeezed his shoulder with a smile and a nod.
“Dude, stop worrying. I’ve done this before, I’m gonna be okay.” Stiles said, smile broadening as Derek just held out his hand for Stiles to lead the way, so he did. He walked into the preserve blindly as he always did, sometimes following a path and sometimes straying so far from it none could be seen. Derek did ask a few times if Stiles was sure that he knew where he was going, but the spark just waved off his concerns. Of course he didn’t! But Derek didn’t need to know that. As always, they arrived in the clearing in no time at all, and Arabella was there to welcome them.

While Stiles walked happily into the clearing and kneeled down beside the stump to greet Arabella like an old friend, Derek hesitated at the tree line. He considered ignoring the wolf and just getting to work, because he had so many questions and so little time, but Derek needed him.
“She’s really nice, you know.” Stiles commented with a shrug, lifting himself up just slightly so he could sit on top of the stump instead of kneeling beside it. Stiles knew the story of Paige, he could only imagine that was where Derek’s mind had gone.
“It’s a tree.” Derek dead panned in return, but Stiles didn’t believe that he was so neutral on the magical power house in front of them.
“She’s an ancient force of pure magic. Come sit down.” Stiles returned with an amused smile, patting the spot beside him. He wasn’t sure if ancient was the right word to describe how old Arabella was, he figured he’d need to ask her. Derek just stared for a moment, more at the stump than Stiles himself, but then dragged himself over to sit beside his friend. They remained in silence for a moment, where Stiles let Derek assure himself that nothing was going to go wrong.
“See, she doesn’t bite.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Derek, who laughed softly despite himself. He was at least more relaxed now than he had been since they first got into the car together. He had things he needed to talk to her about, and time with Arabella was half what passed in real time, maybe even less, but he needed to first be sure that Derek would be alright.

“Should probably warn you, I look kinda dead when I do this. I’m not, you’ll still be able to hear my heart, but I didn’t want you panicking and trying to wake me.” Stiles said, studying Derek’s expression as the Were nodded that he understood and raised his hands to signify innocence. He wasn’t going to try to wake him. Good. Stiles nodded back, then shuffled to sit closer to the centre of the stump while Derek stood so he could look properly at what was about to happen. Stiles splayed his hands over the top of the stump and closed his eyes to focus on what he was doing, and just like that she took him.

He sprinted into the clearing, greeted by Arabella in Scott’s body on his first entry. That was new. And hey, looks like Lydia was right.
“Scott the right body?” He asked casually as he wandered over, sitting down immediately, smiling as she followed suit.
“No. But I think I now know who is.” She replied with a cryptic smile that definitely didn’t suit Scott’s face. His friend wasn’t calculating, that was not an expression his face should have.
“Do I get to know?” Stiles asked hopefully, bringing out his best attempt at puppy eyes at full force, sighing as Arabella simply shook her head. He’d have to wait until he was here again to see whose form she’d take next, he supposed.

“You have questions for me.” Arabella said simply and Stiles was struck then by the fact that she must have found someone exactly perfect if Scott wasn’t going to be the final body that she chose because hearing him say those words made everything so much less scary. He did have questions, questions that could change his life forever.
“I need to know about my mother.” He said, not truly a question but something that she could work with, he was sure. Arabella nodded and moved to sit in front of him rather than beside.
“I’m going to touch you, close your eyes and please try not to move.” She told him, and then she reached out to hold his head, her palms over his temples.

For a moment, there was nothing, and Stiles was about to question what he was doing and then he began to see things despite his eyes being closed. It first was just flashes of colour, the sound of voices that he recognised, and things he wasn’t entirely sure were memories. Considering what he’d asked of Arabella he was sure that they had to be memories but since when had Jackson Whittemore been a part of his childhood? Finally, the rapid changing and blurring slowed and Stiles was seeing from what he suddenly realised were his own eyes, at age just seven. He was in his bedroom, looking up at his mother. His mother. This was before she got sick. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, reading him a story and then he realised that he could see the images to match the book that she was reading, then noticed the way her fingers were moving from where she was holding the book. She’d made the images, she’d made them for him, to help him love the story even more. She was using magic, and she was doing it for him.
“Are you ready for bed, my mischief?” She asked with a smile as she closed the book and set it aside, the animals she’d made all disappearing into the pages. Stiles wanted to refuse, to deny wanting to sleep, to spend more time with her.
“I'm gonna see Jax tomorrow. He said we could play in the sandbox together.” Young Stiles said, a grin over his face and Stiles felt his heart constrict. In taking his memories of her magic.. She’d taken his memories of a childhood that included Jackson. The more he thought, the more he was sure of that.
“That sounds wonderful. Remind him, he’s always welcome here.” She said softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead and Stiles felt his heart break all over again. This was what he’d spent his childhood missing. Was it any wonder he felt like he’d missed so much time with her? He was literally missing it. Here was a whole memory with her that had just been taken away.
“Theo doesn’t like the sand so he’s gonna play with Scott with the cars.” The younger version of himself then said, and Stiles again flipped back to the thought of Jackson. There had been four of them, not three. He needed to talk to Jackson.

The memory faded away slowly, and Stiles was back in his special clearing with Arabella, Scott’s hands still holding his face. It took a moment to realise that there were tears rolling down his cheeks. He had lost so much more than just memories of his mother. He’d lost entire chunks of his childhood, something that nobody else had noticed.
“She was like me?” He asked wetly, grateful when Arabella shuffled back again to make space, but left her hand on his knee to comfort him.
“She was.” She confirmed, and Stiles could only nod. She’d probably made everyone else forget too. The question was.. What did they forget? How much? Did Jackson remember them being friends as he now did?
“I need.. I need to see more.” Stiles said, looking up at her with wet lashes but a determined look on his face. Scott’s face shifted to an expression more familiar to Stiles - admiration combined with sympathy.
“You can’t. Not today. I can’t keep you here much longer, your friend is starting to worry.” She told him, a smile on her face. Not today didn’t mean no. That meant another time.
“I’ll come back.” He said, standing, ready to go back. He didn’t want to upset Derek when he said he’d be okay. Besides, it sounded like he had been here for a long time if Arabella was urging him to go.
“I know.” She agreed, standing after him. As she had before, Arabella rested a hand on his chest and gently pushed him, and then he was waking up in his body again.

He sat quickly upward, almost colliding with Derek.
“You’re back.” He said softly, muttering something into his phone before Stiles heard the sound of a call disconnecting and the Were was sitting beside him.
“Peter?” Stiles asked, touching his face hesitantly to find that his body, too, had been crying. No wonder Derek had been worried.
“Peter.” Derek confirmed, studying Stiles nervously. Stiles’ mind was going a million miles a minute - what was he supposed to say? How was he even supposed to begin explaining this to Derek? A hand then rested on Stiles’ knee and he looked down at it there, just staring at the back of Derek’s hand and his fingers, studying them.
“Sorry for worrying you so much I.. just found out some stuff.” Stiles said softly after a few minutes of silence, glad that Derek had just let him gather his thoughts. Derek only nodded, giving Stiles more room to keep talking or to ask to leave. Then something clicked.
“You.. were on the phone. You had signal.” He said simply and Derek just agreed, brows furrowing with confusion. Stiles turned to look at the stump with a smile. She’d done that. Well, there’s some more questions then.
“Do you not normally get signal?” Derek asked, grabbing his phone to check again that he had signal, but he didn’t anymore.
“We should go, in case Peter tries to call you back.” Stiles said, pushing himself to stand on slightly shaky legs, grateful for Derek’s hand suddenly appearing on his back to keep him steady. He needed it for just a moment.

They walked out of the clearing and through the preserve to the car park where they found the Camaro and Peter, pacing and furiously tapping at his phone.
“Hey Creeper.” Stiles greeted with a tired smile, which broadened as Peter surged forward and grabbed his face to study him, then his shoulders as he looked over his body. What a dad. Dilf.
“You’re okay?” Peter asked once he was content he’d used his senses to take in Stiles to the best of his abilities, glaring at Derek as he laughed.
“I am. Arabella just.. Surprised me.” He said softly. He remembered reading something about Werewolves in one of the books that Peter had given him and he figured that he’d try it. He reached up and rested his hand on the back of Peter’s neck, rubbing his thumb over the skin there and he watched amazed as the Were in front of him settled. Peter chuckled as he stepped back, gently squeezing Stiles’ shoulder as he did.
“You’ve been reading.” He mused and Stiles just shrugged. All he seemed to do nowadays was read, Peter shouldn’t be surprised by the idea.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter then asked after they spent a moment just looking at each other.
“My mom took my memories.” Stiles said simply, shrugging as he said it. Both Derek and Peter were missing memories, though Peter’s more important than Derek’s.
“She.. was a spark too.” Peter said softly, a guess but a correct one all the same. Stiles could only nod. Derek approached from behind and unexpectedly wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, resting his head on Stiles’. Peter watched as Stiles’ resolve began to crumble, so headed over to the Camaro and opened the door for Stiles to get in.

“I think he needs to go home to his father.” Peter said softly, and Stiles just followed as Derek guided him to get into the passenger seat.
“You think the Sheriff knows?” Derek asked Peter once the door was closed, watching for a moment as his uncle thought.
“I don’t.” Peter replied, telling Derek goodnight before heading to his own car.

Chapter Text

It was only late afternoon when Stiles arrived home from the preserve, though the sun was beginning to set. He had long since stopped being afraid of what lurked in the dark in Beacon Hills, he’d faced far more scary things than teenagers with knives or high school bullies. So, when he got a text from Deaton about a book he might be interested in, Stiles decided that the cool fall air and remains of sunlight were the perfect conditions for a walk to the vet clinic rather than taking his jeep.

“Hey Doc!” Stiles called as he pushed open the door despite the closed sign, then hopped over the desk. He loves Mountain Ash. Even though he doesn’t entirely trust Deaton sometimes, the Mountain Ash around the clinic makes him feel safer than anything. If there was ever a supernatural apocalypse, he’d come here.
“Hello Stiles.” Deaton greeted as he passed into the back room, looking up to smile before looking back down at the herbs he was mixing. A part of Stiles wanted to ask what he was doing and one hundred other things but he refused, asking Deaton questions was like talking to a brick wall and about as productive, it wasn’t worth the time it took for Deaton to reply with something that just didn’t make sense.
“You said you had a book?” Get in and get out, that was the important thing, plus Stiles was tired after a day of communication with Arabella. Deaton stopped what he was doing and turned to open the door to a cupboard and retrieved an aged book from inside. He set it on the table but pushed Stiles’ hand away when he tried to touch it. Not a good start.
“I would rather this remained here where I know it’s safe, but you can come by to read it any time or take pictures of the pages if you want to continue your work at home.” He’d definitely be taking pictures of it, the less time spent around Deaton the better, even if he did feel safe in the vets, besides, if he printed the photos he could annotate and highlight things.
“Cool.” He said simply, reaching out again for the book to open it and start flicking through, just to see the kinds of things that it had inside and why Deaton wanted him to read it. It had some similar things to the books that Peter had shown him, creating a slightly sour taste in his mouth. He’d come all this way for no new information.
“You may want to direct to chapter thirty four.” Deaton said when he saw Stiles’ face fall and hey that may just be the first direct instruction Deaton has ever given to him and damnit it better be useful.

He did as he’d been told and flicked to chapter thirty four. Deaton was right, this was amazing. It spoke all about leylines, about the Earth’s magic, the core of magic itself. Stiles used some magic to ensure his hands were steady as he took pictures of each page, no doubt Lydia would want to see all of this and eventually others would want to see too. Maybe Derek would be interested. He slipped his phone away then, in favour of looking up at the Vet in front of him.
“So what, it’s.. Alive?” He asked with furrowed brows, mind still running rampant about everything that he’d learnt.
“In a way. It isn’t alive in the classic way, more in a way there’s probably only words for in Latin.” Deaton said with what looked like a fond smile and it looked out of place on his face. This was all very out of character for him and Stiles felt suddenly unsafe even if his magic was assuring him that it wasn’t the case. Uncomfortable then, maybe, instead.
“Right so.. How does that help me?” Stiles then probed, failing to understand the sudden openness from the vet that he’d never experienced and why on Earth this was in any way relevant to him. There was way bigger things on his plate right now than this.
“You took pictures of each of the pages, go home and read them. You’ll understand. It may be useful in future.” Deaton said, back to his vagueness, apparently. He’d wanted Stiles to have this information but wanted him to work for it himself, as he always had. Stiles returned right to the sour mood being here put him in.

“Well, in that case, I’m off.” Something about leaving felt wrong, like there was something else he was supposed to ask Deaton about or there was another reason for him being there that he hadn’t attended to but he couldn’t imagine what it was considering he never planned on seeking help from the Druid with everything going on in his life when he had so many other ports of call that he could speak to. He pushed the feeling away, putting it down to the hurting animals in the clinic that he could probably heal if he put his back into it and said goodbye to the doctor to return home. He couldn’t shake the weird feeling the entire walk home, immune to the cold in his favourite slightly oversized hoodie that he’d stolen from his dad and mulled over it. He’d never felt like that in the clinic before but he knew he was getting more powerful with each day that passed so maybe it really was just all the injured animals that gave him the need to stick around. Once he was home again, the feeling was mostly forgotten, he had other things to think about.

Chapter Text

A few days passed then of just.. Normal life. Whatever that was anymore. He’d skyped with Lydia again to speak about the book Deaton had showed to him and to discuss his weird behaviour. Lydia had given him the pdf of a journal from a potential spark in return. He spoke to Scott, to Kira and to Malia about what they’d been picking up, helping him with the bestiary he was putting together. He was planning to bother Peter soon and maybe bully the pack into another film night but there was one thing that was glaringly clear (especially since Lydia text him several times every day to remind him to do it), he needed to speak to his dad.

It was unclear how much his father knew of his mother or how much he remembered, as Stiles’ memories were missing so it wasn’t unlikely that he too would be unaware where he previously had been. Noah had been so confused when Stiles had revealed the supernatural, and he couldn’t imagine that his father had been acting, he must not have known surely. 

Stiles sat on the sofa with his leg bouncing furiously. Derek had said the best thing to do was be honest and open and Stiles had agreed, his dad deserved that after all the secrets he’d been keeping in recent years, but it was hard. He was waiting for him to get home from just a regular shift, there was a surprising lack of supernatural chaos in Beacon Hills. When he heard the key in the lock, a pulse of anxiety flooded through him and made his stomach feel like it was turning inside out. Talking about his mom just wasn’t something they did, not together or with other people until recently for Stiles. The idea of bringing up his mom at all was enough to make him nervous, but to find out of his mother had stolen a whole part of both of their lives for unknown reasons.. That was just so much worse.

“Hey kiddo! I’m-” Noah called out loudly as he walked inside, expecting Stiles to be up in his room absorbed in a task but there he was, sitting on the sofa, looking a little green, “home. What’s going on?” He asked immediately, forgoing even taking off his shoes in favour of going straight to his son. Stiles smiled at that. This was his dad, the same dad that had been with him here through everything else, and he wouldn’t react in any way that should make Stiles so anxious.
“I wanna talk about something.” Stiles started, glad when his dad relaxed slightly. He knew he didn’t need to be worried about his relationship with his dad, but he did worry about the toll that the information he had would take.
“Well, you can always talk to me. You know that.” Noah replied, taking Stiles’ hand in his own for his son to squeeze and keep himself grounded. Stiles nodded and took a deep breath to calm himself as much as he could given the circumstances.
“You know I told you about the Nemeton?” He began, and a lot of deep conversation began.

Noah remembered nothing of Claudia’s magic. It was a devastating blow. To know he was missing a whole piece of his life with his wife, the woman he believed to be his genuine soulmate. He was missing memories from before Stiles was born, right back to the time that he and Claudia first met, he realised upon reflection. She’d taken Noah’s memories just as she had Stiles’. Stiles and his dad held each other while they cried, mourned the loss of something that they hadn’t even known they were missing. Stiles told his dad about his remembering Jackson, and Noah was left floored. He didn’t know Stiles had forgotten. Noah could remember clearly times when they would play together and could remember the day Stiles came home and declared that Jackson was weird and he didn’t like him. Noah had been confused, tried to understand where it had come from, but eventually just let it go. His son was stubborn, he wasn’t one to be convinced.

Claudia had robbed them both of something, and they couldn’t understand why. Why could she want to take away from her boys the chance to remember her in her entirety, the chance to understand what was really happening in their town. Noah had a suspicion that if he’d remembered Claudia, that he would’ve known what was going on with Scott and Stiles much sooner and he would’ve been there with them in the beginning and been able to help them with all their early werewolf struggles. He found himself feeling sick with the thought that Claudia would take the memories from him, knowing they could cause damage.

It was with the two of them sitting on the sofa, Stiles wrapped up in his father’s arms and head on his chest, that Noah remembered something.

“In the attic, there’s a box of Claudia’s things. She said one day you’d need them, and I’d know when that was.” He said softly, smiling at Stiles as he sat up, interested on what on Earth his mother could have possibly left for him. They headed up to the attic together, Noah opening up the hatch but it was Stiles that climbed up the ladder, not wanting to risk the rickety thing giving out and causing his father permanent damage. He lifted himself up through the hatch, coughing softly at the dust in the air. He crawled around until he found a brown cardboard box labelled with his name in his mother’s handwriting. The same box his dad had told him about.

He opened it up before taking it down, he needed to know what was in it. The first thing he found was an envelope with the word ‘mischief’ written on the front in his mom’s familiar chicken scratch handwriting that wasn’t so dissimilar from his own. He took it and sat cross-legged on the floor of the attic, and opened it.

My Mischief,

If you’re reading this, I believe you will have met Arabella. If you haven’t, please follow my wishes and return this envelope to the box, do not go looking for her. You will meet her when you are ready. She will call for you.

I can only apologise, my Genim, my Mischief, my Mieczysław, for what I have taken away from you. What I have taken from your father. From your friends. I promise it was a necessary evil. I would not have done it if it was not something needed for your survival. I took your memories, memories of me, memories of my magic. I love you very dearly and I know your own magic must now be incredibly strong, that you have likely grown into a young man I could only dream of.

Go to Jackson. He will remember. The moment you accept your past, the spell will break for all others that I placed it on and they will all remember. Ask Talia for her help with the discomfort of remembering, she has a herbal tea that always helped me. She’d offered to do this part for me, but I’d wanted you to have a chance to remember, to get back the pieces of childhood that you were missing.

As things happen, you will get more letters. Trust me, trust that before I began to lose my mind I knew what I was doing, and trust that no matter what happened to me near the end that I love you more than I have ever loved anything else. My Mischief.

Love,
Your mom

By the time he was done reading, Stiles was crying. He couldn’t help it. She had been friends with Talia. He wondered if he’d played with Derek as a child, whether remembering Jackson was the first step toward remembering so much else that he had taken from him. Maybe there was a reason he was so drawn to the Hales, maybe his mother was the reason he’d accepted the idea of Werewolves so easily. He had so many questions for her and so many things he wanted to know. He hoped her other letters could give him some answers.

He put the letter back into the box, then carried it down. He went with his dad through to his room and set the box gently down in the bed. It was only a small box and it was filled with letters from his mother. There was one for Scott, one for Jackson, one for Theo, one for Peter.. One for Talia, and finally one for Noah. The rest were for Stiles. He took each of the letters for the people he knew and gently set them aside, figuring he’d give the letter that his mom had written for Talia to Derek. He’d appreciate it, he thought. The next letter to the top was also addressed to Mischief, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to open it, but his dad’s hand stopped him.

“Your friends' letters were on top. I think you should worry about those, first.” He said with a small nod and an emotional smile. Stiles reluctantly agreed and closed the box again before sliding it under the bed. For another time.

Now.. he had a pack meeting to organise.

Chapter Text

Stiles had immediately messaged the pack group chat to organise another meeting. They complained about having them so close together, so Stiles called out those he had letters for and told them he had something important for each of them, so if nobody else turned up, he needed them to, of course other than Scott who Stiles would speak to over Skype. But now all he had to do was wait, and Stiles hated waiting. He wished that everyone had been free that night but Theo had work and Jackson had to go for dinner with his parents, and it was important that they were there.

So, Stiles did the only reasonable thing, he went back to the box of things that his mother left him. He opened the box and took what looked like the next letter, and noticed that in the corner of the envelope was a little number two. Letter number two. He opened it carefully, not wanting to rip it so that he could return the letter inside once he was done reading it, and pulled the letter from inside.

My Mischief,

You’ve always been impatient, just like me, so I figured you’d want to start with two letters rather than one. I hope I know you now as well as I’d like to hope I do.

Of course she did. She always knew him better than anyone else, even than his dad sometimes. He missed her.

I can only guess how many questions you have, and I can’t begin to tell you how much I wish I could give you the answers. I can only guide you to those who may be able to help you. Magic likes to draw together those that have it, so I’d like to think that by now you would know the Hales. I know that once I take your memories, we’ll stop visiting them, but I do hope your magic drew you back to them, maybe when they needed you most.

Peter was a dear friend of mine, and always took a shine to you. He and I were always alike and he was sure you’d turn out to be the same. Peter has a knack for being right, I wonder if he was right about you too.

Oh, Peter sees right through Stiles alright, and he always has. From the moment they met, again he supposes, Peter seemed to know something about Stiles that he didn’t even know about himself. He couldn’t help but wonder if Peter always knew, if he’d remembered his mom.

I bet you’re wondering about the age difference. Talia was always older than both me and your dad, he met Talia just as she was becoming mayor, before he was the Sheriff. He became Sheriff just recently as I’m writing this, it hasn’t even been twelve months. Peter is younger than you think he is, even with being a Werewolf, he’s just always been old for his age. An old soul if you will. Peter is younger than me, but by a lot less than he’s younger than Talia. As I’m writing, Talia is just thirty eight, now I imagine she’s around fifty.. I’d have liked to see the woman she’s become in that time. If I were alive as you’re reading, assuming I’m right and Talia is fifty, I’d be almost forty, just thirty nine years old. And Peter.. Well Peter is only twenty as I’m writing. Turns twenty one in a few months, I’m hoping I can make it to the party. He’s so much younger than he acts like he is, don’t let him forget that. Normally I’d find it strange to be friends with someone so young, but I’m friends with all the Hales; Talia, Mae, George, Celia and Peter. I always wonder where they’ll be as you read this, I can only hope they’re happy.

Of course, the Hale fire happened after Claudia ‘got bad’. She wouldn’t remember it happening, no matter when she wrote the letters. He silently promised his mom that he’d ask Peter and Derek about them all, that he’d honour their memory for both the sake of the remaining Hales and for his mother. She’d cared about them, just like he cares about the Hales now. But, if Peter was almost twenty one when she was writing..

“Peter is only thirty three. He’s sixteen years younger than dad. He’s only eight years older than Derek.. He’s fourteen years older than me.” Stiles mumbled as he considered it all. Peter was barely twenty one when the fire happened. Stiles was seven when the fire happened, Derek was thirteen, and Peter was twenty one. “Jesus.”

Please, my Genim, listen to matka and read the letters as you’re supposed to. Not a moment before. They will guide you as you need them. I cannot guide you myself like I wish that I could, so I need you to pace yourself with the letters so you don’t move too quickly and get yourself hurt.

At the bottom of this box is a journal of mine. I inherited it from my father, who you’re named after. He was a spark like we are. I don’t think you’ll need it, I found that I didn’t either, but please feel free to add to it. Show it to anyone who will listen. Educate Wolves, Foxes and Druids alike. Tell everyone who we are, because I never had the strength. But you? You, my beautiful boy, are going to make waves I cannot even imagine, I already know it. I can see it in your eyes.

Please, don’t miss me too much, because I am always in your heart. I love you, my Genim. Always, until the end.

Love,

Mom

He gently returned the letter to its envelope and began digging more carefully than he ever had through the box. At the bottom, he found a leather bound journal. Just touching it sent waves of exciting energy over his palms and there was no question to his magic that this book belonged to him. It was familiar, in the way deja vu can make things feel familiar, but somehow even more than this. Familial, not just familiar. His magic is generational, as is this book, even if his mom thought he wouldn’t need it. ‘You are going to make waves I cannot even imagine.’ If only she knew.

Chapter Text

Time passed unreasonably slowly until the pack meeting. Stiles was about ready to burst. He’d been dying to know what was inside of each of the letters, to know what it was his mom had wanted to tell his childhood friends and her own friends. He hoped he was making the right choice by giving Talia’s letter to Derek. Peter would be there too so if Derek didn’t want it, Peter could take that too.

When he arrived at the loft, he was absolutely on the brink of nervous collapse if he wasn’t on the brink of exploding all over the nice rug Peter had definitely bought for the loft. Derek looked at him with brows furrowed in concern and walked over to rest a hesitant hand on Stiles’ shoulder.
“You okay?” He asked, uncharacteristically soft. He knew how much Stiles had wanted to have this meeting, even if he didn’t know why, but now he looked like he was going to keel over and die at any moment.
“No? Yes.. maybe.” Stiles replied absently, brushing Derek off with the best smile he could muster before going to sit down on the sofa. He was scared. He was nervous. He hadn’t seen Jackson since he’d found out. Derek sat beside Stiles and rested a reassuring hand on his knee that Stiles was grateful for. When Peter arrived next, carelessly tossing aside his keys like he lived there, Stiles’ heart flipped. Both Wolves looked at him curiously, wondering where on Earth his reaction had come from.
“I’m.. kinda glad you got here first. You might want to sit down.” He mumbled, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. Usually, Peter wasn’t one to take orders but he was curious and concerned, so he did as he was asked.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Peter asked gently, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees so he can study the Spark more closely and it almost makes Stiles break down. Peter could’ve been here the whole time. If he’d known, he could’ve stopped Peter from going feral, him and his dad. Maybe Laura would’ve stayed in Beacon Hills.
“I have something for both of you.” He said, and slowly pulled out the letter his mom had written for Peter and held it out for the Wolf to take. Peter studied the handwriting with the same confused familiarity he’d seen on the Wolf’s face when they were doing research and he came across a word in a foreign language that he’d seen before, but couldn’t remember the translation for. 
“It’s from my mom. Dad said.. She’d left things for me. There’s letters for a few people but.. One was for Talia.” He said, voice trailing off the longer he spoke. He felt the way her name hung heavily in the air, like his mom’s did. They didn’t talk about her either then.
“I don’t remember your mother.” Peter said softly, staring down at the envelope in his hands, wondering if this was something else that his sister had taken from him.
“I know. You’re not supposed to. It’s a spell. Once everyone is here.. I think it’ll be broken.” Stiles explained, fiddling with his hands now as he waited for someone to ask about Talia’s letter.
“Your mom.. Died before the fire.” Derek said softly, and Stiles was surprised he remembered. The three of them barely dared to speak in the quiet room, lest they upset the tense air between them and create problems.
“In one of her letters to me.. She told me about you guys. About Talia.. And Mae, and George, and Celia,” He mumbled, glancing from Derek to Peter, “she told me how young you really are. How young you were when the fire happened.. You’re one of us Peter. She’d want that.” Stiles said, shuffling to the edge of the sofa to reach out and rest a hand on Peter’s arm and Stiles felt the pack bond between them flare to life. Peter was pack, really pack, and in his pocket Stiles could feel just how many texts he was getting, no doubt the other pack members questioning what had happened.

Peter’s eyes met Stiles' own and they were wet with unshed tears. Stiles stood and hesitantly stepped closer, only able to laugh as Peter pulled him into a tight hug, still refusing to cry about it. He had a pack again, and some link to parts of his past he had apparently forgotten. All thanks to Stiles. A gift that just keeps giving. When they pulled apart, Peter laughed airly and shook his head at his own emotional display and sat back in the chair he’d been sitting in, and Stiles did the same, still smiling.
“I haven’t opened any of them so I don’t know what the one for Talia says but I thought you’d want to read it.” Stiles explained, holding Talia’s envelope out to Derek. The Were took it and handled it gently, as if it would snap if he mishandled it. Peter looked at it with similar reverence. That was when Theo arrived. He walked in nervously, clearly able to smell the tense atmosphere, but Stiles looked at him with the brightest smile that he could muster, leaving Theo nothing but confused. He welcomed his old friend inside and told him to just sit down, then he got his call from Scott. He linked his laptop to the TV so that they could all see Scott even if he couldn’t really see them properly. They spent a few minutes in one of the most tense silences Stiles has ever experienced in his short life, and then Jackson walks in.

He looked around the room with a confused and uncomfortable expression, then met Stiles’ eyes. Stiles stood immediately, but then was unsure what to do. The others knew what he needed to do, but something was stopping him.
“We- when we were kids..” Stiles mumbled, watching as Jackson began to look like he wanted to leave. But he needed him to stay. For just a moment he was sure the spell wasn’t going to break and he’d be stuck with his memories lost to his own mother’s magic, but he held out the letter anyway. “We were friends. You were my friend. There were four of us, not three.” Stiles said, almost a whisper. And then he felt it. He felt it all rushing back like a dam had broken and he could tell the others had felt it too. Peter was the first to move and tore open the letter that had been left for him, eagerly reading it. Jackson just stared dumbly at Stiles.

“Hey buddy.” Stiles said, laughing softly as he said it. Jackson just continued to stare as his eyes filled with tears.
“Why?” He asked, brows furrowed. Stiles wasn’t sure who he was angry at.
“I don’t know but.. She left a letter for you.” Stiles held out the letter addressed to Jackson, who slowly took it. Claudia and Noah had been like parents to Jackson, Stiles remembered now, he wondered if losing those memories contributed to him becoming a Kanima. Stiles had taken pictures of Scott’s letter so that he could read it, even if he wasn’t here in the room, so he returned to the sofa and carefully returned Scott’s letter to the bag he’d used to bring everything in and just sat and waited, each of them reading the letters they’d been given. It was quiet, it was sombre, but it thankfully wasn’t tense. Theo read his letter over and over again, as if looking for some missing detail; Scott had pushed aside his phone in favour of just staring once he’d finished his, as if reconciling the loss of time; Peter had read both his letter and Talia’s and looked lost in memories of the past; Jackson stood stock still, staring at the letter, unmoving, he hadn’t even sat down; and Derek sat strong beside Stiles, his hand on the Spark’s knee to keep him sane. 

Jackson was the first to move, and headed over to Stiles. He looked down at the Spark, who looked up at him in return, unsure of what move he was supposed to make.
“How did you know?” He asked, almost accusatory, and Stiles couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad.
“Her letter to me. I found out about the letters from my dad. I knew to start looking because the Nemeton showed me a memory of the two of us. I needed answers.” Stiles explained, giving the shortest version of the story that he could in hopes it would give Jackson what he needed. The Kanima sighed, then sat down on the coffee table despite Derek’s frown.
“So you didn’t know either?” He asked, looking suddenly so much younger. Like a boy who was left with no friends, because he could no longer remember who they were.
“I didn’t.” Stiles confirmed, voice as strong as he could make it, he needed Jackson to believe him. Needed him to understand that Stiles wouldn’t have left him if he’d had a choice.
“She said.. She thought we’d find each other again even if we didn’t remember being friends.” Jackson said, turning his gaze back down at his hands. Theo stood then and walked over to sit beside Jackson and Derek didn’t have the heart to truly object. Theo rested his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, squeezing it in his hand.
“We did. It just took a while to get there.” He said, looking away from Jackson to look at Stiles, showing that his own eyes were wet with tears. Claudia had four sons, not one, she had her Mischief, Stiles; her Hero, Scott; her Mayhem, Jackson; and her Monster, Theo. And now they were reunited like they should’ve always been.

“Come here.” Stiles said after a moment and dove forward to tackle his two friends in a hug that knocked all three of them off the coffee table and successfully pulled the piece of furniture over with them. They were loudly laughing, and maybe crying just a little bit, but they were together. Stiles looked up at the screen where he could see Scott with a grin, seeing that his friend was grinning too.
“We’re back.” He said, and it felt like a closed chapter. Like somehow they’d always felt something missing and found the final piece of the puzzle because he was right, they were back, they were what they always should’ve been. 
“I was your best friend first.” Jackson said smugly after a moment from where he was still laying on the floor. Stiles playfully hit his chest and they all laughed again, the teariness of it all not stopping them from being happy.
“Mischief and Mayhem.” Theo recalled, making Peter laugh. They looked over at him expectantly, because now they remembered. The Hales had been a constant in their lives and they’d all known that they were Werewolves. They knew because Auntie Claudia was magic and she liked to tell them all about Wolves, and how kind they were, and then the Hales proved her right. Peter had only been young when the fire happened, so he’d almost grown up with them. Stiles was a year older than his friends but had always been even more mature, so he’d loved Peter. He treated Stiles like a young man, not a child, and he loved it. His weekends at the library weren’t just with the librarians, they were with Peter. Peter, who took him and Jackson to the library when their parents were too busy, and let them read above their age range if they wanted to.

Much to everyone’s surprise, even his own, Peter stood from the chair where he was sitting and joined them on the floor, laughing as they shuffled over to climb all over him, while Derek just watched with amusement. That was how the rest of the pack found them when they arrived for the movie night Stiles had bullied them into, though Scott had hung up to make food for himself and promised to call again soon. Liam had come earlier than expected because he wanted to know what was going on and had immediately joined them on the floor, cuddling up between Stiles and Theo, content to lay there and forget the reason why he’d come so early. Mason and Corey had chosen not to join them, instead sitting in the loveseat together, despite being invited to join their puppy pile (because that’s what it was, no matter what Peter said). Slowly, other pack members joined them, adding to the pile of them on the floor, even when it stopped being comfortable, because they liked the contact. They enjoyed being close. It made them calmer. 

After a while, Stiles had extracted himself from the centre of the pile and left the others comfortable on the floor. He righted the coffee table that everyone else had ignored and went to sit with Derek.
“You should join us.” Stiles told him, looking at him with head slightly tilted. Derek raised a brow at him, as if asking if he was serious but Stiles just kept staring, not budging.
“Come on, Sourwolf. Join us.” Stiles said again, standing and grabbing his wrists to pull him up. Derek moved to stand and Stiles knew that he wouldn’t have moved with just his strength alone, so clearly, he wasn’t as reluctant as he acted. He let Stiles tug him around the coffee table, then when Stiles settled back down into the space the pack made for him between Peter and Jackson, Derek moved into the spot Stiles left for him, resting his head against Peter’s chest. Peter wrapped his arm around his nephew and tried to hide how much it meant to be able to do this again, like they had when they were younger. He’d been just eight when Derek was born. It was nice. 

It was weirdly quiet for their pack. But it was just that, it was pack, and they could feel it thrumming between them. Pack.

Chapter Text

They never ended up watching a movie. They’d lay on the floor until Peter began complaining about his back, and it began complaints from various pack members about discomfort and eventually Stiles barked for them all to either get up or shut up. They moved. People were strewn around the room in various places and groupings, leaving Stiles, Theo and Jackson on the floor together, all touching in some way. Stiles was sure that he’d spent too much time with the Werewolves because he couldn’t bear to let them go, some deeper instinct that he was sure he’d taken from somewhere else, and a deep-seated need for Pack.

Peter escaped away after a while, sitting on the stairs, Talia’s letter still gripped tightly in his hand. Stiles let him. He clearly got very little chance to talk about his family, and the letter left for her was a piece of his past he hadn’t had a chance to mourn the loss of. Derek ordered Chinese food for everyone, ‘Wolves laughing as the man taking the order began sounding more and more bewildered the more he ordered. Over $100 of Chinese food. The pack continued chatting together, Stiles still not moving from the sides of his friends. They’d lost so much time, but they wouldn’t lose any more. He wondered who else Claudia had cast her spell on, who else now remembered things that they’d long since forgotten. 

It hadn’t been minutes since that thought passed his mind when Peter’s phone began to ring. People didn’t call Peter, he called them. He stood and gestured Derek over. The call was from Cora. Immediately, the entire pack could hear her yelling down the phone at her uncle, demanding to know what he had done to her because who else would put memories of her old life in her head, who else would make her see him in a positive light and Stiles was up quicker than a shot to defend him. He’d taken the phone away and shushed her as much as he could manage (this took several long minutes) and then explained to her what had happened. About his mother. If Derek was thirteen, then Cora was younger. She was.. Ten. Ten years old when she thought that she’d lost her entire family and ran away to an old ally. On a whole other continent. He felt the reality of it hit him hard in his stomach, no wonder she was.. Like that. The way she was. He’d spent a while quietly explaining to her what had happened recently, and he knew that the other pack members were listening. They’d been curious, if a little too nice or distracted to ask. When he was done, he handed the phone back to Peter, who stepped outside as a clear sign that he wanted privacy talking to her, and Derek followed. The pack respected their privacy.

When Stiles returned, Liam had hesitantly sat on Theo’s other side, looking almost worried that Stiles would disapprove. The Spark just rolled his eyes and ruffled Liam’s hair before returning to his spot between Theo and Jackson. He was comfortable there and he wasn’t fool enough to be blind to what was going on between Liam and Theo. He could see it from a mile away and he was sure the rest of the pack could too, he’d just been trying to ignore it before today - not anymore. Not now.

Derek and Peter returned inside with the arrival of the food they’d ordered for everyone, and Peter again isolated himself from the others. Stiles wouldn’t have that.

“What are you doing, Creeper?” He asked, moving to sit beside Peter at the kitchen island where the older ‘Wolf had sat himself.

“Eating my dinner.” Peter replied with an arched brow, as if Stiles had asked a stupid question. 

“Stupid answer for a stupid question?” Stiles asked in return, showing that he could nowadays read Peter almost just as well as he could read Stiles. Well maybe not that well, he wasn’t stupid enough to pretend it was that close between their abilities, but Stiles was still leagues ahead of other pack members in that department.

“Alright. It’s.. strange.” Peter replied, now more honest. Stiles was unsure what he meant.

“Explain.” He said, tucking into the collection of food he’d assembled for himself from the various things they’d picked out, because everyone had taken to sharing rather than being possessive of their own orders.

“I haven’t had a pack in a long time. Twelve years to be exact. Now I have it again, with people I’d forgotten from my past, that I’ve desperately been trying to find a place with for at least half of those twelve years. It’s a combination of.. Relief and grief. To know I could’ve had this the whole time. That she took it from me, and she didn’t tell me why.” That was significantly more honest than Stiles had ever expected Peter to be. He was being honest and vulnerable, and this was the Peter Hale that had been friends with his mom, the Peter Hale that had carried him and Jackson home after a long day at the library, the Peter Hale that promised to get his claws out and scare anyone that dared hurt any of the four boys. Their Peter. Uncle Peter. Stiles got down from his chair to shuffle it along closer to Peter’s, then got back up and wrapped his arms around the man, resting his head on his shoulder, letting Peter do the same.

“I’m sorry. If it helps, I think we all feel similar. Jackson especially.” Stiles said softly, recalling previously lost knowledge of Werewolf culture as he brushed his nose against Peter’s cheek, almost laughing when he felt Peter tense in confusion, almost on guard. He’d need to get used to this again, and he’d have to do it fast.

Stiles remained at Peter’s side while they ate, just in a comfortable silence, keeping each other company as their knees touched as a silent assurance that they were both still there (more for Peter than Stiles, but it was still nice). Stiles was pulled away again by a call from his father.
“Hey dadd-io.” Stiles greeted with a grin, almost laughing as Theo and Jackson perked up, new memories of afternoons as the Stilinski house restored leaving them eager to see the Sheriff again.

“You remember too, right?” Noah asked, as if scared he was the only one. Stiles gestured for Theo and Jackson to join him. He couldn’t stop smiling, especially as both of the boys found a way to touch him, a hand around his shoulders or on his back. 

“Hey dad.” Jackson greeted, almost hesitant. He was nervous about rejection. Stiles wrapped his free arm around Jackson’s waist to pull him flush against his side, a gentle assurance.
“Mayhem.” Noah replied. Jackson looked like he was going to cry. Claudia had been the one to call him by their nicknames, not usually Noah, but he’d done so on rare occasions. Stiles figured that he’d do it now more than ever before.

“Me too.” Theo added, leaning his head against Stiles’. The four of them had always been touchy as kids, though it was something that they had grown out of as they got older and people were rude to them about it, now as Supernaturals Stiles didn’t doubt they’d go right back to how they’d been as young children.

“Sorry for threatening to shoot you, Theo.” Noah said, and all three boys could hear the smile.

“No hard feelings.” Theo said quickly, eager for sins to be forgotten in favour of returning to the bonds they’d had before. With Jackson and Theo having less than present parents, Noah and Claudia had been that for them, and had both lost it. They hadn’t gotten the same privilege as Scott.

That call had ended quickly, with promises made about family meals and Christmas get-togethers (Thanksgiving was already a pack event, but Christmas was reserved for family). After that, the night began to wind down, and pack members began to leave. Nobody could be upset about being brought out of their homes when they were fed for free, especially more than they’d ever get at home, so everyone headed out with smiles. Jackson and Theo left hesitantly, not wanting to be separated after finally being reunited, but when Stiles suggested that they both go back to Jackson’s they happily went. They also understood that Stiles wanted to talk to Peter and Derek.

When Stiles closed the door after his friends, the ‘Wolves looked surprised despite the fact that they realistically should’ve heard him talking to Theo and Jackson. He shook his head and walked over to drop himself down on the sofa, patting the chair on either side of him, insisting that they sit with him. Derek joined him fairly quickly, having been close to the sofa anyway and he couldn’t help but be interested in what Stiles wanted to stay for. Peter joined them more slowly, and Stiles couldn’t help wondering what was going on in his head. Stiles nodded, patting the chair again to insist that he sit, and Peter did. This is who had been hiding behind the mask. A twenty-one-year-old that had lost everything. Stiles took Derek’s hand in his own with an ease he hadn’t realised he’d been missing and rested his head on Peter’s shoulder. They didn’t speak for a long time, letting grief flow through them and the room, silently considering the time that they had lost, how things could’ve been different if they’d just.. Remembered.

“Tell me about them.” Stiles said softly after a long silence, pulling Derek in closer and shifting how he was leaning against Peter, so the older man had to wrap his arm around Stiles’ shoulders. He wanted to be closer to them, like being closer could give them back what they’d lost. Like it could give them what time had taken.

“Who?” Derek asked as he let go of Stiles’ hand, shuffling to find a new position until Stiles used some magic to nudge Derek into laying his head in his lap, which the Were’ did. Stiles brushed his fingers through Derek’s hair gently, not too unlike petting a dog (though nobody dared comment and interrupt their careful silence).

“The Hales. I remember you and Cora and.. Laura. I remember Peter and I remember Talia but.. Everyone else is kinda foggy.” Stiles replied, worried that saying any of their names would break what they had and the Hales would retreat. Peter did stiffen at Laura’s name, and Stiles was quick to move his free hand to Peter’s knee, squeezing it gently. Nobody blamed him anymore.

“I had three siblings other than Talia, I was the youngest. Mae and George were twins, I remember them running in my family but.. Nobody had any after my parents. Mae was like Laura, she was practical when she needed be but.. So passionate. About literally everything. George was a pest of the highest degree, the typical big brother. I thought he hated me when I was younger. Celia was the best friend I’d ever had.. Until Derek.” Peter said after another long silence, trailing off as he mentioned his previous friendship with Derek. There was a pause there, as both Hales collected themselves, and Stiles let them. He didn’t dare speak and interrupt either of their thoughts.

“Laura was a lot like Iris, George’s daughter. They were close. These.. Bubbly personalities. Laura was more academic where Iris was creative, they were more like sisters than anything else.” Derek said with a smile that Stiles could feel against his leg. He missed Laura, Stiles knew that, and he was glad that he felt comfortable talking about her.

“Hales come in pairs. Mae and George. Me and Celia. Laura and Iris. Sophie and Cora. Derek was like his mother. Talia had a lot of responsibility and was a little isolated amongst the rest of us, and Derek was the middle child, born between everyone else. That’s why we became close, I suppose. Celia left home and I had Derek. Talia found her pair in her husband Stuart, Derek’s father. They were.. Soulmates, I’d like to think.” Peter then continued, and Stiles didn’t need to be a ‘Wolf to feel the palpable bittersweet happiness in the room. It was almost painful.

“Your mom was awesome. She always brought us gifts, something magic usually. She was great at gifts; it was always exactly what we wanted.” Derek then said, slowly recalling things as they returned to him. The memories had come quickly, but some were still unclear, tied together or mixed with other things.

“Yes, Claudia fit right in with us. It was like she’d always been there. Then came you. Another little magical soul to join our disjointed, chaotic family. With you came Jackson, Theo and Scott. Claudia’s four boys. And the four of you weren’t ‘Wolves, but you may as well have been. You were young enough that you didn’t ask about the different habits that we had, you just picked them up like they were your own. Claudia thought it was brilliant.” Peter added, looking at Stiles as he spoke of his mother. They hadn’t just been pack. The Stilinskis were family, no matter which way you looked at it. Pack is like family, something tighter than that, but being family is an honour all its own.

“Talia had three children, then everyone else had one, right?” Stiles asked, feeling distinctly like there was something that he was missing, something forgotten or that had never been entirely understood by young Stiles.

“No, Mae had two.” Peter corrected softly, and this was clearly a pain just as deep as the others, but he spoke about it differently. Derek whispered something that Stiles had missed, but clearly Peter hadn’t because he nodded. “Charlie. He wasn’t even two when he went missing. We thought he may have been taken by hunters, or even just regular humans, looking to taunt us or wanting ransom but.. There was nothing. No body, no ransom, no signs or clues. It was like he’d vanished, or never existed at all.” He explained, and that brought an old memory back to Stiles. He’d only been three when Charlie had gone missing, but he remembered hearing about it years later. When he’d been older. 

“I don’t remember him very well, but I remember how it felt when we realised, he was gone. Everyone’s grief. I remember how it felt when the pack bond broke, it was like I’d lost a limb.” Derek mumbled. He would’ve been seven, Peter would’ve been fifteen. So much grief for people so young. Scott was barely sixteen when Peter bit him. He refused to compare traumas, they’d all experienced the events of the last few years, but at least they were all alive. That couldn’t be said for most of the Hales.

They returned to silence after that, just enjoying being together. Stilinskis are family, so this felt distinctly like a family reunion. Stiles just kept carding his fingers through Derek’s hair, enjoying the feeling of Peter’s fingers tracing over his arms. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke up it was dark, and his father had arrived to take him home. Peter must’ve called, because the two were standing together talking quietly. Stiles almost stood, then realised that Derek’s head was still in his lap, and he too was asleep. Peter glanced over, likely having heard Stiles wake up and looked at him amused. There was no way for Stiles to move without waking his friend, but he desperately didn’t want to. Noah and Peter watched as Stiles debated, then was struck by genius. He used his magic to keep Derek steady as he moved and stood, then adjusted him to lay more comfortably. Success. Until he tripped over the leg of the coffee table and woke Derek up anyway. At least he tried.

Chapter Text

He got home without a hitch after that, saying goodbye to both Derek and Peter with a hug was new, or he guessed it was old, but it was nice. He slept well that night, and in his dreams more memories returned to him. Stiles figured it would take longest for him to get his memories back because he would’ve had the most taken from him. His dreams showed him images of playing at the park, his mom making whole movies for them with her magic, her and his dad tucking Jackson and Stiles into bed together for sleepovers, Melissa cooking for the four of them after little league. They’d had this perfect life together.

When he woke, Stiles had work to do before his lunch meeting with Lydia, and this time he’d invited Scott too. They had things to talk about, and he could help with explaining things to Lydia. He made breakfast for himself, just a slice of toast, and then got on with his classes. The work was pretty easy, nothing that ever took long, in fact the thing that took longest was making sure he had actually watched his pre-recorded lectures. They were driving him insane. He exclusively watched them at double speed.

Once all of that was done, it felt like a sigh of relief. College and feeding himself were chores, and now he got to sit with his friends and explain to Lydia everything that she had missed the day before. He didn’t doubt that Kira would be there too, since she was visiting Scott. At least Stiles was fairly sure that Scott had mentioned that. It was all a little messy in his head, like he was disoriented in his own mind because it was suddenly fuller than before. He’d completed a quest and unlocked more of the map. He laughed airily at his own thoughts as he loaded up zoom to be able to call Scott and Lydia.

Lydia was already waiting in the meeting room, eating some ramen as she read until she heard the tone of Stiles joining. She looked up with a smile and set her book aside, focusing more on her computer. Stiles assured her that he had food, and that he’d explain once Scott was with them, since he’d missed some of the explanation of what was happening too because he was away from home. When Scott joined, he was joined by Kira, but she was in the back cooking.
“Don’t tell me he’s downgraded you to housewife already?" Stiles asked, him and Lydia laughing as Scott spluttered, trying to protest but unable to find his words.
“He’s banned from the kitchen. He tried to cook pasta without water, never mind without salt.” Kira replied, only making Scott turn red and splutter harder, while their laughter grew only louder. Stiles had to open his window to cool down from how warm he’d become.

“Okay. So something happened yesterday, explain.” Lydia finally said when they’d calmed down, and it prompted Kira to come sit beside Scott to hear the explanation.
“Before that, we gotta go back a little.” Stiles took a deep breath and dove into the story. Everyone had slightly different pieces of the puzzle, so he started at the start. He told them about the letters from his mom, the letters for the others. He told them about him gathering the pack together, and Scott voiced his acknowledgement. He told them about the emotional fallout, about the letter written for Talia that he still hasn’t read, about the new details he has on the Hales and his past with them, alongside the past all four boys had with them.

Kira let out a low whistle as she stood to return to the kitchen, finishing her preparation of her and Scott’s lunch, while Lydia ran over the details in her mind.
“I was dreaming about it last night. I woke up confused but I guess that was all real, huh?” Scott said, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
“So she just.. Took it all away from you. Why?” Lydia asked with furrowed brows, looking down at her hands, her face looking distinctly like it did when she was trying to understand a puzzle.
"To.. protect me, I guess. I don't know why, or what from. I guess everything we've experienced." Her guess was as good as his, he hoped her letters would explain more, but he could feel that it wasn't time to read one yet.

"So what's your plan?" Kira asked, getting everyone back on track as she returned to sit beside Scott, a plate set in front of each of them. Something with rice that Stiles didn't recognise. Cool.
"To continue as normal. I want to.. focus more on Jackson and Theo, Peter too. Keep them on the inside of the pack. But I have bigger fish to try than this." And at that Lydia looked at him with narrowed eyes, lips pursed.
"Bigger fish to fry than your whole life being turned upside down?"
"Arabella. She told me for a reason. That is the bigger fish. My connection with the Nemeton is changing and I need to understand why." And while Lydia still looked surprised, she seemed pleasantly so.
"That reminds me, I spoke to one of my professors, he's contacting a friend about some books he thinks might be useful for us." Kira told them with a smile, brushing some hair behind her ear, spoon halfway to her mouth.
"You're a saint. He doesn't deserve you, you know." Stiles said, making everyone laugh again, even Scott. They all heard him agree, Stiles and Lydia pretended they didn't. It was sweet, but vaguely private.

"Okay, I need to talk to my dad and he gets home soon so I gotta go. But I'll keep you all posted." Stiles said, roughly half an hour later, having accidentally glanced at the time and realised he was supposed to be cooking already. Eating is a chore, but Stiles loves cooking for other people, and cooking for his dad is a priority. He grinned and gave a thumbs up as he left the meeting room, then skidded out of his bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen to start preparation.

Stiles wasn't finished cooking when Noah got home like he'd planned on, but he was close enough that he could ask his dad to help out with drinks and taking things to the table. Immediately, his dad was suspicious, because as much as Stiles did like cooking it was rarely ready when he got home (or close to it), he usually had to remind his son about food. Altogether, it was just a little suspicious.
“What is it?” Noah asked, opening the fridge to get out a can of coke for Stiles and some juice for himself, because of course he’s not allowed to drink pop.
“Just bolognese. The Quorn stuff, cause you hate that least. But it’s mom’s sauce.” Stiles explained as he drained the pasta water, grabbing a plate with his free hand, subconsciously supporting the hand carrying the heavy pot with his magic to avoid dropping anything (that was something that had happened altogether too many times).

Once everything was set, and Stiles and Noah were both sat enjoying their food, Noah levelled a hard gaze at his son, tired of dancing around whatever was going on.
“What have you done?” Noah asked, setting down his fork in favour of just resting his hand on the table, and taking away any threat of violence.
“Well, you actually know everything I’ve done for once cause it totally wasn’t me it was mom.”
“I’m still not sure I entirely understand what’s happening there.” Noah admitted as he took his fork back in hand, content to eat his food and listen - his son was perfectly capable of talking at him.

Stiles explained everything, going into detail about the memories returned to them, making sure to highlight the parts he didn’t understand himself or where he needed to just keep living until it was time for more letters. He knew he needed to return to Arabella, and so he told his father that too, wanting to ensure he had everything that he needed to, that he knew as much as Stiles did.
“So you don’t know why she did it?”
“She was it was to protect us, I guess she meant after she died. I just don’t know what we needed to be protected from. What the Hales couldn’t have protected us from, because if we’d been around maybe we could’ve stopped Kate.” It wasn’t a thought that he had dared voice to Peter and Derek, but it was one he could say safely to his father. Him and Derek had been friends, maybe he would’ve been told about Kate, and Stiles definitely would’ve told his father. He couldn’t keep secrets when he was that young. They could’ve stopped the fire.
“Kid, come here.” Noah stood and opened his arms, letting Stiles follow and fall into his arms, holding each other tight. Noah made sure to assure Stiles that there was likely nothing they could’ve done, some things are meant to happen no matter what, but he couldn’t help thinking about it himself. Stiles had been in the pack, so had Claudia, but it had never been the same for Noah. However, the idea that Claudia could’ve indirectly killed her friends made his heart ache, because they’d been his friends too.

They finished their meals, moving on from the more upsetting topics, instead talking about Stiles’ future plans, what he wanted to look at in the library next, ideas for how to include Theo and Jackson properly in family events, and Stiles realised he should talk to the pack members that had left Beacon Hills about what the holiday plans were. They moved to sit on the sofa and watch TV together, some sort of shitty cop show that they enjoyed making fun of and pulling apart, and Stiles resolved to call Scott tomorrow about the holidays. It could wait. He needed this time with his dad.

Chapter Text

When Stiles woke the next morning, he felt better for having spent time with his dad. It was always good for him to just unwind and take a break, let everything be normal for a while, and watch shitty TV with his cop dad. But, all good things must come to an end and it was another normal day, with university work to be completed and chores to be done. And he needed to call Scott, he couldn’t forget.

..

It was four days later when Stiles finally remembered to call his friend about their holiday plans. He hadn’t been procrastinating, honestly he hadn’t, he’d just gotten so incredibly distracted. Theo and Jackson came over one afternoon and had just ended up never leaving. They'd fallen asleep together in the living room, Theo shifted to keep them both warm, and he’d woken up feeling good.. And still forgetting about his call to Scott.

Finally, it was the weekend. He needed to call Scott. He hit dial and he could hear that the phone was ringing. He really hoped Scott would pick up because he didn’t want to have to call again later, and risk forgetting again. He’d been about to lose hope and call Peter to say he was coming to the library, when the call finally connected and Scott said, “Hey man, what’s up?”
“I meant to call you days ago and kept forgetting.” Stiles admitted, making the both of them laugh. It was hardly out of character for Stiles to do it.

“Good to know nothing has changed. What did you need?” Of course, Scott had already asked that, but Stiles had neglected to answer. TIme to get on topic.

“What are the holiday plans for the pack? I want to make sure everyone is involved this year. The way packs are meant to be.” Stiles explained, pushing a hand into his pocket as he absently paced around his room, because he can’t sit or stand still when he’s on the phone.

“I dunno. I know me and Kira are coming back to Beacon Hills, but I kinda figured we’d just work it out later. It’s not even winter yet.” Stiles could practically hear Scott’s shrug.

“I just want to have it planned. Plus, it would give us time to bully Cora into coming home for Christmas.” He knew it would mean a lot to Derek for Cora to come home for the holidays, and the longer Stiles had to convince her, the higher his chances were.

“I mean, we could do a big pack event. Think the loft could hold everyone? Think Derek would want to host?” Scott offered, and Stiles could hear him typing in the background which meant that he was on speaker.

“That could work, Jackson’s place is bigger than Derek’s if he says no, but I think the loft is better. More.. pack-y.” There was a pause before they laughed again, though Scott understood and Stiles knew that. Most of their pack events were either at the loft, or Stiles’ house, but that was far too small for a whole pack Christmas gathering. They’d need extra tables, nevermind chairs. Werewolves eat like nothing else.

They talked a little bit more, just catching up, and then when Scott got a call from Kira, they finally hung up. Stiles then set about getting in contact with their other friends who were out of town, particularly Cora, before then following up with Derek about using the loft. Every pack member he contacted asked why he was trying to organise Christmas so damn early. He could only sigh. It was only a few months, and nobody else seemed to see the value in deciding now what they needed to do - asking parents, organising, planning, taking time off work for adults who wanted to attend. It was important and took a lot of planning which meant it needed to start now.

A call from Peter caught him off guard.

“You’re fussing.” Peter said when Stiles accepted the call, and Stiles just sighed more dramatically, collapsing against the sofa. He’d moved downstairs at some point to grab a can of soda and a snack. It was hungry work trying to organise Christmas.

“If I’m going to get everyone in town, talk to parents of the kids, make sure nobody says yes then finds out last minute they’re going out of state, make sure we’ve got enough space and chairs and food - I need to start asking now. Plus I’m working on Cora and we both know this is an appropriate time to start on that.” Stiles rambled as he leaned forward to grab his can from the coffee table to take another sip from.

“You’re certainly right about Cora. Maybe try asking the parents of the pups, rather than them, who will certainly blow you off.” Peter suggested, and Stiles could hear very faint chatter in the background, meaning that Peter was off work.

“You wanna help?” Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows even though he knew Peter couldn’t see it, though he had the feeling that the ‘wolf could feel it.

“Not particularly, but I can work on Cora with you, and I assume you want the loft so I can talk to Derek too.” Peter offered. He still felt off-kilter, despite his place in the pack changing with the new information that everyone had learned. Stiles understood, and wouldn’t push him.

“Any help is help. I’ll start with Liam’s parents.” Stiles replied, hanging up before Peter could say anything more.

…

Christmas came faster than anyone was expecting, except Stiles, and he got a few quiet, almost apologies from people who had tried to blow him off when it came to planning in the prior weeks. On Christmas Eve, Scott, Theo, Jackson and Stiles were all together, staying at Scott’s house since Noah unfortunately had to work until late. It was like they were kids again, all that was missing was Claudia.

Stiles was the one to cook for them that night, insisting that Melissa take a break after she’d worked for a hectic twelve hour shift shortly before the boys had come over, and nobody else was complaining. They loved Stiles’ cooking. They ate together, watching family Christmas movies like they hadn’t been able to for years, and Stiles could practically feel the next letter from his mother from his bag, which was sitting in Scott’s room. He was supposed to open it tonight, and he wanted to make sure that everyone was asleep when he finally did. His letters were for him, and while he didn’t mind sharing, and telling people what was in them, he preferred to experience them for himself first. Besides, if he was going to cry he’d rather do that by himself.

Stiles had dreaded hours of movie watching and snack eating like he never had before, desperate to get to his next letter as fast as possible, burning with a need to see what his mother had written for him. His fears didn’t come to fruition however - everyone fell asleep part way through the second movie, and Melissa had known Stiles for long enough to know that something was on his mind, and she let him go do whatever it was that he wanted to, promising to keep the boys away if they were to wake up. He raced away the moment he could without being rude, straight up to Scott’s room and he closed the door behind himself. The letter was in his hand before he’d truly even processed what his hands were doing and suddenly he was sitting on Scott’s bed with the letter in hand, trembling. He couldn’t open it.

He spent a long few minutes staring at the letter before he managed to slowly peel open the envelope. He pulled the letter from inside, pulling it closer to his face to smell the paper, as if he’d be able to catch his mother’s perfume lingering. He couldn’t. He was no Supe. He unfolded the paper slowly, careful to crease nothing, and smoothed it out across his thighs before holding it back up again, eyes closed. He took a deep breath, and then another, before he opened his eyes to read the letter he’d been given.

My Mischief,

Merry Christmas my wonderful boy. I do wish that we’d gotten more holidays together, Christmas was always one of my favourites. Growing up, I’d celebrated Christmas in the way that my grandparents did, the way they had done back in Poland, but we combined that with American traditions when I met your father. I wonder if you still follow some of the traditions that I introduced him to, or if he reverted to the way he grew up.

I’d like to think that after all these years, you may still leave an empty place at the dinner table on Christmas Eve, or on Christmas day, like I always did. For the Lord, a lonely traveller, or for the deceased. I’d like to think I still have a chance to dine with you for Christmas.

However, these things are not the reason I am writing to you now. You are on the cusp of a new year, and I am hoping that at the very least you have had some months now to process the changes that have come with the return of your memories, and gaining access to Arabella.

You are so much more than Stiles Stilinski, more than a Spark. You are the Guardian of Arabella, the North American Nemeton. She is not the only one, and by now I have no doubt that you are aware of this, but each of the others have their own Guardians. I never made contact with them myself, but I think it is time, as the new year begins, that you make contact with another if you can find a way to do so. They will help you with your Guardian duties, assist you in caring for Arabella in ways that I could not. It is important.

Your name will one day cause ripples, I know that it will. Whomever it is that you meet, ask them about the name Gajos. When you have learnt this, you can open my next letter. Not before.

Thank you my Genim.

Love, 
Mom

Well that was more cryptic than he’d anticipated. Gajos was his mother’s maiden name, and despite having learnt over the last few months that his mother had been Supernatural, as he was now, he hadn’t considered what that meant. She was part of a Werewolf pack. She ran in Supernatural circles. There were others before her. He could not wait to get his teeth into this mystery, and unravel the mystery of his family name, and get the chance to impart that on others. He’d start by asking Peter, who had been friends with his mother. There could be something on their family history in the Hale Vault; he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that his mother had asked to store important family valuables there.

Stiles carefully returned the letter to the envelope, and then to his bag for safe keeping, ready to show it to Peter and his dad when he saw them in the morning. Maybe even Kira’s parents would have clues. He returned to the puppy pile after that, confirming to Melissa that he’d done what he needed to do, and he cuddled in to fall asleep.

…

The next morning, they pooled into Theo’s truck to go over to the loft, with Melissa being driven by Stiles’ dad to reduce the number of vehicles taking up spaces in the parking garage. Melissa had prepared some food, and so had Stiles, and those sat secured in the back seat of the Jeep, being driven by Noah. He’d made some of his mom’s favourites, and Melissa had cooked some of her own mother’s recipes.

When they arrived, Derek, Cora and Peter were already waiting, with Liam and his parents having arrived first, not wanting to be late. Jackson greeted the pack with a smile, Theo not far behind him. They gave Cora loose hugs as they passed, bumping shoulders with Derek, then came Scott, a little more awkward (he had been awkward with Peter ever since finding out who he was to them - he’d spent so long being angry and that was hard to let go of). Stiles took a plate from the back seat of the jeep, leaving one hand empty for greetings while Melissa and Noah both took two plates. Derek rushed to take the final dish. Stiles hugged and scented Peter, and then Cora, glad to be reunited now they had their memories again.

“I hope there’s no mud pies on that table.” He joked, only to be chased up the stairs by Cora, all the way to the loft. She thankfully had the sense not to tackle him until someone had taken his plate of food.

By the time everyone had arrived, the buffet of food was incredible. Melissa had prepared an unholy number of tamales, and more pozole than he’d ever seen. Kira had brought bulgogi prepared by her father, and a christmas cake that had been prepared by her mother. They would be along later in the day, preferring to avoid the carnage of a shared meal time. Tracy, who was supposed to be spending the holiday alone, was invited along by Hayden, who had been invited by Liam. Tracy brought bean soup, which Theo had been elated about. He mentioned that he wished he’d thought to try to find a recipe for the walleye his mother used to make. Erica had convinced her dad to make enough buñuelos to sink a ship, while Hayden had wrangled ingredients to make champurrado for anyone who wanted it. Nolan had made pavo navideño with the assistance of Alec, and they weren’t confident it was all that good but Stiles piled his plate high with it. Jackson had insisted on yorkshire puddings, a staple in Britain that he’d grown to love during his time in London.

Peter had also done plenty of cooking, cooking a chicken since Nolan had brought turkey, roasted potatoes, carrots and parsnips, stuffing, gravy and more vegetables than Stiles thought they could reasonably eat. Derek had prepared a butternut squash risotto - which Cora said was one of the only things he could make - in honour of their Italian mother. Cora had bought two roscón de Reyes and plenty of turrón to be shared around in honour of their Spanish father. They were fluent in Spanish for a reason. It was frankly impressive. There had been a few extra side dishes provided - Boyd’s grandmother had insisted he take salad, for example - and Stiles was so glad he’d planned early because the amount of food looked ridiculous, but he thought it would be just enough to satiate all those Supernatural appetites.

They ate enthusiastically, with Christmas music playing in the background. Allison and Chris had joined them later on, Isaac coming along with them - they’d taken the morning to visit her mother’s grave and one of Isaac’s brother’s favourite places, in tribute to him. Allison and Isaac settled in on the floor together, their plates so different in size that Stiles almost laughed. Chris went to sit with the other parents, content to let the younger pack members socialise amongst themselves.

When Kira’s parents arrived, Stiles excitedly jumped up and practically tripped over his feet in his pursuit of a conversation with Noshiko.
“Hello Stiles.” She greeted, amused by his enthusiasm but not unused to it by this point in time.

“Hey, I have something to ask you.” He said as he adjusted himself, making sure he wasn’t about to fall over. He felt a few pairs of curious eyes on him but he didn’t let that dissuade him from this important conversation.

“Go right ahead, I’m going to get a drink while you do if that’s alright?”
“Oh yeah, totally, I have some explaining to do first anyway.” And explain he did. Stiles filled Noshiko in on himself, and his mother, the letters he’d been receiving and the bond he now had with the Nemeton - she seemed pleased by that, he noted. And then he asked about the name Gajos.

“Gajos? Where did you hear that name?” She asked, seeming almost startled by him saying it.

“It was my mom’s name before she got married. I’m a Gajos.” He explained, glad he’d apparently started in the perfect place. He watched as Noshiko looked at him up and down, marinating on the information that she’d been given, and then laughed.

“Of course you are.” She shook her head fondly, and took a sip of the drink she’d poured herself, just some tea.

“My letter from my mom said I should find out what that means. I thought you might be able to help.” He replied, sure he looked more than hopeful.

“Not today. It’s a very long story, and not a pleasant one in many places. Enjoy the holidays with your friends and family, and come find me later. No less than a week from now.” She said firmly. She waited for Stiles to confirm that he understood before going to join the parents and her husband, letting Stiles go back to his friends.

After that, Christmas went smoothly. There was music, movies, games, dessert, dancing and plenty of alcohol for those old enough to drink. It was good to have the whole pack home and together.

As the evening came to a close, parents had pulled their children away to go home and to bed, leaving Stiles, Derek, Peter, Scott, Theo, Jackson, Noah and Melissa behind, catching up on time lost. It seemed to be all that they did any more. Stiles told them about the conversation he’d had with Noshiko too, explaining that he wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but he was definitely looking forward to getting closer to his mom and his heritage, even if she wasn’t here to see him doing it. Eventually, Theo offered to take Jackson home, and they took his truck, too tired from the day’s activities to stay awake any longer.

“I’d love to hear what you find out, if you don’t mind sharing.” Derek said softly to Stiles from where they sat together on the loveseat in the loft, Peter happily chatting away with Melissa and Noah, while Scott just listened, content to let Stiles and Derek talk amongst themselves.

“Definitely. Mom said I should meet the other guardians so.. I’ll need some help with that. Asking around, maybe even travelling. They’re all in different countries.” Stiles explained, brushing some hair away from his face. It often fell in the way when he was talking so animatedly.

“Peter can probably help you find them.” Derek said, somehow disappointed by the response. What was happening to Stiles was both scary and exciting, and Derek just wished he could find a way to be more involved. They’d worked well together before, and Stiles had saved Derek time after time - he couldn’t find a way to return that.

“Peter also works, so he’s got less time for me. Literally everyone is busy, except for you. You can actually be there.” It wasn’t the most touching sentiment, perhaps, but it was enough. It looked like Derek would be accompanying Stiles in his adventures after all.

Chapter Text

Stiles did what was asked of him, and waited until everyone was done celebrating, and gift giving, and meeting up for post-Christmas festivities to speak with Noshiko again. He'd gotten her number at the end of their initial party as a whole pack so that he could get into contact when he was ready, and Noshiko had been firm that she wouldn't answer his call until she felt like he'd spent enough time enjoying his winter break. 

It was midday, and she'd suggested he come for lunch, and she'd talk with him over food. Stiles was quite looking forward to that, he loved the food Noshiko made. It also told him that this was likely to be a very long conversation, one he'd want to be sat down for.

She greeted him at the door, and Stiles didn't hug her - that wasn't unusual, not only was he not as close to Noshiko as most other pack parents, but she wasn't pack so that pull for contact wasn't there. He headed inside, happy to see a spread of a variety of foods.
"The story I'm going to tell you is long, and intense. It's going to change your view of your heritage, and so I wanted you to be content, and present options. Stories like this can put you off your food." She said knowingly, and Stiles just nodded. He'd figured that was how the day was going to go. His dad knew where he was, so if Stiles was here late, his dad was going to come pick him up, or at least check in.

At first, the two just sat and ate together, talking idly about things like what she actually did for work - she didn't, she'd invested a many years ago now and they were mostly living off that - and how Ken was doing at Beacon Hills High. They talked about Kira, and her relationship with Scott, which Noshiko was less optimistic about than Stiles and he filed that away. Mothers know best, and Noshiko should be ranked highly amongst them. She always seems to know things she isn't supposed to.

Finally, Stiles felt the atmosphere change, and got more comfortable on the sofa he'd been sitting on. It was story time.

-------

Mieczysław Gajos. A name that could make Supernatural communities around Europe tremble. It was a family name, not his father's name but certainly his grandfather's name, and he believed that his wonderful daughter-in-law would name her son just the same. It had never mattered which Mieczysław you were talking about, the message was much the same - be careful, be kind. 

-------

The Gajos family (known by a different name at the time, though no records of this name can be found) finally chose their home - modern Poland. There was always conflict, it never seemed to end, and the Gajos family always got themselves involved because that was the role they'd been gifted. Magic had been bestowed upon them and so they would use it for good, to aid those who needed it. However, they couldn't stretch themselves too thin. Not every unjust death could be prevented, but large scale attacks would be pushed against, soldiers boosted in their power and injuries healed unnaturally quickly.

In 1241 they did just this, as the Mongols tore through Europe and toward Poland, the head of the Gajos family at the time, joined the forces to work against them. He gifted strength and luck to any soldier he came across, blessing doctors and nurses with healing hands. They would succeed, and prevent too much harm from coming.

The devastation was at a level that the Gajos Spark couldn't comprehend. The Mongols had ravaged their cities and integrated Poland into their empire. He could stand strong with his head held high knowing how many deaths he had prevented, even if they should have to live under Mongol rule for a time, or go to war again to reclaim their home.

-------

1683, the year of the second siege of Vienna . Catarzina was not a soldier, but she was a healer. The Ottoman Empire was a force to be reckoned with, but the Turks needed to be stopped. She couldn't halt them in place, nor fight alongside the Polish soldiers, but she could certainly ensure that their stamina was unending, and their weapons just never seemed to hit. Wounds could heal before they were even felt, and anyone who was sure to die, would make a miraculous recovery. It's hard to beat an army with undefeatable soldiers.

-------

The Gajos family was a force to be reckoned with, a family of the most well documented sparks, and one of the few lines to still be continuing in the year 1870. Mieczysław had done things he wasn't proud of, but that was a part of the burden that he carried. He had to do things that may plague his dreams in order to protect them, the Supernatural world at large, and his family. Those he cares about. Those who deserve to be protected. The Krakow Fire wasn't his best work, it had gotten a little out of hand if anything, but he'd not been able to intervene. It took out the hunters that it was supposed to, those pesky Argents, but he'd laid flowers at the grave of every innocent.

Sparks tend to live shorter lives than the average person, particularly in comparison to their Supernatural counterparts. Having so much power and often using it to get into trouble does that to a person. His father had died when Mieczysław was still young, because his mother - the Spark of that generation - had gotten the whole family into trouble. His human father took the brunt, pretending that he was "the" Spark to keep his wife and son safe. His mother had died a few short weeks ago for the same reason, taking the fall as "the" Spark to keep him safe. He wondered if he'd have to do the same for his son, or his grandson. He'd do it without so much as thinking about it. He wondered how long it would take for hunters to realise there could be more than one Spark at once in a family. He hoped it was never.

-------

Sparks are more likely to become Guardians to Nemeton. The trees weren't bias, but Sparks were more drawn to the trees as a result of the magic that both possess. As time went on, the number of Spark Guardians decreased dramatically, a result of the rapidly declining Spark population. Ewa Gajos was the Spark of her generation, and she was on a train to France.

Ewa wanted a baby, but she was struggling. Her husband wasn't one to crave the flesh, but they wanted a child, the next generation for the Gajos Spark and the nearest Nemeton was housed in Versailles, France. The Nemeton was a source of great power, beyond even that of their Spark counterparts, (rumoured to have originally come from Nemeton) and so she hoped that leaving a offering to her closest Nemeton may grant them some luck.

She had considered a sacrifice - Nemeton weren't particularly picky, or so she'd heard - but she thought an offering was more likely to invite positive things into her life. It had taken time, and the input of several family members to determine what would be a good offering, what was likely to provide the best outcome, and in the end she'd had to make the decision alone, based entirely upon her own intuition. 

Let the tree decide.

Only the Nemeton could truly know what a fair price was for what she wanted, and so it could tell her that price, and she would determine then if that cost was worth having her child.

Her train stopped in Paris, and then she had to travel to Versailles, which didn't take quite so long as the trip from Poland to Paris had done. Though, she was rather tired of trains by this point. Once she'd arrived in Versailles, she could rest. It would be late, and she knew roughly where she could find a hotel to stay in for the night. She'd rest, get a hearty breakfast in a local café, and then go to find the Nemeton. She was hoping that her magic would be attracted to the large tree, and so she wouldn't have to spend too long searching, though she was willing to spend days wandering aimlessly to achieve her goal.

It didn't take days, thankfully. She found out, in fact, that at the time the Nemeton was without a guardian, and so the tree requested that she help with that for it to consider her request. She did so, finding a young Harpy willing to pledge herself to the tree, with her flock living nearby. Following this, the Nemeton had only two conditions. The first, was that after this child, Ewa would be barren, there would be no further Gajos children coming from her. Ewa was content with this, in fact it was something she'd almost expected. The second condition, however, gave her pause. She would be destined to die, a slow and painful death, and there was no guarantee that her child wouldn't suffer the same.

She considered her options. She was sure that she could trust her husband to care for their child, as much as he may not be interested in intercourse in the same way that other men are, he wanted a child just the same as Ewa. He'd protect their child, keep them from harm, and Ewa would train them in their magic. Hopefully, they would have enough time for that. She agreed - a mother dying for her child was not rare around the world, and a parent dying for their child in the Gajos line was more common than not.

The year was 1928. 

Ewa's son, Mieczysław, grandfather of Stiles Stilinski fled to America with his maternal grandmother. He never met his Jewish mother, or his soldier father. They died aged 31 and 32 respectively.

-------

The Gajos family, largely, were akin to a mafia family. Powerful, wealthy and willing to use lethal force. Mieczysław Gajos, aged 26, runs the family business out of Chicago. The year was 1955, and the mafia was very real in that time and place, so it was no surprise that normal folk assumed that the Gajos family was involved. In reality, their family business was herbal magic, mundane witchcraft. The sort of things that even non-spark family members could do. Mieczysław however, took care of the Supernatural side of their business. He offered real magic to those who paid, created anything he could to help those who needed it or harm those who deserved it. 

Noshiko Yukimura had been alive for a long time, much longer than Mieczysław Gajos, but his magic far outweighed hers. Sparks were rare now, far rarer than they used to be, but their magic was supposedly limitless. She'd rid herself of the Nogitsune some years ago now but it still weighed heavy on her mind, aware that it could be causing harm to the place where she left it if she wasn't careful, and if anyone could help her then it was a Spark.

He wasn't a very frightening man, you'd never know the power that was kept under his skin, though she'd heard plenty about it. The Gajos line of Sparks was strong, and through history they'd been known for levelling towns, and killing anyone they deemed necessary. If she didn't know better, she'd have been far less polite, and assumed he was mundane.

Mr Mieczysław Gajos was not interested in getting involved in the affairs of Kitsune. He'd not harm Noshiko for being foolish, but he would not help her. He insisted that being involved in the troubles of Kitsune had historically ended well for Sparks, for his own ancestors, and so declined. However, he assured her of the strength of Nemeton. Her Nogitsune was safe beneath it. She'd been tempted to ask what past dealings his family had had with Kitsune, but the look on his face told her that she was safer if she didn't ask.

-------

"So much of that is.. personal. How do you know any of it?" Stiles asked, sure that if he wasn't so focused on his question that he'd been trembling. He'd missed out on so much of his family history.
"Your grandfather was a prominent member of America's Supernatural community, and I've travelled the country meeting people. Satomi told me stories, and I've learned more from others. The name Gajos is more well known than the name Hale, Stiles. Just about any Supernatural that you ask, around your father's age or older, will have a story they can tell you." Noshiko explained, and Stiles nodded slowly.
"My grandfather's conception.. was because of a Nemeton." Stiles mumbled, not so much directed at Noshiko, just him taking a chance to truly process the information that he'd learned.
"That story was imparted on me by the Guardian. That Nemeton is no longer in Versailles, it moved just before the war, but I met the French Guardian. She was kind. She told me about the woman who'd connected her with the tree that saved her life, the lives of her family and friends." Noshiko shared, and then remained silent to allow Stiles a chance to process and digest everything that he'd learned.
"All the old stuff," Stiles started, struggling to find his words, "I know you're pretty old but the world has never been as connected as it is now - how did you find any of that out, it's so specific." Sure, she'd said his grandfather was famous, but that didn't explain the rest.
"The world has never been this connected, for Mundanes." Noshiko corrected, a small smile on her face that was mischievous, telling of her Kitsune nature if you knew what to look for.
"People can use magic to communicate, and Supernaturals can travel with more ease than a Mundane." Stiles mumbled, connecting the dots. He'd assumed that magical communication was possible, though he'd not read about it just yet, and he'd had no need to given modern technology. Noshiko only nodded.

Stiles took some more time to process all that he'd heard, and decided that he should ask anyone he came into contact with that fit the bill of 'your father's age or older' if they knew anything of the Gajos family. He'd remain a Stilinksi, legally, but once he knew more about the reputation that he would be taking on, he'd use the name Gajos in Supernatural circles. It would protect his father if nothing else, even if only to a small extent.

"I have a niece, her name is Hikari." Noshiko said after a while, unprompted but surely not without reason.
"A Kitsune, I guess?" Stiles asked, for the sake of responding.
"Yes. She's far older than Kira, and has much more experience. She's connected with the Guardian in Japan, perhaps you'd like to meet her and talk about Guardian duties, before you connect with the Guardian himself." She offered. And honestly, that sounded like a great idea. It would, at least, help him be less clueless and less likely to make a fool of himself.
"I'd like that." Stiles agreed, and Noshiko smiled. Stiles assumed she didn't often have a reason to make family calls, and he'd given her one.

Noshiko called Hikari then and there, and Stiles was happy for it. They discussed having first a call over Skype, and then if Hikari was interested that she could move to Beacon Hills. She could be close to family, and more Kitsune, while still travelling and experiencing new things. She'd not been to America in a few decades now, and was looking forward to being back, even if she wasn't necessarily needed. She considered even enrolling in university alongside Kira, to bond and spend time together, and give Hikari a chance to be young again - she'd not been in education for a long time.

Eventually, Stiles decided it was time to head home, and Noshiko insisted that he take some food for his father. It was healthy, and meant he didn't have to cook tonight, so he accepted after some encouragement. With a tupperware in hand, and a new weight on his shoulders, Stiles left the Yukimura house for his Jeep, in hopes of having a long and deep sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Stiles had gone straight to bed after his visit with Noshiko, having left the food for his father to eat that night. He texted nobody, and didn't wake up until almost midday the next day. His dreams had been bizarre. He woke up with an immense craving for bacon, and with the sudden realisation that there was definitely someone in the house, and he didn't think it was his father.

Stiles stood, and mentally checked in with himself, calling on his magic to defend himself if he needed to. This served as an important reminder to either flick through his mother's journal for notes on warding or at least add a mountain ash line around the house to prevent unwanted visitors. The benefit of wards was it allowed wanted visitors, a mountain ash line would prevent all Supernatural visitors, and permit humans with bad intentions. All very messy. He focused again and attempted to listen for activity, but whoever was there was still, presumably sitting. He only knew that someone was there because his magic was telling him - like a sixth sense.

He opened his door slowly, and quietly, not wanting them to hear him if they were human. If they were Supernatural, then at least they'd know he knew they were here, assuming they knew anything about him at all. It'd been so long that Stiles had forgotten he could get in trouble purely for being the son of the Sheriff, rather than being in a Werewolf pack.

It was only when he reached the bottom of the stairs that Stiles realised he could smell bacon - not the turkey bacon that he buys for his dad, but actual pork bacon. Who the fuck was in his house cooking bacon? He approached with less caution after that, replaced by indignation - someone had broken into his house and decided to use his kitchen, uninvited. Who does that?

Upon seeing one Peter Hale stood in his kitchen, with bacon in one pan and eggs in another, and something in the toaster (presumably toast), Stiles just sighed. Yeah, if it was going to be anyone it would be Peter. Stiles rolled his shoulders and shook his head, dismissing his stress and his magic, not wanting to cause any harm to Peter, even by accident.
"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, knowing that Peter had heard him coming and had chosen not to call out to stop him from worrying. Bastard.
"Making you breakfast, your father had the impression that yesterday was a rough day." Peter replied, as if that was a normal thing for him to know, but Stiles supposed that it was now, considering everything.
"I learned some things. Stuff I wasn't expecting." He said with a shrug, and went to the fridge for a glass of orange juice, only not offering the same to Peter because he'd watched the man sip coffee from his mug as he was pouring his own.
"Well, at least you're not dead, and you don't look in imminent risk of death. If you were, worrying about you would put a bit of a downer on my date, assuming I even went." Peter said after a moment, entirely unprompted, and wasn't that an interesting piece of information?

"You can't just say date and move on." Stiles said simply, waiting as Peter plated his breakfast, then his own, and turned to place them down on the table. Stiles collected cutlery then they sat down beside each other.
"What could you possibly need to know? I have a date later today." Peter replied, though Stiles could see how much he wanted to talk about it. He'd had a wife once, and finally he was moving on, or at least trying - that was pretty awesome.
"With who? Do you have any pictures?" Stiles asked, mouth half full of eggs. Peter raised a brow at his bad manners, but elected not to comment. It was a little late now to be correcting Stiles on his table manners.
"A young man I met at the library. Not as young as you, before you make any sort of insinuation." Peter said, quickly pointing his fork at Stiles, with no real threat behind the action.
"Give me more than that man, come on." Stiles encouraged with a laugh. Like blood from a damn stone.
"He's short, brunette, dresses like a professor at an old university. He comes to the library a lot, reads a hell of a lot." Peter elaborated, but Stiles just looked at him, waiting for more. "We're just going to an Italian restaurant for dinner, it might not even go anywhere, Stiles." He added with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. Stiles was.. proud of him. It was nice to see Peter excited about something, he didn't look like that often.

They finished breakfast together amicably, talking mostly about Stiles' university studies and his extra curricular studies. He made a brief, off-handed comment about reading his mother's next letter soon, and wondering what it would be about, but neither had time to be curious. Peter had work, Stiles needed to start actually working on his Christmas homework for his classes. They hugged, and headed their separate ways.

---

It was a few days later when Stiles got a text from Kira, excited about being able to speak with Hikari. Kira had spoken with her cousin only a few times over the course of her life so far, but remembered her fondly - that was Kira for you he supposed. Stiles enthused in return, and got into the call with Kira early to catch up and talk about their studies. He didn't talk to Kira as often as Scott, or Lydia, and he did feel a little guilty about it. They should talk more.

They got about a half hour alone before Noshiko joined them, happy to see Kira, though it was clear that they spoke at least semi-regularly since they didn't have very much to say. Ten minutes later came Hikari. Stiles observed that they didn't look particularly similar, but he'd never doubt someone saying they were related. They had that same sort of beauty about them, something he suspected was distinctly 'other'. His last meeting with Hikari had been very brief, and not with camera. It was nice to put a face to her voice, and name.

"So, I suppose we should talk about your spark and your Nemeton." Hikari said after some time of casual conversation traded between them all, eager to get on topic and see what this young man was capable of.
"Sure thing. She's been in California for a hell of a long time, the Nemeton. Named by Spanish colonisers." Stiles replied, far more comfortable sharing his knowledge of the Nemeton than talking about himself and his relative lack of understanding of his power.
"The California Nemeton was one of a small few to not move after the Great War." Noshiko commented, and Stiles was glad to see he'd been right in his assumption that the Nemeton had been here, in Beacon Hills, for as long as the town had been standing and before.
"Trees can move?" Kira asked around a mouthful of food that she'd been eating while everyone was talking about Supernatural stuff, happy to just listen for the most part.
"Only Nemeton. They're magical, and form bonds with Supernaturals. They can alter their shape, and be moved, the same as a sapling." Hikari explained, and Kira nodded her head, glad to be up to speed.

"She's been cut down, I've been working with the assumption that it limits her abilities, and that I should at some point look into healing her, regrowing her, something." Stiles then said, assuming that was important information.
"Do you know how long she's been cut down?" Hikari asked.
"In the last twenty years. She wasn't cut down until.. after Paige died. So, before the Hale fire but only by a few years. The Hale fire was about nine years ago now, I think. So probably within the last twelve years, actually." Stiles thought aloud as he counted through what he knew about the Nemeton, and Beacon Hills.
"That's good. The longer something has been damaged, the harder it is to heal."
"You think I can heal it?" Stiles asked, eager to help. He needed to talk to Arabella, because his eagerness to heal her felt like it came from somewhere or someone else - like an ancestral feeling. Ancestral knowledge was one thing, but ancestral feelings were entirely another - his own feelings were confusing enough, he didn't need to be sifting through other peoples' feelings in his own head too.
"That depends on just how strong you are, Spark." Hikari replied with a smirk, glad to have returned to her other question - arguably her more important one and the one she was most interested in.

"I'm still getting used to it, honestly, but my mom left me a journal. I flicked through it and if I can do all of that.. I think I'm scared of my own abilities." Stiles admitted with a bashful expression. It was a feeling he'd not acknowledged until now, something he hadn't wanted to think about, pushed aside in favour of everything else going on in his life. But apparently he was dealing with it now.
"A lot of late comer Supernaturals feel like that, it's not something you should worry about. I know you might not have family directly around you to help, but the Supernatural community is also family, and they will be willing to help you." Noshiko interjected, looking entirely understanding, and honestly that was a relief.
"Hiroshi, the Japanese Guardian, he's not as old as Noshiko, or even me, but you seriously wouldn't know it. A lot can happen to someone in three hundred years." Hikari said, and Stiles felt like he related to that. A lot can happen to someone in just nineteen years, too. Though, not as much as he figured happened to Hiroshi. But if Noshiko was this easy to talk to, at over 300, Stiles had high hopes for his ability to get along with Hiroshi if they did meet.

Conversation continued after that, and Stiles was glad to be back to more neutral topics, and that he hadn't been asked for a demonstration of his magic. It was at least half instinct, so he wasn't sure he'd be able to demonstrate anything. Most of the magic he did was by accident. He hoped that he could learn to do his magic on purpose because it would no-doubt become important in the future.

"I've been looking at flights." Stiles heard Hikari say after a moment, tuning back into the conversation.
"Coming to Beacon Hills?" He asked, and she shrugged.
"I've not seen Noshiko since Kira was a baby, and that was brief. It'll be nice to be with family, and I can't wait to see what you get up to with Hiroshi's help." She admitted, smirking a little at the mention of Hiroshi. He figured he too had the trickster spirit of a Kitsune and would be prone to mischief. Stiles was excited, suddenly. Pranks with a 300 year old Kitsune sounded awesome.
"Well I won't be in Beacon Hills, and I don't think I can visit." Kira protested, and Hikari waved a hand dismissively.
"I'll come see you, and that boyfriend of yours. Cook you some decent food so you don't have to worry about it for a while." She offered, and Kira beamed. Stiles could feel just how much it meant to her, their pack bond growing stronger by the minute.

They talked for a little longer about the logistics of Hikari coming to visit, and Stiles began to feel like he was intruding on family time. It was his father getting home from work that saved him, giving him the perfect excuse to log out and do something else. He bid a quick goodbye, and figured he should make sure that his father was up to date.

Chapter Text

The New Year came and went with suspiciously few dramatics, and a lack of life threatening events. Stiles was glad for it, and used the time to focus on his university work. He was doing well, or at least he thought so, he'd gotten fairly good grades on anything that had been graded so far but a large portion of his grades relied on the exams he'd complete at the end of the year, and so he'd just need to be careful about making sure his notes were complete and thorough so he could study with more ease as the year drew to a close. For now, he was happy with where he was and that was what mattered.

Stiles spent the majority of January focusing on creating good habits with his studies and his bonds, because magic came second to everything else. The world, if it needed saving, could wait for a week or two while Stiles took a break. Though, it wasn't truly a break, as he did spend time practicing his magic.

As the weeks passed, he'd spent a few afternoons in a call with Hikari, listening to her advice that she based on her years of experience and observations from her travels. She was well travelled, and Stiles loved to listen to her regale her tales when he was particularly struggling with a spell. Some things came easier than others - fire magic was something he was quickly growing much better at, despite the reluctance of everyone who had ever known him, while healing took a lot of concentration (though, that too was slowly becoming easier).

Peter also often kept Stiles company, a strong Supernatural that he could test his magic on without too much worry about causing harm. They also laughed, ate and talked about Peter's new beau. It was nice to have him back, a reliable friend that understood, an older person who had knowledge none of Stiles' younger friends could offer. Jackson and Theo would join them sometimes, and successfully distract Stiles from his magical studies so they could play video games or watch movies. The only thing missing was Scott, who'd had to go back to campus, though sometimes he'd join them online if they were playing games in the evening.

Finally, Hikari had her moving in date, and everything was organised. Stiles would be picking her up from the airport since he had the most free time with being in online courses, and he had his jeep which nobody needed. He made sure everyone knew and was ready to greet her if they could find the time - the good old McCall Pack welcome.

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Stiles arrived at the airport early, Derek having recently worked on Roscoe to ensure she'd survive the journey with no casualties, and so he waited in the car park with no worries that she'd be able to find him. He'd described Roscoe to her, and so he was sure Hakari would be able to pick her out. 

True to his theory, Hakari simply appeared and opened the door to the jeep, throwing some of her smaller bags onto the back seat and her larger suitcase into the trunk. She climbed into the passenger seat and hugged Stiles across the centre console.
"It's great to finally meet you in person!" Hakari said with a grin, laughing easily.
"It's good to meet you too. Let's get this drive started, it's a few hours back to Beacon Hills." Stiles replied, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the car park to begin their long journey.

Hakari chose the music, and Stiles let her (especially since she had good taste in music, in his humble opinion) and they swapped between idle chatting and comfortable silence. It was nice, like he'd known the Kitsune for far longer than he had. None of her things had arrived yet, Stiles knew that because the company transporting everything had his contact information just in case, and they hadn't called. When her things did arrive, Stiles would help her move in, along with the Hales since they both had more strength than anything else and they were around to help. It was a solid plan, even if Stiles wasn't looking forward to manual labour.

"So how's your dating life? I feel like that's the one thing we haven't talked about." Hakari randomly said about half way to Beacon Hills - they'd been randomly starting conversations then falling silent again for the entire journey so far, so it wasn't a surprise that she'd spoke, but rather what she'd said that caught Stiles off guard.
"It doesn't exist?" Stiles replied, though he knew just how unsure he sounded about it all.
"Explain." Hakari demanded, as if she was his older sister and she was going to solve all of his problems - maybe she was.
"Well I have dated before, but nobody right now. There is like.. a guy I think I like but I never thought about it much, you know? It wasn't worth worrying about - I spent the last few years just worrying about.. surviving." Stiles explained as Hikari turned down the volume on the radio, and the Spark tapped his fingers absently against his steering wheel.
"You like guys though, right?"
"Oh yeah, I've kinda always known that. Guys are hot." Stiles replied with ease and a small shrug. It wasn't something he talked about much, cause a lot of the guys he liked tended to be, well, not real - but that didn't mean he didn't like real guys, cause he did, just way less often than girls.
"Very true. But, at least that's not the issue then, it's just you're not sure about this particular guy?" She questioned, adjusting in her seat to look more directly at Stiles even if he couldn't look back at her.
"Yeah, I guess so. I can't tell if I actually like him or we just know each other real well, and experienced some crazy stuff together, so I appreciate him a hell of a lot."
"He saved your life?" Hikari asked, reading between the lines a little. She frowned at the jeep's stereo and changed the radio station that they were listening, displeased by the newest song playing.
"More than once." Stiles confirmed with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Don't act so put out - either you have some of the coolest friends ever, or you could end up with a boyfriend you don't have to doubt. Think about it like that."
"Or I majorly fuck up our friendship by being confused about it."
"If he's that good of a friend, it won't." Hikari replied, and when Stiles had nothing to say in response to that, the conversation was over.

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There were no more emotionally intense conversations after that, which Stiles was grateful for. He didn't like to dive too deeply into feelings that he didn't understand and discuss them with other people - he'd figure it out by himself first, thank you very much.

Once they arrived, the estate agent that had sold the house to Hakari was already waiting outside, keys in hand - apparently she'd sent an email while they were still on the road with an ETA so they wouldn't have to wait for anything when they did finally arrive. Hakari took her bags from the back seat while Stiles grabbed her larger suitcase from the trunk and hauled that to the door. Wheels were no good on grass. Both of them headed inside, bringing the bags all in with them in one attempt, which was nice. Everything else would be arriving soon, Hakari was guessing that it'd be tomorrow, but for now she had enough things already in the house to make it work.
"Do you want me to take you to the store?" Stiles offered, assuming that she hadn't brought any food into the states with her.
"Nah, I've got no car so I need to figure out how to walk places. Thanks though, you've been a huge help." She said, already opening one of her bags to pull out some pillows and a thick blanket to create a cosy place that she could relax in.
"Well, I'll leave you to settle in then. Let me know when everything else is due to arrive and I'll get some strong Werewolf guys in here so we can all help out."
"Perfect, you can tell me which one is your man." The kitsune joked with a wink, and Stiles just waved her off, with a faint pink tint brushing over his cheeks. With that, they both said goodbye, and Stiles headed home.

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Stiles got the text to rally the troops just two days later, and he did just that, managing to recruit Derek, Peter and Theo to help out since it was a weekend. The four of them turned up at Hakari's door and she let them in without question, happy to have some help.
"Not here yet, I'd say make yourself at home but I have no furniture, as you know." She said, closing the door behind the final guest, then glanced to Stiles with raised brows and a smirk. Stiles rolled his eyes and just shook his head, ignoring her attempts at silent communication.
"Well that's fine, I'm sure we can handle standing for a short while until the movers arrive." Peter said. They went around the room introducing themselves, and after a moment Hakari pulled Stiles into the kitchen to help grab everyone something to drink.

"So it's tall, dark and broody, right?" She asked as she passed him some bottles of water from the fridge, since for now that was what she had available.
"Shut up-" Stiles urged, looking stressed, and more than a little concerned that the Supernaturals in the next room would overhear the conversation.
"Relax, I won't say anything else."

True to her word, she didn't, though she did sneak Stiles some glances throughout the day, which he struggled to be annoyed by since it was so funny. The movers had arrived just twenty minutes after Stiles and co, and the extra Supernatural strength proved to be invaluable with big items of furniture that needed to be hoisted up the stairs. Stiles mostly worked on boxes of things that were for downstairs, since he wasn't comfortable enough using magic to float anything that might be breakable. It took them a few hours, especially since a few pieces of furniture needed building, and everyone refused to leave until all her furniture at least was built and ready. 

Stiles and Theo got started on the smaller downstairs boxes, first the kitchen then moved to the living room. Hakari could always move things and reorganise, but it would be easier for her to do if everything was already out of the bags that they'd come in. Peter came downstairs after a while, using his t-shirt to wipe some sweat from his face.
"Derek and Hakari are just finishing up with the bedframe, and once the mattress is on it, we're done for the day. But, I need to go, I'll be late otherwise." The older 'wolf explained, making Stiles and Theo first look at each other, and then up at their friend.
"Late for what?" Theo asked.
"You don't have work." Stiles added.
"I have a date, you nosy brats. Things are going well, and I'm picking him up in.. about an hour and a half, and I don't want to be late." Peter told them, no heat behind the joking insult, which just made the two friends grin.
"Have fun Peter!" They cheered in unison, watching him go before returning to their unpacking.

Hakari was next to descend the stairs, closely followed by Derek.
"Well, thank all of you for the help. Everything I can easily handle, and I think Noshiko and Ken are planning on coming by to help out a little too, so I won't have to do it all alone." She said, dropping onto her new but old armchair, easily getting comfortable in her position.
"Happy to help, you're pack." Derek said, ever a man of few words.
"It's been nice to meet you too, I'm guessing we'll be seeing more of you." Theo said, standing from where he and Stiles had been crouched down and taking things from a box.
"Well, thank you anyway, and it's been good to meet you guys too. I'll see you around I'm sure." Derek and Theo took their leave, and so Stiles and Hakari were all that remained.

"He's definitely a good choice, if you did decide to go for it." She remarked after a brief silence, and Stiles just groaned.
"Oh shut up." He said, but the Spark couldn't help laughing despite his mild embarrassment. 
"I'm just saying you'd be good together." She defended with a shrug. Then, they both bid goodbye and Stiles drove home, partly pleased that someone now knew for sure about his maybe crush and even thought they would be a good match.

Chapter Text

They gave Hikari a few days to settle into her new place and the new town before Stiles sent the mass text to organise another pack meeting. Scott was home that weekend, partly because he wanted to officially welcome Hikari to the pack and partly because Kira had begged and she didn't have her own car, which meant it would be almost the entire pack (Malia was still frolicking in Europe). It might get a little overwhelming, but Hikari deserved the full welcome, and Stiles believed that most of all, since he was getting so much help from her being in town.

As usual, it was at Derek's place, and thankfully he didn't seem to mind - he'd gotten along with Hikari quite well when they'd been helping her to move in, and Stiles was glad about that too. Derek really needed more friends, even if they were just pack members. Stiles arrived early to help set up, finding Derek and Peter playfully bickering from different rooms.
"You should invite him!" Derek called out from the living room, where he silently waved at Stiles.
"Absolutely not, I'm not exposing him to.. all of you." Peter protested, sounding exasperated. Apparently this little argument had been going on for some time.
"Who are we inviting?" Stiles asked, loud enough for a human to hear from the kitchen even if Peter didn't need that.
"Nobody!" Peter said, at the same time as Derek said "his boyfriend!", only making Stiles give a hearty laugh.
"He's your boyfriend now?" Stiles asked, shuffling through to the kitchen to set down the 24 pack of coke cans he'd brought for the party, then hopped up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
"As of just last night - so there is no need for him to be meeting the pack just yet." Peter said, giving Stiles a pleading look. While Stiles was relentless, he supposed it was true that he was more likely to cave on this than Derek.
"Yeah, it'd probably be way too overwhelming. The entire pack at once is too much," Stiles agreed, but then with a shit eating grin added, "start with family." Derek burst into laughter, and Stiles found himself savouring the sound, while Peter sighed and doubled over the stove he was cooking at.

Once everyone had calmed down, Stiles took the few steps required for him to close the distance between himself and Peter, leaning against the counter top.
"What are you making?" Stiles asked.
"Risotto. It's nearly done, I'm just creaming it." Peter replied, glad for the shift in conversation.
"Anything I can do to help?" He asked, always happy to get stuck in with cooking.
"I was planning on putting those bread rolls into the oven to turn crispy and warm, could you cut them all in half and put them on the baking trays?" Peter requested, briefly looking up, before turning his focus back to adding parmesan to the pot of rice.

Stiles got to work with what he was doing, listening to Derek padding around and organising things in the other room. He'd invested in some more furniture recently for pack meetings just like this, and now he was reorganising the room so it'd be easier for people to chat and hang out together, rather than all just being set to face the TV, or in another room all together to create more space in the room.  He set the small bread rolls onto two baking trays then set them aside - they'd go into the oven once people began to arrive, otherwise they'd be cold when they were being eaten.

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Pack members began arriving soon after, and it turned out that once people learned Peter was cooking, many of them had held off on eating before coming despite it being after lunch time for many of them. Peter happily dished out portions of chicken and rice, while Stiles buttered bread rolls as people requested them, and at the end of the line, Derek was pouring drinks for people. They were like a glorified cafeteria. At least they were serving food that tasted good.

Once everyone was sitting and settled, the three men served themselves and joined the pack in the living room. It was becoming a comforting, familiar sight to see the pack dotted around and socialising amongst themselves, talking with people that just six months before they'd never have found a reason to be in close quarters with. Stiles stood at the side of the room for a minute or so, just observing, before Hikari stepped up to stand beside him.
"Scott is your best friend, and the Alpha, right?" She asked softly.
"Sure is, why?" Stiles replied, pulling his attention from the room at large to focus on the kitsune beside him.
"I don't think he and Kira are going to last and.. the pack is a mess." She said, seemingly honestly concerned.
"I know about the pack, it's on my to-do list, I've been talking about it with Peter but with everything else.. it just kinda took a back seat for a while. But I didn't realise there was anything wrong with Scott and Kira - I'll ask him about it later." Hikari nodded and when Kira beckoned her back over, she went obediently, pulled in by Kira's bright smile and infectious laughter.

Stiles observed Scott and Kira for a moment, and if he looked hard enough, he found himself agreeing with Hikari . They'd been together for a while now, and if you really looked then it became clear that something between them had changed. Only slightly, and only something small, but they made less effort to touch each other and were more inclined to have their separate interactions. Stiles would have to bring it up, and make sure they'd both be okay. Scott and Kira were both his friends, and he wanted them both to be happy.

Around the room, there was more evidence of shifting bonds. Jackson had brought along his laptop to call Lydia so she could join in the festivities, and Erica had huddled up near the screen to chat animatedly about fashion - which Erica was studying at the community college in Beacon County. Kira had pulled Hikari into a conversation with Derek and Peter, about Cora, who Kira had only briefly interacted with over text as a result of pack interactions, they'd never met in person. Liam, Corey, Mason and Theo sat together as the four often did, talking animatedly about something that Stiles couldn't hear, and judging by the look on Mason's face, he wasn't sure he wanted to. A small cheer erupted near Jackson's laptop as Malia managed to join the call, and everyone prompted her to talk about her travels - she'd been in Paris for the past four days and had plenty to say about it. Scott had drifted to the familiar company of Alison and Isaac, and he looked so comfortable there - they all did - which Stiles made a note of to bring up later.

When he got pulled into the conversation with Malia and Lydia, Stiles went willingly, laughing all the while, happy to hear about foolish French men tripping over themselves to flirt with his ex. What a weird thought.

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The night drew to a close after the pack had watched a couple of movies, and talked all the way through them. Stiles and Peter had sat aside to talk about pack things, having been prompted by Hikari's comment to Stiles earlier in the day, and nobody had stopped them. Scott may be the Alpha, but he trusted Stiles (and now even Peter, mostly) to know what was good for the pack, because they knew better than he did. He'd put his foot down if he had to, but it was rare that he did need to.

Hikari joined them silently, with a smile on her face.
"I've sent a few texts, and I've organised you a meeting with Hiroshi, the Guardian of the Nemeton in Japan. He's interested in you, and your pack, from what I've told him. He's a Kitsune, so naturally the enemy of Werewolves, but he's over 300, so he's seen some things. He wants to help where he can, and learn about you Stiles." She said, offering her phone to Stiles so he could scroll through the conversation. He did so with Peter at his side, and the two were quite excited.
"I'll set some time aside to join you for that, as the oldest Werewolf in the pack. We can tell Scott too, see if he can find time around his classes." Peter suggested, and Stiles nodded, firing a text off to the Alpha on the other side of the room.

Scott opened his phone, read the text, then checked his schedule before looking up and giving Stiles a thumbs up.
"Scott is good. So, we'll all hop in with Hiroshi and.. see what he can tell us. As much as I trust you, Peter, a little bit of worldly knowledge wouldn't hurt. He might have seen more blended packs, like ours, in the past." Stiles said, setting down his phone after having set a reminder about the meeting.
"I agree, knowledge is never a bad thing in situations like ours. Even if he can't help the pack, he might be able to help you." Peter replied, nodding along as he spoke. There was no reason to be offended by the sentiment - it was likely true.
"He has met a Spark before, so he should be at least some help, even if he can only tell you more about the history, it will give you.. context." Hikari said, and the three of them smiled at each other. Hikari returned to the movie, slotting in beside Kira with her Kitsune grace, while Stiles and Peter remained where they were.

"I'm happy with the ideas that we have. We can talk them through with Hiroshi, but honestly I don't think we could be that wrong." Peter nodded his agreement, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence again.

The movie came to a close, and people began organising carpools to get home, like they'd done it a hundred times before. Stiles said goodbye to everyone as they headed out, glad to see that Scott was staying back to help tidy up. Stiles, Scott, Peter and Derek whipped around the apartment to tidy up, and it was done quickly, furniture returned to previous positions.

"You worried about meeting another Guardian?" Scott asked as they walked down the stairs out of the building together.
"Nah, it can only be a good thing. Besides, Hikari likes him, and I like Hikari - how bad could he really be?" The two paused for a moment before breaking into bouts of boyish laughter. "Okay, yeah, I know - famous last words. But, I mean it. I have a good feeling."

Chapter Text

February, much like January, was passing with minimal issues. It was practically suspicious, a part of Stiles was ready to start accusing Supernatural creatures that didn't exist of collectively scheming to send him insane with anticipation. This theory was proven untrue after a few attacks in the preserve that Derek was sure weren't Werewolf attacks - Noah had taken him on as a 'wildlife consultant' since he grew up in the preserve and there was such a large number of 'animal attacks' in Beacon Hills. Stiles thought it was actually pretty good cover, and with Jordan supporting the choice, nobody in the department really found a way or the balls to argue.

While Stiles would never be glad that people were being attacked in the preserve - his preserve, a soft voice in the back of his mind insisted - it was almost a relief for something to happen. A break from monotony, and a mystery to solve to stimulate his brain. It was also a chance to learn, because Derek didn't immediately know what was causing the attacks, just that it wasn't a Werewolf, or anything else they'd actually encountered before. That was when Stiles hopped in the Camaro with Derek and headed to the library to talk to Peter. He'd have more ideas, or books for them to read. Stiles had learned since his first visit that the room of dust was a special room with books on the Supernatural, that was locked behind the staff door so they could control who accessed the books. Before Peter had worked at the library, it had been Celia and before that it had been Peter's mother - a Supernatural was almost always in employment to ensure the safety of the books. A family friend had kept them safe until Peter had come back to his senses after the fire.

Peter tossed Derek the key and the two went back without him while he did various tasks he needed to do for the day, and Stiles led the way. Upon entering, he pulled the pocket notebook he'd started carrying out and made a note to dust this room if he was going to be using it regularly, even if the way Derek scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brows in response to the dust was kind of cute. 

They browsed the shelves, finding various tomes that seemed at least somewhat relevant, then sat down in the old, creaky, incredibly uncomfortable chairs that were pulled up to a small table, and began to read. Peter joined them after about an hour, pulling extra books he thought might be of use, and had wheeled a more comfortable chair in with him from another room. Bastard. They continued to read. Then they read some more. And some more. Peter disappeared a few times to help people visiting the library before returning to do some more reading. And even more reading. 

It was a slow afternoon.

"Peter?" Someone called out, which made Stiles and Derek look up with curiosity, but Peter with mild panic.
"Wait there." Peter said, quickly closing his book and shooting up to go to the door, to keep the person away from the room - or from Derek and Stiles. The two younger men made eye contact, manic grins as they realised just who that person must be. They shot up too, scrambling to get by Peter to say hello. Peter slammed the door, sealing Stiles and Derek inside. They hit the door, yelling at Peter to let them out, laughing all the while. It was sweet to see Peter so worried about something - after the last few years, it was crazy how human he seemed in that moment. A pang resonated in his chest as Stiles thought of how they could've had this all along. Then, when Peter's boyfriend gasped and pushed past the Werewolf to get into the room himself to say hello, the feeling drifted away in favour of making a horrible first impression.

"You look like Peter, which makes you the nephew," the man started, looking at Derek, then turned to Stiles, "and you look half starved which makes you Stiles." He finished, leaving the two of them gaping and Peter laughing in the doorway.
"I'm Chase, I'm Peter's boyfriend." He declared, holding out his hand for someone to shake. Derek recovered first, and shook Chase's hand, then Stiles managed to do the same, though he was still stunned.
"I see why Peter likes you." Derek remarked, reaching out to physically close Stiles' mouth, then gently nudged the Spark back to their table to sit down.
"Well I'm glad, cause I happen to like him too." Chase said, looking back at Peter and offering his hand for the 'wolf to take, and guided him back to the table too so they could talk.
"Chase thinks he can help with our research." Peter finally explained, letting Chase sit in the chair that he'd been using previously. 

Stiles recalled the conversation he'd had with Peter about Chase before their first date, and honestly while at the time he felt like Peter had been hiding details he found that actually the description was apt. Short, bespectacled, fair skinned, ginger dyed hair that was grown at the roots revealing naturally brown hair, and a mostly brown outfit that did actually resemble stereotypical 'university professor' styling. Huh.

"Not think, know - I know what you're dealing with. Or at least, I'm very sure, I just need to see what sort of wounds people were getting." Chase explained, and Stiles blinked a few times before taking out his phone to share the photo that his dad had sent to him to aid in research.
"Told you Peter." Stiles' phone was passed along to Peter, who looked pensively at the image then sighed and nodded.
"I suppose you're right, yes. Alright." He said with a roll of his eyes, but the smile on his face was fond, and soft. Chase laughed and rolled his eyes much the same, then took the book that Stiles had been reading. He gently flicked through the pages before revealing a chapter on the Fae.

"Fairies." He said, having turned the book back to Stiles, but continuing to turn pages until he found the specific entry on Fairies. Stiles scanned over the page in front of him, frowning at the words. This was going to be inconvenient.
"How did you know?" He asked Chase, sliding the book across to Derek, who quickly began to read it as well, phone in one hand to text information to pack members so they could be safe.
"Well that's easy, hi, you're talking to a Changeling." He softly snorted, carding his fingers through his hair. He looked so at ease admitting it, talking about creatures that Stiles hadn't realised were real until just a moment ago. He felt safe with them, he realised after a moment, which made him feel warm inside. Peter had talked about them, and he'd spoken positively.
"Well, I'll deal with that revelation later, but what can you tell us that will help?"

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Chase ended up being very helpful, and Stiles scolded Peter for not letting him help sooner. It turned out that Fairies are a largely honour based species of Fae, and deeply connected with nature, and so their best guess was that they were living somewhere in the preserve and someone had offended them or caused damage to their home which they didn't take kindly to. He'd offered some ways that they could fight back against the Fairies, but suggested against hurting them - it was likely that if they were living in the preserve, they'd been cast out of their homeland of the Feywild, and Chase requested they be kind to the Fairies.

Easier said than done, if they were being aggressive, but Stiles said he'd try.

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Stiles had sent a few texts, and Hikari had offered to meet him at the preserve to help out with finding the Fairies. It would be difficult, considering that the attacks hadn't happened in a small radius, and they were physically very small and would therefore be difficult to spot if they went physically searching. 

Derek, Stiles and Hikari stood at the edge of the preserve, with Allison and Chris ready to move if needed, some cages ready for a worst case scenario, made in part of iron to nullify the Fairies' magic, but not enough to harm them (an entirely iron cage would be enough to kill a Fairy, if they were of a lower power level). 
"So what's the plan?" Stiles asked, looking expectantly at Hikari, who was leaned up against a fence post with her hands tucked into her pockets, looking entirely too casual for the situation.
"You're going to use magic to find them." She told him, and Stiles looked between her and Derek with wide eyes, gesturing to Hikari as if to say 'did you hear that ridiculous suggestion?'.
"How exactly am I meant to do that?" Stiles finally asked, resigned when Derek just shrugged, unable to help in the situation.
"You remember that book Deaton gave you, that you told me about? The one about the leylines?" She asked, pushing off the fence post to stand taller, stepping deeper into the preserve, and Stiles and Derek could only follow.
"Sure." 
"Well, you and the Nemeton connect for a reason, your magic is so similar.. it's like you're speaking the same language from different countries - like Mexican Spanish compared to Spain Spanish," she began explaining, stepping over tree roots without so much as looking to see if they were there while Stiles stumbled and hesitated, "which means you can also connect to the leylines, and use that to get a complete image of the preserve in seconds. You can read the leylines, like looking at a 2D map with pins in it. The pins are magical signatures, and if it's Fairies out here - their magical signatures are potent, so should be easy to find." She finished, pausing at a more open space between the trees.

Stiles looked at her blankly, while she kicked briefly at the dirt for a moment with a thoughtful look before she nodded.
"You should be able to dig your fingers into the ground here. Ideally your entire hands, but if it's just your fingers we should be able to get at least a partial look." She said, nodding down at the ground as she pushed her hands back into her pockets.
"I don't know how to do any of that."
"You do. All Sparks can do this. It's knowledge you'll have inherited. Stick your hands in the dirt." Stiles narrowed his eyes at Hikari, sure that he hadn't mentioned to her the idea of inherited knowledge, but then crouched down and fell to his knees, digging into the dirt. He was surprised by how easy his fingers pushed into the earth, and how good it felt to have that connection. He felt like a live wire, finally given his grounding wire to pair with. Irritatingly, Hikari was right.

The moment Stiles' fingers were buried in the soil, his hands just kept sinking deeper, until it felt like he was physically immersed in the energy of the leylines. He closed his eyes, embracing the feeling, and when he opened them again they glowed deep purple. Hikari gasped softly, and fired a text the moment she realised what she was seeing, while Derek was entirely transfixed. 

Everything - Stiles could feel everything. His eyes were open but he couldn't see the trees in front of him, he could see the preserve in its entirety. In front of his very eyes was like a heat map of magical energies. It was difficult at first, to discern between the baseline magic in every tree and blade of grass, but the more he focused the sharper it became, and his baseline became Derek and Hikari. He could recognise them, their magic was familiar and that helped represent what he was looking for. He identified the Nemeton next, a faint humming sound accompanying its magic, the sound of the leylines in its 'bones'. From there, he went in search of the Fairies. 

Finding them was like a physical blow. Stiles could see what Hikari meant - there was no doubt in his mind when he found the Fairies, their magic was so powerful, the aura that he could see emanating from them was huge. Their magic was larger than that of the Nemeton. Compared to the group of Fairies, the Nemeton may as well have been a regular tree in the preserve.

Stiles was unaware of removing his hands from the dirt, unaware of pushing himself violently to his feet, unaware of the rolling waves of magic seeping from his pores, unaware of the way Derek and even Hikari stumbled from the sheer feeling of his power. It took a moment, as Stiles himself stumbled, sucking all that raw energy back into his body, before he became aware of his body and his actions. This is what Deaton said when he said that Stiles could be dangerous. He'd felt that power, he'd gotten a taste of what he was capable of, and he didn't have the presence of mind or concrete understanding of his abilities to control it.
"That was a lot, sorry." Stiles mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face, achingly bone deep tired all of a sudden. 
"Hey, it was the first time you've done something like that - it's understandable, and you didn't hurt us, that's a hell of a lot of control."
"Did you find them?" Derek asked, and Stiles looked up at him with a slow nod.
"Yeah, and I have an idea of why they're angry."

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They headed away from the preserve after that so Stiles could eat and rest for a short while, and recover the magic he'd used and the mental energy that required. He ate practically as much as a Werewolf, which had Derek watching, eyebrows in his hairline.

Peter and Chase came to join them in the diner Stiles had chosen, with Peter scrunching his nose up, to which Chase offered him some hand sanitiser.
"How'd it go?" Chase asked as he dropped into the booth, sitting beside Derek while Peter pulled up a chair from another table.
"Found 'em." Stiles said, mouth half full of fries, and again Peter felt the need to correct Stiles' manners but resisted.
"And?" Peter prompted, stealing a fry from Stiles' plate.
"I think I know why they're mad, and I have an offer for them that will hopefully solve the issue without violence."
"He hasn't told us what that is either," Hikari interjected, "he's busy eating." Peter nodded, as if he entirely understood Stiles' stance, and took another fry for himself. 

A few minutes were spent in mostly silence, where the only real sound was Stiles' food dragging along his plate. Peter and Chase had some idle chatter occasionally too, in which Peter convinced Chase to accept his card to buy himself a milkshake. Finally, Stiles wiped his fingers on a napkin and burped, then relaxed on the bench, ready to talk.

"So, I tapped into the leylines, found the Fairies, we know this. But, I also saw the magical.. aura, I guess, of the Nemeton. It's bad, like.. the Fairies have easily double if not more magic than it. It's an ancient magical tree, and a group of Fairies have more magic than it. Chase said they're super into nature, and if that were me I'd be kinda mad about the awesome magical tree being half dead." He explained, scratching the back of his neck as he spoke. As he articulated it, he watched the understanding come over everyone's faces, and he knew that his idea was a good one.
"That sounds pretty reasonable, actually. They're irrationally angry, for good reason, and they're lashing out. So, what are we doing about it?" Hikari asked, taking an abandoned fry from Stiles' plate.
"I'm going to offer to help regrow it." Stiles said with far more ease than was warranted given the situation they were in and what he was suggesting. 
"You're going to try to regrow the Nemeton?" Derek asked slowly, licking his lips as he looked at Stiles with disbelief, taking a moment to process what was being said. 
"Yeah, I think Arabella would be pretty happy about it." 
"Stiles- Nemeton take thousands, if not millions of years to grow, and you've decided you're simply going to regrow it?" Peter questioned, as if his words would convince Stiles to change his mind.
"Yeah. I have a few people in mind to call in, I'm not going to do it in an afternoon obviously - but I'm going to start by telling the Fairies that it's in my plans, and hope they want to help too, or have ideas on.. well how." Stiles explained, pulling out his phone as it buzzed with a text from Scott, confirming he'd get in touch with Deucalion - one of the only people who may be familiar with the Nemeton when it was fully grown and understand it, and remember it clearly.

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They waited until the next day to visit the preserve. Chase didn't come along, because of some Fae politics that Stiles didn't fully understand but did plan to ask about later, but Peter, Derek and Hikari did. They were the ones who'd been involved up until that point, and Stiles didn't want to involve anyone who might get over excited about the concept of real life Fairies.

Blindly, they followed Stiles into and through the preserve, with no idea where they were headed, though Stiles didn't know either. He was just following a distinct feeling that he'd begun to associate with his magic nudging him the right way. Some magical intuition. 

The Fairies weren't hard to spot, they were gathered like a swarm of insects, and when they heard people approaching they spun, and the colour of the swarm shifted.
"Hey, please don't bite us." Stiles said, immediately, to indicate that he knew what had been happening recently.
"We want to help you, if you'd let us." Hikari offered. They'd determined that Stiles as a spark and Hikari as an older Kitsune would likely be the best to speak to the Fairies, as they'd be more likely to garner respect.

One of the Fairies separated from the swarm and in a swirl of pure light their form changed, growing in size to look like a normal person - though, like with the Kitsune, this Fairy had a sense of 'otherness' to them, an ethereal feeling Stiles couldn't place.
"Who are you?" The Fairy demanded, the swarm shifting to back the individual, a low humming threateningly increasing in the background.
"My name is Stiles, and don't worry that's a nickname. I'm a spark, and the Guardian of the Nemeton here." Stiles introduced with a small mock bow. The Fairy considered him, then turned to Hikari and nodded to tell her to speak.
"I'm Kiki, a Kistune, new to town but experienced with the Supernatural." She said, and Stiles filed that nickname away for later. He liked it, it suited her in a big way.
"Your companions?" The Fairy inquired, lifting slowly from their feet to look back at the Werewolves.
"Packmates of ours, Werewolves, neither are the Alpha." Stiles explained, hoping that would be an acceptable answer that didn't involve him introducing them as 'Grumpywolf' and 'Creeperwolf' to a potentially ancient Fae.
"We know your aura, spark. You believe you can help us?" The Fairy asked, returning to their feet, suspicious eyes still roving over the group before them. But, they hadn't been attacked thus far, so that was good. 
"If I'm right about what your issue is, I think we can collaborate on a solution, and if I'm wrong then I'd like to offer you a hand in whatever your issue actually is." Stiles offered, suddenly feeling far too much like a politician, but Peter had coached him on what to say, which were definitely points toward him becoming their right hand like he wanted.

"The Nemeton, you said you are its Guardian, and yet it has been cut to such a fraction of its power. You allowed this?" The Fairy questioned, and Stiles took a moment to align the timeline in his head.
"I didn't I've been the guardian for not even a year. Before that it was my mother, but it's been unguarded for a decade, that was when it was cut down. My mother died early, and I was too young to take over to come into my magic." He explained, hoping that would suffice for the Fairies.
"You age so slowly." The Fairy mused, and the humming of the swarm became lighter, a soft jingling backing it that made Stiles think that they were laughing.
"I agree, we do." Stiles said after a moment, because truly the Fairy wasn't wrong - humans mature so slowly compared to a large number of species, both animal and supernatural.
"You think you can assist in regrowth?" The Fairy enquired, looking still suspicious but far less so, looking more relaxed in the shoulders.
"I think I can try, and I hope I can assist. I'd like to do that for her. I also have some friends I can speak with, I'm hoping they can also help." Stiles explained, giving the Fairy before him an earnest smile.
"Yes, you are a Gajos indeed. Thank you, Guardian. We accept your intention of help, we will stop lashing out at the humans." The Fairy said, smiling as the swarm circled their body, down and then back up again. Stiles ignored the creeping ominous feeling that he got from them knowing his family name - after all, it wasn't the name he used himself, and they didn't have his given name only his nickname. He wondered which of the previous sparks these Fairies had encountered before.
"Thank you. Could I get a name for you, so I can tell my pack what we've done today?" Stiles enquired, careful to ask for 'a' name rather than 'your' name, to give the Fairy room to make a choice.
"You may call me Flora." She replied, and Stiles smiled and nodded.
"I'll be back to talk with you about plans, once I have some more concrete ones." 
"I trust you will be able to find us." Flora said, before transforming back to her original small size and joining the Fairy swarm. The swarm flew around Stiles' body, giggling all the while, then headed back to wherever in the preserve they were actually staying.

Chapter Text

Having resolved the issue with the Fairies for now, life continued, and as it did so Stiles entirely forgot that he had an appointment with the Japanese Nemeton Guardian. As he often tended to do. He was reminded by a call from Hikari a few hours before, as she'd been suggested to do by Derek, and both of them were glad that she did. He scrambled to get ready for the call, making sure that he'd eaten something before it started, and that he had a drink or two ready in case the call ran long.

Hiroshi was a funny guy. He'd been early to the call, sitting and waiting for Stiles and Hikari to join him, just lounging and scrolling on his phone. He straightened up when they joined, and greeted them both as if they were old friends, and he had such a young energy despite his age.

"So, a Gajos Spark." Hiroshi began, and Stiles grabbed his notebook to make a physical note about his mother's next letter, because it was time to read it and he could feel it in his bones.
"That's me, though I didn't know that until recently."
"How long've you known?"
"I didn't know I was a spark until.. well in the last twelve months. I knew I had something for a few years, but it wasn't until very recently I knew what that meant - and I didn't know the Gajos name meant anything until.. the last three or four months." Stiles explained, rubbing a hand over his face and taking a sip of his coffee.
"Damn you're new to the game. You seem pretty settled though, all things considered."
"Well, honestly I've had a crazy few years, I found out my mom had stolen memories of half of my childhood for reasons I don't understand and I could've prevented the deaths of fourteen people I knew growing up and it was like- well, guess we'll add that to the pile. I have other more immediate concerns to worry about." Stiles wasn't sure where that honesty had come from, but Hiroshi's understanding expression and slow nod meant Stiles didn't regret it.
"Tough few years, it won't get any easier I'll tell you that. Sorry for your loss, but you've just gotta look forward to the good. You're alive, that alone is a net profit of everything you've experienced." Stiles had been hoping that life might begin to improve, but he wasn't surprised that Hiroshi believed things wouldn't, he'd had a feeling.
"Yeah, figures." He sighed with a resigned smile.

"Hikari thought you might know more about spark stuff, to help me out?" He asked to move the conversation along, pulling his notebook into frame, which made both Kitsune laugh.
"You have a family grimoire?"
"Sure do. It was my mom's, it's on my desk beside my computer."
"Sleep with it under your pillow," Hiroshi said, steamrolling through Stiles' attempt to ask questions to continue, "it's yours by birth right, it is the Gajos grimoire, but it isn't connected to you specifically yet. By sleeping with it beneath your pillow, it will have a chance to align with your own magical aura, and then you'll have a clearer understanding of what's inside. Yes, you could do any of it right now if you wanted, but it'd be like trying to install a toilet without instructions. You've seen one before, and have an idea of how it works and how the pieces fit, but it would take a lot of trial and error and you could fuck it up, causing damage. Attuning the grimoire to your aura will help, like translating the toilet instructions from whatever language you half learned in high school to English. We're sticking with the toilet analogy apparently." They all laughed, and Stiles nodded, scribbling furiously. It made sense, he supposed, and despite it being a little strange the analogy did help him understand.

"We were chatting yesterday," Hikari began next, "and while Deaton hasn't been unhelpful, we don't want you taking any more advice from him. I don't think he's malevolent, but his magic is fundamentally different to yours, and that could limit you which is the last thing anyone wants." Stiles would happily agree with that, it did make sense after all.
"And I want you to start spending more time in the preserve, around your Nemeton, bare foot, getting dirty, connecting with the nature. Nature is your strength, especially your Nemeton even if it is stunted currently. Connecting with your local nature will help increase your stability. If you can manage meditating, then definitely try - Hikari mentioned you've got a short attention span so instead of traditional meditating I'd suggest reading out there, maybe take your school work, or your grimoire even. Take some time to be out there, doing something soothing, and just being aware of yourself, your breathing, your magic. Meditation is about intention, not about being still and completely thoughtless." Hiroshi continued, and Stiles nodded, flipping the page in his notebook quickly to finish what he was writing. He was so glad they'd done this, because already he had so much information that seemed like it would be helpful.

"You know the Nemeton here was cut down, right? If a potentially slightly overconfident guy happened to tell Fairies he was going to try to regrow it, would you have any suggestions?" Hiroshi stared wide eyed for a moment, swallowing the tea he'd just sipped, and then released a long whistle. He took a long few moments to think and contemplate, closing his eyes as he considered. He looked not just contemplative, but as if he was reading even with his eyes closed with the way they rapidly flicked around behind his eyelids.
"Kaeda admires your dedication, and she appreciates your intention to bring her sister back to full health. Currently, I'm not sure, I'll have to follow up on some things she told me, but your magic will likely be a huge help. Sparks come from Nemeton, the two are tied together intrinsically, and so there's nobody better to try than you."
"Do you have a telepathic connection to your Nemeton?"
"So do you, Stiles. Arabella is just so weak she can't connect with you outside of your dreams." Hikari said.
"Oh right, that makes sense. Definitely a good reason to get her back to full health then." Stiles paused, looking over his notes and tapping his pen against the desk. Hikari struck up a conversation with Hiroshi while they allowed him to process all the information he'd just gained. Hiroshi's stomach loudly grumbled, and so they decided to take a break for food, since they'd been there for some time just chatting, and Stiles wanted to get some snacks himself.

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When they returned, the topic changed again to that of the pack. Stiles listed out the various pack members, explained the Argent connection, discussed Scott being a True Alpha, and Deaton's current role as emissary. Hiroshi took it all in, nodding and humming in the appropriate places, and Stiles knew Hikari was also listening with rapt interest, as this was largely information she had yet to learn from Kira, or that she and Noshiko simply didn't know.

"It really is a mixed bag, huh? Not as many wolves as I'd expect."
"Yeah, we have a habit of picking up strays. We also don't have our official pack roles assigned, outside of Scott being the Alpha and Deaton acting as a reluctant Emissary. Derek called me the pack's second, but Peter disagrees - he said I'm the pack father, and that I'm the Emissary in training. I think Deaton wants to retire, and I'm happy to let him do that and replace him." Stiles explained.
"So you're missing your left and right hands, and the Alpha Mate, who would usually take the role of second." Stiles nodded his confirmation.
"I have my thoughts on that, given my observations, and Peter - who is currently the oldest full member of the pack, and was previously the right hand of the Hale pack - has thoughts as well. I've texted him and Scott, they should be joining us soon for this discussion." Hikari explained, wiggling her phone as she mentioned texting, then returned it to the table.

Scott joined just a second later, greeting the familiar faces and introducing himself to Hiroshi.

Is he a good guy? Scott asked Stiles via text, and Stiles's insides warmed. Once upon a time, Scott wouldn't have even asked, but now he was willing to do so, and was looking to Stiles for that.
I think so, he's been super helpful so far he replied quickly, before focusing back on the conversation at hand.

"So, baby Alpha - do you know what the second, left and right hands do?" Hiroshi asked, and while the nickname clearly caught Scott off guard, he put his faith in Stiles and gave a genuine answer, rather than firing back. Stiles puttered around his room, putting his grimoire under his pillow and flicking through his notes while Hiroshi explained, from his past experiences, what the roles did. That was when Peter joined the call, at which point Stiles returned to his chair to actually partake in the conversation.

"So, Hikari has suggestions, so does Peter - what about you Stiles?" Hiroshi asked, giving him a warm smile.
"I agree with what Peter has said so far, since he's already told me his thoughts. But, I do have other ideas too."
"I've been thinking while Peter was introducing himself, and I have a couple of ideas, but I want to hear everyone else's ideas first." Scott offered next, eyes flicking around his screen as he looked at each of the people there to help him make the choice.

"That makes sense. Peter, you share first, then Hikari, then Stiles, then Scott?" Hiroshi suggested, and everyone agreed. The order of experience in pack dynamics and the pack members.

"As I told Stiles, I would like to be considered for right hand, I do think Lydia would also be an excellent choice as an alternative. For left hand, I think Boyd and Theo would be strong choices, strong, intimidating, they get things done. Second, I think should be Scott's choice alone. It's personal to the Alpha, and is typically the Alpha Mate. The pack can function perfectly well without a second, and honestly I'd be content to let that decision sit for years, potentially, to ensure it's the right choice." Peter explained, gesturing vaguely as he spoke. In the background was faint clicking, a sign that the 'wolf wasn't alone in his apartment.

"I do think Peter should have some sort of position in the pack, he's the oldest 'wolf amongst you and generally speaking the pack functions like a Werewolf pack, so having an experienced Werewolf in a position of power feels right. Rather than having Lydia as an alternative choice for right hand, I'd suggest training her while Peter is in the position, so in the future if he wishes to retire you have a prepared replacement. For the left hand, I think the Hunter girl is a good choice, and I think my lack of bias helps me see that. She's strong minded, capable, and the last thing someone would expect, which can be a valuable trait in a left hand. Peter's suggestions do, however, have strong merit, given what I've heard about Theo and Boyd's appearance alone. I happen to agree about the position of second as well, but I think it could be worth having an interim second, an older person in Scott's life like one of the parents on the fringe of the pack, someone he can trust in times of need to be rational, someone with more life experience, and someone who can care for the pack if both Scott and Stiles were absent." Hikari said, and Peter nodded, looking very clearly pleased with the fact that she had largely agreed with him, though it was clear in the way he'd raptly listened and nodded along as she spoke that he could see the value in her alternative opinions.

"I think my suggestions are a little more unconventional, but given the state of our pack, I don't think that's too outlandish. A lot of us are just starting our lives, and I know a lot of pack members want to move out of Beacon Hills, or are already away in other countries or at college. So, I think it could help to have two people in each position. No trainees, or primaries and secondaries, just two left and two right hands. We've had trouble before because we didn't consider everything in a situation, or people rushed off without talking about things. Having two left hands means if someone isn't in Beacon Hills, we're not left without help, and we can have each be better at different types of combat so they can handle different enemies. Two right hands does the same thing, it just means we have all opinions, positions, sides, potential problems covered, especially while the entire pack isn't in one place, and I'm not sure we ever will be again. I think Hikari's idea with having an interim second is a good one, though, I hadn't considered that. Plus, our parents aren't going anywhere, so we're guaranteed to have someone here while Scott is at college, and I happen to leave Beacon Hills." Stiles said next, and Hiroshi looked more intrigued the longer the spark spoke, invested in his thoughts and the way that his mind worked.

"Kid, you need therapy." A voice remarked from just off-screen in Peter's apartment, a voice that Stiles recognised as Chase.
"Can it, Chase, or I'm not bringing you that banana bread."
"Cruel and unusual punishment, Mitch." Chase said in return, stepping into frame to drape himself over Peter's shoulders.
"Who are you?" Scott asked curiously, interested by the way he spoke to Stiles.
"Peter's boyfriend, Changeling, craving banana bread."
"Mitch?" Hiroshi asked.
"Play on his real name - it's Polish, my white English ass can't pronounce it yet but I'm working on it. Nickname is a placeholder." He pressed a kiss to Peter's cheek before he returned to whatever he'd been doing, and for a moment everyone was quiet.
"He promised he wouldn't interrupt." Peter muttered with a roll of his eyes, and in response a pillow was thrown at the man. Scott and Stiles broke down in loud laughter at the bored, tired expression on Peter's face - one that they were beginning to recognise from years ago.

"Anyway, Scott - what do you think?" Hikari asked, returning them to the topic at hand.
"I think.. they're all good points. I also think the pack's opinions matter, and we should let people volunteer themselves, make sure they all know what the positions mean since most of us are bitten or have never experienced being in a pack before, and we should maybe.. test them all? Give them a chance to show why they should get the role. They're important, right? So we should get it right. Maybe we train more than two people for a while, then pick one or two people for the positions in a few months, once we're more sure." Scott suggested, speaking slowly, hesitating in places as if he was concerned his suggestions would be shot down.
"That's sensible. Don't worry, nobody was expecting you to make a choice today. But, it's an important thing to discuss." Scott's door closed in the distance, an announcement that Kira had returned home.
"I think my mom or Stiles' dad would make a good interim second, if that's something we think is a good idea. Stiles' dad is the Sheriff so he's already good with responsibility, and my mom is a nurse and she loves looking after the pack, but they're both super busy, so maybe the two of them together? Just in case, cause the pack are a lot, and just one of them might be too much if me and Stiles are both not home," Peter gave an approving hum, "I think Peter is a good idea for right hand, especially if he's done it before, and Hikari is right we need all the help we can get. I honestly think Lydia would be better as a second emissary, if that handles a lot of politics. I don't think she's coming back to Beacon Hills, so having her elsewhere and acting in that role.. makes sense to me. Someone further from home to handle stuff that might be cross country. Chris, I think, is a good idea for a second right hand, especially if we want Allison as one of the left hands - a hunter at home, and a hunter travelling with me and Stiles. Parrish too, maybe. If we're trying to come up with more people to give the chance to. For left, I think Allison is a good idea, Theo too even if I'm still working on trusting him again. Boyd isn't a bad idea, Ethan or Aiden could also be good, since they were Alphas once. I think we have the most options for left hand." Scott finished explaining and Hiroshi was beaming.

"The two of you are brilliant. I hope people make a habit of telling you that. Your pack will be brilliant, boys." He said, which caught both young men off guard. To receive praise like that from someone so old, who'd seen the rise and fall of many packs in his life, it meant a lot.
"I agree with him. The two of you are so strong together, and I'm so glad you came back to each other after what happened with Theo - Kira told me all about it."
"Okay so, what now?" Stiles asked.
"Now, you do exactly what Scott said. It was a good idea. Make sure everyone in the pack understands what roles are being offered to them, and let them volunteer. You don't want anyone to come to resent you because they were forced into a role they don't want, especially given how important the roles are. They're the cornerstones of your pack. Then, just spend time bonding. Get to starting to train your volunteers, educate them, test them. It's up to you how you do that. Tell Deaton that Stiles is training as his replacement."
"Peter told me your pack bonds aren't whole, and it's important that you fix that. You all become stronger with your bonds between you, it allows you to share your strength, and all improve as a result. Just more pack nights, more time together, even if it's not the entire pack every time." Hikari added, brushing some hair behind her ear.
"Okay. I think we can do that." Scott agreed.

Everyone began to say goodbye, and eventually only Stiles and Peter remained.
"I had a feeling you'd want to speak to me." Stiles said with a smile, and Chase then slipped back into frame, draping himself over Peter again.
"Chase was right. You should be seeing a professional Stiles."
"We all should."
"I think you in particular, my dear boy. You've been through more than most, and that could impact your magic. You know how powerful you are. I'm going to be offering to help other pack members, but I thought you'd want this number first," a text came through on Stiles' phone, a message from Peter just containing a phone number, "you're suspicious by nature, and protective of your own, so I thought you'd appreciate meeting my contact before anyone else. They're a friend of mine from before the fire, and a qualified psychiatrist." Peter knew him so well.
"Alright, so what do I do with it?"
"Send a text, I already warned her about you. She's expecting a text from you. Just introduce yourself, and let her know you'd like a test appointment."