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“One school day down,” Stiles grinned and held Scott’s eyes, “One hundred seventy nine to go.”
They knocked their milkshakes together and laughed as Stiles’ chocolate mixed with Scott’s strawberry. They drank them anyway, slurping through their straws. Stiles purposefully ignored his dad’s exasperated look from across the table.
Melissa shook her head with a smile, “You’d think they’d be over this by now.”
“It’s tradition,” Scott insisted, eyes wide. “We always do this after the first day of school.”
“Oh, I know,” She bumped shoulders with John, and they shared a smirk. “I just thought for your senior year of high school you would do something more mature.”
“Like what?” Scott had an expression of puppy-dog confusion that made Stiles want to pinch his cheeks.
Stiles smirked, “Are you suggesting we do something illegal, Ms. McCall?”
“No,” his father groaned, “there are things that you can do to have fun that aren’t illegal, Stiles.”
He shrugged as if to say, ‘eh,’ and slurped obnoxiously at his milkshake.
“So,” John stole a curly fry from Stiles, “What are the others doing to celebrate?”
“Most of them are winding down from today and getting a head start on homework, but Derek, Jackson, and Isaac are out in the Preserve burning off some energy. Gym class is hell on werewolf senses.”
“They know they can come over for dinner, right?”
Stiles smiled softly at his father, “Yeah, they know.”
“Good,” John nodded.
Scott took over the conversation by regaling their parents of their first day. Stiles focused on his shake, but he couldn’t stop grinning whenever Scott met his eye.
Scott was halfway through his story about their new history teacher when Stiles froze.
His magic pulsed in his chest, warm from the energy of the wards that surrounded his territory, and he pushed the milkshake away from his mouth. He hummed and called to the wards in question.
“Stiles?” Scott looked worried. He had probably felt the energy through their pack bond.
Stiles met his eyes, “Two omegas just entered Beacon Hills. They’re moving fast, so they’re probably in a car, and they feel like rage and fear. I think they’re being followed by hunters, it would explain the fear, but I can’t read their auras from here to confirm that.”
“I’ll text the pack. Meet at your house?” Scott had his phone out already.
“Yeah,” he patted at his pockets and pulled out a sharpie, then turned to the adults with a grim smile, “Hands out, please.”
John and Melissa dutifully held out their hands, palms down. Stiles uncapped his sharpie and drew the familiar symbols that marked them as under his protection. Kampo for Melissa, and Pampo for his father. The marks would let him keep track of their safety even though they weren’t pack.
Scott stood and slung his backpack over his shoulder, holding Stiles’ out for him to do the same. “They’re all on their way. Allison said her father won’t let her go alone, so we’ll have a visiter.”
“Oh, good,” Stiles grinned. He loved messing with Chris by teasing the hunter on what species he was.
They moved in to hug their parents and exchanged ‘I love you’s.
“Remember it’s a school night, boys,” John called as they left, and Stiles waved in acknowledgment.
They took the Jeep back to the Stilinski house. With Stiles’ driving they were there in time to see Derek, Isaac, and Jackson run out of the woods and jog to the back of the house. The others’ cars were parked on the street. Chris’ SUV stood out in the line.
“Alright,” Stiles started as he walked into the full living room, eyes glancing over his pack to make sure everybody was there, “We have a problem.”
He told them what he knew from the wards: two packless werewolves driving like they’re being chased into town and radiating anger and fear.
As he spoke, Chris’ aura fluttered.
Stiles frowned. “Is there something you want to tell us, Christopher?”
“What?” Chris scowled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Of course not.”
To the average eye nobody would question that, but in a room full of werewolves the skip of his heart was too noticeable. Allison took a step away from her father to brush arms with Boyd. Erica stepped in between her and Chris.
Stiles grinned, a baring of teeth, “You know, I haven’t gotten to use a particular aspect of my Nusoo for a while. You wanna come clean, Chris? Or do I get to let some of my magic out today?”
“I don’t know what you are getting at,” he scowled. His aura flickered with deceit and fear. “But I can ask around the hunter community to see if they know who’s chasing the omegas.”
Stiles mock-sighed. “I guess we’re doing this my way.”
He stepped forward, grin growing wider as Chris’s hand went to rest on his gun at his side. The man put up a brave front, but Stiles was divinity. There was something in the way he moved, the way he looked, that weirded people out.
“ Tell us what you are hiding ,” Stiles instructed in his native language, Thalis. His voice swayed with an imaginary beat and sounded like silk.
Chris clenched his fists as his mouth betrayed him, “The wolves are responsible for the murders of a human couple North of here. A few hunters have been tracking them for the last week, and a few days ago they asked me if they could use Beacon Hills to corner the omegas. I told them they could. I was hoping the omegas would attack someone in town, which would sway Allison’s favor from the supernatural back to her family. Her grandparents have been asking about her, and I can’t lie to them much longer.”
“These hunters,” Stiles started, “how many of them are in my territory?”
“Three. Two are waiting out of town as backup in case the local pack gets the hunters first.”
Stiles closed his eyes in frustration. He felt a warm hand rub at his back, Derek. His mate always knew what he needed. He opened his eyes to stare stonily at Chris and didn’t even chuckle as the man flinched.
“Here’s what is going to happen,” Stiles declared. “You will call the hunters off, and they will leave Beacon Hills. We are going to see if we can reason with the omegas, but if we cannot then we will do what we have to do. After all of this is over, we will be having a talk about your actions.”
Chris’ jaw twitched, but he only nodded tersely in response.
“Good,” Stiles turned to his pack, “Everybody up for a fight? It sounds like these two are experienced, so it should be fun.”
Derek grunted, “Gear up.”
The pack split, each getting ready for the possible fight. Allison and Lydia went to unlock the weapons chest in Stiles’ closet, Lydia’s hand in Allison’s as they resolutely did not look at Chris.
Stiles forcibly relaxed his shoulders and met Chris’ conflicted eyes. “We’re not going to let her mother’s family take her, Chris. Trust us. We’ve had a plan for this since she joined the pack.”
He swallowed, nodded.
“Well, while I’m waiting,” Stiles smiled, “Any new guesses?”
It had become a game to them, Chris guessing what kind of creature Stiles was. He would never get it, but Stiles enjoyed making Chris doubt himself and his instincts by being vague about his heritage.
Lydia liked to insist to Chris that Stiles was a valkyrie in the last life and gained his memories of it when he turned 18. It wasn’t so far from the truth. Stiles had gained his memories of his past life on his last birthday, but he was Kisantus, an Angel, not a Norse warrior woman. He had the wings, though.
Chris hesitated before saying, “Harpy.”
“Hm,” Stiles squinted. “You’re really focused on this whole wing angle, huh? Do you think a harpy can do what I can do, Chris?”
Derek grunted and held his warm palm to the back of Stiles’ neck, “We’re ready to go.”
“Alright,” Stiles turned to smile at his mate. “Let’s do this.”
They took the Jeep and Chris’ SUV, the hunter in question forced to stay behind and call off his friends.
Stiles led his pack to an old hotel at the edge of town. The omegas were inside.
The plan was to lure them out of the building and into the woods behind it. Isaac would lead them away, he was the fastest. Jackson and Erica would make sure they didn’t double back on the hotel.
Derek and Stiles waited inside the woods for the omegas.
Scott’s howl echoed through the air. The bait had been taken.
Isaac broke through the trees to take his place behind his alphas. The two omegas darted into the clearing after him, their chests heaving from the chase. Their eyes were blue, and Stiles felt his resolve harden.
“What the fuck?” snarled the man, teeth bared as his blue eyes swept the clearing. The woman hunched in on herself with a low growl. “Who are you all?”
Derek stepped forward, “We are the Hale Pack, the owners of this territory. You would know this if you had reached out instead of trespassing on our land.”
“We didn’t know this place was taken.” The woman hunched further into herself.
“Well, it is.” Derek took another step forward, and his pack moved with him. “How long have you been wolves? Bitten wolves would know to contact the territory’s emissary.”
The man shifted on his feet, uncertain, “A few years now.”
“And have you had a pack for any of those years?”
“Of course we did,” the woman snarled. She didn’t look happy with the stop to their hunt. “Though they got a little too tame for us.”
Stiles had to hold back a snide remark at that.
“Why are you here?” Derek asked. His eyes glowed a soft red.
The man answered for them, face contorted in a way that was probably a grab for sympathy, “Hunters have been chasing us for weeks across the coast. We just wanted somewhere to stay. Somewhere safe.”
Stiles couldn’t help it then, he laughed. All attention was drawn to him at the sound, and he smirked.
“Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Go on, please.”
The pair glared at him, but Derek rumbled deep in his chest to draw back their attention.
“And why are the hunters after you?” Derek’s eyes were fully red now.
“Why are hunters after us? Seems self-explanatory. We’re werewolves, man, hunters are always after us.” The man’s face morphed into a sneer.
“You didn’t do anything to break their code?”
He took a step forward and scoffed, “Do we look like criminals? Of course not.”
Derek hummed low.
They were close enough that Stiles could practically feel their auras against his skin, and something flickered in the woman’s aura. It was a murky purple, red in between strands of anger. He had assumed it to be fear from the threat of hunters, but it was too bright for fear. It was anticipation.
Time slowed as that red pulsed and overtook the purple.
The woman lunged forward, towards Derek’s throat, claws out.
Stiles’ eyes grew warm as his Grace surged to the surface of his body, casting a purple glow across his skin. His wings burst from the scars on his back. The woman’s claws reached for Derek’s throat, and Stiles roared.
His top wings tore through the hand, feathers as sharp as the sharpest blade. With a flutter of his bottom wings he twirled around so he could see his mate. Red eyes met purple as his Grace broke free of his skin. Like a wave his Grace pushed through the air to throw the two omegas backwards.
Another flutter of his bottom wings. His middle ones spread so the omegas couldn’t see the rest of his pack, effectively forming a wall between them.
“You dare try to take the alpha spark from my pack?” His teeth were too sharp for his mouth. He tasted blood. “You dare touch my mate?”
The woman cradled her bloody wrist, her hand hanging on by a thread, the scrap of a loose tendon. The man’s head was bleeding, but his gaze fixed on Stiles with a snarl. He pushed himself to his hands and knees.
A gentle hand brushed across Stiles’ feathers from behind. His mate. His Derek. The reason he fell from divinity.
He swallowed his own blood and relaxed his bottom wings. “You should have never come here.”
“Fuck off,” the man growled. He was to his feet now, but he wobbled side to side like the air around him was too heavy.
Stiles chuckled, and it bounced through the trees like bells chiming.
“Did you really think we would let you live? Are you that stupid? We know about the murders, we know that you hurt innocent people. Add that to the fact you tried to kill my alpha? You’re not leaving these woods alive.”
The man lunged forward, but Stiles flicked a wing to command a rush of air to sweep his feet out from under him.
Stiles would make this quick. He always tried to spare his pack the sight of his feral side, his instincts.
He pushed with his top wings to soar through the air, deftly avoiding trees, and whipped them forward to slice the omega’s head from his body. Without waiting for flesh to hit grass, his middle wings cut the other omega into pieces.
His bottom wings fluttered to bring him back to his mate.
Derek had a soft smile on his face. His red eyes flared with warmth, and Stiles’ pulsed purple in response.
“You got blood on your feathers,” Derek murmured.
“I did.”
Their pack moved around them, doing their part to clean up the evidence, but Stiles’ eyes never left Derek’s.
“You should go flying before we go back home. Your dad won’t like having to clean blood out of the carpet again.” Derek’s gaze danced along bloody feathers.
Stiles nodded. He needed to stretch his wings, and there was a stream nearby that was perfect for washing up after a fight.
“I’m sorry I interrupted your peaceful discussion,” Stiles smirked.
Derek rolled his eyes, “I’m so disappointed in you.”
“Love you, Hundir-kai.” He darted in to press a kiss against his mate’s lips.
Derek’s small smile was blinding. “Love you too, Moonis.”
Stiles took to the sky on black-purple wings dripping a blood red to match his mate’s eyes. His feathers caught a strong wind current, and he let it guide him through the clouds.
It was almost sundown. It was beautiful up here, but he knew when he returned to the land of mortals he would be able to wind down with his pack, his family. That was pretty great too.
A flick of his wings and he was diving down towards the treetops.
Yeah, his life was pretty great.