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Morning came with the breach of sunlight through the windows of Derek’s loft. Stiles stretched slowly, joints popping, and nestled further into the blankets around him. His hand reached out without conscious thought, searching for his mate. All he found was the warm spot Derek left. Stiles frowned, sleep-addled brain seeing this as the absolute assault on his person.
His magic left his body without much thought to search the rest of the loft. Ah, there. His wolf sat at the kitchen table, something warm in his hands, probably tea. His magic alerted him to the other sources of heat in the room. At least half of his pack was laying on the ground around the bed, comforted by heaps of blankets and pillows.
He contemplated staying in bed for a second, but decided to get up. He had school today, and he’d take all the time with his mate that he could get before then. After school would be a mess of responsibilities and chores, so they wouldn’t have time then.
He padded carefully through the mess of his packmates to sit next to Derek, leaning into the man’s warmth, head on his shoulder.
Derek hummed, content. It was his way of greeting his mate, and Stiles focused intently on the faint vibrations. There was something about Derek that made him relax, no matter what the situation.
“Ready for tonight, Hundir-kai?” Stiles asked, voice quiet, aware of his sleeping packmates.
A soft grunt in reply, an ‘as ready as I'll ever be.’
He grinned against Derek’s shoulder and hummed his own wordless response. Through their shared mindscape, the one that connected Derek’s alpha spark and Stiles’ magic, both mortal and divine, Stiles could feel Derek’s happiness at celebrating another Halloween with his pack, whole and healthy once more.
“Remember,” Lydia’s sleep-filled voice croaked from behind them as she made her way to the coffee maker, “some of us have study groups after school, so we won’t be back until after the Stilinski house is decorated.”
Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but Lydia raised a hand to stop him.
“And don’t you dare say that we aren’t helping just because we aren’t putting up halloween decorations,” she met his eyes evenly with a glare. “Boyd and I are making sure that Isaac and Scott don’t fail their midterms so they can become the functional members of society that they want to be. That is helping.”
Stiles snickered and raised his hands in submission. “I was just gonna ask that you tell us when you’re done so we can get the costumes ready, that’s all.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow. The shoulder Stiles was leaning on shook with Derek’s quiet laughter, and the latent magic that came with the pack settled throughout the room, a combination of werewolf, Kisantus, and banshee. It was a heady combination, a mix of instinctual safety for Stiles.
The noise of the coffee machine stirred Jackson, then the noise of him waking up managed to wake Boyd and Erica. Stiles smiled as he watched them all get up, grumbling to themselves about the early hour. Jackson went to lean against his mate while Erica and Boyd settled at the table with Stiles and Derek.
Stiles flicked his fingers towards the coffee machine to start brewing another round of caffeine. Jackson took turns drinking out of Lydia’s cup, but Erica was starting to fall asleep at the table. Boyd nudged her as her eyes slowly closed, making her wake up with a start.
“What time is it?” Boyd asked in a sleep-gravel filled voice.
“Seven o’clock,” Lydia says as Jackson sips her coffee. “We leave in thirty minutes to meet the throuple at school.”
Stiles snickered. The throuple, Isaac, Allison, and Scott, the sunshine triad.
His magic nudged him gently into his shared headspace with his mate, telling him to listen closely.
Are you excited for tomorrow? Derek’s voice came through from his alpha spark.
Stiles felt butterflies in his stomach even as a grin grew on his face. So excited. I want to check with the pack tonight if they still want to participate, I don’t want to make them do something they don’t wanna do.
Derek raised an imposing eyebrow, Have you met our pack? They don’t do anything they don’t want to do.
True, Stiles bumped their shoulders together with a smile. Stubborn idiots.
Half an hour later, and everyone had coffees in their hands, though Derek kept his tea as they all piled into his camaro. Erica had to sit on Boyd’s lap so they all could fit, but she didn’t mind.
Derek pulled up to the school, and Stiles pulled him into a quick kiss before he had to go.
“Don’t forget to bring what you talked to Melissa about, yeah?” Stiles asked as his packmates scrambled out of the car to greet the other half of the pack.
Derek grunted, a hint of a smile on his lips, before nodding and shooing Stiles away.
He was so proud of Derek and especially proud of his new hobby. He had recently taken to carving wood and sculpting from tree trunks around the old Hale house to make wonderful wooden animals and magical creatures.
A shout made Stiled brace for impact, a body hitting him not a second later. He grinned, recognising the body as Scott. His brother was always a physical person, and it was only Stiles’ magic that protected him from the overeager werewolves he surrounded himself with.
“Hey, buddy,” he grinned. His hands came up automatically to hoist Scott’s knees higher so he was against Stiles’ back at a piggyback ride. Scott’s jaw came to rest on Stiles’ shoulder, nose crooked into his neck as he took a deep breath in to scent him.
Scott growled out a content purr, vibrations rolling through both their bodies.
Before a moment could pass, he was hit by two other bodies, all trying to touch and rub against him, even Allison who retained her human status. He felt his grin widen and his magic keep him standing.
“Hello to you too, rowdy pups,” he drawled, his smile clear in his voice. Isaac burrowed further into his neck at the opposite shoulder from Scott. Allison simply ran her hands over Stiles’ buzz cut with a low hum. “Good night?”
“Yeah,” Scott muttered into his neck. He clearly wasn’t moving anytime soon, which made Stiles chuckle.
They made their way as a group into the entry hall.
Beacon Hills High always made sure to decorate for the American holidays, and Halloween was no exception. The school was full of things like carved pumpkins, cobwebs, black cats, bats, ghosts, scarecrows, and more. Anything that could be associated with Halloween was.
A part of Stiles loved the celebration, but a larger part of him remembered the old ways and even preferred them in some ways. He missed Samhain, Pomona, Calan Gaeaf, Zaduszki, and all the other rituals or celebrations that haven’t been widespread for decades. It was a good thing that his pack understood this. How else would they be celebrating Samhain tomorrow?
School these days was mostly autopilot for Stiles, probably due to the eons worth of information in his head, but he paid enough attention to help his friends with their homework every once and a while.
Plus, he had already gotten into the college of his choice, same with Lydia and Boyd. He didn’t have much use for school other than keeping up appearances and spending time with people his own mortal age. He was planning on majoring in Creative Writing and Linguistics, but it seemed like new subjects caught his eye every time he scrolled through them.
He daydreamed through his first four class periods, letting his body copy notes on autopilot. It helped that it was Halloween and the other students were so excited. It took the attention off him.
At lunch, as he settled down at the pack’s regular table, he amused himself by letting his magic run a little freer than it usually did. Multiple times, a breeze caught papers from the tables and floated them away, and the fake ghosts on the walls wailed so softly that only some very frightened people could hear them.
Stiles loved messing with mortals, especially at the beginning of the dark half of the year. What most mortals called the ‘veil’ was especially thin around now, and Stiles took every opportunity to freak people out that he could with his new boost in power.
Isaac and Erica’s auras lit up when the table next to theirs shrieked in fright at the now-gone illusion of a spider that skittered under their feet. Stiles loved to amuse his packmates, loved the way their auras changed when he let himself loose. Lydia and Boyd just raised their eyebrows, less than amused. Stiles gave them a sly grin.
Sixth period Advanced History brought an oddly excited Coach Finstock. Stiles leaned back in his chair with a carefully guarded expression and watched the other students file in.
The bell rang, and Finstock loudly clapped his hands, making many students startle.
“All Hallows Eve,” he stated expectantly. Stiles sat up straight, interested now. “It’s known by so many names that you couldn’t pay me to list them, but the key element of the holiday stays the same.”
Huh. Stiles hadn’t expected any of his teachers to bring up the day other than to theme their work, but he couldn’t say he hated it. Though, if Finstock got anything wrong Stiles might throw a fit.
“Your assignment this week, since I’m too busy with my extended family coming to town to trick-or-treat,” he rolled his eyes, acting as if that was a great burden, “is to write a seven page essay on the holiday. I expect many elements to be covered, especially the theme of death, the mention of the veil, and the history of the day. These papers will be on my desk by the end of Friday. You have three days and access to the library, the internet, and word of mouth.”
He looked around the class, meeting wide eyes, then snapped, “Get to it!”
Oh, this was gonna be fun. Stiles had been there when the celebrations were created. He had seen the sun set on autumn so the moon could rise for winter, saw the dread the farmers held as they looked out at their crops and cattle. He remembered the druids gathered around their bonfire asking for knowledge of the future. Time to go wild.
He could barely concentrate on his last two classes, too busy compiling the memories from so long ago for his paper. It was going to be the best fucking paper Finstock would ever read.
Lydia eyed him knowingly and directed him to seventh period, then Jackson took him by the elbow to go to eighth.
Stiles rolled his neck from side to side as the final bell rang. He hummed, his magic reaching out, and smiled at feeling his alpha outside the school. The amount of human souls around the alpha spark told him that the student body still wasn’t over Derek’s presence, even after two years of it. That made him grin.
Stiles led half of his pack out of the school, Lydia, Boyd, Isaac, and Scott missing since they had a study session with Danny and Greenburg. His grin split his face as he spotted Derek leaning against the red camaro. He was so extra, Stiles loved him.
He sprinted towards his mate, as he always did when Derek came to pick them up, and jumped into his arms.
Warm arms held him close to a warmer chest. Stiles’ magic purred in content, and if he checked he knew his eyes would be pure purple. He loved his mate, so much. Derek’s arms tightened as he caught that thought in their shared mindscape, a happy growl purring through his chest.
“Good?” Derek grunted in question.
“Good,” Stiles said into Derek’s neck, lips against skin.
Erica, Allison, and Jackson shuffled into the backseat after scenting their alpha, leaving the mates to hold each other close. A long time ago they gave up commenting on the odd way Derek and Stiles always greeted each other even if it had only been an hour since they last saw each other. It was probably due to their peculiar mate bond that every second away felt like a decade, but Stiles wouldn’t trade it for the world.
At last, as the murmuring of the crowd faded and they dispersed, Stiles pulled away from his mate. They shared a soft, secret smile.
With Stiles in the front passenger seat and Derek driving, the red Camaro pulled away from Beacon Hills High and drove towards the Stilinski house.
Halloween with John Stilinski was an event. He went all out on decorations and costumes, and he bought all the candy he financially could without buying out the store. Stiles had spent many days after each Halloween in a sugar coma, same as the other kids that came to the house for treats.
John set the pack to work immediately after they arrived, mainly with the excuse that they were ‘wasting daylight.’ Derek and Jackson were assigned to dig places in the yard for the fake tombstone decorations while Erica, Allison, and Stiles carved some last-minute pumpkins. Everything else was already put up, the skeleton hanging from a nearby tree, the cobwebs absolutely coating the front porch, the candy bowls with the fake hands that grab at the kids’ arms. John really went all out.
Stiles, while he carved a howling wolf into his tiny pumpkin, reached out with his magic to see where the rest of his pack was. He hummed. An hour had passed since they started, and by his packbonds he knew the last of his pack was just now leaving the school.
Good, he really wanted to get into costume before the first round of trick or treaters showed up.
Speaking of his costume, he grinned as Erica and Allison rushed him inside and upstairs. Time to get ready.
It was his first Halloween as a semi-mortal, the first since his Kisantus memories and magic were dumped into his head. He wanted to take this time to further develop his new personality. That wasn’t to say that he was different now, no, but the past memories of billions of years changed his mind about some things. He was more laid back now that his life was put into perspective. He wasn’t as fearful as mortal-Stiles was; what was there to be fearful of when he had divinity in his blood? It was a good improvement, and his dad told him many times that all this change did was strengthen the best parts of himself.
So, it was time to present a new front to the people of Beacon Hills. He was confident now, sure of his power and confidence. He wasn’t the twitchy boy that ran at the first sign of trouble.
That was probably why he chose a rather tight Red Riding Hood outfit for his Halloween costume. A white flowy blouse with the top buttons unbuttoned and a dark brown corset wrapped around it, dark leather boots with silver buckles, a long flowing red skirt that went past his knees (he liked the way it felt against his bare legs, okay? sue him), and the trademark blood red cloak draped over his shoulders, tied with a red thread at his waist so it drooped across his shoulders to highlight the corset and blouse.
He thought he looked pretty good, and the girls agreed. He couldn’t wait to see what Derek thought of it. He grinned.
Allison was a notable Snow White, while Scott would be her Prince Charming. Erica was Gretel while Isaac was Hansel, all done up in draping cloth and German apparel. Derek would be Stiles’ big bad wolf, while Boyd was King Arthur, leaving Lydia and Jackson as Rapunzel and her unnamed prince.
By the time Stiles was fully dressed in his rather handsome costume, the rest of the pack had arrived. They dressed in the guest room while Erica and Allison finished up in Stiles’ room.
“We look amazing,” Stiles grinned into the mirror, the girls beside him.
“Yes, we do.”
Erica twisted her earth-toned cape as she swung from side to side, catching all her angles in the mirror. Allison did the same as Stiles admired his intricately braided corset. It was tight and pressed the silken blouse to his skin, but it looked amazing and the pressure was calming. His back itched slightly, the scars that his wings came out of sensing the restriction, but he held the feathers back. It wouldn’t do to break the corset so soon.
A knock at the door broke them out of their ogling.
“All good in there?” John’s voice came through, amused. “The boys are almost done changing. Lydia commandeered my room, so thanks for that, son.”
Stiles chuckled. “Yeah, we’re done, Pops. Comin’ out now.”
His dad’s expression when they filed into the hallway was comical. Erica and Allison looked good, and he made sure to complement them, but he paused when he looked at his son, eyebrows raised.
“Like it?” Stiles grinned.
His dad sighed, a smile emerging from his scowl even as he tried to stop it, “Yeah, kid. You look great, just make sure I’m out of the way when Derek sees you, yeah?”
“Understood.” He couldn’t wait for his mate to see him. He had a feeling there would be some pheromones in the air when they saw each other, so his dad was right to be wary. The wolves were used to the blatant sexuality that came with having wild instincts, but John was decidedly not.
John just sighed again and turned to Stiles’ room so he could collapse in his son’s bed. The poor man.
Erica elbowed Stiles towards the stairs, face expectant.
“Here we go,” he muttered, eyes on the foot of the stairs. He felt his alpha in the kitchen, since his outfit was just ripped clothing and his beta shift.
He was right. The reunion was filled with lots of pheromones, mostly as Derek decided to mark Stiles’ neck absolutely everywhere and scent every inch of his revealed skin. Erica and Boyd, newly dressed as King Arthur, watched it all with amusement and Erica’s cackling. If Stiles were to enhance his senses, he knew he would smell a lot of things that would make him blush.
The rest of the pack slowly made their way down to the living room, and John marched down the stairs after them, mumbling under his breath the whole time.
“How long until the first wave?” Stiles called to his father in the kitchen.
Some shuffling, “It’s almost six, so the younger ones will all be by within the next hour and a half. I suggest you get your butts out there before I start getting complaints from concerned parents. The Stilinski’s are always the best house in town, that will not change because you all are late.”
“Understood,” Stiles saluted towards the wall hiding John, chuckling all the while.
They grabbed the many bowls of candy that lined the front hall and organized themselves on the steps to the porch. The couples sat together, though Isaac and Erica sat near each other to achieve the best picture of Hansel and Gretel possible.
Jackson and Derek passed the time by throwing candy at each other from opposite sides of the porch, which was quite amusing to watch as Derek had his claws out and Jackson had cheap silver gloves on. Stiles and Lydia cheered for their mates as the others lazed about. Stiles caught Isaac tucking some candy into the pouch at his side multiple times, but he just grinned and ignored it.
It wasn’t long before the first wave of babies and toddlers made their way up and down the streets.
The parents looked at the pack with curious eyes, though Stiles’ outfit got some frowns from the more conservative families. The children absolutely loved them though. Many of them were taken by the detail in Stiles’ corset and the soft delicacy of Allison’s Snow White dress. Some gathered the courage to poke at Derek’s claws and sideburns, those usually got a gentle roar from the werewolf that brought smiles to their tiny faces. The toddlers in particular liked to run their hands over Lydia’s Rapunzel braid that extended to her feet.
As the sun set, the ages of the trick-or-treaters slowly increased. Stiles started a poll on the best costumes they found. So far, in the lead was a homemade storm trooper suit.
They saw many of their fellow high schoolers, all who either gawked at them or avoided eye contact until they had to leave. Stiles got some looks, but he just glared them into submission. He was good at that, his pack told him often.
His magic shivered along his skin as darkness enveloped the busy street. This was the start of the dark half of the year, and his magic felt it prominently. It grew in strength, just as it always had through the years when he was in Kistousun.
As his dad disappeared inside to fill up his candy bowl for the fifth time, a small group of kids approached the house, no parent with them. They were quite clearly a werewolf, a vampire, and a witch. Or at least the media version of them.
Derek hummed as they approached, eerie red eyes fixed on his kid counterpoint.
“Trick or treat,” the three chorused, excited at the slight edge of fear as most risk takers were.
“Happy Halloween,” Stiles grinned, offering his candy bowl to the trio. “Take a couple handfuls, we definitely have enough.”
They took some and dumped them into plastic pumpkins and ghostly bags that hung from their elbows. The witch’s cauldron was already full of candy, but she held it up despite the weight and instead used a pumpkin like the werewolf.
Derek hummed again, eyes trailing over the kids that couldn’t be older than ten.
“Your costumes are cool,” he said, drawing their attention. The werewolf brightened noticeably at the praise. “How about each of you pick out one of the figures from this box? The ones you choose will guide you to get the best candy in the neighborhood, but they'll lose their magic when the night ends.”
He pushed forward a decorated wooden box, full of the small carvings he made for this occasion, with the benefit of raising awareness of the store Derek was starting to sell them.
The kids looked at each other before the witch stepped up first. She put her hand in and shuffled it around. The magic that Stiles inscribed into the box made it so the kid would pull out the figurine that best matched their personality, and the magic fused into the wood of each carving would make sure the kid received the best candy for the rest of the night. It was a simple runic array.
She pulled out a small cat carved of black wood. Stiles grinned. It would help her luck with the coming houses to receive the best candy bars.
The vampire was next, and he pulled out an intricately detailed bat. It was made from a dull red wood that Derek had picked up on his last journey through various stores throughout the state. This figure would help his perception tonight and would lead him towards the houses with his favorite sweets.
The werewolf, with his costume that reminded Stiles more of a werelion than an actual werewolf, ducked his hand in and pulled out a howling wolf. It was Boyd’s favorite carving of tonight’s batch since it was modeled after his own wolf spark, a dark brown wood with bright yellow eyes and sharp teeth. The charm was made to keep the kid safe in his adventures tonight. No harm would befall him or his group.
Stiles smiled as the kids chattered excitedly, gesturing with their figurines and praising their makeup. It felt good to help them. He hadn’t gone out into the human community many times since he ‘woke up’ as the new and improved Stiles, since he was still getting used to the auras and other things he could see around each human, but he wanted to change that.
The kids retreated back down to the sidewalk, and Derek pushed his box back behind the porch railing. He took Stiles’ hand and hummed peacefully.
Stiles’ mate loved children, he knew, from the large pack he had as a kid. He missed taking care of the babies when the adults were busy. Stiles would do anything to make his mate happy, even if it meant deciding to visit the hospital to give charmed carvings to the sick kids so that Derek felt like he was making a difference.
The night passed quickly after that.
As the last round of trick or treaters made their ways home, the pack cleaned up around the Stilinski house. John had long since gone to bed so he had enough energy for his morning shift at the station the next day. It was well past midnight.
Stiles peered out the window in the living room while his pack gathered behind him, done with their quiet chores. He turned to face them. His magic felt wild now, and it suffused the air around him with a palpable restless energy.
His pack’s faces were calm, but their eyes had a wild edge to them. He knew that they were ready for what was coming.
“Meet me near the old Hale house,” he said, words powerful though not commanding. He wanted his pack to have the choice in participating in the night’s ritual.
They nodded as one, eyes flashing with their inward sparks, yellow and blue for beta wolves, red for Derek, and silver for Lydia’s banshee magic. Allison’s human eyes got a little sharper, a hunter.
Stiles made his way through his house to trod into the backyard. His magic banished his clothing to the closet in Derek’s loft, and his wings sprouted from the six mutilated scars up and down his back. Six dark purple wings with different shapes and types of feathers, three sets of magical limbs. His top two wings were made for force, to lift him into the air with each powerful push. The middle were considered gliding wings to keep him in the air. The bottom two were directional, and even the most gentle flick of them could spin him around so his top four wings would slice pure metal.
He took to the air. Most of his mind ran on pure instinct, the need to feel the wind through his feathers and let his magic seep through his skin.
---- Samhain ----
Deep in the woods of the Preserve, Stiles cast his magic about to surround the clearing in which he stood. Damp logs arranged themselves in the shape of a eight-sectioned wheel on the ground, and the pyre at the middle of the wheel burst into flame. In between the spokes of the wheel, Stiles directed his magic to carve runes into the dirt. The runes symbolized each dark theory in Thalis, the old language.
Kisan, dark, shadows, the unknown. Durg, dirt. Moonis, animal, beast, wild creature. Rakis, churning water, river, turmoil. Spinu, rebellion, secrets. Pout, eight, the eight dark theories. Honum, slow, quiet, tired. Noutoo, looking, observation, distance.
Darkness was not the same as evil. Dark magic was not the practice of murder and foulness, no, dark magic was wild, untamable. It was something that Stiles had to explain to his pack after Scott had blanched at the idea of a dark ritual. Darkness was as natural as light. The difference was in intent.
The pyre at the middle of the wheel would serve as a Samhain bonfire, the community fire that his pack would surround and use for the future.
A noise in the distance made Stiles cock his head. His alpha’s howl. The pack caught something for the ritual, something that would not mind dying for a purpose. Using strong animals just to kill them went against the sacrifice, they needed something weak, something that would descend into death with or without their intervention. The dark theory Noutoo demanded as much noninterference as one could do.
His pack came towards the clearing. He heard it through the rustle of leaves and in the whispers of shadows.
It was almost time for the ritual to start, though technically it had already started. Everything in magic was about intent. The pack’s intent to hunt for a blessing of Mother Moon, Stiles’ intent to light the pyre with a cleansing fire, the land’s intent to share power with the owners of the magical territory.
Tonight was for the instinct of the ritual, tomorrow night would be the social aspect, the part that Stiles enjoyed so often in the past.
His pack entered the clearing. Stiles flicked his wings, propelling him into the air. He hovered over the heat of the pyre, and each member of his pack took up their positions around the wheel. His magic enveloped the bloody deer they had brought and sent it into the fire. Tomorrow, when they reconvened here, they would eat the deer’s sacrifice. The magic of the ritual kept it safe in the fire.
In the back of his mind, the awareness behind his instinct, Stiles noticed his pack’s bloody and torn clothes. His wings flicked, and their clothes were ripped away. Yes, his magic purred, this was how it was supposed to be. Bare to the Moon.
None of his pack flinched at their new nakedness, used to the lack of modesty that came with being in a wolf pack.
He hummed, a lilting song that came up through his throat to vibrate through his magic and seep into every living thing in the area. His mouth was dry with the fervor of the night. He beat his wings once more, lifting higher above the pyre to look down upon his forest.
Words left his mouth with no hesitation, words that spun his intent into a driving stake of power. It sounded like a chorus of noise in a language that was purposefully unrecognizable. There was no clear meaning to any of it, but every living creature in the forest recognised its purpose. To summon Mother Moon and offer oneself to her.
It was a cleansing, though some saw it as a rejoining with the spirits beyond the veil.
Stiles’ skin tingled as he felt the faint impression of his human mother’s soul upon his. He felt all the dead of his mortal body’s kin around him. Below him, the same process forced itself to each of his pack.
His words picked up speed, blending together in a rush of sound and intonation.
Love. He felt love from the spirits who chose to reach out to him. The warmth of the fire below was nothing compared to his family’s love.
As he reached the height of his song, his fellow Kisantus greeted him. It was in a brush of wings and skin, an overlaid harmony upon his own song, the chiming of wind and the rushing of water, the whispers of shadows and secrets. Oh, he missed his old home, so much. His spirit cleansed itself with each new visitor.
It was the beginning of the dark half of the year, and he started it off with a power boost that was almost unrecognizable. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it in for school the next few days.
His mouth fell shut, the sung words escaping his soul at last. The fire below him diminished to a reasonable level. He looked down to see his pack looking back up at him, necks bare and eyes glowing. Even Allison’s sharp human eyes shined with the pulse of Mother Moon.
He hummed, his wings gently lowering him to stand in front of his mate, his alpha.
Oh, Derek looked wild, untamable. His blood red eyes peered into Stiles’ purple ones, and his mouth hung open to reveal sharp teeth fit for an apex predator. A growl rumbled through Derek’s chest, and it was all Stiles could do to pull him into a warm embrace.
Their shared mindscape was a mess of emotion and power. Through the veil, the old Hale pack had visited Derek. They finally got to say their goodbyes and reassure the alpha that he was not the cause of their deaths. All of it pushed the alpha spark to the forefront of Derek’s soul. He had to retreat into his wolf to deal with all the emotions his family brought out in him.
Stiles held his mate in the light of the moon. His pack converged around them, bare skin pressed against skin. They were one in this moment.
Eventually, the overwhelming magic of the clearing dissipated, and they started to feel the aches and pains that came with a ritual as powerful as the one they participated in, a wonderful mixture of many old traditions like Samhain and the Kisantus prayer.
Home, the call echoed through the pack bonds.
Stiles withdrew from the huddle of his pack and looked towards the fire. His magic conjured nine candles and lit them from the low flames of the pyre. They would be used to light the hearths of the pack’s homes, and the flame would stay for as long as they wished it to. In this era, the hearth was a fireplace of the flames beneath a kettle, or a simple candle at the dining table.
They left the forest, bare beneath the moon. Stiles tucked his wings against his back but did not pull them into his scars. It felt right to keep them out, to exist how he was created.
The remaining magic cloaked them as they made their way to Derek’s loft. Their state of undress wasn’t noticed by the few still awake and about the town, and the large wings pressed against pale skin was not seen by anyone mortal.
Stiles and his pack collapsed into a pile in the loft’s living room, already conjured pillows and blankets beneath them. He flicked his fingers to open the windows. If any more of the dead wanted to visit while they slept, the open windows would allow them to do so.
And they slept.
It was only natural after all their souls had been put through. Stiles and Derek slept in the center of their pack, and the warm magic that suffused the room kept them asleep until the time it wasn’t needed.
The rising of the sun pulled Stiles from the collective dream his pack seemed to share.
His skin was bursting with his magic. He felt it in his nails, his hair. It was everywhere, and he had a feeling it would stay this way until at least the next dark festival.
His pack woke around him. Their lungs breathed as one, the strange synchrony of their souls manifesting in shared breaths. Those around him groaned with pleasure at the soreness of their muscles. They felt strong, unbreakable.
But they had to go to school. Or else when the high of magic would wear off, Lydia would kill them for skipping class just a month away from midterms.
They gathered themselves and pulled on the clothes left on the loft’s bed the day before by Derek. Stiles made tea for the group, as coffee would make them even more hyper than they already were from the magic running through their veins.
They took their time. There was still some time until they had to be at school, and they didn’t feel like breaking apart so soon after the ritual. They would have to leave Derek to go to class, and that was unacceptable.
But as the minutes passed, their minds cleared. They were still connected in a way stronger than before, but they were individuals once more.
Stiles cracked his neck and flexed his wings before forcing them back into their scars and pulling a t-shirt over his head. Scott beside him hummed a gentle tune, something from the cartoons they together watched as children. Allison on his other side sighed deep and left to get ready for a day of human interaction.
By the time they were all clothed and ready, as they had left their school things in their lockers yesterday, Derek was human enough for his eyes to return to normal. His voice wasn’t quite back, but that was understandable.
Derek drove them in his Camaro with Stiles in the passenger seat. The back seats were taken up by a pile of limbs as seven teenagers tried to fit into the small space and ended up sitting on top of each other, but it wasn’t awkward like it should have been. They felt at peace with each other. Nobody complained.
At the school, Stiles pulled Derek in for a long kiss. It was his way of scenting his mate and alpha. The others ran their hands along his skin and pressed their intent into him.
The rest of the school day passed in the same blur that they woke up in. They stayed close to each other in their classes, but none of them could tell you what they learned in each class. They wouldn't focus fully until they completed the ritual at sunset that night.
Class ended for the day, and the pack left for the Stilinski house. John and Melissa greeted them there with sweet fruits and sweeter cake.
The next thing Stiles knew, it was sunset. He and his pack sat inside the wheel in the section of Honum, the section of sleep and quiet. That was what had consumed them all day, and that was what they would shed with the next part of the ritual.
They ate from the deer in the fire. Stiles’ magic prepared it and handed it out to each pack member, and they ate it slowly. It was amazing, delicious. It was a feast in one meal, and they relished in it.
The sluggishness they had been filled with left them as they finished the meat.
Stiles looked around the clearing, then up at the moon. It was bright tonight, a blessing from the Mother.
“When I was a hatchling,” he began, “I was presented to Mother Moon and Mother Sun with my wing-siblings for their blessings.”
It was time for the storytelling portion of the night. Stiles always loved this part. He loved learning about the others in the ritual, especially when he was permitted to participate in other cultural rituals. A few decades ago he got to listen to a shaman telling about his mythos of the stars. Some hundreds of years ago, it was the lessons the matriarch was taught as a child.
Now, he told of the blessings the Mothers gave him and his fellow Kisantus. He talked of the light from each of the deities and the warmth he felt within his flock of wing-family. He talked of growing up in a place made of magic. He told of meeting the dead in that place and learning their stories.
As he spoke, Stiles divided the first cake Melissa made into enough pieces for his pack. They ate the sweet bread with the equally sweet fruits.
His story finished, and Boyd’s began. He told of his family’s history with culture and place, the stories passed down from his ancestors.
It continued like that until long past midnight, talking and sharing and eating.
And they danced. They moved to the thrum of Mother Moon’s pulse, and they swung each other around and twirled until all they could see and feel was the Mother’s silver light. The food that they could not eat went to the creatures of the forest.
It was refreshing, to be outside at a time like this.
Stiles laid on his back with his eyes to the sky. Isaac curled around his side and growled in content, a rumbling purr from his wolf. On the other side of the clearing, Derek howled with Erica and Jackson in a pure kind of joy. Scott and Boyd carried Allison and Lydia as they danced out a natural beat in the dirt and shining air. They were alive in a world that provided for them, a world that needed them, and that was an amazing thing to know.
The future would come. They were ready for it.