Work Text:
The oldest known roots for the Hale pack could be traced back to the North of England during the Dark ages when pagan traditions ruled the lands. Legend says that was when the druids started becoming Emissaries to the pack, as a link between humans and the werewolves.
But by the 16th Century, those who still believed in the old ways were in hiding from the persecution of the dominant Christian church. Any found practising pagan rights were named witches and sentenced to death.
And as the church pursued witches, the hunter clans such as the Argents scoured the lands looking for Werewolves, all in the name of God.
When the chance came to escape the fear and death in Europe, the Hales, pretending to be equally persecuted Puritans, left for America on the Mayflower, vanishing into the wilds almost as soon as the ship landed. They travelled for years, exploring the untouched wilderness and following the call that led them to what would become California and the Nemeton. It was there they made their new home and built a small homestead in the middle of the forest. Over time, other packs followed the call, some leaving again to find unclaimed lands while some such as the Satomi Pack, whose Alpha came from Japan, settled on the border of their lands.
Of course, nothing stayed the same, more people came to the area and by the beginning of the 20th Century, the Hales, who thanks to gold mining and wise investments had become very wealthy, helped establish the thriving town of Beacon Hills, with themselves being the leading family, if a little recluse.
Many of the Pagan traditions that they had fled Europe to help maintain had fallen by the wayside, but there was one that was always observed if they could. Even after fire and death, betrayal and hate, it was never forgotten.
Peter stood by his car, wondering why he was still doing this. Cora had called again a week ago as she did every year since she went back to Brazil to say she wasn’t coming. Malia, of course, hadn’t grown up with the traditions as the rest of them had and while she had been to the last few when Scott presented her an early Christmas present in the shape of a trip away to Paris, the importance of the date slipped her mind.
This left only Derek, whose conflicted feeling about his uncle meant that he both hated and loved him in ever-changing quantities. But this wasn’t about the feelings they had for each other; this was about keeping one thing that meant so much to them alive. So Peter waited.
It was another half hour before Derek finally arrived, carrying a log in his arms. The only acknowledgement was a curt nod before he led the pair towards the old Hale house. The place still filled Peter's nightmares, the flames biting at his skin as his younger pack mates begged him to save them, which was his job. And he had failed them.
They could have done this anywhere; both the loft and Peter’s apartment had a real fireplace, but it was tradition and neither of them had had the heart to change it, even after all the years that they missed, with Peter in the Coma and Derek being in New York. It was the one time they could mourn what they had lost together without trying to kill each other.
The front door creaked as Derek pushed it open and made his way towards what had been the sitting room. While the rest of the burnt-out room was untouched, the fireplace had been cleaned and wood laid out for a fire.
Still in silence, Peter went over to the grate and after a few minutes, a fire sprang to life. They knew they had to wait until it was going strong before they could carry on, but that didn’t make the silence any less awkward. In fact, they had been so preoccupied that they both jumped when the front door creaked again.
“Dudes, you in here?” Stiles called, clearly knowing they would be here. He had finished college last summer, where he had studied the history of pagan religions across Europe alongside his criminal studies, as part of his preparation to become the Pack Emissary. He was now working with Deaton to learn the magical skills he needed as well as completing his deputy training.
Peter rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Of all the pack, Stiles was the one he actually liked. They had come a long way since their first meeting in the hospital, finding common ground until they were something close to friends. Peter wanted more ever since he had come home. Gone was the gangly teen as he had grown into a very attractive young man, with confidence that matched his intellect, which now he wasn’t doubting himself at every turn, could give Lydia a run for her money.
There had been times when Peter was sure that Stiles wanted him in return, the hint of arousal when they had been standing close, a heated look when he thought the werewolf wasn’t looking, but Peter had long learnt not to show his hand too soon and instead of pursuing, he held back and waited for Stiles to come to him.
Derek glared at Stiles not as happy as Peter was to see the younger man. “What are you doing here, Stiles?”
Stiles nodded towards the log that was laying by the fireplace. “I knew you kept up with the old ways, at least at this time of year. I know I'm not going to become a full-blown Druid, but it wouldn’t hurt if I honoured this with you.”
The beta shrugged and turned back to the fire.
Stiles shook his head, knowing that Derek still struggled at letting his guard down. He also knew that if he wasn’t wanted, the other man would have no trouble telling him so. Instead, he walked over to Peter, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Stiles.
“You could have done this with McCall, he’s your Alpha after all,” Peter stated, still smiling.
Stiles sighed. “He wouldn’t understand, and it’s not worth the headache of trying to explain. Anyway, this is more about family.”
This caught Peter’s attention and he lifted his eyebrow. “And this is family to you?”
“It could be, along with my Dad,” Stiles replied before he reached out and took Peter’s hand. “If you wanted it to be, Creeper-wolf?”
Peter squeezed Stiles’ hand in assent, knowing that words weren’t needed. They could talk about everything later. Derek had turned to look at them again as they had been talking and was glad that they finally got on the same page. There was no way though that he was going to deal with the fallout when Scott found out.
His attention back on the fire, he decided it was ready and picked up the Yule Log and placed it reverently into flames. The trio watched it burn, already feeling that prosperity and luck was already heading their way.