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There’s fire. So much fire. Everything is burning and gold and hot. So so hot. And beautiful. So unbelievably beautiful. He would never be able to describe how beautiful it was.
And then came the pain. White hot blinding pain, burning through him in form of red hot flames. Its pain that should make him scream, but it doesn’t. It makes him want more more more more, so much more until he explodes. He isn’t screaming, he is laughing and it makes him want even more. He wants to burn until there isn’t anything left to burn anymore.
But then he hears the scream. And he realizes. This isn’t for him. There is someone burning, who isn’t supposed to be burning. Someone that isn’t like him, someone that can’t appreciate the pain.
He frowned and woke up with the smell of smoke in his nose. He waited for a second, two, thirty, a minute. Waited for the smell to go away, waited for his body to stop pushing. But it didn’t. He could still smell the smoke, still feel the heat of the flames.
Stiles stood up, maybe a glass of water would help to get rid of the flames in his mind. But the he heard the radio cracking in the Sheriffs room.
“11-71 in the preserve, I repeat, 11-71 in the preserve. The Hale House is on fire!”
Stiles blinked and started moving. He pushed himself to the limits he knew his body was capable of till he was finally standing in front of the burning house. He could hear the screams, the same one’s from his dream, and took a deep breath.
The smell of burning flesh overpowered everything else, but there was something else, faintly, and there, mountain ash. He couldn’t suppress the smile, instead let it come and started to search for the mountain ash line.
He could feel the wolves dying, their power surging up just there for him to grab…
The door burst open and Stiles whirled around, watched in fascination how the man, wolf, Hale, stumbled out of the broken door and … stopped. To watch Stiles. His smile brightened and he broke the mountain ash lines with a move of his hand.
Peter stared after the boy. Who was he?
The next day, Stiles sits with Jackson and Lydia for the first time in a while. Both of them looked at him a bit confused, but he only smiled. Lydia looked at him for a second longer, before she smiled back.
“How was it?” her eyes were gleaming with eagerness.
“Glorious.” He answered breathless.
The Argents, as Stiles finds out, are not that much different from other humans. Not only are they closed minded and brutal, but also uncreative and without any morality. Stiles knows the last one for sure when he finds out about Kate Argent.
But it fascinates him. The way Hunters, the ones that pride themselves on knowing right from wrong, monsters from human, are the most cruel of them all. Burning a whole Pack, just because they don’t match the Hunters idea of Human.
(It’s been two years. He knows they are still hunting him, that they haven’t given up. Stiles just wished that they would. He hadn’t even done anything. He was a child, why why why, did Hunters think that this was Human?)
But at the end of the day, they are Human, and they will die like it too.
After the Hale fire, a lot of questions were answered for Stiles. He knew now, what the Hale’s had been. (all that power he had felt, had seen, just the idea of Jackson possessing that much raw strength send a shiver down his spine)
But it had also awakened a new kind of desire in him. He was familiar with the way he wanted things, the way his magic demanded things. He knew hunger from Hunger to differentiate and not every desire was worth the trouble he would get into should his father ever find out.
But he couldn’t help the way that he wanted. That werewolf had been so…Stiles couldn’t describe what it had been that was going through his head. He just wanted. Which was quickly proving to be rather difficult, since the only Hales he had seen (that had survived) after the fire, had been Laura and Derek.
(but that wasn’t completely true, now was it? After all, Stiles had seen the magic leaving the werewolves, had felt how many wolves had died that night in the Preserve. There should be four ‘wolves running around Beacon Hills like headless chicken, not only two. (so where oh where, did you hide them away, Alpha child?))
Laura was, interesting. She was brash and rude, and held this air of superiority around her that Stiles wanted nothing more than to just burst like a soap bubble. But first and foremost is Laura not what Stiles expected. He had seen Thalia and other supernatural’s walking around, had seen their unnatural grace and elegance, and assumed that was what supernatural’s were like. After all, his Family too was unnaturally elegant and graceful. His Aunt Morticia, for example, often seemed as if she was floating.
So seeing Laura Hale was outside of any realm that he expected. She still had that grace in her walk, as if she couldn’t fall or stumble, which Stiles presumed was true, but she lacked the elegance that Stiles always associated with Magic. Laura Hale looked like a Werewolf that was used to get what she wanted, if not by fear, then by brute force.
Laura Hale looked like someone who had never been told no in all their life. It’s a pity, really. He had hoped for something more.
But even more than that, he hoped to be the first.
Stiles didn’t stop them when they left town. Why should he? Addams’ and Hale’s didn’t have an alliance, and it wasn’t as if he had any particular interest in any of them.
They left the only interesting one behind, after all.
Peter Hale was just … lying in a hospital room, under his real name, for anyone who was looking to find. Stiles wondered if maybe, just maybe, Laura had seen an opportunity and took it.
She wouldn’t mind if he took an equal opportunity, right?
Peter Hale, as opposed to his niece, was far more interesting. Not that the man could really do much, since he was still in a coma, but even like that, he proved to be both more interesting and smarter than both his sister’s children combined.
Stiles hadn’t made it a habit to break into other people’s minds. He thought it was both primitive and just horrible rude. But when the person he wished to speak to just so happened to be in a coma, really, what other choice did he have?
So he found himself sitting at Peter Hale’s bedside, sometime long after visiting hours were over. The nurses probably wouldn’t notice him, (they wouldn’t, he had made sure of that) and that would give him enough time to have a proper … conversation, with Peter Hale.
Truly, they could have been friends. Maybe if his mother hadn’t tried so hard to hide him from everything Different, then maybe he could have saved the Hales that night. But well, it didn’t matter now. It didn’t change anything. The Hales were dead now (and what was left wouldn’t survive long enough to be of any note), so truly, what did it matter now.
The first hitch his plan provided, was the fact that Peter’s mind wasn’t as easy to enter as Stiles would have liked. In fact, it almost seemed protected?
Not completely unheard of, of course, but still unusual for a werewolf. As far as Stiles knew, both from his own research and what his family had told him, most Werewolves couldn’t be bothered for such trivial things. They were more brawn than brain, and so were often found lacking in that regard.
But this…Really, Stiles just kept finding more and more things that made him like the werewolf.
“Who are you?” Stiles blinked and he was in a study, a library of sorts, filled from top to bottom with books, and there, directly in front of him, two armchairs and a small table.
“Hello Peter.” Stiles could feel the impassive smile stretch over his face. He didn’t know how strange he might look; he didn’t even know if Peter could even actually see him. He could see Peter, sure, but that didn’t always mean much of anything. “I’m…well, maybe not a friend. My name is Stiles.”
And Peter, not even 25 yet and already dying, looked at him and smiled.
Peter, as Stiles finds, is much better company then he had anticipated, and he catches himself not only looking forward to seeing the man, but also looking for excuses to see him more often.
It’s not a bad change, he supposes, not when Hunters are still crawling all over the place, making it impossible to meet with Lydia and Jackson safely. It was almost as having a Coven again (not that he didn’t have one right now, but the distance was getting to him, he had to admit), even if it was only a small two-person-coven. But he would take what he could get.
Peter was different from any of the other Supernaturals that Stiles had ever met. He just had this air of confidence and general condescending aura, something that Stiles had never actually seen in a Supernatural that wasn’t also an Addams, as his family held a general disdain towards people.
And he really did appreciate it.
He missed his family. Not getting so see his Coven meant he also couldn’t travel so see them, and it weighted hard on him. He had never been away from them that long, not ever since meeting them. He especially missed Wednesday. He missed her cheerfulness, and he missed playing with Pugsley and he missed freely exchanging thoughts with her, without having to talk. They had tried, of course, to continue their telepathy, but had to admit, if only to themselves, that the distance was too great.
So he would have to wait to talk with his Soulmate until further notice.
In the meantime, he would have to make do with Peter Hale.
“Can you tell me about Werewolves?” Stiles had asked during one of their first conversations. His body had been sitting besides Peter’s in the Hospital, seeming like a visitor to anyone that cared. (If they were to look closer, they might see the slight light in his eyes that meant he was using his magic, and they might see that he wasn’t mentally all there in the room with them. (No that that mattered, really.))
“What do you want to know little witch?” Peter was sitting on a leather couch, a novel in his hand, though he wasn’t really paying attention to the book, solely focused on Stiles sitting on an armchair across from the couch.
At the beginning, Stiles had been surprised by the extensive furniture and homeliness of Peter’s mind, but had long since stopped being surprised, after all, that was what any self-respecting Addams would do, so why not Peter too?
“Well, I know how magic came to be. I know how we nurture and support it to keep growing and expanding, and how to become more powerful. So, in theory, I also know how every other Supernatural being came to be. But Werewolves are different, aren’t they? They feel different.” Stiles trailed off with a frown on his face, his thoughts drifting back to the Alpha (feral, he now knew) he had found in the woods in what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Such a smart little mage.” He put away the book and sighed in content. Peter, as Stiles had been quick to find, enjoyed teaching for as long as his student asked the right questions. Peter enjoyed knowledge, and the company that could appreciate such knowledge as well as himself.
“So its true? Werewolves are different?” Stiles looked back up at Peter, a triumphant glint in his eyes. Stiles appreciated knowledge as much as the next guy (Peter), but he enjoyed being right even more.
“Yes, very true, in fact. Legend says that Werewolves were formed by Lady Luna, after she was scorned by her lover, a human man of small intelligence as it seems.” He smirked, “As punishment she turned him into a wolf, unable to turn back into a human on his own volition and forced to serve her until the end of his days.”
Stiles frowned, “But that only covers the turning wolf part. What happened after that?”
“Well, after he lived as her Wolf Servant for a while, Lady Luna decided that turning him into a wolf was too cruel, and she allowed him to turn back into a Human once a month, on the full moon. On that day, he was allowed to wander into the Human villages and try to find a mate, because while Lady Luna decided that she had been too cruel, he was still deserving of punishment, so instead of forcing him to stay a wolf for the rest of his life, she allowed him to break his curse, through the power of true love.” Peter watched Stiles’ frown deepen, saw the gears turning in the boy’s head, as he mulled over the new information.
“So that’s why you werewolves are so obsessed with mates.” He then finally said, “because you truly believe that there is some kind of Soulmate out there waiting for you in order to what? Break your curse?” Stiles looked disbelievingly at Peter, unwilling to believe that the man was stupid enough to actually believe that. Peter snorted.
“No, not to break a curse. Because there’s still more to the story. The man did find his mate, some years later, and did break his curse, only that at the end, he was still half-wolf, half-man. Lady Luna might have decided to be merciful, but let’s be honest, he was still a Grade A douche, so instead of turning him complete human again, as he had assumed, she turned his curse around. He was a Human for most of the time, but forced to turn into a wolf at every full moon, to abide for his sins and serve Lady Luna until his death.” Peter smiled softly.
“So being a werewolf really is a curse?” Stiles was still frowning, though he didn’t look as confused anymore.
“I wouldn’t say that, no. It might have started out that way, but at the end of the day, we all forge our own destiny, and as much as it might be inconvenient to be a werewolf sometimes, it does have a lot of perks.”
Stiles hummed in consideration and then turned back to his own book.
Stiles never tells Peter exactly who he is, though the werewolf had a pretty good idea from the get-go. And it wasn’t as if Stiles was hiding who he was, exactly, just, maybe not announcing it.
So he isn’t completely shocked when one day, after a long discussion with Peter left him winded, but happy, he is faced with a unfamiliar nurse, who is in the process of pushing a needle into the IV drip fastened to Peter’s hand.
“What are you doing?” Stiles frowned. He didn’t know much about Medicine, or even the treatment that Peter was on, but he did know the schedule for the medication, and he knew that the usual nurse had administered it just as Stiles had come in for the visit. They even had a bit of small talk (“always such a sweet boy, Stiles, keeping Mr. Hale company, you really are just such a good boy. Now, be good, but I know you will be, you know what button to press should you need me honey.”) she had been one of his mother’s nurses, at the beginning, and still remembered him. He knew that no more medicine was scheduled until much later that evening.
“I’m just giving him a bit of morphine sweetheart, don’t worry about it.” A patronizing smile on her face. And oh boy was Stiles worried about it.
In seconds he had reduced himself to tears, pressing the help button next to Peter’s bed to call the actual nurses and security, and then slapped the syringe out of her hands.
“No, you’re not, I know his nurse.” Stiles was definitely playing this up, he almost cringed at himself, but he knew that he needed to play this part well, needed to convince the other nurses that he was genuinely terrified of that stranger that he didn’t know, just in case this Hunter (because what else could she be?) actually was a registered nurse in the hospital.
It didn’t take long after that for the nurses to arrive, the first one running into the room just as the still full syringe rolled out on the floor. The man (definitely not a Hunter, Stiles recognized him) looked from Peter to Stiles to the woman and frowned.
“What is going on here? Stiles, are you okay?” he stepped towards the woman, clearly recognizing her as the problem, while keeping an eye on Stiles, which was probably fair, he was after all, pretending to be very upset. People tended to keep an eye on crying children.
“I don’t know her, and she tried to give Peter medicine, but I know that he isn’t supposed to get medicine yet, and you guys always told me to call you if I see a stranger, and when I see something off, and, and, and,” he stopped, further reducing himself to tears, that he frantically tried to blink away, while keeping on hand intwined with Peter’s, trying to seem like a child that didn’t know what was going on, and was looking for comfort. A strategy that seemed to more than work.
“Its okay Stiles, no one is angry at you. You did the right thing.” Chimed in another nurse from the door, her eyes on the woman, while security detained her. “But don’t worry about it honey, we’ll take it from here, you just sit tight and keep Mr. Hale here some company.” She smiled at him and then followed the other nurses out, that had checked over Peter and his equipment.
“Okay.” He squeezed Peter’s hand, and then sat back down. Maybe it truly was time to put those runes and spells in place.
Stiles didn’t return to Peter’s mind, not with the Hunter still on the loose. Instead, he said his goodbyes, left the hospital and then spend his entire way home thinking about protective measurements. What had happened today, was not acceptable. No one, and he meant no one, was allowed to make such an obvious hit on someone from his coven. They were his, had sworn themselves to him, and no one was allowed to take them from him.
(he wasn’t thinking about the fact that he had grouped Peter in his Coven, honestly, he had better things to worry about, but he wasn’t surprised. Coven was addicting, in a sense, the rush of power was just delicious and just enough to still his hunger for a while. He could use someone like Peter anyway.)
My dearest nephew,
Mama has gotten your letter and is complementing on your choice of companions. Your werewolf seems very interesting, especially from everything that your uncle has learned about him. Fester has been quite delighted to know that you meet him.
Anyhow, the runes that you need should be in the book that I send you. Please inform me of your process and future adventures. I know that it will be simply wonderful.
All our love,
Aunt Morticia
The runes and incarnations that he needed, were in fact in the book that his aunt had sent him. They were surprisingly easy. After all, protection spells weren’t known for being particularly easy, but he wasn’t complaining.
“What have you been up to, little witch?” Peter’s voice startled Stiles out of his trance. He hadn’t been aware… Stiles looked up from where he was carefully painting on the wall next to the door to look at Peter. He couldn’t remember entering the man’s mind, but maybe, just maybe…
Nope, Peter was staring right at him.
“You’re awake.” That was…well. Not really the plan right now. But he could work with that.
“And you are a child.” Peter said with a smirk. Stiles rolled his eyes, and made his way over to the emergency button.
“What an observation.” He pressed the button and then stepped back when the nurses came in.
“Stiles, sweetheart, I know you probably want to say hello to your friend, but we need to take care of him now, alright? How about you go home and come back tomorrow.” The nurse smiled at him, ruffling his hair, and then gently pushed him out of the door. He waved at the people in the room and then disappeared down the hall.
Really, this whole thing was turning out better than he had ever hoped for.
Lydia, Jackson,
My aunt has sent me a book full of protection runes and spells, soon I will ward your house. Hopefully, it will keep the Hunters away. I don’t know if you know, but I have meet Peter Hale in the hospital. He is a very interesting man. I can’t wait for you to meet him.
Maybe we can even add him to the coven, but that isn’t a question for now.
Laura Hale has left us with a mess that we will have to clean up. I’m doing my best to do what I can, but don’t be surprised should you see something unusual. Don’t walk around alone. Try to not leave each other’s sight if it can be helped.
I’m doing everything I can. Hopefully, it will all be over soon.
Stiles.
Stiles tenth birthday came and went, and nothing changed. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. More Hunters showed up, they practically swarmed the town. Stiles wasn’t completely sure what they were after.
After all, the only known (at least in Supernatural circles) Supernaturals in Beacon Hills had been the Hale Family. Peter had double and triple confirmed that. So what were they after?
“They’re probably hoping that other Supernaturals will come to either claim the land, or take revenge.” The man chuckled. “Neither will happen. We didn’t have enough close alliances that anyone would risk going against a Hunter Family as big and efficient as whoever did this. And moving in on a territory that quick after something like that? No one would be stupid enough to do that.”
Stiles nodded in acknowledgment. “Well, that would be nice. I need another couple of years to actually claim the land, unless I get a considered power boost.” He frowned. Stiles really did want to claim the land, he thought it was the best choice. He wanted, no needed, to provide safe house and home for his coven.
Beacon Hill’s might not be the best option that there is, but it was the best option that he had. And he had the feeling that with just a bit more time, Peter would be more than happy to join him.
“Tell me about your coven.”
Peter was still in the Hospital, though his burns had healed a lot, they were still not even half way healed. But even so, Peter was still tired and slept a lot. His body wasn’t the only thing that was hurt, and his wolf mourned the loss of his Pack, both alive and dead.
Laura hadn’t called. Not even to inform herself of her uncle’s wellbeing. Not that Stiles complained. It had been over a year already, and he had grown fond of Peter, intend of keeping him, but he wasn’t under any illusion that Peter wouldn’t go back to his Pack.
(But Laura didn’t call, and Stiles knew that t was killing Peter; that it was probably more dangerous to his wellbeing than the burns, and he didn’t like it, but he wasn’t above taking advantage of a situation like this.
And even so, weren’t werewolves all about loyalty? About staying together, and being at each other’s back? Maybe Thalia had missed teaching her daughter that, maybe Laura just wasn’t as great as her mother had always thought, or maybe, just maybe, Laura just didn’t care.)
“Well, it’s just Jackson and Lydia right now. Though my cousin will join in a few years. I’m not sure what Lydia is to be honest. There’s something inside of her, something dark. I’ve been feeding it, and in turn, she has been feeding me. It’s in there, I know it, but it’s just not ready yet. But it will. Soon. Only a couple more years, and then…” Stiles allowed himself a small smile, always happy to talk about his coven.
Peter hummed, “What about Jackson?”
“Jackson is a wolf, just like you.” Stiles smiled at Peter’s surprised expression, “He was turned about three years ago. He is going to be so strong. So incredibly strong, and I can’t wait to see it.”
“But who turned him? Jackson has lived here for his whole life, and I know that my sister didn’t turn a seven-year-old.”
“My grandmama can see the future, you know. So I know what will happen in the future, as long as it concerns me, she tells me. She told me about meeting a boy, who would later be a wolf. It wasn’t supposed to happen this young, but…that alpha was just right there. It was an opportunity that I couldn’t just pass on.” He trailed off, waiting for Peter’s response.
“That Omega that we found…they were already dead when we found the body. No one could explain themselves what had happened. It just didn’t make sense; it was as if he had just dropped dead.” Peter frowned, thinking back to the lonely body in the woods. It had been seemingly healthy, with no outward wounds, apart from a few scratches. There had been absolutely no reason for their death.
A slow smile spread across Stiles’ face. “Well, maybe he did.”
Stiles continued to get stronger. He hasn’t officially taken Peter into his coven, but has taken the necessary steps to find out what he has to do, should he want to take in Peter to his coven.
Meanwhile, the situation in town didn’t get better. While less Hunters were actively coming to town, a few had stationed themselves to stay. Stiles just wanted it to be over. Peter kept telling him to stay calm, but for the life of him, Stiles didn’t know how long he could keep on doing this.
And then Peter got worse again.
The doctors and nurses told Stiles that that wasn’t necessarily uncommon, often times, burn victims seemed to get better, only to either hit a wall and stay that way, or get worse again seemingly without explanation. It was out of their hands.
Just, that it wasn’t without explanation.
Stiles knew what had happened without Peter needing to tell him. Laura, that traitorous bitch, had broken the pack bonds. And Stiles knew that no matter what he did, short of binding Peter to himself, permanently, he couldn’t help either. And no matter how much he liked Peter, how much the rest of his coven liked Peter, he wouldn’t do that to the man.
He was only 25 that was too young to be bound forever to a witch. Even Stiles knew that.
If a witch bound someone to themselves, especially if that someone was supernatural themselves, they bound that person to the witch’s lifespan. And Stiles knew that he would get old, very old, so much older than most of the other supernaturals. And really, how could he that to Peter, just to save his life.
“It’s alright Peter. We’re going to be fine; I promise. I’m going to take care of those Hunters, okay? And I’m going to avenge your family. I will find out who did this and make them pay. You can rest, I will take care of everything else.” Stiles watched the rise and fall of Peter’s chest.
And then I will come for you