Archive of Our Own

The night was cool, crisp, and brimming with energy. Children were shepherded into their houses, the police force was armed with special bullets and armoury, and the men and women were preparing silver and wolfsbane just in case.

Stiles shook with adrenaline as his dad instructed him on his main job—keep up the defences of the house. He was old enough to not hang around the police station on Full Moons now, but his dad kept his special bullets and protective wards up with an extra dash of wolfsbane pouches littering their lawn, anyways.

He rolled his eyes as his dad reiterated the Full Moon rules for the fiftieth time before pushing him from the house. He’s had the rules memorized since he was ten. He was going to be a werewolf hunter, just like his dad and the rest of the force. “Be safe!” They both shouted when his dad reached the police cruiser.

He closed the door and went back to his room, making sure to shut the door and all the windows, first. He checked out his window one last time and then slammed it shut.

It was a full three hours of staring at his ceiling before he heard it. Heard the yelling and the loudest howl he’s ever heard. It sounded like it could be coming from right outside his window. He fell off his bed in his haste to get to his window. Wrenching it open with the specially made net he had, he stuck his head out the window and spotted the pair of red eyes facing his window.

His breath caught and his hands shook but he shot. There was a loud snarl from the tree line. He knew he couldn’t have actually killed the Alpha, but surely he was injured.

Picking up his phone, he dialled his dad and waited. When he answered, Stiles blurted out, “I got the alpha!” John didn’t seem too believing. “No, seriously, it’s like right outside or something—in the woods!” he flailed his hands about. “Send in some of the force-wait, dad—no this isn’t a false—dad!” he stared at his disconnected phone with a hint of betrayal. Shaking his head to clear it, he made a quick plan in his head and set about doing it.

Running around his room for a moment, he grabbed the hula-hoops from his closet and ran from his house, to the woods behind it. When he spotted the alpha, trying to shake the net off his arm and leg without touching it with his other arm, he threw the hoops and watched in surprise as they looped around the Alpha’s body. He danced and smiled happily at his catch until the Alpha turned and snarled at him.

His red eyes bore holes into Stiles’ and Stiles froze. The Alpha’s teeth shone in the moonlight as he bared them. “Let me go!” he snarled and Stiles reeled back in surprise. They never said werewolves could actually talk. They were always depicted as thoughtless animals that would rip your jugular out without a thought. He swallowed as his heartbeat sped up triple time and he stared at the injured alpha.

His eyes flicked down to the burning wounds across the Alpha’s legs and one arm and winced in sympathy. He felt the sweat beading along his hairline as he stumbled forward gracelessly. “I-I’m going to let you go, but you have to promise not to rip my throat out.”

The Alpha’s eyes flashed red again and he snarled.

“Hey, stop that!” Stiles reared back when the Alpha made a swipe at him, only stopping because of the two feet of diameter the hoop was allowing.

He glared down at it and stared at Stiles, “Really?” his voice conveyed how much he was judging Stiles. His face was pale and clammy as the wolfsbane ropes continued clinging to him.

“Hey, they’re circular and they hold mountain ash very well, thank you very much,” Stiles snapped as he started moving forward once more. When the Alpha stared at him in complete silence, Stiles slowly started removing the hoops and pulled on his gloves to remove the rope. When he had them cut away and the hoops over the Alpha’s spectacular bed head, he was pinned against a tree in roughly .3 seconds.

“It’d be smart if you didn’t try that again,” the Alpha snarled and then he was gone, running through the forest, though his gait was off kilter and he stumbled a few times over roots.

Stiles walked back to his house, feeling slightly cheated. He left his hoops and rope behind. Had he not wanted to be a werewolf hunter like his dad and the Argents? He scowled to himself as he walked back into his house and fell onto his bed, shoes and all.

At least he got one thing out of it. His hula-hoops worked.

-0-0-0-

It was the next day, and he was thrashing through the woods to look for his wolfsbane laced net and hoops, he took in the damage it did to the trees as he wound the net back up, minding his gloves as he did so.

“Stupid Alpha and his stupid hair and his stupid red eyes trying to scare me. Who does he think he is?” Stiles tucked the net back into the net thrower he had had strapped to his back. “I mean, I could’ve gone back to the house and got wolfsbane bullets and finished the job, then were would the betas be? Exactly, S-O-L.”

His grumbling continued until he spotted the smudge of dark red and leaned forward to look at it. He followed the small trail until he found himself in a hallowed clearing he used to play in as a child. It was small—maybe 10 by 5 yards, with a pond along one edge. He slipped in the mud but managed to just barely keep his balance.

A snarl stopped him from advancing any further and he slowly turned around. The Alpha was looking a tad worse for wear, but not dead, so that was something. He swallowed. “Hi,” he would deny his voice squeaked if he was feeling brave, but he wasn’t and it definitely squeaked.

“I said not to-.”

“I just came to find my net and to see if you were dead or not, and now that I know you’re not, I can go back home and we can just…not?” he cringed at the Alpha’s low growl.

“What was on that net?” he demanded.

“A bit of wolfsbane and some general herbs that could burn werewolves…” he trailed off and shrugged.

“Oh, that’s it?” The Alpha’s voice was dripping in sarcasm. His eyes glossed over a bit as he stared hard at Stiles. Stiles moved forward to hold him up and was only a little surprised when the other didn’t claw him open to eat his intestines. Or do anything at all, actually.

“So, I really screwed you over, didn’t I?” Stiles said, smiling guiltily.

The Alpha growled and pushed away from him, hobbling towards the water and jumping in as best he could. Stiles made a face as he resurfaced. His herbs and the wolfsbane wouldn’t wash out of the wounds that easily. He must have said that aloud, as the Alpha was back on land and storming towards him with a murderous glare on his face. He held up his hands and yelled, quickly, “I CAN GET YOU SOME STUFF TO HELP HEAL IT!”

The Alpha, hand clawed and raised, paused. “Help heal it?” he grunted.

“Well…even if I get the stuff to stop it from continuing to burn you, it’ll have to heal slowly…?” he still hasn’t moved from his shielding flinch.

“Go.” The Alpha pushed him towards where he came from. “Go,” he repeated when Stiles only stumbled and turned to stare at him. His eyes flashed.

Stiles held up his hands and started back to his home.

-0-

When he reached home, he skirted around his dad and into the supply cupboard. Taking as much as he could to his room, he went to the book Deaton had given him and started fingering through the text. He knew Deaton was pro-werewolf, and he knew there were salves and the like in the back of the book, passed all the ‘how-tos’ of killing and injuring werewolves. There wasn’t much information on handling an Alpha, but he felt he could wing it.

He ran all the way to the clearing and skidded to a stop as he stared at a very shirtless, very pant less Alpha. He swallowed and said, “Hey!” his voice cracked. Pausing, he held the salve up and waved it. “I’ve got the stuff…” he stumbled forward and held it up to the Alpha.

“This will help?” he asked, taking it. Stiles nodded. The Alpha paused as he unscrewed the cap and stared at Stiles. “Why are you helping me?” he asked suspiciously.

“Um…” Stiles made a face and shrugged. “You’ll kill me if I don’t?”

“If I killed you, you wouldn’t be able to do anything to help me.” Stiles shrugged again. “Try again.”

Stiles flailed his arms, “I don’t know, you’re not evil? Or something?” The Alpha’s eyebrows rose in incredulity. “Okay, I don’t actually know if you’re not evil, but you didn’t kill me…” he bit his lips together.

“You didn’t kill me, either,” he said.

“So, quid pro quo.” Stiles pursed his lips and shrugged. “You’ve got to rub that into the burns but don’t rub it too much or it’ll irritate it and you’ve got to—no, why are you giving it back-,” The Alpha held his arm up expectantly and stared Stiles down. “You…want me to do it…” he sighed and nodded to the boulders beside the water and sat on the ground, while the Alpha sat atop the lowest rock.

He looked down at the salve and made a face. “Since I’m going to be getting all familiar with your body, I’m Stiles Stilinski.” He said as he swiped his finger along the burns with the paste.

“Derek Hale.” Derek hissed. Stiles looked up and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “What?” he glared down at Stiles.

“Um, nothing, really…” Stiles shrugged and continued on with his task. “You just have a really…normal name.”

“What, did you expect me to have a name like Stiles?” Derek grunted as Stiles pressed a bit harder into the wound on his thigh.

“Stiles is a nickname, thanks.” Stiles replied, but didn’t elaborate. Derek rolled his eyes skywards.

-0-0-0-

While walking down the stairs, he paused at his dad’s pointed cleared throat. “Hi, dad,” he said breathily, smiling brightly as he inched towards the door.

“Stiles,” his dad motioned to the seat next to him and Stiles walked over slowly, sitting down and not tearing his eyes away from his dad’s face. “So, in light of last night, I’ve started thinking-.”

“Last night?”

“When you were panicking and thought you caught the Alpha?” his dad’s eyebrows rose.

“I wasn’t panicking,” Stiles said indignantly. “And about that, I’ve got-.”

“I’ve been thinking.” John pulled his reading glasses off and leaned forward. “I’m enrolling you into the Young Hunter’s training program at the station.”

“But I’ve got…I’m…Deaton?” Stiles spluttered.

“Deaton and Argent think it’s a good idea,” John said over Stiles’ complaints. “You start Monday.”

“Don’t you go on your den-hunt Monday?” Stiles asked slowly.

“Yes.”

Stiles nodded and stood. “Well, I gotta go…and do…hunter preparation…stuff…” he pointed to the front door and ran.

John watched him before muttering, “Good talk.”

-0-0-0-

“I can’t believe my dad’s making me take hunter training at the station!” Stiles said dramatically as he walked into the clearing. Derek looked up from his perch on a boulder. “Just because I called him because I caught you, he thinks I need training, because he thinks I was just panicking and imagining things…the nerve.”

Derek rolled his eyes and slid off the boulder with a grace Stiles envied.  “He wants you to be safe.”

“So I can try to hunt you guys?” Stiles waved his arms around. “Me taking this training basically means I’ll be a trained werewolf killer! Why are you smiling?” he demanded.

Derek pursed his lips and shook his head. “I’m not smiling.”

“You don’t think I could kill a werewolf, do you?” he glared his hardest.

“Honestly? Not really,” Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ outraged cry. “You’re too soft,” he added.

“I could totally be a killer. Like…just…ruthless,” Stiles waved his hands about. “I could.”

“No, you really can’t,” Derek snorted as he walked to the shore of the water. “Now start a fire,” he added before jumping in.

“Where are your betas?” Stiles asked as he watched Derek dive and resurface with fish.

“Probably in hiding,” Derek said as he threw a flopping fish at Stiles. Stiles fell sideways. “They aren’t allowed out yet—a lot of them are too new to handle themselves around humans,” he added as he exited the pool of water and sat next to the fire Stiles had painstakingly built.

“Aren’t you worried?” Stiles asked as he poked at the fish roasting on the spit.

Derek smacked his hand away. “Of course I am,” he glared at Stiles. “I’m not able to contact them because we’re too close to the Sheriff’s house, and even if I weren’t, I’d be too injured to have any authority.”

“What?”

“I’d be challenged for my title.”

“Oh.” Stiles laced his fingers together and looked imploringly at Derek. “So, what do you think I should do about the training?”

“Try not to be killed.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stiles made a face at him. Derek picked the fish off and handed Stiles the stick. He looked at it before shrugging and taking a tentative bite before handing it back. “I’m good,” he added at Derek’s eyebrow raise. The other shrugged and started eating it.

“I’m serious though—any way I can stop werewolves without killing them? Because they use live werewolves, and the ones they use are feral and they will try to kill me and-.”

“Smelling like another wolf helps, usually,” Derek conceded.

Stiles nodded, “Cool,” he stood, “I’ve got to go, just thought I’d come make sure you weren’t dead,” he said. Derek waved him off as he continued eating the fish.

-0-0-0-

Stiles made a face as the wolfsbane filtered into the rifle rounds. Another day of manufacturing wolfsbane bullets for Hunters, with Deaton, as training. “So, any tips on how to survive training?” he asked Deaton conversationally.

“I always found talking helped.”

“Right,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” he looked up.

Deaton watched him and smiled. “Wearing a silver necklace stops them from going for your throat.” Stiles nodded and continued looking expectantly at him. “Loud noises.”

“Would something like a dog whistle work on them?”

“Yes, temporarily…but you don’t want to agitate them or insult them. They are not dogs, Stiles.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles continued his duty of filling the bullets. “What about alphas? What can you tell me about them?”

“They’re elusive to the best hunters.” Stiles snorted derisively at that. “I, myself, have been trying to get in contact with the Hale pack’s Alpha.”

“What, why?” Stiles asked quickly, looking surprised.

“They need to stop running through town—Chris Argent caught a beta the night of the full moon. They…” he made an aborted move and Stiles stared in surprise. Deaton rarely showed any indications if he was worried.

“What was the betas name?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Isaac.”

Stiles nodded. “What did they do with him?” he asked quietly.

“They’re just holding him at the moment, at the station…” Stiles nodded at that. Deaton gave him a look, something crossing over his face before he smiled. “I think you’re done today—best head home to say goodbye to your father, before he leaves.”

Stiles stood, nodded and looked towards the front. “Right, right I should—I’ll see you tomorrow at training, then?” he didn’t wait for a response before running out.

-0-

He made it home just as his dad was locking the front door. “Dad!” he crushed his dad in a hug and said, “Be safe or so help me God.”

His dad laughed and patted his shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” he said and smiled crookedly at him. “You on the other hand—no pestering the force with false claims again, got it?”

Stiles rolled his eyes but nodded amicably. When his dad drove off with one of the deputies, Stiles let himself into the house and looked around the house for things that might help him in the training ring.

He stumbled along the path and when he reached the clearing, dropped his booty and made his way towards Derek. “So, they’ve got one of your betas in holding at the station.” He watched as Derek snarled and stood to stand in front of him. “Isaac, Deaton said his name was.”

Derek clenched his fists and ground out, “He’s the most controlled, what is he doing?” before he started walking towards the edge and began his attempt at climbing the wall. Stiles watched him as he laid the items in a row.

After the fourth time falling off the wall, Derek stalked back to him and scowled. “I have to go rescue him,” he said.

“You can’t even climb a wall, what are you going to do against a police force?” Stiles asked, eyebrows raised mockingly. Derek scowled. “Listen, tell me what these’ll do to you guys and I’ll help you get him out before the Argents try something.”

Derek glared at him but went to the end of the line and stared down at the row. He glared at the silver. “Burn.” Next was the wolfsbane. “You know what these will—is that a dog whistle?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah…Deaton said it’d work on distracting you, but not to use it in case I insult you?” Stiles made a face and shrugged. “Anyways, what about this herb? It says it’ll work on your senses but it has to be used in a specific way, and the book doesn’t say what kind of specific-.”

“Steep it in water and spray the wolf in the face.”

Stiles choked and looked at the herb, “Seriously?” he held it up, “This is used in a spray? Oh, my god,” he snorted, “It’s like the spray-bottle thing with cats, oh my god,” he put the herb down to cover his face.

“Shut up.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Now what about Isaac?”

“Oh, yeah, we can totally go now…” he looked up at the sky and nodded. “You, though, gotta wear some shades and maybe something to cover your non-humanly impressive body, Imeanwut?” Stiles said as he clambered up the slope and turned to pull Derek along with him. Derek smirked to himself as they righted. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he added. Derek shrugged and followed him back to the house. They left in Stiles’ Jeep ten minutes later and found themselves outside the station after another twenty minutes.

“So, here’s the plan,” Stiles turned to Derek.

“I go in, get Isaac, and we leave.”

Stiles gave Derek his most judging look before saying, “No.” He pointed to the front doors. “There is a deputy at the front desk, and though most are gone on the den-hunt, there will still be at least 4 other cops inside.” He pointed down the street. “There is a phone booth two blocks down. We will go down there, I’ll three-way call with my friend Lydia, and she’ll say you’re on a rampage. You’ll roar and the four on duty cops will be on their way the fastest they can. When we see them pass, we’ll go back to the station, I’ll distract that cop at the front desk, and then you’ll go break Isaac out, got it?”

“That’s really elaborate.”

“It’s better than you and Isaac being shot dead by wolfsbane laced bullets, so stop your glaring,” Stiles said as he exited the Jeep. Derek rolled his eyes but followed. Stiles had the phone booth’s phone off the hook and pressed to his ear, while Derek waited across the street. After a moment he grinned. Derek glared harder at him. “Hey, Lyds,” he said brightly. He frowned after a moment before sighing.

“Yeahhh, so I’ve got a favour to ask, where you don’t question my motives and just go with it, kay?” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I will tell you the motives, but at a later time.” He paused and grinned, “You’re the best, you know that? Okay, so you’re going to three-way this call with the cops, you’ll say a werewolf is on a rampage and when they go to your house, you lead them on a wild goose chase, m’kay?”

He blew out a breath a second later. “Because you love me and you know I wouldn’t ask you this unless it was really important?”

Derek snorted at the snort he heard from the other line. He stood and waited as Lydia put Stiles on hold. They both listened as she said her line and Derek stood, letting out a roar.

Stiles’ heartbeat sped up but he forced himself to remain calm as he hung up his end and opened the door for Derek, before pulling the other into the phone booth next to him. They watched as two cruisers raced down the street and finally exited after a moment’s silence.

“Remember, I distract the front, you go and sniff out Isaac. Keys should be near the corner of the desk or on the wall on the way to the holding cells.”

Stiles walked into the station, talking to the officer at the front desk, using elaborate hand gestures and telling her how his dad told him to come in last minute to pick up a container he forgot that would mould by the time they got back.

She listened politely and said, “I’ll go get the container. Wait here.” He thanked his lucky stars that his dad usually did forget containers of food in his office. Derek walked in, looking around and made his way to the back, grabbing the keys and leaving Stiles standing in the front. It took the two less than a minute to come dashing back out, throwing the keys back onto the desk and leaving the station. The officer returned, holding the container out. “Be careful on the way home, there’s a werewolf on the loose in town,” she said seriously.

Stiles nodded. “Don’t worry, my dad makes me carry a spare glock,” he said, just as seriously. He held up the containers, “Thanks, though,” he added and waved his goodbye.

He found the two werewolves in his Jeep and nodded to Isaac. “Hi.”

Isaac looked back at Derek, eyebrows raised. “This is Stiles. He helped me.” Derek grumbled, graciously leaving out that Stiles was the cause of him needing help in the first place.

Isaac nodded slowly. “Hi.”

Stiles beamed and started the Jeep. “So, you’ll have to lie low on our way through town, kay?”

-0-0-0-

Stiles stretched and groaned at the popping in his joints. “How do you do it?” he asked Allison incredulously as she continued her push-ups.

“Years of training.” She paused and looked him up and down, “I have obligations.”

“Being an Argent?” Stiles nodded his head knowingly.

“Being a decent human being and making sure werewolves don’t kill innocents,” she replied, rolling her eyes with a smile.

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, and shrugged. He couldn’t dispute whatever she thought she knew, unless he wanted to tell her how he knows she’s wrong. They looked up as Deaton and Chris walked into the training room.

“Alright, listen up,” Chris glanced around the room at the group. Stiles counted four. He knew them from school. Allison, Danny, Lydia, and Boyd. He was only really friends with Lydia, and that’s because they discovered the weird friendly competition between them to be the smartest, while being paired together in literally every class they shared. Lydia won in brains, but he was better at actually executing the smarts. It was a good balance. She was talking to Danny, however.

“We’ve recently caught a few new betas that we’re using in training. You’ve brought things to use, and you’ll be supplied with weapons and defensive equipment. You’ll face off against one today—he’s an older beta, but still a new beta nonetheless.”

“How do you know?” Stiles asked loudly.

Argent looked at him, eyebrows raised before saying, “There’s a process.”

Stiles briefly wondered what that process was, asking them? He threw Deaton an exasperated look. Deaton merely smiled at him.

They all walked down the hall, a much longer hall than necessary, Stiles thought. When finally reaching the double doors that would be barricaded after them, Deaton laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Use your strengths.”

“I have none,” Stiles said with a groan as he walked into the room with the other trainees. Deaton smiled after him. The two adults supervising would be in a room that surrounded the training area.

Allison went straight for the bow supplied and attached the quiver of arrows to her back. Lydia went to the general throwing knife. Danny picked up a Bo staff that had a blade attached at the tip. Boyd stood staring at the weapons with a lost expression on his face until he picked up a shield and a small knife. He caught Stiles’ incredulous look and shrugged, “I didn’t really want to be trained…”

Stiles commiserated for a bit too long, because there was an air horn going off and a low rumble from across the room. He scrambled to pick up the heavy shield in front of him and turned to find a werewolf, looking not much older than him (maybe even younger?) growling at the group surrounding him. Lydia took to muttering the statistics of them being injured, about how much this wolf could do damage and what it’s probable weaknesses were. Stiles refrained from telling her to shut up.

His eyes glowed amber as his canines grew in and slobber dribbled down his jaw. “Ugh, gross, dude,” Stiles muttered. Allison shot her bow off first, only missing the wolf by inches. Her shot opened the floodgates for the other’s to attack, and defend against swiping claws.

Stiles looked around at the chaos of his fellow trainees and the werewolf. He was frozen. “You’d think I’d be more used to this knowing some,” he grumbled to himself. The werewolf froze from trying to get at Boyd to turn to him. He stalked forward, dodging the last of Allison’s arrows and crowding Stiles back against the furthest wall. “Hey, dude,” Stiles squeaked from behind his shield.

Stiles looked around and watched as Allison did a truly impressive flip to grab at an arrow (stupidly show-offy, but impressive) before firing it and catching the wolf in the side. His eyes widened and lost their glow to a softer human brown. Stiles’ throat closed as the wolf backed off, clutching its side.

He moved forward at the same time as Lydia and glared at her. She dropped her arm from its throwing position and they stared back at him. He turned to look at the wolf. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Instead of answering, the wolf pulled the arrow from his side and went back into the holding cell he came out of. Stiles watched him go. Allison watched Stiles.

-0-0-

The next few days were fraught with near misses and one of the werewolves were killed. Stiles tried not to let his sorrow show, as Allison had taken to staring at him during training.

Do not bring up the maze and how the blue-eyed wolf nearly chomped a chunk out of his side, only to be bowled over by Boyd, who was bit hard enough that he had to be brought somewhere unknown. He didn’t return to training the next day.

Derek continued telling him small tidbits to survive against werewolves while Stiles wiped salve into his slowly healing burns.

-0-0-

“I just find it really weird that Boyd’s not even in the hospital—I’ve checked,” Danny said as they stood around the defensive weaponry.

Lydia frowned at him, “Where would he go? He didn’t die—we would’ve heard if he did, right?”

“Of course we would have,” Stiles said. “He never became a werewolf, though, either, because we all know only Alphas can turn a human,” he scratched at his eye. “What about Argent, though? He looks really sketchy,” he said quietly.

“I think he’s attractive,” Lydia said without an ounce of remorse.

Stiles gaped at her before shaking his head. “Yeah, in a psycho-hunter-killer way,” he said with a snort.

Danny looked towards where the head Hunter supposedly was and shrugged, “There’s something about him that screams danger.” He looked away from the window above them, “He could get it,” he added when Stiles stared at him in unhidden shock.

“Are we seriously discussing the bangability of Allison’s dad?” Stiles asked incredulously. Lydia and Danny looked at each other and shared grins. Stiles shook his head and muttered, “Of course we are.”

-0-0-

The wolf of the day was an amber eyed girl. Her mane of blonde curls and elongated fangs made her terrifying. Stiles didn’t want to go near her. Her eyes swivelled towards him and she was bounding forward. He cursed his luck. When she had him pinned, her face was human and her eyes were desperate. “Where is he?” she asked loudly. Her chest heaved, “Where’s Derek?” she cried. The other trainees froze as she continued holding him down. 

“I-,” Stiles choked, he opened his mouth and then closed it before leaning forward, “He’s fine, I’ll help you, just…just go back to the holding cell, okay?” he whispered. She nodded and stood, walking back to the cell sadly. Allison stared at him, then back towards where the girl disappeared to.

-0-0-0-

“Do you know a couple of werewolves that look like-,” Stiles yelped as his back met stone and he stared into Isaac’s angry face. “Whoa, calm down there, stop!” he smacked at the hands holding him. A roar sent Isaac skittering backwards, letting Stiles drop to the ground.

Stiles’ chest heaved as he stared at Derek, who looked back at him. “How’d you do that?” he asked, eyes flicking up and down Derek.

Derek smirked, “I’m the Alpha.” If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d say Derek was peacocking. He kept that thought to himself, though.

“Right, well, there was a girl that was a newly caught beta—she knew you.”

Derek’s eyes flashed and he sniffed at Stiles when he walked forward. “Erica.” Isaac started growling. “She’s not supposed to be out yet.”

“What?”

“She hasn’t found her anchor yet.” Derek’s jaw clenched and he tried moving towards the small incline Stiles used.

Stiles stopped him with a hand to his chest, “Whoa, there, dude!” He pushed until Derek sat back down. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

-0-0-0-

His dad was delighted to hear Stiles had a way with the werewolves that would definitely help in hunting them. He cornered Stiles at Deaton’s, having just gotten back from their habitual den-hunt. Stiles knew Derek had a den, but didn’t know where it was. He stared at his dad in surprise.

“Dad, hi!” he clutched his bag to his chest even tighter. He had completely forgot that his dad returned that night. He watched his plan to break the werewolves at the training center out, going down the metaphorical drain.

“I got Deaton’s message,” he said, his eyes serious.

“Wha-what meh-message from Deaton?” Stiles stuttered.

His dad broke out into a grin and clapped his shoulder, “That you’re amazing at handling yourself against werewolves,” he led Stiles towards his Jeep. “I’m proud of you, son, really, I am.”

Stiles smiled awkwardly. “Thanks, that means a-.”

“I wanted to give you something,” John interrupted, stopping Stiles from opening the door. Stiles looked appropriately interested. He looked awkward as he dug into his back pocket and held out a small, ornate knife. “It was your mothers,” he explained as Stiles surveyed the hand carved flowers and vines along the handle.

Stiles felt his throat closing as he choked out, “Dad.” John waved him off and held his arms out. He flung himself into the hug.

“I also heard you’re going to be the one showing other newbies and elders what you’re made of, against an older, experienced werewolf in a fight to the death. That’s a big honour.”

Stiles stared at his dad in nothing short of horror. The plan was back in full action as soon as his dad’s cruiser was out of sight.

It was nothing short of a miracle they weren’t caught.

-0-0-0-

Holding up the last bit of salve he had, he waved to Derek’s mostly healed legs and arm impatiently. “We’re getting out of here, so hurry up,” he said as Derek started stripping the spare clothes Stiles brought him.

“What are we doing?” Derek asked as he watched Isaac and the other wolves he had saved (Erica, Scott, and Jackson, respectively) chase a butterfly, but kept missing, as they were trying to get it first and would crash into one another to stop the others. Derek claimed training, Stiles claimed adorable.

As he wiped the salve along the injuries, he said, “I don’t want to go one on one with a werewolf and kill, or be killed.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s a right of passage in human culture.”

Stiles wiped the last bit of salve onto Derek’s skin and stood. “Good to know, but I won’t!” He paused as the wolves’ heads swivelled to the side. Allison stared back at them. She was running before Stiles could say anything and Isaac was after her. He brought her back kicking and punching. Stiles suspected she was too badass to do the whole ‘kicking and screaming’ thing.

“What are you doing?” she screeched at him. Okay, so the screaming thing was an option for her.

He cringed and shrugged. “They’re not evil?”

She didn’t look convinced as Isaac threw her on the ground at his and Derek’s feet. He pulled her up but didn’t get the chance to say anything as Scott was hefting her over his shoulder and started walking. The others started following.

Derek turned back and raised his eyebrows. Stiles followed after with a put upon sigh. They loaded up into Stiles’ Jeep and an abandoned Camaro nearby. Allison was yelling at him over the music playing about how his life choices were horrible and that he needed to let her go. They continued driving for the next two hours until they reached a dirt road not easily seen and drove for another hour.

Derek held up his hand as Stiles went to open the door and sniffed around. When he returned, he nodded and stared them both down. “Whatever you see, do not make a noise, and stick close to this pack.” His face was dead serious. Stiles nodded and nearly plastered himself to Derek’s side while Allison was surrounded by the betas. They walked down a path until they reached a tunnel entrance and kept walking until they reached a cavern.

The two humans froze at the sight of werewolves milling about, dragging other humans towards a raised platform in middle of the room. They craned their necks to see who was sitting in the chairs at the top. Stiles spotted a familiar face and his mouth dropped open, and he was yelling before he could stop himself. “Boyd?!” heads swiveled around and Derek dropped his arm around Stiles while the betas sheltered Allison in. The werewolves went back to ignoring Derek’s small pack.

Boyd moved forward, face serious, but Derek was already ushering them towards the exit. Stiles caught onto Boyd’s hand and didn’t let go as they left the cavern.

When they reached the cars, Derek scowled at Boyd and Stiles until Stiles let Boyd’s hand go. Stiles ignored the glare for the most part, turning to Boyd and waving his arms around. “What are you doing in the werewolves’ den?”

Boyd shrugged. “That-,” he did a double take of Jackson and glared at him, eyes glowing briefly before stamping it down as best he could. “When he bit me, it nearly killed me. My parents had found a werewolf and asked if they could bring me to their Alpha.”

Derek frowned at him.

“They were a bit too happy, and I only realized why when I was presented to the Alpha pack.”

Allison pushed Stiles out of the way, “Alpha pack?” she hissed. She turned to Derek and looked expectant. Stiles had to give her props for doing that to an Alpha werewolf she didn’t know.

Derek let out a breath through his nose and said, “It’s a new thing.” He looked annoyed as she continued staring at him. “The Alpha pack came a couple of months ago. When they came, I tried to fend them off my land by biting these guys, but we weren’t ready to face them. They had already moved through the rest of the state, gathering surrounding packs and coercing them into doing their business. My pack’s den is the central point.”

“That’s why you were in town on the full moon?” Stiles asked, mouth hanging open. He didn’t comment that this was the most Derek’s spoken so far.

Derek nodded.

“Why didn’t you go to the hunters?” Allison asked, crossing her arms.

“You didn’t know we could talk until you heard me ask where Derek was,” Erica piped up from the back. They turned to look at her, and was surprised (at least the humans were) that she was hanging onto Boyd’s back, sniffing him and running her hands along his shoulders and arms. Stiles and Allison stared.

“She’s got a point,” Stiles said. Allison shot him a glare. He shrugged.

“I’m also not suicidal,” Derek said monotonously. Stiles looked between the two glaring at one another and had to think about the relationship between them. Argents and Hales. It didn’t take long for him to remember how her aunt had gone crazy and burned down a werewolves’ den, back when dens weren’t secrets because they were usually houses and not hidden caverns.

“Awkward.”

Allison turned and got into the Jeep without a word. The three hour drive back to Beacon Hills was uncomfortable, only made more so by Erica scenting Boyd within an inch of his life in the back.

He felt bad for Scott.

Sort of bad.

Just a tiny bit, really.

Not too bad, though, as Scott had taken to staring at Allison with big puppy eyes full of wonder and awe and barely noticed the other two wolves beside him. It was kind of sickeningly sweet to see. Allison had a hard time looking annoyed at the lot of them with that attention on her.

He used the time driving back home, to convince her not to tell her parents, while Scott would sigh occasionally and say, “Yeah...”

When they were parked outside of Allison’s house, she turned to him, and looked at the three wolves in the back before sighing. She smiled slightly at them but still punched his arm. “That’s for kidnapping me,” she said over his whining. After she looked at the three in the back, she turned back to him and said, “If you need anything at all, concerning this...mess, you can always call me,” she said seriously. Stiles nodded his acceptance. She climbed out and went into her house.

“Derek’s not going to say it, but from what he’s projecting to us, that better have been a friendly promise,” Erica said lightly.

Stiles turned back to her in confusion. He snorted, “If it were anything more, she’d have probably kissed me or something.” Erica shrugged but she was smiling. Scott made a face.

-0-0-0-

“I can’t do this, oh my god, I can’t,” Stiles said as he paced the hall leading to the ring. Allison and Lydia watched him. “I can’t kill werewolves—you’ve seen me!” he said as he waved his arms about.

“It’ll kill you if you don’t kill it first,” Lydia said haughtily. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” she added.

Allison gave him a small smile and said, “I like your jacket.” Her look was significant.

He looked down at the leather until his nervous twitching lessened. “Right.” He froze as the door opened and Deaton was there. He opened his mouth, only for Deaton to hold his hand up. Deaton moved aside and he moved forward, giving the others a helpless look as the door shut behind him.

The Bo staff Danny had gotten so used to using was clutched in his hand, as well as the shield Boyd had used the first day. The silver collar he had on his neck itched as he watched the door holding the werewolf. He glanced around at the windows surrounding the room, at all the people watching him.

Derek’s crappy advice of, “Just do it,” rang in his head. He couldn’t. Not all werewolves were evil. He looked up at the knocking of glass and was nearly floored in his shock at seeing Derek beside Allison, wearing his red hoodie. He didn’t miss his dad’s calculating look.

The door across from his started opening and he only chanced a quick look at Derek before looking back at the wolf. This wolf’s eyes glowed blue, his fangs were sharp and deadly looking, but he was looking calm. Stiles gulped and felt his heartbeat speed up. He forced himself to calm down as he dropped the staff first, and then the shield.

He heard his dad shouting through the glass and glanced up. Some of the Force was on their way down to his level. “Hi,” he said shakily. “I’m Stiles. I know you know what I’m saying, and I know there’s a chance you’re actually feral, but I also know that you know that I’m...friends...with an Alpha.”

The wolf smirked at that and said, “So, my nephew’s found a toy?” as he backed Stiles up into the wall behind him.

Stiles balked. “I am not a—wait, nephew?” he looked hopeful. “So you’re not going to rip my throat out?” he deflated in relief and added, “Oh good, I wasn’t sure if you would or not, and my point I was trying to get across to my dad would have been moot if you-.” He couldn’t finish as the doors burst open and guns were cocked. The wolf, who Stiles would later find out was named Peter, grabbed him and held him in front of himself as a shield. Stiles only felt slightly betrayed.  

Glass shattering and a pane-shaking roar later, Peter was wrenched away and thrown across the room. Stiles was squished against Derek’s chest as the Alpha snarled at the ones holding the guns, which were pointed at the duo. Stiles’ hands flailed as he yelled, “Put them down, put them down, he’s just protecting me!”

No one listened, and his dad was moving forward, only to be swiped at by Derek. His dad’s gun was out and pointed at the wolf again as he moved them back. Stiles’ pleas were left unheard as hunters surrounded them and caught Derek in chains and nets, not unlike the one Stiles had first used on the Alpha.

“He was just trying to protect me!” Stiles cried as they dragged Derek away from him. He only spared a glance at the hunters rounding Peter into the holding cell again. “He’s not a menace, dad, he was only in town because an Alpha pack had taken over his den-.”

“His den?” His dad asked, turning towards him and looking angry. “You’ve been to his den?”

“That’s what you focus on?!” Stiles yelled, trying to move forward. “He’s not fighting you, stop being so rough!” he added to the hunters. Derek looked back at him, eyes comforting.  He couldn’t help but scold Derek for trying to comfort him while he was the one in the burning rope. The restrained pain on Derek’s face caused Stiles’ chest to ache and he was moving forward again. “I’ll get you out of this, I promise,” he whispered, subconsciously cradling Derek’s face in his palm. Derek nodded slightly.

John and Chris shared a look before they were leaving with Derek. 

“Where are you going?” Stiles yelled after them.

Lydia and Allison joined him as his dad said, “He’s bringing us to his den.”

Allison hissed. “They’ll get killed!”

Stiles looked at them and then at their parents retreating figures and said, “We have to stop them.”

Lydia watched the group before saying, “Yeah, let’s go save your werewolf boyfriend. Good times.” Stiles gave her an exasperated look, but decided against correcting her in her assumption. She shrugged but picked up his discarded Bo staff. “We’ll have to get the others,” she said as she spun the staff thoughtfully.

Stiles nodded as he took it from her, his hands shaking again as he thought. “Lydia, you call Danny. I’ll call the pack.” Lydia looked interested but figured she’d get the whole story later.

They piled into Derek’s Camaro, his Jeep, and Allison’s car. Lydia held up the phone so Stiles could talk to the other cars while they drove. “So, here’s the deal—my plan to show my dad not all werewolves are evil backfired, they’ve got Derek and they’re making him bring them to the Hale den. Where a pack of Alphas are running things.” He waited for the noises of shock from the other humans before continuing. “Yes, so, the new plan is we’re going to go stop this craziness. Wolves, introduce yourselves to the humans you’re with.” He nodded to Lydia to hang up before jerking his head back. “The blond is Jackson, and you know Boyd, and the one attached to him is Erica.”

Lydia smiled beatifically at Jackson, who smirked back at her. Stiles looked at the two briefly and rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he said lightly, but didn’t comment further.

-0-0-

They arrive at the scene of his dad and Argent fending themselves against the Alpha pack. The other hunters are sent scrambling as droves of wolves emerge from the smoking den. Stiles yells instructions to the pack, who break up to fight the alphas from the Alpha pack.

Danny and Isaac tackle an alpha set on maiming an officer, Danny’s thrown off and Isaac’s claws are out as he wrestles with the alpha in the dirt.

There are scratches covering both of them and just as the alpha is about to strike, Danny’s there, Bo staff’s knife embedded into the other wolf’s armpit, and he twists. The Alpha pulls as best away and makes to move to attack Danny.

Boyd jumps the Alpha from behind and they go down hard.

-0-

Lydia and Jackson corner an alpha against a wall of trees, Lydia handing Jackson a beaker. He looked down at it minutely in confusion and she gave him a self-satisfied smile. “Self-igniting Molotov.” She dug out the handful of throwing knives she had taken. “I want to try some target practice,” she said as she watched the female alpha watch her. “Totally respect you for being the only female alpha in this pack, but…I’m not going to lie, this’ll be fun.”

Jackson looked at the alpha and shrugged with a badly concealed smile.

Erica is at their side, looking annoyed, and said, “Stop screwing with them and just kill her!”

Lydia regarded Erica and then shrugged.

-0-

Allison took out her bow and arrow and notched it while Scott sniffed out one of the alpha pack. When he ran forward and tackled him, the twin to the one Danny and Isaac were currently fighting, Allison took aim and fired, catching him in the neck. Scott made a face at the blood leaking onto his face and pushed the alpha off him, moving to stand over the fallen wolf.

She walked to Scott’s side and looked down at the gasping Alpha and asked, “Do we kill him?”

Scott made a face and shrugged. “He’s going to be killed anyways by the hunters, might as well put him out of his misery.”

She nodded and aimed an arrow at his head. “Through the eye good?” He nodded and she closed her eyes as she let go and it made contact.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Scott said quietly as he stared down at the alpha. “Is it just me, or is this too easy?”

-0-

Stiles rushed forward, pulling his dad out of reach of one of the alpha’s claws. “Where’s Derek?” he asked as he continues pulling his dad and Argent just out of reach of the Alpha.

“Inside the house,” his dad admits with a cringe. Stiles blocks a hit with the Bo staff he customized with his mom’s dagger, feeling it snap in two. He looks at the staff, at the end with his mom’s knife, and runs passed the trio, to the dilapidated Hale house with it clutched in his hand. Smoke is pouring from the windows and open door, but he bypasses the wreckage to enter, finding Derek leaning against a post, still chained.

“Oh come on,” he groaned as he ran into the room and knelt in front of Derek. Derek blinked at him blearily and gave a weak smile. “Come on, big guy, you gotta get up—we can get this-.”

“Hurts,” Derek muttered when Stiles tried pulling him up. Stiles let him lean against the post again and shook his hands as he tried to figure out what to do. The herbs and wolfsbane burned him enough for it to hurt; he felt terrible for Derek.

“Okay, okay, no moving with the chains, I’m sorry,” he whispered, coughing slightly as the smoke thickened. His hands danced along the chains until the found the lock holding it together. He let out a whine as he pulled Derek away from the post again and went on to hacking at the wolfsbane laced wire with his mom’s knife. His vision started darkening and it was getting harder to breathe. “It’s okay, it’ll be…okay…” he watched as the knife fell from his hand and the darkness closed in. He heard Derek cough loudly as he landed on top of him.

-0-

John picked up the bolt cutters from his cruisers trunk, walked passed hunters and police officers alike and into the still burning house. He felt his heart stop at the sight of Stiles and Derek. His training kicked in for high stress situations and got to cutting the bonds on Derek’s hands and the locks holding the chains together. When he was finished, he pulled the chains off and threw them as far as he could.

Derek pulled Stiles close as he stood. The two shared a look as they went to exit the house, only to be hindered by a beam falling from the ceiling.

Derek made a small noise and looked from John to Stiles. John shook his head, “Go, go save Stiles and yourself-.” Derek had growled loud enough for him to pause and then looked around for an exit. He put Stiles down, covering him with his sweater’s hood, and grabbed John around the midsection, vaulting over the flames. He pushed John away from the house, just as it started groaning from its own weight. Derek turned back. Eyes panicked, he dove back through the door, just as it collapsed.

John couldn’t hear his own screams over the din, but the wolves surrounded the house and started pulling rubble away, trying to get to their alpha.

-0-

As Derek covered Stiles with his body, he breathed air into Stiles’ mouth, making sure the other wasn’t inhaling more smoke than he had to. He continued this, protecting their heads from any stray beams or flames as best he could. “You have to stay alive,” he whispered, mouth covering Stiles’, over and over again, sharing breaths that were getting harder and harder to give.

He felt the flames lick at his skin, burning the fabric off him and the healing take hold every time a new burn appeared. He felt the beams bearing down on him as he continued to burn. The morbid thought of this is what his parents must have felt flashed through his mind, spurring his anger as he tried pushing himself up and off Stiles.

It only lasted so long until his limbs were burning with exertion and he felt himself falling onto his elbows. Just as it was getting too hot, too smoky, he felt a breeze, and could smell fresh air. Beams were being pulled off and rushes of cold water soaked them. He greedily sucked in air as the last beam was pulled off and pulled Stiles with him into a sitting position.

The other was motionless, chest barely moving and heartbeat barely there, but it was, was all Derek could focus on as John approached, peeling Stiles away from Derek. Derek let him. Let them load him into an ambulance and feed him oxygen and use gauze to staunch bleeding from burns Derek couldn’t prevent. His pack surrounded him and pulled him away from the wrecked house.

John approached the wolves and he looked stricken. “I’m sorry for what we did, I am, but you need to…” he made a face, “I know you don’t owe me anything, but…please.”

Derek looked at him, to the ambulance and nodded. Chris stared hard at Derek as he approached but moved aside. John stood at the doors of the ambulance and Chris grunted, “At least you’ve got a liaison now.”

-0-0-0-

Stiles woke up with a splitting headache, pain in his wrist, and oxygen being pumped into his nose via oxygen tank. Sitting up groggily, he looked around and squinted at the white and overly clean smell.

A hand pushed him back onto the uncomfortable bed and Derek grunted, “Lie still.”

He made a face at the tone but did as he was told. “Anyone ever tell you your bedside manner needs work?” his voice was scratchy as he itched at the tape holding the IV in his wrist.

“All the time.”

He squinted into Derek’s face to find him smiling sarcastically. Stiles snorted and covered his face. “What happened?”

“Smoke inhalation…and…” Stiles looked through his fingers at Derek, who was looking at the ceiling as he spoke. “Recovering from getting the bite.” Stiles dropped his hands to stare at Derek incredulously. “It was touch and go for a bit at the beginning.” He pushed the call button to the nurse’s centre and told them Stiles was awake when they asked what he needed.

By name.

Stiles stared at him. “Been here a lot, then?”

Derek glared at him slightly before muttering, “Never left.”

Stiles gave Derek his best shit eating grin and said, “Oh, you do care!” while fluttering his eyelashes. Derek responded by smacking him over the head.