Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles sat on the large tree stump and meditated. He could feel his energy, his magic sinking into the roots, and could almost feel a sense of warning floating up at him. It wasn’t emotions exactly, but something close.

He wasn’t sure what the Nemeton was cautioning him against, exactly, but he had learned long ago to heed the warnings he could sense.

He came out of the light meditation and looked around the area carefully. The nemeton had a shallow cloak, but it mostly worked against people who didn’t know it was here, or who didn’t know where it was, precisely. It was protected against anyone who would mean it harm, but he’d learned that could be subjective. He hadn’t had time to do anything more robust, but he’d have to make the time soon.

He couldn’t see or hear anything, not with his human senses, but the Nemeton’s alert system persisted. And he could feel something. Rage/Frustration/Desperation, but it was muted slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was the Nemeton, or his own defenses, causing the muting. He got up from the stump and slipped away and into the trees, keeping his movements as quiet as he could manage.

He could still feel the tree warning him away, urging him to get further away, but the emotions were coming closer. Stiles took heed and stepped around one tree nearby. This one had gnarled knots and low branches, so he climbed it instead of just hiding behind the trunk.

He got several feet up, until he was well-hidden by the branches before a spike of desperation came. This time he could also feel the energy surrounding whoever was moving towards the Nemeton. The aura of energy was desperate and wrong. Stiles looked through the branches and saw something moving towards the stump, though it wasn’t walking, but looked to be dragging itself closer.

Stiles didn’t recognize the figure, at least not on sight, but he recognized the magical signature. It was Jennifer Blake, or the being pretending to be Blake at any rate. He recognized the feel of their aura from when his father was kidnapped. At the time, he didn’t realize what he was feeling exactly. The emotions and the sense of rot and decay were hidden by the magical masking. But now, he recognized it. It was more than just the dark magic feel of a Darach, this was wholly different, worse.

He recognized the general feel of a Darach’s magic versus a regular Druid. Alan Deaton and Marin Morrell felt nothing alike, regardless of their relationship or how similar their magic had started out. Now, it was vastly different. Deaton tried to hide his aura, but there was a definite taint to everything he touched.

This was serendipitous timing because Stiles had wanted to ensure Jennifer Blake or Julia Bacarri was dealt with permanently. He hadn’t been present when Scott and Derek had their little showdown with her. He wouldn’t have agreed with their plan even if he had been.

He knew Scott would never deal a death blow. Derek probably wouldn’t either, as fucked up as he was currently. He had thought he would have to track the woman down, but apparently she hadn’t left Beacon Hills when the wolves were distracted, as they had believed.

Stiles watched her move slowly on the ground, injured as she was. He was trying to decide if she still had defensive magic, or if he could climb down and deal with her here and now. The Nemeton would probably help if it was needed.

Stiles watched as the wounded Darach got almost close enough to the Nemeton to touch, but when she reached out, the Nemeton’s rudimentary protections shimmered in the air, a barrier preventing the woman from making contact with the tree stump.

Her desperation ratchet up another notch as she made a shrieking noise once she realized that she couldn’t touch the Nemeton. Stiles watched as the Darach tried to summon the strength to try again, or come up with an alternate plan.

Stiles received another alert from the Nemeton. This time it was less a warning for impending danger, and more just a notice of something moving closer to his location. Stiles looked around, surprised he hadn’t sensed it sooner. He usually could feel people coming from a fair distance away, especially when he was in an isolated location, away from most people and their clawing emotions.  Some people were self-contained enough to make that difficult, but they were the exception and not the rule. Stiles noticed someone else was moving quietly through the area. The aura was familiar, but more familiar was the tenor of their emotions.

Before Blake could gather the strength to try again, the figure came moving out of the dark and reached towards the struggling woman and tore her away from the stump. Blake groaned from where she landed and tried to get up, but she was injured and weakened.

Stiles watched, intent, as Peter Hale leant over the Darach’s injured form and smirked.

“No! Your alpha spared me…he told me I could leave.” Blake struggled to move away from the werewolf.

“Not my Alpha.” Peter said, “McCall doesn’t have the authority to tell me what to do, or to make decisions for the territory.”

“He’s a True Alpha.” Blake protested, trying to move away.

“There’s no such thing, and you know that as well as we do.”

Blake frowned. “We?” She looked around the clearing, looking for someone else.

She was clearly confused. Her research into the hierarchy in Beacon Hills had probably told her about the fractured group, about Derek Hale’s dwindling pack, and the people that surrounded Scott McCall, none of which were wolves. She most likely knew that Peter Hale was technically a member of Derek’s pack, before he had sacrificed his alpha power, but he was on the fringes at best, alone. Stiles knew whatever resources were at her disposal, she would never be prepared for Peter, and she would never see Stiles coming.

Peter’s smirk turned more amused as he nodded his head towards the trees to the left. Jennifer looked that way and didn’t see anyone at first. Then the soft sound of someone landing in the dirt and she saw him standing there. She couldn’t quite make out the features, standing in the tree’s shadow as he was. His face was obscured by a hood.

“Fancy meeting you here, creeperwolf.”

Jennifer recognized the voice and felt a moment of relief. It was McCall’s friend, the sheriff’s son. “Stiles?”

Stiles felt her flash of relief but didn’t look her way, his eyes still trained on Peter. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Peter grinned and turned back to the Darach. “So, as I was saying, McCall is not a True Alpha because it doesn’t exist.”

She stared warily at Peter and then looked at Stilinski, expecting him to refute the claim, or defend his friend, or…something. But the boy did neither. He still hadn’t taken his eyes away from Peter. He had shown no acknowledgement of her position or precarious situation at all.

Stiles watched Peter for another second before he took a single step forward, not close enough to Blake to help or harm, but he focused on her for the first time. “Hmm. You seem to be at a disadvantage, Miss Blake…or is that Bacarri?”

Blake took a breath and was going to say something, plead for assistance or warn him or something, but then he shook his head in a mockery of sadness.

“You don’t expect me to help you, do you? You kidnapped my father, planned to kill him. You did kill my oldest friend. Why would I ever help you?”

Blake opened her mouth and then shut it again. She wasn’t sure what friend he was talking about. He had known several of her sacrifices, but none that she had observed him spending time with during her time at the high school. Finally, she just settled on reminding him of who he was, what side he was on. She had observed enough of his interactions with the both Derek and Scott’s groups to know he was tied up with them both.

“You don’t want to do this. You’re not like him.” Blake pled.

“Like who?” Stiles asked softly, eyes flashing briefly and turning to Peter for a second before focusing on her once more.

Blake swallowed. She saw the color of his eyes and hesitated. His eyes had flashed purple briefly. It was an unfamiliar color, but it clearly meant this boy wasn’t human. Still, she had to try to convince him, if she could. “You’re part of Scott’s pack. You’re friends with Derek. They wouldn’t want this…wouldn’t want you helping him.” She looked towards Peter again. The werewolf was just observing. His lips turned up slightly in a smirk.

“You’re trying to sound frightened and desperate, and I’m sure you are. But you’re also trying to seem harmless and as though the fact your life was spared means you’re no longer a threat.” He cut his eyes to Peter for a moment before facing the Darach again. “But you are a threat and you are not harmless, regardless of how weak you are currently. Also, I’m not part of Scott’s pack, or Derek’s. You could say I’m Switzerland…or pack adjacent.” He knelt a little closer, so she could see his face more clearly, “and I’ll tell you a secret. I’m more likely to help Peter than any alpha who allows an enemy to become a threat.” He looked back up at the werewolf. “I’ll let you finish this. I have somewhere else to be.”

Peter grinned before doing as Stiles requested and ripping out her throat. He tossed her body on the tree stump and watched in satisfaction as the tree swallowed it. He turned to face Stiles again, but he was gone.

Stiles approached the building carefully. He activated the runes carved into the frame of Roscoe. It would mask the sounds the jeep made. He had similar markings inked into his skin. He’d found he had an affinity for Runes. Understanding them, activating them, even combining them into runic arrays that would do things impossible if only using one or two.

He’d remembered his mother carving them into places in the back yard, and painting them in his bedroom, but he didn’t understand, as a kid, the power the symbols could hold. Not until much later. After his mother had died, he’d found all her books and hoarded them before his father could put them away, hide away the detritus of her life, as if once it was out of sight, she would be out-of-mind.

He’d begun learning about runes, and what they could do long before Scott was turned into a werewolf. He had known other existed, but not really had any sort of tangible proof. He’d known that his mother’s books weren’t just fantasy and fanciful notions because the runes she’d drawn in the house protected him from the pressure of others emotions long before he could articulate why he couldn’t sleep outside of the house, or why his room felt safer than any other room in the house.

Klaudia Stilinski had turned his room into an emotional deadzone, a faraday cage of protection and comfort. His father never went inside his room, and Stiles hadn’t realized it was because of the mundane repelling sigils she had drawn around the doors until he was almost twelve. By then, his father had spent more time away than at home, and Stiles had learned to take care of himself.

Before he stepped into the building, Stiles activated the masking rune on his shoulder. He didn’t want to put it anywhere that would be easily seen. But this seemed safe enough, and relatively easy to reach. It was late, and there wasn’t a lot of activity, but Stiles was suspicious of more than one of the residents of this building, so caution was always appropriate.

He took the stairs to the second floor, not wanting his prey to hear the elevator. He felt the emotions of the others in the building, but dismissed each until he had narrowed the emotions down.  He focused on the unit he knew his quarry was in.  He could feel their emotions as well.  Frustration, irritation, anger…and the same level of arrogance he’d felt from them before.

He lifted his hand and drew a series of runes on the door. They glowed for a minute before disappearing. Stiles felt the emotions mute. He could still feel them, but everything inside the apartment would be harder to detect, should anyone else wander by.

He drew a final rune on the doorknob and felt the slight vibration as the lock disengaged. He stepped inside and stopped short. His quarry was sitting in a chair in the open livingroom, faced towards the TV.

Stiles would have assumed the self-proclaimed Demon Wolf was taking advantage of his renewed sight to watch instead of just listening. However, it was clear that Deucalion was still in his seat, staring straight ahead. His muscles looked rigid, almost like he was paralyzed but fighting it.

Stiles moved nearer and took a closer look. Deucalion was straining, his face turning red. He looked to be trying, and failing to turn his head towards the door. When Stiles was almost directly in front of the wolf, he could see what looked like a long, thin, green rope tied around his throat, almost under the collar of his shirt. Stiles touched the rope and felt an answering spark. Not a rope then, but a vine.

He looked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows with the view out to a courtyard on the side of the building. The window was open and vines were trailing in through it. He wasn’t sure if that tree was always in the courtyard, providing shade, or if it had uprooted itself.

“Isn’t this convenient?” Stiles stared at the Alpha werewolf and smirked. “This is what happens when you linger where you’re not wanted.”

Stiles could read the frustration and building ire of the man in front of him. He could also feel the approach of someone else. He wasn’t surprised, but it hadn’t been part of the original plan. He’d wait for his guest and go from there.

Peter approached the apartment and was trying to decide between knocking and just busting the door down when it opened.

However, it wasn’t Deucalion, but someone much more interesting.

“Fancy meeting you here, sweetheart.” Peter smirked.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes, what a surprise to find you lurking about where a threat to the territory lies.” He backed up, allowing Peter to enter, and then closed the door behind him.

Peter’s eyes focused on where Deucalion was trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey by some vines that were looped around him and trailing in from an open window. “Are you going to kill him or just leave him like that?”

“Well, I thought I’d wait for you. I don’t think you should kill him. His spark is probably tainted, but I thought you might enjoy the death and dismemberment portion…well, mostly just the death. Dismemberment will not be required.”

Deucalion ramped up his struggle against his binds, but the vines took it as some sort of personal affront and wrapped around him more firmly and began to block the werewolf’s airway.

“I don’t need his alpha spark,” Peter said, flashing his eyes once, brilliant red, “But I’ll be glad to take out the trash.”

“I’ve got this.” Stiles turned to Deucalion and placed a hand on his chest. Deucalion’s eyes flashed red and then he gasped as his power was diminished and his eyes glowed again, the red slowly dimming until it was gone. Deucalion tried to gasp despite the vines suffocating him. His eyes flashed blue once as the vines loosened around his mouth and throat. Stiles removed his hand as a sickly red light came out of his chest and hovered in the air. Stiles waved his hand, shooing the glow away. It moved towards the window and disappeared.

“Why?” Deucalion asked hoarsely. “Derek and Scott released me after I was healed.”

Stiles stared at the man for a long moment. “Derek and Scott don’t protect the Nemeton or the territory. It wasn’t their choice to make.”

Deucalion sagged in the vines and Stiles nodded once. The vines tightened their hold once more, strangling the werewolf and completely cutting off his oxygen.

Stiles watched as another plant came in through the window, its large leaves wrapping around the body and dragging it back out the window.

“Where are they taking him?” Peter asked in surprise.

“The Nemeton. He harmed this land, and the Nemeton requires blood and sacrifice.” He motioned towards the door. “We should leave. I know Chris is out of town, but who knows where Allison is, and I really don’t want to be caught in their apartment building. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, darling, I think we do.”

“How long have you been an alpha?” Stiles asked once they had relocated to Peter’s apartment. “A week, correct?”

“I didn’t steal Derek’s alpha spark, or convince him to give it up.”

“Of course not.” Stiles dispelled that concern.

“How can you be sure?”

Stiles sighed. He could feel the trepidation coming from Peter, but didn’t focus on it. “I know you didn’t cause Derek to lose the Hale Alpha Spark, nor did you manipulate Derek into sacrificing it to save Cora.”

“How could you possibly know that? That’s certainly what Scott would think. Did the Nemeton tell you?” Peter was surprised at Stiles’ easy acceptance. He knew Stiles had spent a lot more one-on-one time with Peter than any of Derek’s puppies or anyone who Scott surrounded himself with, but he wasn’t sure how much of Scott’s viewpoint Stiles had taken on board.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Scott’s problem is he doesn’t think, but just absorbs the opinions of people he trusts. Which, honestly, should be confusing for him because he trusts almost everyone. As for the Nemeton, it’s privy to much of what goes on in this territory, but it doesn’t quite understand human emotion. No, I have spoken, at length, with Derek and Cora, both before and after they discussed the matter with each other.”

“What matter?” Peter asked with slight apprehension.

“Laura.”

Peter flinched and Stiles could feel how conflicted the werewolf was about his niece. “Hey, no.” Stiles reached out but didn’t touch. “No.” He sighed. “Look, after Boyd and Cora were rescued and the whole moon-crazy was over, Cora came to me. She was…confused.”

“About Laura? What happened…what I did?”

“No. That made sense to her, actually.” Stiles smiled softly, remembering how he had tried to carefully navigate the Hale family emotional landscape. From the outside they looked like one thing, but their emotional tone was completely different, if you knew what to look for.

“What?” Peter asked, shocked.

“Laura abandoned you here, with no protection. She…snapped your pack bonds with her.” He paused. “She did snap them, right?” Peter just nodded, so he continued, “She snapped Cora’s too.”

“What?” Peter looked devastated. He had always assumed Laura’s actions towards him were about him.

“Peter, she knew you were still alive, and you needed protection, but she chose to abandon you. She knew someone else survived, too. I don’t know if she knew who, but she definitely knew someone other than you and Derek had survived.”

Peter stared in surprise.

“Cora told me she wasn’t surprised that you killed her the way you did. The state you were in, you may not have realized it was Laura, but you recognized she was an Alpha in Hale territory. Not your alpha. You did what you were trained for.”

Peter blinked and looked away. “That’s not how Derek sees it.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

“No. He’s angry anytime we’re alone together. I brought it up once when I first returned, but he shut me down and then left.”

Stiles sighed again. “After Cora talked to me, I talked to Derek. I wondered what things were like with Laura after they fled. How was their bond? Did Laura know about Kate?”

“And?” Peter asked. These were things he hadn’t asked or thought too much about.

“He said Laura was distant and controlling. He wasn’t allowed out of the apartment except with her, but she would leave, sometimes for days or weeks at a time.” Stiles paused again. “He told me she had made contact with local packs, but she wouldn’t take him with her and he wasn’t allowed to contact them on his own.

“He still had a pack bond with her, but it was weak. He didn’t know anything was wrong until his bond with her snapped, but he had thought, at first, that she had snapped it.”

“Why would she…” Peter looked away. “I told Talia that she shouldn’t train only Laura. She was off at college in New York. She came home, but not as often as she could have. Her first year, Laura came home every break and a few weekends in between breaks. Not every month, but often. Certainly more often than I came home when I went to college. But her second year, Laura only came home during breaks, and her third was less than that.”

Peter searched his memory. “When the fire happened, she was late getting home. Talia had called her home because our sister, Melinda, had found out they were expecting. Melinda and her wife had struggled to get pregnant. Talia’s emissary had tried to help, but Melinda and Pauline ended up going to an emissary in Nevada, a witch. Talia had said a druid wasn’t trained for that kind of magical assistance, but…”

“Did you know then that Alan Deaton was the emissary?”

“No. Talia kept it a secret. She said it was best if they had a separation from the pack. Laura might have known, but as far as I knew, Talia always met with him alone.”

“Did you know Deaton before the fire?”

“I knew of him. I made it my business to know everyone we might have had contact with. Talia thought I was paranoid and sent me away every few weeks to maintain our contacts.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Talia was…I loved my sister, but she wanted to rule benevolently, without threat or violence leading the way.”

Stiles snorted. “First, there is no way for that to happen. Not ten years ago, not a hundred, and not now. Second, there was nothing benevolent about the way she treated her pack…her family. She stole memories from both you and Derek. You can say she was trying to protect you, but if she really wanted to protect Derek, she would have taken more than just the knowledge of where the Nemeton was located. That is probably not the only memory she took. She chose to train only Laura, but then didn’t teach her what it really meant to be Alpha. She participated in the cutting down of the Nemeton, without any regard for what that meant for this territory, and as your family has been here longer than the town itself, there was no way she didn’t know what she was doing.”

Peter winced because he couldn’t argue with any of that. “You’re right, about the Nemeton, and Laura. I want to believe she didn’t take other memories, but I just don’t know.”

“Is there a way to find out?”

“No, well…maybe. I’ll have to look into it.”

Stiles nodded. “As for Derek, I know he misses his sister, or who she was when they were both younger, but he doesn’t blame you for her death. And he regrets killing you, and the way in which it was done. Hell, I regret the whole Molotov cocktail thing, but I don’t regret killing you or trying to kill you. Would I do it now? Probably not, or at least not like that.”

Peter looked away. “You knew I was an Alpha again?”

“Well, I suspected. The Hale spark has existed here for a long time. My research shows that it was created by this Nemeton. If Derek lost it, then it could only go to either another Hale or back to the Nemeton. It’s not like other Alpha Sparks. If someone else had killed Laura, it would have gone to you, or to Derek, or if neither of you were available, it would return to the Nemeton.”

“Not Cora? Or Scott?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. It’s unlikely it would have gone to Cora at that time because (a) she was still too young, and (b) not here. The Nemeton granted this Spark in a covenant between itself and your ancestors in order for them to protect it and this territory. I believe that once you were awake, it was only a matter of time before Laura’s Spark left her, since she was no longer protecting this territory.

“As for Scott, the Spark would only go to a Hale. Not a wolf bitten by a Hale, but an actual Hale. It was hard to nail down accurate information when I researched this area. However, when the sacrifices first started, I was led to the Nemeton. I didn’t know what it was exactly then, but when you told your story about what happened to Paige, and then Scott told me about Gerard’s fairy tale version, I was able to track down more information. Not that it prevented Jennifer from taking our parents.”

“How did you know my version was any more honest than Gerard’s?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I always assume an Argent is lying. But, even if that wasn’t the case, I did talk to Derek after that whole thing. He verified most of what you told me.”

“Most?”

“Well, he also added some stuff about his mother and things that happened afterwards.” Stiles shook his head. “Regardless, after that, I realized I needed more information. I found some historical records that provided information if you knew what to look for, and raided Deaton’s office, and even found a couple of journals in my attic.”

“Your attic?” Peter asked, nonplussed.

Stiles shrugged. “Well, I dug up some information that told me my mother knew more about the supernatural than I expected. She was training to be an emissary, but then she got sick and…well, a druid was chosen instead.”

“Talia’s emissary?” Peter asked, surprised. “I knew our mother’s emissary was training someone, I think, but I can’t remember any specifics.”

“That was probably Deaton’s doing, or maybe Talia was a little free with the memory theft. I eventually made contact with the Nemeton itself. Even though it was damaged by what Deaton and Talia did, it still observed what was going on here.” He looked away. “I don’t want to talk about that. I eventually learned that when this Nemeton gave the Hale spark to your family, a covenant was formed. Normally a new alpha reaffirms that covenant, but due to the circumstances neither you nor Derek did so. I am unsure whether Laura did before she took Derek and ran. But it’s unlikely she would have been able to leave like that…or she would have been drawn back.”

Peter frowned. He didn’t remember his parents or Talia ever talking about that, but it sounded as though the Hale spark was connected to this specific territory. “Does that mean that the spark can’t be taken by killing the alpha?”

“No, it cannot. If, for example, a random omega came through town and killed the Hale Alpha, whoever that was, the spark would either revert back to the Nemeton or it would go to a surviving Hale.”

“So, if anyone else had killed Laura…”

“The spark could have only gone to you or Derek or Cora. Probably you. Even if you were injured, you were not only the closest physically, but you had the most knowledge and training, and the desire to see this territory protected. If you weren’t viable and it sensed Derek and Cora, it may have gone to them, but it would have pressed them to return home.”

“I’m not sure what to say to that,” Peter admitted. “That was never in any lessons my mother taught us.”

“It’s probably something they only disclose when the changeover is going to happen. Not sure why not earlier. If it’s a planned passing of the spark from one Alpha to the Next, that’s one thing, but there’s no guarantee that there’ll be any warning before an Alpha dies.”

“You’re not wrong, but we haven’t had a sudden alpha death in at least ten generations, maybe longer. At least until the fire.” Peter sighed. “Derek and I are probably overdue for a conversation, but things have been okay between us.”

“Okay, but not good?”

“He didn’t have as much training as he should have gotten, but he never asked for my counsel and I didn’t offer because I didn’t want him to think I was manipulating him.”

“Fair, but if you’re going to be pack and not just loosely connected by family ties, it can’t hurt to clear the air.”

Peter nodded and was about to say something else when he heard Stiles’ phone start to vibrate. He watched as Stiles took it out of a pocket and frowned.

“Something wrong?” Peter asked, watching the expressions flit across Stiles face as he read the series of text messages that had come in one after the other.

“Chris Argent is back in town.”

“And?”

“Apparently, he went to visit his father wherever he stashed him. Something about needing information about…well whatever he needed information on.”

Peter snarled at just the idea of Gerard Argent. Then he waited, as that was not the entire story.

“Apparently the home he stashed the old man has misplaced him.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. There was nothing in Stiles words that told Peter that the human was lying or even stretching the truth, but Peter had learned enough about Stiles since he’d returned to know if the human wanted to lie to werewolves, he could, either through magical means or through sheer force of will. Though in Stiles’ case, that might actually be the same thing.

Still, nothing in Stiles demeanor indicated Gerard Argent being misplaced was worrying information. No micro-expressions or scent indicators. Peter smirked. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Why would I be concerned that Chris Argent can’t find Grandpa Crazy-Pants? If he can’t keep track of him, that isn’t our problem.”

“Our problem?” Peter asked, in interest.

“My problem.” Stiles corrected without too much concern.

“Hmm.” Peter smirked again. “And he won’t be turning up, will he?”

“Probably not,” Stiles agreed.

“And your father? What are you going to tell him?”

“Nothing. He didn’t ask for help in locating Gerard, just thought I should know he’s gone missing.”

“Hmm. And did the sheriff know that Chris had his father stashed somewhere?”

“I doubt it.” Stiles looked down at his phone. “His messages tell me he’s irritated, so he probably didn’t know until…”

“Chris decided it was information he needed?”

“Or Chris was hoping my dad would help search for Gerard.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “And will the good sheriff help?”

Stiles shrugged, “He’ll probably do the missing persons thing but that won’t lead anywhere.”

“And will Chris ask for your help?”

“Eh, probably not. As far as I know, Allison and Scott were the only ones who knew that Gerard hadn’t just crawled away to die after that whole thing.”

“Scott told you?” Peter guessed. That boy had no self preservation or an ounce of intelligence.

Stiles snorted. “Definitely not. As I said, after that whole storytime about Paige and what happened to her, Scott told me a similar, but different, story. Scott said that Chris told Allison all about what happened between Gerard and Deucalion. But Scott’s a terrible liar, especially when he’s trying to leave things out.”

“So you figured Gerard was involved in this fairytale?”

“Yes. Scott doesn’t trust me where the Argents are concerned.” Stiles shrugged. “So I followed him…”

He started to look around the apartment when he felt a shiver run down his back and a sharp spike of DesperationHungerRage.

“There’s an omega out there.”

“Where?”

“Not in the preserve itself. None of my wards there have gone off. This is closer to town, but it’s late enough there probably aren’t a lot of people out. They’ve passed through some of my wards.”

“Where are your wards?”

“Eh, everywhere, but they’re not all the same type.”

“And how do you know this is an omega?”

“Well, I don’t know, for sure. It could be part of a pack, or traveling with others, but only a single entity crossed the wards. It feels feral, so I’m going with omega.”

“It feels feral?” Peter asked curiously.

Stiles sighed. “I’ve encountered omegas before, and I have specialized wards. Plus, Chris messaged me earlier that there was an Omega in town. Scott said he’d handle it, but we all know how he handles things.” He felt another ward go off. “I better go handle this.”

“You want company…or back-up?” Peter asked.

“Probably best to go alone.” He felt something odd coming from Peter, but he wasn’t sure of the cause. “It’s close enough to town that I might run into the pack, or maybe even Chris, especially if it’s the Omega Scott is handling. It’s probably better for you to stay here. I can handle one Omega. If I’m wrong, I’ll call.” He smiled and turned to leave.

“Call even if you don’t need help.”

Stiles could feel the omega long before he could see or hear them. The emotions felt off-kilter and amplified in a way he only saw in the mentally unstable. It was the pervasive feeling that was forever linked to his memories of his mother.

Klaudia had been poisoned and left to die by inches, her sanity slowly unraveling. Stiles had felt something similar in Peter Hale the first time they met, but his emotions were tinged red with rage and yellow with sorrow and grief. He had felt none of that when Peter had returned. His emotional landscape had turned bright with curiosity and his sly wit and sharp mind.

This creature is different. He can tell it’s a woman from the tenor of emotions, though it’s hard to make her form and features out in the darkness and from this distance with his mundane-level eyesight. She too feels like grief, but instead of Peter’s blinding rage, she is filled with desolation and loss, fear and devastation.

Stiles cloaked his aura before he was close enough for her to sense him, so she hasn’t registered his presence yet, and he watches her for a moment.

She looked like she was possibly beyond beta form, and in Alpha form. No one mentioned the Omega was an Alpha, but it’s possible no one knows.

Chris had told Noah that Scott said he’d handle the Omega. Stiles wasn’t sure how he planned to manage that. This creature was way beyond rational thought. He doubted Scott could have any sort of conversation with her. She wasn’t cognizant enough to even lie about her intentions. So either Scott hadn’t yet run into her, or the True Alpha was going to just ignore it and hope it didn’t cause a problem, as he was wont to do.

Stiles reached out to the flora nearby, released the cloak over his aura, and took a step closer. The woman froze for a moment, and focused on him, a growl in her throat and a flash of the eyes. Red. Definitely an Alpha then.

She snarled and began to shift her weight. She started to pivot forward, planning to charge him but stumbled, roots of a nearby tree shifting and drawing her attention. Stiles directed nature to secure her. Once she was tightly wrapped in vines and leaves, Stiles stepped closer, reaching a hand towards her chest.

“It’s time for you to rest now.” He reached into her core and felt the brittle ember of her wolf spark and pulled. Her eyes flashed once red, then blue, before she lost the alpha shift and collapsed. The vines let her down slowly and retreated.

Stiles stared at the human form of the woman and sighed. Such a waste. Before he could prepare to deal with the body, he was alerted to movement passing through his wards. He reached out his senses and felt the familiar emotions that meant Scott and Allison. They were too close now for him to deal with the body in the way he would prefer so he just knelt by the body as if he was verifying if it was alive or not.

“Stiles?” Allison asked in surprise.

Stiles stood up and looked over. “Hey.”

Stiles watched as Scott first looked at him, then at the ground just behind Stiles. He felt it as Scott realized what he was looking at and felt outraged at what he considered a wasted life. Stiles agreed it was a waste, but he also understood the Omega wasn’t going to recover from her feral state. What he had done was a mercy.

“You didn’t have to kill her!” Scott hissed.

“Scott, she killed three people on her way to Beacon Hills,” Allison interrupted. “Maybe she wasn’t feral, but if she wasn’t, she was still a killer.”

“But…” Scott looked from Allison to Stiles in frustration.

“She would have killed me if I’d left her the option.” Stiles scowled. He was glad Allison was still thinking clearly, but he didn’t need the back-up in this situation.

“You could have just…”

“What? Let her bite me? That would have killed me, and you would be having this conversation with someone else.” Possibly Noah, definitely Peter.

“You don’t know that!” Scott flashed his eyes. “You don’t even know if she could turn you. Was she even an alpha?”

Scott was so very tiring. He had never been able to order Stiles around, though he certainly tried, and definitely not now when Stiles was at the very end of his patience. “Yes, she was an alpha, and yes, I do know that. My spark and the magic of a were are not compatible.”

“You don’t have a spark.” Scott rolled his eyes this time. “Deaton said he just told you that to get your cooperation.”

“Deaton is the one who told me I was a spark. Not the night of the Rave. Then, he only told me to ‘Be the Spark’, but later when I researched what a spark was, and spoke to him about it, he admitted it was true, only after I told him I already knew. That is neither here nor there, because it doesn’t matter. A feral Omega tried to kill me. I stopped her. Move on.”

“If you can’t abide by my rules, you can’t stay.” Scott said stubbornly.

“First, stay where? In your pack? You told me just last week I wasn’t in your pack. In Beacon Hills? Newsflash, you do not rule the entirety of Beacon Hills, or even half of it.”

“Deaton told me that part of the job of the Alpha of a territory is to protect it and police threats to the area.”

“Deaton didn’t lie to you, for once.” Stiles muttered, “But do you think you’ve been doing that? Protecting Beacon Hills? You knew where Gerard was. You knew he wasn’t dead and did nothing about it. If Chris hadn’t told my dad he lost him, we probably wouldn’t even know now. You let Jennifer Blake go. She killed twelve people. Twelve people from Beacon Hills. How is letting their murderer get away protecting the territory? You let Deucalion walk away. He’s killed who knows how many people? Not all of them from Beacon Hills, but Erica and Boyd were.”

“She didn’t kill twelve people. Harris was never found, and Danny survived. And I rescued Deaton.” Scott tilted his jaw stubbornly.

Stiles laughed. He really didn’t mean to, but he could feel that Scott really believed that utter bullshit. Even Allison felt incredulous. “They never found Harris,” he repeated. “Where do you think he went, exactly? And Danny survived, yes, but he wasn’t one of her sacrifices, so you can just add his attempted murder on top of the 15 planned sacrifices.”

“I don’t know where Harris went, but we don’t know that he’s dead.”

“Scott, Harris was part of the Warriors. She would not have moved on to Healers unless all three sacrifices were complete.” He narrowed his eyes at his old friend, “You did save Deaton but if you think that means that she didn’t replace him with someone else, you’re stupid…if what happened with Deaton was even Jennifer.”

Scott stared at him like he wasn’t sure what to say. He felt angry and frustrated, and Stiles could relate, though he was sure their reasons were different. Scott never liked it when Stiles questioned him or Deaton, but that never bothered Stiles. Allison just felt confused, but Stiles couldn’t hazard a guess as to what was causing the confusion.

“I am the alpha here.” Scott stated, ignoring everything else Stiles said.

“You’re an Alpha, yes, but not the only one in this town.” Stiles was about 98% sure Scott wouldn’t remain an Alpha either. There was something decidedly shady about how he’d gotten those red eyes and it had Alan Deaton’s sticky fingers all over it.

“Derek isn’t an alpha anymore.” Scott pointed out, confused.

“No, he’s not. However, there is a Hale Alpha in this territory. In fact, this territory has had a Hale living here for the last two hundred years, since long before the state had formal population areas.”

Scott frowned in confusion. “Is Cora an alpha? Derek gave up his spark to save her, and she’s an Alpha now?”

Stiles was beginning to hate having conversations with Scott. He was so narrow-focussed and once he had a thought, he was impossible to move.

“Peter’s the Alpha.” Stiles admitted. He didn’t see the point of keeping it a secret.

“Peter?” Scott looked and felt outraged. “How…who did he kill?” Then his eyes widened. “Deaton told me Deucalion was murdered. Did Peter kill him?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Deucalion hadn’t been dead long, and he knew for a fact that Deucalion’s body had never turned up, and there was no way Alan Deaton could have found out what happened to him. Why would Deaton tell Scott something he had no way of proving or even validating? And Allison was now radiating concern in addition to confusion, but again he wasn’t sure what the cause was. “Peter didn’t kill anyone. After Cora was healed the Hale Spark returned to the Hale most able to protect the territory.”

“Peter?” Scott scoffed. “He’s lying to you. I can’t understand why you would even believe anything he would tell you.”

“And I can’t understand why you would believe everything Alan Deaton tells you. I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“I don’t know why you’re so suspicious of him.” Scott scowled.

Because he feels like rot and lies. Stiles didn’t say any of that because Scott would never understand, and Stiles honestly didn’t trust the wolf enough to tell him. He wasn’t sure he ever had trusted him enough for that.

“He’s a liar.” Stiles said honestly. “And he hasn’t lifted a finger to help since this all began, not to mention he was Talia Hale’s emissary and did exactly nothing when they needed it, not to mention how he treated Derek when he returned. And he nearly destroyed this entire area when he cut down the Nemeton.”

Scott blinked at him. “How do you know any of that? What has Peter been telling you? Probably more lies…like that story he told you about Derek’s girlfriend…what was her name? Pamela, Priscilla, Paula?”

Stiles sighed. “Paige. Her name was Paige Krasikeva, and Peter’s version of events had a lot more truth than Gerard’s.”

“How would you know?” Scott muttered.

“I asked Derek, that’s how.” Stiles watched Scott for a long moment before continuing. “This is pointless. You’re mad that I killed a feral Alpha that was attacking people and trying to kill me, which tells me you’d rather I was dead instead. You don’t want me in your pack, a pack you’ve told me I was never in to start with, fine. I’m not. But you cannot order me out of my home. I’ve lived in this town since I was two. You didn’t arrive until the second grade. If anyone should go, it’s you.” He scowled when Scott just gaped at him.

“What do you mean, Deaton hasn’t helped? He’s the one that told us how to save our parents and find the Nemeton.”

Stiles was one-thousand percent done with this. He turned around and moved towards the Omega’s body. If he couldn’t deal with the body in his normal fashion, he’d have to do things another way. He dialed his phone and waited.

“What are you doing?” Scott called after him.

“I need some assistance.” Stiles said as the phone was answered. He gave his location and hung up. Getting this sort of help wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t trust Scott, and didn’t want to leave the matter unresolved.

“Who did you call?” Scott asked.

Stiles sighed. “Go home, Scott.”

“What are you going to do with the body?”

“What do you care?” Stiles asked. “Are you going to call the police, make an official report? Tell my dad’s deputies what happened here?”

Scott’s eyes widened. “What? No! We can’t call the police!”

“Then why do you care?”

“I’ll call Chris Argent!” Scott shouted. Allison turned and gaped at Scott.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Really? He could feel Scott’s fear but also his stubbornness. What did he think would happen if he called Chris? Before he could respond, the sound of a vehicle coming closer drew Scott’s attention. The fact that Scott didn’t notice it until it was close enough for Stiles to hear just meant that Scott was still fighting all his werewolf instincts, which seemed ridiculous after everything.

Stiles turned back to the body and began looking through pockets to see if this Alpha had any identification, so they could find out if she had anyone who might come looking for her. He doubted it because if she’d had a pack, she wouldn’t have been feral.

“Chris!” Scott gasped as the hunter climbed out of his vehicle.

Stiles turned back and raised another eyebrow. “As you can see, you don’t need to call him. I already took care of that.” He motioned towards the body. “I found that Omega you warned us about.”

“I…” Scott looked flustered. “You told Stiles? Why? I told you I would take care of it.”

Chris smiled at his daughter and stared at the alpha. Stiles could feel that he was amused. “You also said you would let everyone know of the danger.” He turned to Stiles, “Did he?”

“No. And Peter wasn’t told either.” He frowned at Scott again. “Go home, Scott. You are not needed.”

“You didn’t need to know! You’re not pack, Stiles!”

“Hold on!” Allison interrupted. “You didn’t tell Stiles that there was a possibly feral Omega running around? You said you would let everyone know.”

“I did, but Stiles isn’t part of the pack. He didn’t need to know. He shouldn’t even be involved in this stuff. He’s just human.”

“So am I!” Allison pointed out.

“Go home, Scott.” Chris said as he turned away from Scott to look over at the dead werewolf. “Where do you want her?” He asked Stiles.

Stiles could feel Scott’s confusion and frustration with the situation, but he could also feel when Scott did as they asked and left. Allison hesitated for a moment before looking at her father once and following Scott. Stiles waited for them to move away and then looked up at Chris. “If you help me move her to the preserve, I can take it from there.”

Chris stared at him for a long moment before agreeing. Stiles could feel the moment when Chris decided not to ask how Stiles would take care of it and just did as he asked. Chris didn’t say anything about Scott or the Omega as they moved her, and Stiles appreciated that. He didn’t have much love or respect for Argents, but he’d grown to understand this one, at least a little bit.

Once Chris had left and he’d taken care of the Omega’s body, Stiles decided to return to Peter’s apartment instead of calling. He didn’t feel like going home. The house was always so cold and desolate, like years of isolation and grief, had seeped into the very walls.

Noah worked a lot and Stiles had stopped trying to figure out the ratio of actual work versus avoidance a long time ago. Stiles had become self-sufficient much earlier than other kids his age. He’d handled a lot of the household things even though most of the house was somewhat uncomfortable, the emotions of other people often pressing in on him from all sides.

His bedroom was the only place he could truly feel at ease, and that was down to the runes his mother had placed there when he was a child. He didn’t blame his father for his absence or his grief, or the dedication to his job, at least not anymore. But he had reached a point where he couldn’t be the adult and manage his father. If the man wouldn’t make an effort, Stiles couldn’t do it for him.

Peter opened the door before Stiles could knock. He stepped aside to let Stiles enter. “I wasn’t expecting you back.”

“I can leave if you want to be alone.” Stiles offered, pausing just inside the door.

“No. I spend quite enough time alone as it is.” Peter moved towards the kitchen and put the kettle on, “How did it go?”

“I took care of it, but Scott and Allison showed up before I could deal with the body.” Peter raised an eyebrow in inquiry, so Stiles continued. “Scott was…unhappy.”

“Does Scott know about you?” Peter was curious.

Stiles stared at him for a long moment, wondering if Peter had picked something up about Stiles’ ability to sense and channel emotions, but then realized he was probably referring to Stiles’ affinity with plants or other magic. Probably.

“No. The things I can do, I was born with, and until Scott crossed your path that night, there was no reason to mention it, and even now I’m leery to bring it up.” Stiles hesitated for a moment, before deciding to continue, “When we were chasing the Kanima around, just before you…returned, Deaton gave me some Mountain Ash to create a barrier to trap Jackson…only he didn’t give me enough. Made some vague instruction about strength of will and told me to be the Spark…”

“He called you a Spark?” Peter asked carefully.

“Sort of.”

“And…did it work?”

Stiles hesitated again. He knew what Deaton was implying when he gave him the ash and the really vague instructions. He knows what the shady Druid believes, but he also knows that Deaton is wrong. Still, it’s served him to maintain that fiction. “It did work.” Stiles says slowly. “There wasn’t enough Ash, but I got the barrier made…at least until Victoria Argent decided that was the perfect time for attempted murder.”

“So, Deaton knows you’re a Spark?” Peter asked. He knew about what happened with Victoria and Scott that night, but that was of less interest.

“In theory. That night, he was very vague about it. I did go to see him afterward and ask about it and he admitted he knew I was a spark, and that I would need training.” He takes a sip of the tea and looks down at the teacup.

“Did he give you any training, or books?”

Stiles snorted. “No, but I didn’t really seek those things from him because I have my own resources…and I don’t trust him.” They shared a look. “The thing is, tonight Scott said that Deaton told him that I didn’t have magic, and that he was just trying to get me to cooperate.”

Peter hums. “But, you do have magic.”

Stiles nods. “He also told Scott that Deucalion was dead. There is no way he knows that for certain, unless he has something, a talisman or other object that is tied to Deucalion’s lifeforce. So, why would he tell Scott he was dead?”

“Is that likely? Deaton having an object tied to Deucalion’s life force?”

Stiles shrugs. “They’ve known each other for a while, and Deaton’s sister was Deucalion’s emissary. Though it’s just as likely he was guessing. If they had been in contact and he suddenly couldn’t get a hold of him, he might just assume. Also, we don’t know why Deucalion was still in town. There was no reason for him to stick around.”

“We should maybe determine what Deaton has been telling Scott and why.”

“The why is easy. He wants an Alpha he can control, and maybe access to the Nemeton, though Scott won’t ever get him there.”

“He probably doesn’t need Scott for that anyway, it’s no longer hidden.”

“Not completely, but it won’t respond to him, probably hasn’t since they cut it down.”

Peter’s curiosity and interest spike for a moment, but instead of asking any questions about that, he changes the subject as he brought a cup of tea over and set it in front of Stiles. “What about your father? Isn’t he going to notice you aren’t at home?”

“Maybe, but he won’t ask about it.” Stiles sighed. This isn’t necessarily a better subject. “He’s…he’s struggling with the whole reality of the supernatural thing. He knew things existed but he never really knew what kinds of things, or had any sort of first-hand experience. He’s talking through everything he’s found out with some people, but…I don’t know how that will go, as they have biased views of their own.”

“Hunters?”

“Well, one hunter. Chris Argent. He’s better than the rest of his family, but still kind of biased about who the real monsters are. Also, Melissa McCall, but she isn’t told a lot, and when she is, it’s by Scott, which means it’s kind of one-sided.”

Stiles could feel Peter’s desire to pick that apart, though his expression didn’t change, and he didn’t actually ask.

“Look, I trust Chris to do what he thinks is right. I called him tonight because I knew if I called you Scott would lose his mind, and we already had a big enough disagreement. Plus it was an Omega I put down, so Chris wouldn’t be conflicted about that. If it was an Alkonost I was trying to save, I probably wouldn’t have called him.”

“I’d be surprised if he had enough experience with them to understand the reference.” Peter quirked a smile.

Stiles laughed. “Point.”

“And Melissa?”

“Well, I care about her, but for a number of reasons she’s probably not a great sounding board for my dad. Between the fact that she hasn’t known about the supernatural that long, and the fact all her interactions have been bad, or terrifying or both, and who knows what exactly Scott has told her, she’s not well-informed, but my dad trusts her, so here we are.”

“You’re not worried about what he’s being told?”

“To be honest? My dad is not a great dealer of things he doesn’t want to deal with. He’d probably prefer to ignore the whole thing. I mean, he knew about my mom and her…ancestry, but chose to ignore it. Though to be fair my mother made a conscious decision to separate different parts of her life. She didn’t want to let anything magical to touch Noah, and she wanted nothing mundane to touch me. It made things extremely untenable once she got sick, and nearly impossible once she died.”

“Do you know why?” Peter asked and then hesitated, not sure exactly how to ask.

“Why she separated her life like that? She was conflicted.” Stiles answered without actually telling Peter anything.

“Noah knew that there was this segregation between the parts of my mother we each had, but he ignored it like it wasn’t real.” Stiles continued, “He threw himself into work to strengthen what he believed. It wasn’t healthy for us, and It’s not an ideal response for the sheriff of a place like Beacon Hills, but that’s where we are.”

Peter watched Stiles for a moment longer. “And so his response is to avoid you?”

Stiles sighed. “Well, that’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“So long as he’s not thinking about the supernatural, and what that means for Beacon Hills, he’s also not thinking about where my magic came from. If he thinks too closely about that, he needs to acknowledge that my mom made the choice to separate these two parts of herself and her life with him was a mundane life. As time went on and I got older, that was all she focused on, abandoning her family magic, and that is what eventually killed her.” Stiles waved away the question he could see Peter wanted to ask. “Not important right now.”

Peter blinked, but let it go. Stiles sensed Peter didn’t like what he implying about Stiles relationship with his father but let it drop. He had the desire to calm the werewolf down, but he wasn’t sure where that came from or who that was for.

Peter nodded. “So, what’s next?”

“I think before we make any sort of decisions, I want to see Alan Deaton’s culpability, and you should find out if whatever idea you had about determining the level of memories your sister took is viable.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I meant.” Peter admitted reluctantly.

Stiles smiled. “Oh, I know, but this is what I want to focus on.”

“Do you know how you might get your memories back?

“It is possible, if I had my sister’s claws.”

Stiles winced. “That seems like a weird thing to save, but okay. Do you know where they are?”

“I think Deaton has them.”

“Great, two birds, one stone.” Stiles grinned. “Let’s go.”

Peter blinked, but followed the younger man out.

The animal clinic was silent. Stiles wasn’t actually sure if that was an accurate representation of what was going on inside, or if the doc had some wards or sound dampening. He motioned for Peter to keep quiet and activated his runes, just to be safe as they entered the space. Stiles lead the way through the back, bypassing the mountain ash counters. Deaton had Mountain Ash in the foundation around his office space and in the door, but the door itself wasn’t closed, so that wasn’t very effective.

Peter looked around the space. He’d been here many times but usually with Derek, or Derek’s pack, and there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for snooping.

Stiles traced a rune on the door with his finger as he passed into the office, but Peter couldn’t actually tell what it was, and it was invisible, so he did not know if the younger man was neutralizing something Deaton had in place or if he was putting his own warning or protection up.

Either way, Peter trusted Stiles, which was weird but also relieving. “He’s not here.” Peter said after he had entered the room and noticed it empty, save for Stiles.

“No. I know he spends a lot of time here, after-hours, but I assume he has a home and doesn’t actually live here.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“No, but I can find out.” Stiles went through his single book case and frowned at one shelf. “Hello, what is this doing here?”

“What is it?” Peter stepped closer. The spines didn’t have any titles, but there were unfamiliar symbols etched into them. Stiles grabbed three books all together and handed them to Peter.

Peter cracked one open but then blinked when he couldn’t read it. It was odd because it looked like Polish, a language he had studied in college when he met the woman his mother’s emissary was training, who was originally supposed to be Talia’s emissary. He now realized that was probably Stiles’ mother. He knew something had happened when he’d been away and when he returned home, a new Emissary was supposedly working with his sister. He had never met them at that time, but, he remembered when Talia had told him about the change, though she had promised the new emissary anonymity and secrecy. Peter had thought the whole situation fishy.

Still, it didn’t explain this book. If it was Polish, he should be able to read it, or at least make out some words.

“Oh, you won’t be able to read that, even if you normally are fluent in Polish. It’s protected, magically.”

“But you can read it?”

“Well, yes. It’s a family grimoire. I’m not sure how Deaton got a hold of it. He wouldn’t have been able to read it either.” Stiles started going through the self looking for other tombs that shouldn’t be here. He eventually moved towards the desk. He traced another rune into the wall and started going through the drawers.

Stiles hummed as he went through all the drawers. “Take out anything that looks like it’s not related to his veterinary business. I want to go through it later.” He went around the room and began drawing sigils on the walls. Once he’d made his way back to the door, he etched something in the air in front of him and a faint glow shimmered in the air and moved forward through the hallway and back towards the lobby. Stiles turned to the wolf. “I’m going to follow this back to wherever it goes. If I don’t return by the time you’re done, take it all back to your place and I’ll meet you there.”

Peter frowned. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

Stiles motioned towards the walls. “This whole building is lined with Mountain Ash. His home is probably the same. He might even have more robust security.”

Peter huffed. “Which is why you shouldn’t go alone.”

Stiles smiled. “Trust me, nothing in his arsenal will keep me out.”

“If you’re sure.” Peter said doubtfully.

“Very sure.” Stiles promised.

It took Stiles a little longer at the residence than he had expected, but he’d ultimately gotten what he’d come for and Alan Deaton would no longer be a threat to the territory, so he considered it time well spent.

Stiles left his body behind, looking like a man who suffered an unexpected heart attack. It was less than he deserved but Stiles didn’t want him to just vanish, so needs must.

When he’d spoken to Morrell, she promised to collect anything suspicious to give to the Druid council while Stiles returned to Peter with a small satchel they’d found in the safe, full of correspondence between Deaton and Deucalion. Hypothesis proved.

“What did you find out?” Peter asked when he let Stiles back inside for the second time.

Stiles set a hand-carved wood jar on the counter and took off the lid. “This was in a hidden cabinet. It’s carved from the Nemeton and treated with mountain ash.” He pulled out a square box, carved with sigils Peter didn’t recognize. “When you’re finished with them, you can keep them in here and they’ll be protected.”

Peter looks inside the jar without picking it up. “Thank you.”

“Otherwise, he only confirmed what I already knew. Alan Deaton is a lying liar who lies.”

“And?” Peter pressed.

“He basically invited the Alpha Pack here to test Derek.” Stiles used air quotes as he rolled his eyes, then started to review some of the paperwork Morrell had recommended he take.

“To what end?” Peter asked after a minute.

Stiles shrugged. “Well, he was probably hoping Deucalion would kill or otherwise deal with Derek, and his pack…maybe he hoped that would leave Scott as the only alpha.”

“But Scott wasn’t an alpha yet,” Peter pointed out, still feeling wrong-footed about his failed bite as an Alpha.

“He’s not an Alpha now, not really.” Stiles read through several pages on a lunar ritual.

Peter rolled his eyes, unable to argue that point. “Deucalion had to have decided to come here before the Darach.”

“That’s true. The invitation, such as it was, came while Jackson and Gerard were running around, wreaking havoc. That might have been part of the plan. If Derek was dealt with, and you were still dead, Scott might have ended up Alpha as your beta. I’m not sure if he knew about the Hale Spark not transferring to just anyone. And I doubt Deaton anticipated you returning, and he probably expected Jackson to be killed. If it happened the way he planned, I’m not sure how he would have guaranteed Scott got the spark instead of Erica, Boyd or Isaac though.”

“And the Darach came here because of the Alpha Pack?”

“Yes. Julia Baccari was obsessed with getting revenge. To her, it must have seemed like fate. She was killed in Beacon Hills, and our Nemeton is what helped her survive.”

“Did Deaton say anything about why the Alpha’s came then? I mean, I’m not sure they would trust Deaton enough to follow up on a vague invitation.”

“No. I did question him, and he did give me some answers, but Morrell provided some of this information when I met with her after that fight Ennis and Derek had. I didn’t act on it then because I knew Deaton was working something with Scott and I wanted to figure it out first.” He motioned towards the box of stuff from Deaton’s office, “Marin told me the Alpha’s were told that there were some problems in the town and the present Alpha was ill-prepared to handle them.”

“Well, that wasn’t a lie. If this was during the Kanima, there were more than a few problems. Also, in theory, Alpha packs are representatives of the Council and go where needed.” Peter offered.

“In theory,” Stiles agreed, “This pack was not representing anyone but themselves though. I did have a word or three with Aiden and Ethan. They verified what Morrell told me about Deucalion’s pack, and I had their story verified with outside sources.”

“Is that why you didn’t take care of them?” Peter had been curious about that.

“Yes. I did connect them with a few other options, and told them that staying in Beacon Hills wasn’t one of their choices, and was not recommended, considering their part in Boyd’s death. They agreed and left. They’re currently in Idaho, of all places.”

Peter knew that. He’d checked when they left. He hadn’t known that Stiles was the one to broker that agreement. He was wasted in either Derek or Scott’s pack. “Deaton had to know what he was setting in motion. Morrell is his sister.”

“They don’t see eye-to-eye on many things.” Stiles smirked and his eyes flashed briefly. It was an unusual color. Lighter than purple, but not quite lavender. Wisteria, possibly.

Peter narrowed his eyes, pieces slotting into place. “You’re an empath.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Am I? Where did this supposition come from?”

“Your actions, mostly. But your eyes give it away.”

Stiles nods. “Not many know too much about us, not enough to recognize what it means. Where did you learn about empaths?”

“My grandmother was the Pack’s loremaster.  She began teaching me when I was very young.  That was before our mother decided I would be Talia’s left hand.”

“Did that change your grandmother’s lessons?”

“Not the lessons themselves, but when and how she taught me things.  My mother didn’t think I needed to learn the lore of the pack.”

“Your grandmother didn’t agree?”

“No.  My grandmother chose me and nothing my mother said would dissuade her. She just had to get a little creative.”

Stiles nodded.  “And she taught you about empaths?”

“She didn’t have any books specifically about Empaths, but she taught me what she had been told, and what the myths and legends said.”

“And what do your myths and legends say?”  Stiles asks curiously.

“Some say empaths are descended from the gods.  Some say they come from the triumvirate of power between truth, justice, and vengeance.”

Stiles blew out a breath evenly.  “Is that what you believe?”

“There’s always some truth in myths and legends.”  Peter stated carefully.

“Some legends are true.”  Stiles whispered.

“Do you know what Deaton was ultimately trying to accomplish?” Peter asked, sensing that it wasn’t the right time to get into such things.

“I was right. He was trying to mold Scott into an Alpha he could control. He believed that if he got Scott, as the territory Alpha, to forge a covenant with the land, as your ancestors had done, he could connect to the Nemeton and share in its power.”

“He’s dead though…right?” Peter looks to Stiles in verification.

“Very. Sadly, he is not nourishing the Nemeton. I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to just disappear.”

“Does Marin know what happened to him?”

“Yes. She is handling reporting his activities and his punishment to their council.”

“Is the Nemeton safe?”

“Alan Deaton didn’t know what Nemeta are, so he didn’t realize who’s attention he had drawn.” Stiles places his hand on a map he had taken from Deaton’s house. “However, we have another, more pressing matter.”

“What now?” Peter sighed. There was always a more pressing concern.

“The ritual he performed to simulate an Alpha spark in Scott, I guess it’s the best way to put it. It drew power and reshaped that power into an approximation of an Alpha Spark, but it wasn’t a real Spark, and didn’t give him the added strength or power of an actual Alpha. It was all smoke and mirrors. Unfortunately, the ritual could have attracted something or multiple somethings to us.”

“Of course it did.”

“I put an extra layer of wards up, but who knows if Scott might get wind of something before I can deal with it. His position is becoming a problem.”

“Will he keep whatever the ritual did to him?”

“No, but I don’t know how much energy powered the ritual so, with Deaton dead, Scott could lose his alpha status by tomorrow or not until next year. It’s hard to say.”

“But he will lose it.” Peter nodded. “Are you going to tell him?”

“What’s the point?”

Chris Argent texted Stiles to alert him of a Shalnarat that passed through the territory of a vampire coven two hours away. Chris doesn’t know if there was aggression from either party but knew that vampires have a different metric for what they consider dangerous or trespass. Beacon Hills is the kind of place that is more cautious…especially considering a Shalnarat is not subtle and will not leave before they have fed, unless they are forced to.

Stiles knows that other local supernatural types would have also received word of the possible danger so it’s unlikely he can deal with it without Scott being aware, but he’ll hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

He sends a message to Peter with all the details Chris provided, and then another message to Noah with a vague warning so he’ll pass on anything unusual that pops up. It’s not a true exchange of information, but it’s the best they can do without hashing out all the things they don’t talk about.

Stiles receives a text from Scott at 0230 telling him Satomi Ito has passed on an alert of a threat coming their way and a warning to leave it alone. That Scott will handle whatever it is.

Stiles knows Satomi got the same warning about the Shalnarat, maybe not from the Turok Coven specifically because vampires in general steer clear of werewolves, and Elias Turok in particular has no use for Satomi Ito. He does wonder if Satomi is sharing what information she has with Scott out of a belief that there’s a future alliance in it, because she’s being a good neighbor pack, or if she is at all drawn into the Scott McCall hype. He didn’t think she would be. Surely she’s old enough to know better?

Stiles’ wards around the west end of town go off at four AM and Stiles texts Peter and then makes his way towards that end of town.

The Shalnarat is slithering its way through the rough part of town, moving steadily closer to populated areas and that is all kinds of bad news. He can feel Peter getting closer, but focuses on the threat in front of him. Stiles halts the Shalnarat’s momentum when he drops from a nearby tree and eyes the creature, his eyes flaring in the darkness.

It flicks a tongue out, trying to determine what kind of threat Stiles is. It shrieks when Stiles allows his aura to flare around him. Stiles conjures a ball of energy, thrumming with his power, and throws it. The Shalnarat tries to dodge, but it’s too large and uncoordinated to miss it completely.

The Shalnarat freezes as it lets loose another shriek before it explodes.

“It looks like I missed all the excitement.” Peter drawls as he steps over a flying piece of Shalnarat.

Stiles sighs as he’s hit with a few loose scales and watches as bits of it come raining down on him. “Yuck.” He mutters just as he feels someone else coming closer. Then he hears the motor of a bike come up the street.

“Scott.” Peter murmurs.

“Yeah. Great timing.” Stiles takes the handkerchief Peter hands him. He can’t do much about the body lying in pieces, but stare at the mess and wish Scott had stayed home.

Scott jumps off his bike and stares in shock for a minute before glaring at Peter and then turning his ire on Stiles. “What did you do?”

Stiles huffed out a breath and cleaned off his face before turning to face Scott. “I dealt with a threat.”

“You can’t just…” Scott frowned at the body. “What did this? It looks like it exploded.”

“Yes. Magic is toxic to a Shalnarat, so this is what happens…”

“Magic? But how?” Scott looked confused, but Stiles could feel when he pushed that away and focus on his anger instead. “I’ve had enough!” Scott shouted.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Scott’s anger and frustration were upfront and overly dramatic, but there was also disappointment in there, too. However, Stiles was beyond caring how Scott felt about anything.

“You can’t keep killing people!”

Stiles looked from Scott to Peter and back to the bits of the Shalnarat’s body. Its tail was dry and cracked from the toxic reaction it had to Stiles’ magic. He felt Peter step closer and looked up at him briefly before turning back to Scott, eyes narrowed. “You’ve had enough? That’s rich. This thing was headed towards the hospital! They eat children, babies!” Stiles snarled. “Are you telling me you condone that behaviour?”

“Of course not. But we could have talked to it and get it to leave my territory.”

“Oh, you could, could you? What about Satomi’s pack to the east? Or the Silvan coven to the west? or the Sleuth northeast of us? Would you tell it to stay out of their territories too? Would you tell Ramon Silvan or Satomi Ito that you let it go?”

“No. That’s not my…” Scott hesitated, probably realizing that wasn’t a good response.

“Not your problem?” Stiles gave him an arch look. “She was caught killing people and eating babies on the way here. It is the duty of whoever is claiming the territory to protect its citizens, and deal with the problem, not just pass it on to a neighbor.”

“He’s right.” Chris Argent said as he came from behind the tree.

Stiles had felt him approach but ignored it to focus on Scott.

“What?” Scott looked confused.

“If you are claiming this territory, you have to protect it, and police the threats. Telling them to leave and ignoring what crimes they’ve already committed or allow them to leave and commit new crimes in a neighboring territory is not policing the threats.”

“We don’t kill!” Scott said again, jutting his chin out stubbornly, and staring from the hunter to Stiles belligerently.

“No, you just ignore active threats and bury your hand in the sand. You’re not a wolf, you’re an Ostrich.” Stiles turned away from his friend and moved away when he heard a strange noise. It sounded almost like a growl, but not exactly, and it was slightly muffled. He turned back to face Scott, only Scott was no longer standing there. Instead, there was an enormous bird, a few feet taller than Stiles. It made the strange noise again and Stiles blinked because…that was an Ostrich.

“Sweetheart, did you do that?” Peter asked curiously.

“No, I did not.” Stiles answered, still staring at the bird.

“Are you sure?” Chris asked, staring at the large bird. “I mean, you called him an ostrich and then…he was one.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes on the hunter. “I guarantee my magic did not do that.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I didn’t do it. However, I may know how it happened.” He looked towards the trees and raised his eyes to the moon and then back to the trees. “Are you just going to leave him like this?” He called out.

Peter and Chris exchanged a look of confusion and were about to ask a question when the sound of laughter reached their ears. They both looked around the grouping of trees but saw nothing.

“Mieczyslaw, I was only trying to help.” The words were spoken before the appearance of a tall woman with brown hair and hazel eyes.

“Bronislawa.” Stiles smiled at her and turned back to the ostrich. “Can you turn him back?”

Bronislawa turned instead to the other two people. “Mieczyslaw, don’t be rude. Who are your friends? It’s been so long since I met a mortal I didn’t have to judge.”

Chris frowned harder but said nothing.

Stiles sighed. “Bronislawa, this is Chris Argent and Peter Hale.” He motioned to each man as he named them.

Bronislawa nodded briefly to Chris but smiled mischievously at Peter. “This is him, then?”

“Ciociu, proszę.” Stiles stared at the woman for a long time before she turned back to the werewolf.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Bronislawa turned her back on the men and faced the ostrich. “He really is less annoying like this. Are you sure I can’t add him to Teodozja’s little collection?”

A second woman appeared and eyed the Ostrich skeptically. “No, absolutely not.”

“Ciocie. This is really not the time for this.” Stiles motioned towards the rapidly decaying corpse of the Shalnarat.

Teodozja looked at the body critically. “You’ve done excellent work with it. Did you focus the power released?”

Chris cleared his throat and stared at the two women. “Stiles…” He wasn’t even sure what he was going to ask.

“Right.” Stiles pointed at the two women. “How about we reconvene at my workshop? You can take the…ostrich. This is not the place for this.”

Teodozja frowned at the ostrich. “You can take your little friend, Broni. I’ll collect our sister and meet you there.” She disappeared before anyone could respond.

Bronislawa scowled at the bird. “Very well. Don’t dawdle, Mieczyslaw.” She too disappeared.

Stiles took a deep breath, half-frustrated and half-relieved. At least she’d taken the Ostrich with her.

“I’m sure I don’t want to know, but who were they and how did they get here, or leave for that matter?” Chris asked, still staring at where they had been standing.

Stiles stared at the hunter. He could feel the confusion and concern from him, but he wasn’t on alert. Stiles was going to count that as a win because that wasn’t an encounter Chris would walk away from, and he sort of liked him, well enough to ally with him on occasion. “You probably don’t want to know. They are not something that would ever be on your radar, and if you were ever on theirs, you probably wouldn’t survive the encounter.”

Chris stared for a moment and then nodded once before looking back at the Shalnarat. “Do we need to dispose of its body?”

“No. My aunt was right. It will break down completely within the next hour.”

Chris took him at his word and nodded. “Okay. Should someone call Melissa? That was Scott, right? I mean he was turned into an Ostrich…I think that’s what I saw.”

“What exactly do you want to tell Ms. McCall?” Peter asked curiously.

Stiles could tell that Peter was more amused than anything else. Stiles was glad because he didn’t want Peter getting aggressive with the Wściekłe. They were fond of him, but they were still Godesses and could be temperamental.

Chris opened his mouth and then closed it. “I’ll leave that to you then, Stiles.”

“If they agree to return him to his human body, he will be home before he’s missed.”

“And if they don’t?” Chris asked shrewdly.

“Then I’ll deal with it, and telling Melissa.”

Chris left without another word. Peter waited until he could no longer hear him before turning back to Stiles. “They are your aunts?”

Stiles shrugged. “Well, my mother was descended from their sister, Reclawa, so it’s more distant, but I’ve always known them, so it’s just easier to refer to them that way.”

Peter hummed. “So, the myth of Empaths descending from deities is true, then?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Teodozja and Bronislawa were not subtle, but he was surprised Peter jumped to Goddesses and not just assumed they were some sort of magic user. “We should get going. They are not patient.”

Stiles brought Peter to a building on the edge of town. He parked around the back and turned off the jeep. He turned to Peter. “I’m not sure how this is going to go. The Wściekłe are unpredictable, and I need you to curb your tendency to engage in a verbal battle of wits.”

Peter smirked for a minute but when he saw Stiles’ expression he sobered. “I’ll behave myself. I promise.”

Stiles snorted and opened the door and climbed out. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Peter followed the empath in, looking around once he had opened the door.

“Try not to touch anything. This is where I make my runic arrays and the occasional potion and other spells.” Stiles watched as Peter inhaled and sorted through the distinct scents.

When they got into the central space, Stiles found Scott was still an ostrich. Reclawa was staring at the bird with an intense look. Teodozja and Bronislawa were circling him. Bronislawa plucked a feather, which caused the bird to make a noise. She examined the feather and hummed.

“Are you going to change him back?” Stiles asked.

“Not yet.” Reclawa frowned. “He’s under some sort of geas, but it’s breaking down.

“Probably something Deaton did.” Stiles stepped closer. The emotions he could feel coming from the ostrich were muted, vague. Definitely not human emotions. He doubted the bird was even really aware of what was going on or who he was. Bronislawa was very good at transmogrification.

“How long has the Darach been dead?”

“Less than twenty-four hours.” Peter offered.

Reclawa nodded. “We can remove the geas completely, or just allow it to wear-off naturally.”

“Can you tell what the purpose was?” Stiles asked as he looked from the ostrich to the deities.

“Hmm. There’s a bit of a muddle in his mind, keeping him from questioning things or looking too closely at some things, but it’s focused on the caster.” Teodozja offered.

“But the primary purpose is to hide the fact that he’s an omega wolf, and bordering on feral.” Reclawa flicked the bird’s head sharply. “The caster masked it with a sort of cloak, overlaying the energy of an Alpha on top of what is his true aura.”

“Can we fix him? I don’t want him coming unglued in public.”

“Is that your only concern?” Bronislawa asked shrewdly.

Stiles huffed. “We’re no longer friends.” Stiles admitted, “But I don’t want him causing a problem either.”

“We can make him human again.” Reclawa offered. “He is still fighting his instincts, and that isn’t caused by the geas, so he’d probably be better off without the wolf.”

“Will he remember?” Peter asked.

“Yes. Taking those memories would over-complicate things, unless he was removed from any elements of the supernatural. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to live in Beacon Hills, or have any sort of connections.”

“We could remove the past few years from his memory, causing him to think he was in an accident and had amnesia. However, he would have to relocate, and if he had any run-ins in the future, it could cause a problem.”

“What about everyone else?” Peter asked. “He isn’t exactly unknown in the supernatural community. What happens if someone comes looking for him, thinking he’s a true alpha?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, that has too many unknown variables. He can keep the memories.”

“What will prevent him from finding an alpha to bite him again?” Peter asked. He raised a brow at Stiles. “He may bitch about the bite ruining his life, but if given the choice, he may not want to go back to being an asthmatic loser.”

Stiles snorted. Peter wasn’t wrong.

“Not an option.” Reclawa said. “We’ll tell him he’ll reject any turning bite. He’d be better avoiding supernatural matters.”

Stiles turned to Bronislawa, “Can we prevent him from telling random people about the supernatural?”

Teodozja grinned. “When we remove what the Darach did to him, we can place a new geas on him, preventing him from talking about the supernatural or getting involved.”

“You'll be immune.” Bronislawa reminded, “but he won't be able to meddle in events further.”

Reclawa nodded. “Let’s get started.” She took each of her sisters’ hands and they encircled the ostrich.

Stiles touched Peter’s hand and motioned him back. “This shouldn’t take long, but we don’t want to interfere.”

“So, who knows about your ancestry?”

“No one.” Stiles shook his head. “Noah knows Klaudia came from magic, but not the source of it. I have told no one else.”

“And your magic…you’re not really a Spark, are you?”

Stiles froze, his eyes looking over at the Wściekłe, still surrounding the ostrich. A faint glow was emanating from their hands where they clutched at each other. Reclawa met his eyes over the distance and nodded briefly before focusing again on the magic between them.

“No, not exactly. No one knows that either.”

“They won’t hear it from me.” Peter promised, feeling satisfied at the trust. “Will you stay in Beacon Hills?”

“Beacon Hills is my home. Besides, I can’t let you have all the fun.”

“All done.” Teodozja stepped back.

Stiles turned to her and watched as there was a bright flash. When his eyes had adjusted, the ostrich was gone, and so were Bronislawa and Teodozja. Reclawa was the only one left. She turned to Stiles and eyed him and Peter carefully.

“Peter, his is Reclawa. Babcia, this is Peter Hale.”

Peter froze for a second and looked at Stiles in surprise before turning back to her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Stiles blew out a breath in relief. He walked over to the bookcase in the corner and pulled out the three grimoires he’d found at Deaton’s.

“Here. I found these at the darach’s place. You should probably take them back.” He handed them to Reclawa.

She looked through them briefly. “I gave these to your mother when she’d finished her training.”

“I know.” Stiles whispered.

“You should keep them.” Reclawa handed them back and touched his cheek. “I know Klaudia didn’t have time to teach you everything, but she would have been so proud of you.”

Stiles blinked away tears and smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Reclawa smiled softly. “I’ll leave you now, but we’ll see each other soon.” She turned to the wolf, “Both of you.” She disappeared in a blink.

“You called her Babcia.” Peter asked after a moment. “Is she your grandmother?”

“Technically, she’s my Great-Grandmother, but my grandmother died before I was born.” Stiles willed Peter to not ask anything else. He was not ready for that conversation.

Peter stared for a moment and then changed the subject. “Where do you think they took Scott?”

“Probably home. They probably dropped him in bed, asleep. So he’ll wake up in familiar settings. Bronislawa might have dulled some of the memories, so they’re not gone, but they’re not up front either.”

“What about the rest of his pack?” Peter twitched.

Stiles grinned. He could read Peter’s disdain for most of them. “Don’t worry, big bad wolf, you don’t have to take them in. There aren’t any other wolves aside from Isaac. Derek hasn’t returned from his trip with Cora, and he wasn’t officially part of Scott’s pack, anyway. So, there’s just Allison and Lydia, neither of which need a pack.”

“And you?”

Stiles stepped closer to Peter, “Are you asking if I’ll join you, Alpha?”

“Will you?” Peter reached out a hand but didn’t touch.

“I think I will.” Stiles moved even closer and kissed Peter softly.