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Chapter Text

Tony Stark wasn't sure where in the world he was – only that Jarvis had informed him that Stark Tech had been located in the hands on non-U.S. Government groups in a space that had lots, and lots of sand, and had then provided him with a flight path to that location. The gunshots started ringing out, pinging off the suit almost as soon as he was in range, but he didn't react save to let off his own shots at the people shooting him. He wasn't planning on staying long – never did – he just came in, took out the bad guys, destroyed his own tech, and got the hell out of there. This time though, something held him back. The enemies that had been visibly threatening the people were dead, his tech was destroyed, but something was happening just on the edge of his sensors. 

“Jarvis, what is that I'm hearing?”

“It sounds like an argument, sir.” Tony rolled his eyes, having come to that obvious conclusion considering the foreign shouts that grew louder the closer he got. 

“Yeah, got that, Jarv. But doesn't one of them sound a bit too – familiar?”

“I'm not quite sure what you mean, sir.” Tony just snorted.

“I mean, one of them sounds American.” Even as he said it he rounded the corner, storming through a doorway and into a room where an interrogation had clearly been taking place, and from the look of the one Tony had called as American, it wasn't going well. The young man was chained into a chair, blood dripping along the side of his face from a cut on his hairline, but Tony could see dozens of other definitely more severe injuries. His interrogator spun on Tony with an angry shout, launching a wicked curved blade at him. The shot was pretty good, the knife should have lodged itself right between the plates of his shoulder, but somehow the knife actually broke on impact, and before the guy could attack again, Tony let off his own shot. The man dropped without another sound. Tony turned to look at the American, who really seemed to be more of a teenager now that he could take a closer look, and the teenager actually grinned at him, revealing bloody teeth. 

“You're Iron Man – I mean, Tony Stark. Man they're never going to believe that this happened back home.”

“Where exactly is home, kid?” Tony asked, ripping up the chains, and didn't miss the whimper the boy gave when his arm was jostled. “Jarvis.” 

“Right away sir.” while the suit scanned the boy for injuries, Tony waited for his answer.

“California. I was doing a program – for uh – learning.” the words were vague, but Tony wasn't surprised considering the readings he was getting. The kid should've been unconscious from the injuries he was seeing, and yet he was grinning up at Tony like it was Christmas. “You gonna take me home, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid. I'm getting you out of here. Just hold on.” Though he knew it would hurt, he couldn't do anything but lift the kid in metal arms, wincing in sympathy at the groans before taking off. Jarvis had already called ahead to the nearest airport where he could commandeer a plane, and he was headed there now. 

They reached the airport in no time and Tony wasted no time grabbing a bunch of on flight blankets, wrapping the kid in them. Then he ran for the medical kit, feeling completely out of his depth. The suit wasn't on anymore, thankfully he'd brought his suitcase version, and so he had full mobility while Jarvis talked him through the multiple injuries the kid had. He felt the plane take off but ignored it in exchange for studying the kid's face. The boy couldn't be any older than 19, and yet here he'd been, all alone in a foreign, hostile country, being interrogated about God knows what. As if sensing that Tony's unspoken questions needed answers, the boy stirred, blinking open hazy eyes. What surprised Tony was how quickly those eyes focused on his, and how quickly the haze was pushed away.

“Wow. Mr. Stark. So it wasn't a dream. You really did pull me out of that hell hole.” Tony just nodded.

“Care to tell me why they were interrogating you?” he asked even as he administered the sedative, knowing it was really the best he could do until they were back on U.S. soil and he could have a team of doctors looking over the kid. He wasn't really sure why he was so invested, except for maybe that he remembered being the captive American, and it hadn't been fun. At least he'd been a full grown adult and a genius at that. As far as he knew, this kid was not so unlucky, or lucky, depending on your perspective. 

“They wanted to know what I'd found.” that caught Stark's interest.

“Found where?”

“I study ancient languages and religions so when I heard about a archeological dig looking for occult objects in Northern Africa I was all over it.”

“Why would they think you'd found something though?” he asked, and Stiles managed a weak grin. 

“Because I did.” ever so carefully, he moved his non broken arm, tugging at a chain around his neck that Tony hadn't even noticed earlier. At the end of the chain was a large, round, flat pendant, with runic carvings in them that Tony didn't recognize. 

“How did your hosts miss that?” Tony asked, skeptical, and the boy just shrugged. 

“They were so worried about the fact that anyone with brains would've hidden it, that they never considered it wouldn't have been hidden.” Tony just shook his head, watching the kid finally begin to fade from the anaesthetic. 

“What's your name?” the kid muttered a bunch of syllables before he was out cold, and Tony just shook his head, taking a photo of the kid's face with his phone. “Run it, Jarvis.” 

>>

When Stiles came to, the white glare of the walls immediately made him think hospital, but the fact that it was somehow quiet had him doubting himself. He blinked his eyes open, wincing at the pain that was finally, finally registering in his brain. The shock and then the pain killers Stark had given him had helped him ignore the pain until then, but now that he was in what he figured had to be a hospital, and there was nothing to distract him, he was aware of just how far he'd let things go. One of his arms was in a cast, clearly broken, and one of his ankles looked to be in the same state. There were bandages all over which had Stiles wincing again. The last time he'd been covered in this much bandage he'd been thrown up by a fox spirit possessing his body – on which point he still wasn't sure if this body was actually his – but that was besides the point. He looked around the room to find it empty, but even as he went to sit up, someone walked through the door.

Tony walked into the room he'd kept the poor kid in, looking at him in a whole new light now that he'd found out everything he could about him. The seemingly random syllables the kid had muttered on the plane had actually been his name, but he went by Stiles Stilinski, and was 19, graduated from Beacon Hills only public high school. He was the son of Beacon Hill's sheriff, mother deceased, and seemed to be adept at getting in trouble. He was attending university in California for Folklore and Chemistry, but had extracurricular interests in Latin, Slavic languages, and from the looks of it, most latin based languages. The kid hadn't been lying when he said ancient languages and religions, but Tony was struck by the Chemistry – why Chemistry when everything else was so different? And from the grades he was getting, he was unusually good at the science. That wasn't the only odd thing about the kid either; while there had been a trip to north Africa on his school schedule, the source of it seemed to be unknown and the funds came from seemingly nowhere. He pushed the thoughts away though when he entered the room and saw Stiles blinking around owlishly. 

“This is the quietest hospital I've ever been in.” were the first words out of the kid's mouth, and Tony couldn't help a laugh.

“You're not in the hospital. This is my house in Malibu. You're on the med floor.” 

“You have a med floor?” Stiles asked, and then laughed. “Course you do. Being Iron Man is dangerous business. That was pretty awesome by the way. Seeing the suit up close? I mean I knew you were good, but wow, the suit's amazing.” Stark smirked, moving to sit in the chair beside the kid. He hated not being able to move, but he figured moving around while the kid was stuck in a bed would be unfair.

“So your Dad's been notified that you're here.” Stiles' eyes widened and he winced.

“Aw man,” he whined, “You called my Dad? I'm 19 you know. An adult! You didn't have to call my Dad.” Tony couldn't help his surprise.

“Most people want their family by their side when they're injured.” Tony said slowly, and Stiles just huffed, flopping back on the bed. They both winced at the pain it caused. 

“Well of course I want him here. But he's such a mother hen. He won't let me walk for weeks. Weeks, Mr. Stark. Do you know what that means? That means more than the average 6 weeks it takes for a bone to heal. It means like – 10 weeks. Minimum. Because he's a mother hen. And that's what mother hen's do.” Tony just smirked again.

“Well when your kid's been tortured by insurgents using Stark Tech, there's pretty good reason to hover.” Stiles just scowled at him.

“Did you tell him that?” he huffed again. “They didn't use Stark Tech on me. God. You're so overdramatic, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony is fine.” Stiles blinked a few times before the scowl transformed into a mischievous grin.

“We're on a first name basis now?” 

“It's not everyday I rescue a kid stealing ancient artifacts from being tortured.” Tony countered, and Stiles shrugged, but the grin didn't fade.

“True enough. You can call me Stiles. Since the name you would've found hacking the government is a bit of a mouthful.” the smile was cheeky then, and Tony actually laughed before reaching into the side table drawer and pulling out the pendant Stiles had been wearing.

“So, you going to tell me what this is?” he asked, and watched Stiles' eyes go wide. 

“You kept it.” Tony frowned.

“Well yeah. I figure if it was important enough for you to be tortured over it was important enough to let you keep. For now at least.” Stiles grinned but reached for it with shaky fingers. Tony handed it over, watching the boy carefully. As soon as it was back in his hands, Stiles seemed to relax again, and his fingers traced over the symbols. 

“It's actually pretty interesting,” Stiles began, eyes never leaving the runes on the circular pendant. It was the size of his hand but it didn't seem awkward under his soft touch. “This amulet is supposed to be able to contain a spell that can bind any elements to each other.” Tony couldn't help his surprise.

“By elements you mean-”

“On the periodic table.” Stiles grinned, looking up. “The spell is literally supposed to allow you to combine any elements you want. Whether it's scientifically possible or not. Of course, you can use it to unbind things too.”

“Sounds like a pretty powerful spell. But that would also be assuming that magic was real – why would they torture you for something impossible to use?” Stiles just smirked at him but pulled the amulet over his head so it sat comfortably against his chest. 

“Just because you don't believe in it, doesn't mean they don't.”

“And you?” the smirk widened.

“I'm always open to new ideas.” at that he shifted, grimacing and reaching the arm not in a cast to scratch between his shoulder blades as if it hurt. Tony frowned, remembering the tattoo he'd seen there, twisting out like tribal marks from where it bloomed on his spine and stretched out to his shoulder blades. 

“That new?” he asked, knowing new tattoos had been known to irritate skin, and Stiles blinked at him in surprise.

“What?”

“The tattoo. On your back.” Stiles just blinked again and then gave a blinding grin.

“Oh. Yeah. Those. Uh. Yeah. New. Got it right before I left for my trip.” Even Tony knew he was lying, but before he could inquire further, the sound of running met both their ears and Tony watched Stiles visibly perk up. Into the room came a middle aged man Tony recognized from his internet stalking as Stiles' father, and he watched the relief wash over the man's face as he rushed to his son's side, completely ignoring the billionaire. He hugged his son carefully but tightly, and Stiles hugged his Dad back.

“Hey, Dad. You didn't have to make the long trip. I'd've been home in a day or two.” His dad just snorted. 

“You, Stiles Stilinski, are grounded for the rest of your life.” Stiles rolled his eyes and met Tony's gaze. See? He mouthed, and Tony just grinned. Mr. Stilinski pulled away from his son and finally turned to face Tony, offering his hand. 

“Thank you, so much, for saving my son.” Tony accepted the hand, nodding his head, feeling awkward. He still never knew how to handle these family moments. Luckily, Stiles broke the awkward moment with a laugh.

“Aw, come on, Dad. You'll make the poor guy blush. It's not a big deal. He only just swooped in in the Iron Man costume and totally swooped me outta there like a total superhero. I think I swooned and everything.” his father's face was reprimanding but amused.

“Don't be ungrateful.” he chided, and Stiles just laughed again.

“I'm not ungrateful! Do you think I'm ungrateful?” he asked Tony, and Tony just put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Don't use me against your father, kid.” Stiles just rolled his eyes but the following smile was soft. Then he was throwing back the sheets and pushing to his feet. His Dad was quick to move to support them, but despite the initial grimace of pain, Stiles gave a beaming grin. 

“Think I could ask you for one more favour, Tony?” since it was the first time the kid used his name like he asked, Tony just nodded. “I'd really appreciate a pair of crutches to get to the car with.” 

He didn't get the crutches, but he did get a ride home in a nice fancy limo with his Dad as long as he promised to be careful and wait until his injuries had at least healed before he did anything else crazy and dangerous. Stiles grinned and promised nothing. 

Chapter Text

Like every time Bruce woke up after having been the Hulk, his brain felt hazy – muddled with images that twisted through his thoughts like sludge. He pushed the images aside, slowly getting his bearings and pushing to his feet, steadying himself carefully before he tried to move around. He ran through a few stretches, making sure his body was fully under his control before he left the room they'd put him in. Room was being generous. Between Tony and Steve, the Hulk had been convinced to go to a secure room when he was going to turn back into Bruce with the promise that it was to keep Bruce safe, and that if anyone ever tried to go against that, they'd stop them. It still amazed Bruce that that had been a good enough reason for the Hulk to do something, but nonetheless, he did it almost every time and so Bruce more often than not found himself waking up inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. 

Once he was sure he was decent, he made his way from the room, looking for one of his teammates. There was always one of them waiting around somewhere. When he saw nobody at first glance he turned to head towards the cafeteria, but that's when he felt it. It was like a pulse against the back of his skull and it had both Bruce and the Hulk at full attention. 

“Let's stay calm until we know what's going on.” Bruce murmured, and felt Hulk grudgingly agree, hunkering down in his mind but still on alert. He turned towards the feeling, making his way down a hallway and moving away from the cafeteria. Bruce never would've thought he was in active danger, or he might have gone to the cafeteria first. 

He made his way deeper and deeper into the facility, following the sensation until it became an itch on every inch of his skin. He paused, leaning against the wall, feeling the Hulk right under his skin, rumbling unhappily. He knew now he should've called for someone, but before he could consider turning back, he heard the strangled scream. The sound set him on edge and without really thinking about what he was doing, Bruce ran towards the sound. He burst into a room down a hall he'd sworn he'd never seen before, but he couldn't think about that, not when faced with the sight before him. 

There were two boys, both probably about 19-20, separated by interrogation glass. One was strapped to a chair looking much worse for wear but he was shouting abuse at the man near his friend who was hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. Bruce did a double take on that one because there was just something slightly off about him but Bruce ignored that, knowing he only had so much time before the Hulk snapped. They were both sensitive to kids being hurt. Since he was on the side of the boy in the chair, he quickly moved over to him, the boy flinching in surprise when he realized Bruce was there.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” Bruce promised, but he hesitated before undoing the restraints. “But I need to know why you're here.” The boy's eyes were hard and angry, the whiskey colour nearly luminescent. 

“They're experimenting on my friend with radiation. I'm collateral damage because I wouldn't let them take him without a fight.” Though Bruce wasn't usually so trusting, the Hulk noticeably approved and so Bruce quickly undid the restraints, helping the boy up. The boy was shirtless but that only made the injuries carved into his skin that much more obvious. Even as he shrugged off his shirt, knowing he wouldn't need it much longer, Bruce caught sight of the tattoo that stretched out from the boy's spine and across his shoulder blades.

“Here.” he offered his shirt to the boy who accepted it hesitantly. Bruce just gave an apologetic shrug. “I'm not going to need it much longer.” then he grew serious. “As soon as you can, get your friend and run. Then immediately go to a hospital. If either of you have been exposed to radiation you need to be treated within 24 hours or it'll be too late.” the boy nodded, shrugging on the shirt, but that didn't stop the worried frown.

“What about you?”

“I'm sort of immune.” the boy blinked at him for a minute before finally nodding, taking an instinctive step back. 

“Okay. Okay which way is the exit?” Bruce just winced again. 

“I'm going to make on.” with that he turned, allowing his anger that these kids had been grabbed for experimentation to flow forward. He felt his own skin stretch, felt the change take over and slipped back behind the Hulk, allowing him to take over. 

>>>

Stiles could only stand in awe as the diminutive man that had released him turned into a giant green rage monster, one Stiles recognized from TV. 

“Hulk? Wait, we're being saved by Bruce Banner and the Hulk?” he managed a grin from ear to ear, though when he tried to laugh it had him gripping his ribs painfully. The Hulk turned his head towards where Stiles stood, and for a moment Stiles was gripped by fear until the other guy spoke. 

“Get friend. Follow.” Stiles nodded dumbly, mustering another smile.

“Got it. You're gonna bust in there, I grab my friend, then you're gonna bust a way out of here for us. Works for me, big guy. Let's go.” Hulk just nodded, and with a big roar, turned, swinging one big fist to collide with the glass that had been separating Stiles and Scott. Stiles immediately ran forward, ignoring the bullets that flew through the air because he knew the Hulk would cover him. Even as he had the thought, he heard the sound of the men who'd kidnapped him and Scott being beaten to bloody pulps. 

“Stiles, are you alright?” Scott's voice was rough with worry and Stiles managed a smile for his best friend. 

“I'm all good, Scotty. Come on. Let's get you down from here. The big guy's breaking us out.” he helped get the ropes off the hook and then untied them, using the little bit of energy he had to clean the wolfsbane from Scott's raw wrists. His tattoos flared with the energy, but before Scott could protest, Hulk was letting out another roar and smashing into a wall, leading the way out. 

“Not so fast, kid.” Stiles turned faster than Scott could, seeing what the hostile man held and threw himself in the way. He felt whatever was in the syringe pump into his system, felt his body immediately begin to rebel. 

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, catching him as he stumbled back, and even as Scott shouted, so did the Hulk, swatting the man aside like a fly. Gingerly, the Hulk lifted Stiles up, poking him carefully. 

“He was injected. We need to get him out of here.” Scott said, too worried about Stiles to consider he was ordering the Hulk around, but luckily the other guy seemed to agree because he scooped Scott up next, loping out of the building through the gaping holes he'd created. 

>>>

Stiles felt himself going in and out of consciousness, and when he finally was able to open his eyes, he found Bruce Banner staring down at him. He opened his mouth to speak but all he could do was cough, and the man immediately had a glass of water, holding it to his mouth.

“Slow down. You've had a rough couple of hours.” Stiles waited until his throat no longer felt like it was on fire to speak.

“What happened?”

“You took a syringe full of radiated wolfsbane.” Stiles' eyebrows winged up in surprise, though it only made him all the more glad that he'd taken the syringe instead of Scott. 

“Wow. That's pretty crazy. Who thinks these things up?” Bruce just ignored him though. 

“I managed to treat you before it could cause permanent damage,” he began, but then he hesitated, and Stiles felt a chill. 

“But what?”

“Your tattoos. They somehow spread.” Stiles' eyes widened in surprise and he lurched up, recognizing he was in a hotel room when he finally got the chance to look around. He stumbled to the vanity mirror, twisting to look at his tattoo. It stretched out from his spine and across his shoulder blades before curling up and around his shoulders, stopping just before they reached his chest and biceps. 

“Wow. Awesome.” he turned back to Bruce, noticing that the man had taken back his shirt, but there was a t-shirt for Stiles on the bed where he'd been laying. That's when he realized that Scott was missing.

“Scott – where's Scott?” he demanded, eyes darting around the room for any sign of his friend, but Bruce put up hands for calm.

“He went to get food. He said you'd be starving when you woke up, and honestly I think it was good for him to have something to do. He didn't seem very good at controlling his nature.” Stiles blinked again.

“His – his nature?” 

“Yes. His werewolf nature. Once I realized it was wolfsbane that had been treated, and that alongside the Other Guy's reaction to your friend, it wasn't hard to deduce.” Stiles just dropped back on the bed, looking exhausted.

“Wow. Well I guess that cover is blown.” Bruce just gave a soft smile.

“It really is quite fascinating, but you don't have to worry. I won't tell anyone. I understand what it's like, being in danger because of what you can become.” Stiles just nodded slowly, absorbing the words, before a slow smile crept across his features. 

“I guess you would. By the way, the Hulk? Super awesome. I mean, that guy's incredible.” Bruce inclined his head, but he could feel the other guy's satisfaction at the genuine praise. “If it wasn't for him, we would never have made it out of there. So thank you. Both of you.” Bruce didn't have words to respond to the genuine thanks and was saved from having to find some by the werewolf returning.

He left the two boys when he was sure Stiles wasn't showing symptoms of radiation poisoning and wasn't going to, and then made his way back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. He was met by his team, but he deflected their questions with vague non-answers, claiming amnesia as he usually felt when it came to the Hulk, and never spoke of the two odd boys to anyone. 

What he didn't forget though, was how they'd been held in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, and he decided an investigation was in order. 

Chapter Text

Steve stared at the kid in front of him in disbelief, not knowing what he should do, or where he should go. He had been wandering the streets of Paris, having split off from Sam over an hour ago, since the latest lead for Bucky had lead them there, but when the gunshot came, instead of feeling pain, he felt the weight of a body falling into him. He'd immediately grabbed the person and moved for cover, ducking into a side street while people screamed and ran in a panic. The moment he had the chance, he found himself face to face with a young boy, probably in his early 20's if he was even out of his teens, who was grimacing in pain, blood spreading through the thin material of his shirt from an obvious wound in his shoulder.

“Vous avez besoin de l'aide.” Steve said, and the boy just made a face at him.

“My french is rusty. Do you speak English?” the boy responded, voice cracking with obvious pain, and Steve nodded.

“You need medical attention.”

“Yeah, tell that to the guy who just shot me.” Steve winced, knowing that the boy was only shot because he'd gotten in the way of himself, and yet that on its own was odd as well. Bucky had always been a good shot. Bucky as the Winter Soldier was excellent. Ignoring that thought for the moment, he pulled off his jacket, tying it around the boy's shoulder and under his arm to keep pressure on the wound. He glanced out into the street, and when no shot automatically, helped the boy to his feet. 

“Come on. We need to move.” he tugged the boy after him, wanting to get him to someone with proper medical training since it was his own fault the boy had been shot, but the boy tugged him back.

“We shouldn't go that way. It's too open. Come on. Through here.” without even waiting for a response, the boy turned and lead Steve to a door nearly invisible to a passerby, and Steve was hit with the realization that there was much more to this boy than he'd originally thought. That didn't stop him from following though, because even if the boy's appearance had been intentional, he'd still taken a bullet meant for Steve, and that deserved some form of courtesy. He followed the boy through the building and into an underground storage space. The room had no immediate exit other than the way they'd come, but before Steve could become suspicious of a trap, the boy was waving at a shelf. 

“Normally I'd move it myself, but,” he nodded at his shoulder and Steve just nodded, pushing the shelf to the side and then following the boy down into the tunnel. He had a flashlight then that Steve hadn't seen earlier, but it wasn't worth questioning. Then the boy stumbled, groaning when his bad shoulder hit the wall, and Steve rushed forward to steady him. 

“Are you okay?”

“I'm losing a lot of blood.” the boy murmured, looking pale, and Steve realized that his jacket was nearly soaked through. The boy tried to stand but then he stumbled again and Steve held him up carefully so he wouldn't fall over. 

“We need to get out of these tunnels. You need a doctor.”

“These tunnels – they lead to the centre of the city but it's like a maze under here. You won't be able to find your way out alone.” he fished a phone out of his pocket and offered it to Steve. “Call Chris Argent.” the phone nearly slipped out of his fingers but Steve caught it, quickly finding the contact Stiles had directed him to and dialling the number.

“Stiles, this isn't a good time.” came the gruff answer from an obviously older man, but Steve ignored that, though he did note the unusual name of the boy currently barely conscious in front of him.

“I'm sorry sir, this isn't Stiles.” the change was immediate; the tone became threatening, authoritative. 

“Where is he and who are you.” it wasn't a question but a demand, but Steve wasn't offended. Despite the gruff answer, it was clear that whoever this man was, it was someone Stiles trusted, and vice versa. 

“Stiles is here, with me. But he's injured. He was shot by an asset known as the Winter Soldier.” the words burned his tongue but he kept his voice even. “My name is Captain Steve Rogers. The shot Stiles took was intended for me.” the words were a reminder of just why he was here, and the response was immediate.

“Where are you?”

“Stiles lead us into these tunnels, but he's barely conscious. He needs medical attention but wouldn't let me take him to a doctor.”

“The tunnels are the fastest way to help and he knew that.” was the gruff response. Then the phone was obviously moved away from the man's mouth as he spoke to someone else in the room. Luckily for Steve, he could hear the words regardless.

“They're in the tunnels. Do you think you can track them? Stiles' needs medical attention.” 

“I can do it.” was the confident reply, then a slightly more worried - “Will he be okay?” 

“If we get there in time.” then Chris Argent was back on the phone, talking to Steve. “We're moving to your location. See if you can keep pressure on the wound until we get there.” then there was a pause. “Is this really Captain America?” the voice was disbelieving but coloured with hopeful awe, and Steve gave an affirmative. 

“It is. You have to hurry. Stiles just fell unconscious.” the man, Chris, made an affirmative noise before hanging up and Steve turned back to Stiles, crouching down. What surprised him was how the boy's eyes opened, looking up at him, seeming amused.

“M'not unconscious.” Steve noticed then that the boy's eyes were the colour of whiskey, a beautiful golden colour that seemed to almost glow. He wondered if he'd ever be able to recreate that colour with his pencils. “Are they coming?” the words were beginning to slur but there was nothing Steve could do so he just nodded.

“Yeah. Argent and someone else – sounded younger.”

“Prob'ly Isaac.” Stiles murmured, eyes fluttering closed, but Steve reaching out, giving a gentle shake.

“Come on, Stiles. It's better if you can stay conscious.” the boy's eyes fluttered open and he managed a smile.

“Better keep me talking then.” he managed, then his eyes focused on Steve with an intensity that Steve hadn't expected. “How 'bout you tell me what Captain America is doing in France? Last I heard, you were still wearing the stars and stripes.” Steve just gave the boy a look.

“Why don't you tell me? Something tells me that bullet isn't in your shoulder by accident.” Stiles just grimaced.

“Really? Poking at my wound?” Steve lifted a brow, unimpressed, and Stiles managed a grin. “Okay, okay. Yes, I purposefully took a shot meant for you. Because it's more likely that I can be saved from a shot to my shoulder than you can be from a shot to the heart.” the frank words had Steve blinking in surprise.

“But how did you know I was going to be shot?” he was trained military and he hadn't even noticed Bucky up on that roof until the kid had been hit.

“Scary accurate foresight.” Stiles provided, and though Steve was skeptical, he didn't push it.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” then he grimaced. “Usually I'd say anytime, but I'd really rather never take a bullet again in my life.” at that, Steve managed a chuckle.

“Fair enough.” then he was frowning again. “The man you had me call, Argent, he didn't sound happy you called.” again, Stiles grimaced. “Why was that?”

“Because he and Isaac – they're part of our family. But Allison, Chris' daughter – something happened to her. She – she was dead. It's complicated.” the boy's eyes looked haunted. “She died. Or well, we thought she died. Now we think differently. But Chris and Isaac, they were already gone. And nobody could reach them. So I came to France, because we need them back.”

“But he answered my call.”

“I found the people they were staying with and left my number. Said I would be calling and that he'd answer or else I'd raise hell.” Steve frowned.

“But then-” he paused, thoughts spiralling. “Was this the first call?” Stiles nodded and Steve just frowned.

“Did you plan this?” the question was asked slowly, not really fully believing, but Stiles just stared at him with big round eyes. Suddenly it all made a twisted sort of sense. Stiles saved his life, yes, but he also created a pressing reason for Argent and Isaac to see him, and not only that but he'd used Steve as a mediator so that the others would be too worried about Stiles to hesitate. “That's quite the foresight, son.” Stiles just managed a weak smile.

“It hurts.” and Steve couldn't tell if he meant these supposed glimpses into the future or his shoulder. He reached out, putting pressure to the wound despite the small whimpers the boy made. He could hear footsteps now, in the distance, running towards them. “I'm sorry. That I tricked you into helping me.” Stiles looked genuinely sorry, but the heartbreak in his eyes had nothing to do with Steve. “But we need them. We can't survive how we are. It's too broken without them, and I don't – I don't want anymore of my friends dying.” Steve could only stare into the sincere gaze of the boy in front of him, realizing that every word rang painfully true. He was missing a lot of details, that much was clear, but he understood the heartbreak he saw. It was what had brought him to France in the first place. 

“I understand.” Stiles clearly relaxed, but didn't say anymore because seconds later, two men appeared, or well, one man, and a young man about Stiles age. They both crouched down beside him, taking in Stiles' bleary smile and Steve's grim expression and blood soaked hands. 

“We need to take him out of these tunnels.” Steve said, and the older one, obviously Argent, nodded but turned to Isaac. 

“Do what you can.” Isaac nodded, and despite Stiles' protests, he reached for Stiles, one gripping the junction between neck and shoulder. Steve watched in wonder as black veins wound their way up Isaac's arm, saw Stiles gasp, eyes wide, and Isaac grimace. The veins receded but Isaac was still frowning, fingers brushing across the top of Stiles' injured shoulder. 

“We need to move.” Isaac said, glancing at Argent. “It reeks of blood in here now. It won't be long.”

“Long until what?” Steve asked, and watched Argent and Isaac exchange a glance. Before either of them could speak though, Stiles spoke up. 

“Animals. There are rabid animals down here. Usually I know how to avoid them but I fell under the weather faster than I expected.” Steve looked at the others in alarm. 

“I'll carry him.” he quickly scooped Stiles up despite the boy's protest. “Lead the way.” the other two exchanged another look, which was really beginning to becoming irksome, before Isaac took off in the lead, Argent waving Steve to follow before bringing up the rear. They'd only just started going though when the howl echoed through the tunnels. 

“Are there wolves down here?” Steve asked, voice tight, and Stiles nodded. 

“Yeah. Weird, huh? Apparently that's a thing here.”

“And you still travel down here?” he asked, incredulous, and behind him Argent gave a dry laugh. 

“Stiles has a very pour sense of self preservation.” 

“I resent that comment.” Stiles muttered, and Isaac snorted.

“But you don't deny it.” Stiles opened his mouth to deny it before closing it with a snap. Steve managed a tight smile.  “Alright, through here.” Isaac pointed, stopping short to tug open a door that looked to be made of concrete. Steve blinked in surprise because the boy was tall but slim and didn't appear nearly strong enough to have hauled the slab of concrete out of the way. He didn't have time to question it though because he heard another howl close by and he was darting through the opening, the others following him through before Isaac pulled the slab back into place.

“Where are we?” Steve asked, and Argent took the lead now, waving Steve to follow.

“This is my family's home.” Argent explained, and Steve was beginning to grow suspicious of this family. “Bring him upstairs. Isaac, get the first aid kit.”

“Stiles needs a doctor.” Steve protested, expecting the boy to agree, but when he looked down, the boy's eyes were closed, head lolling back against Steve's shoulder, face ghostly pale. “Stiles?” the boy didn't answer and Steve had no choice but to follow after Argent, finding him in a bedroom. 

“Put him on the bed and hold him still.” though Steve did set Stiles down, he was frowning. 

“This isn't a good idea. He needs proper medical care.” Isaac appeared then, passing a large metal box to Argent and taking a pair of scissors, cutting off Stiles' shirt. The tattoos spread across his skin became visible then, and Steve was surprised by them. He hadn't expected tattoos. They seemed to just curl around his shoulders from what he could see, though he assumed there was more on the back from the way they curved, but the thick, tribal marks were fascinating.

“It's not that simple,” Isaac said, snapping Steve from his thoughts. “Stiles had you call us because he new we could help without anyone else getting hurt.” he pulled Stiles forward gently, checking the back of his shoulder. “Bullet's still in there.” Even as he said it, he moved onto the bed behind Stiles, Stiles slumping back, boneless, against his chest. He banded his arms around the other, nodding at Argent. 

“What do you mean, others getting hurt?” Steve demanded, no longer satisfied with the vague answers, and Isaac sighed, obviously giving in despite Argent's look of disapproval. 

“Please don't freak out.” Isaac said, almost begging, almost fearful, and so Steve nodded. Argent huffed out a breath, obviously annoyed but not willing to argue. He moved forward, one hand holding Stiles' shoulder steady, and then grabbed a pair of stainless steel tweezers, digging into Stiles' shoulder. Steve expected Stiles to wake up screaming, maybe sob, cry and curse – what he didn't expect is what happened. Stiles did wake up, eyes going wide with pain, but rather than what he expected, Stiles gritted his teeth and his whiskey coloured eyes turned the colour of molten bronze, glowing bright. His hands moved to grip Isaac's even as the burnt glow began to spread along his tattoos. The glowing eyes turned to pin Steve in place even as the boy's face twisted into a grimace. 

“You shouldn't be in here.” Stiles gritted out, voice hoarse. “It's dangerous.” Even as he said that, the lights in the room flickered before exploding when Argent pulled the bullet out. Steve wasn't leaving though – not before he knew what was going on. 

“Rogers.” he immediately moved over to Argent, curious, and ignoring the intensity of Stiles' gaze as he watched him cross the room. “I can't touch his skin anymore.” Argent admitted, and Steve saw Stiles wince. “Either you have to hold him still or stitch him up.” 

“Why can Isaac touch him but not you?” Even as he asked he looked towards Isaac, surprised when he saw that Isaac's eyes were now glowing too, though his were bright yellow.

“I'm not – I'm not completely human. Chris is.” Steve knew he was well and truly lost, but glancing at how tightly wound Isaac's arms were, and Stiles' white knuckled grip on his friend's hands, he reached for the needle and thread. 

“Ready?” he asked, and Stiles nodded. Steve could see the sweat beading on the boy's skin, a physical sign of his pain, but he didn't hesitate, making the first stitch. The moment his fingertips touched Stiles, sparks of electricity shocked his skin, but he ignored it, hearing instead the choked sound Stiles made, but then Steve was done. He watched as slowly, the glow faded, and Stiles slowly eased away from Isaac, wincing apologetically.

“You okay?” Isaac just smirked.

“You'd have to do a lot worse than that to hurt me.” Stiles just gave him a look but then he stood, turning towards Steve.

“Thank you. For helping. And for, you know, getting me to my friends.” Steve nodded, eyes doing a quick trace of the tattoos he'd seen stretching across the backs of his shoulders, noticing how now they looked like regular black ink. 

“Care to explain what I just saw?” he asked, and Stiles looked between Argent and Isaac, but neither of them made any argument so he sighed. 

“I'm a Spark. It means I have a connection with all forms of energy. Natural energy is stronger, but it can be man made as well. I can sort of – manipulate it.” knowing better than to doubt something that made a lot more sense than most of the magic of this new age, he just nodded, looking to Isaac. 

“Are you a spark too?” Both he and Stiles shook their heads. 

“Sparks are rare. There aren't many of us in the world. We tend to be killed off before our abilities manifest because once we start to learn, we're hard to kill. Isaac's a werewolf. Bitten, not born.” Steven blinked in surprise. 

“Werewolf?” Before his very eyes, he watched the boy's appearance shift, ears extending, claws forming, hair growing own the sides of his face. He shifted back just as quickly and Steve could only stare. “Werewolf.” he stated, amazed. “That's incredible.” he looked back to Stiles. “Is that why you want everyone back home? Is it – is it a pack of werewolves?” Steve asked, mind running a mile a minute. Stiles shifted, almost looking uncomfortable as his gaze flickered around the room. Despite the fact that they'd stopped glowing almost as soon as the injury had closed, they still seemed unnaturally bright. 

“That is part of the reason, yes. We –” he looked away from Steve and towards Argent and Isaac. “We're a family. And yeah, we've fucked up, and we're fucked up, but that doesn't change the facts. We miss you guys. And we need you to come back.” there was a moment of silence during which Steve couldn't help but think of what Stiles had told him in the tunnels. 

“What about Allison?” the others stiffened at his words and he saw both Argent and Isaac looking between him and Stiles.

“Allison's dead.” Argent's jaw ticked with the words, but Stiles shook his head. 

“No, we don't think she is.” the silence was suddenly deafening, and he wondered if this is what it had felt like for Sam and Natasha when he'd seen Bucky for the first time again. 

“How?” the question came from Isaac who was suddenly so very quiet, and Stiles turned to give the softest of smiles, showing that the hope was warranted. 

“She's been spotted around town. We aren't sure what exactly is going on, but the people who've spotted her aren't people who knew her. But when they gave her description – well she's the only one it could be.” there was another moment of silence followed by soft hope. 

“How can we be sure?” Stiles winced, seeming embarrassed.

“We – we dug up her grave. She's not in it.” To Steve's surprise, neither of the too seemed surprised in the least. Instead they just looked at each other, a soft smile blooming on Isaac's face as he regarded his friend, Argent's hard expression softening. “So – so will you come back?”

“Well, I'm sure you boys are likely to have found yourself some trouble already.” Chris noted, and Stiles didn't doubt for a second that he meant himself and Scott. His grin was sheepish. 

“It's not like we went looking – it just sort of found us.” Stiles muttered, and Isaac laughed. 

“Suppose you'll need our help to get out of it then.” Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I'm sure your excellent fighting skills are exactly what we need.” the words were dripping with sarcasm and in an instant Isaac was off the bed and grabbing Stiles, wrapping him in a headlock. Stiles gave a shout of surprise, trying to squirm his way out of it, but obviously not getting anywhere. The rough play soon turned into a hug though, and Steve felt sort of like a voyeur watching both boys sort of cuddle into each other.

“We'll come back. Of course we'll come back.” As soon as he said the words, Stiles gave a gasp, and Steve watched as the tattoos lit up faintly, soon dripping like ink as they flowed farther across his skin, reaching over his shoulders and onto his chest where they formed and connected to an image of a full moon directly over his heart. They didn't spread down over his biceps though the tendrils turned as if to reach in that direction. When the tattoo stopped expanding, the glow faded out and Steve could see the surprised joy on Stiles' face. Steve could only imagine what the moon meant; that the pack was going to be all back together. It was beautiful really. Steve knew he should leave but wasn't sure how, and when he felt Argent's eyes on him, he turned his head to meet his gaze.

“Thank you. For your help. I understand you have somewhere else to be.” Argent said, and Steve nodded, making to move towards the door. Before he could get far though, Stiles had disentangled himself from his friend, hurrying over, snatching up the bullet that had been in his shoulder on the way. He clasped it in his hands and the tattoos once again glowed softly for a moment. When they faded, Stiles handed Steve the bullet. 

“Give this to him. You can't let him forget his past.” Steve frowned, unsure if the boy meant it maliciously, but his eyes were earnest enough, and so hesitantly, Steve placed it in his pocket. Stiles just smiled. “Good luck.” 

Steve couldn't help but hear the words of luck as he once again wandered through the streets of Paris, rolling the bullet in his fingers. He still wasn't quite sure how he felt about returning the bullet, since he didn't know why Stiles had directed him too, but at the same time, he didn't believe that the boy whose only goal had been to reunite his family would act to destroy Steve's friend. Regardless of said friend's actions. He caught sight of the motion this time and immediately turned towards the alley that Bucky stood in the mouth of. The gun was levelled in Steve's direction, and before he could even think about what he was doing, he tossed the bullet.

“You missed earlier, jerk.” out of reflex, Bucky caught the bullet, eyes flickering down to look at it, before his whole body froze. Steve felt a moment of panic, and doubt at Stiles' intentions, but then the gun was being shoved back in it's holster as Bucky looked back up at him, blue eyes wide and filled with pain.

“Steve.” Bucky's voice was rough and Steve didn't think twice before crossing the road so that he was next to his best friend, pulling him into a tight hug. “I remember everything. I'm – I'm sorry.” the words were pained, and it reminded Steve of what Stiles had said. He'd been telling him what the bullet would do. Remind Bucky of his past. He sent up a silent thanks before pulling back, giving Bucky's shoulder a shove.

“Nothing to be sorry for, except maybe ruining Sam's wings. He loved those things.” Bucky just stared at him in disbelief, and Steve let his smile soften. “Come on, Buck. We're going home. We'll figure things out as they come. Just like we used to.” he offered his hand and watched Bucky's gaze flicker from meeting his own, to his hand, to the street around them. Before Steve had to worry though, Bucky just took his hand, and it was as if all the tension fled from his body, if only for a moment. As they walked down the street together, hand in hand, Steve could've sworn he saw Stiles' whiskey eyes smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head to look there was nothing there. Steve just gave Bucky's hand a gentle squeeze, and kept on walking. 

Chapter Text

“This is reckless.” 

Clint just made a rude sound, continuing to drive through the (comparatively) quiet streets of Beacon Hills. He was too used to New York, he realized. But he wouldn't admit that to Tasha. 

“Hey, if they didn't want us coming in and busting their asses in a small quiet town, they shouldn't have come in the first place.” Natasha just shot him a look and he smirked but wisely didn't comment further. Instead, he pushed a button on the steering wheel and dialled their handler.

“Barton. Romanov. Status?”

“Everything's quiet here, sir. We haven't seen anything out of the ordinary yet. Any pings on the network?”

“No. We haven't received any signals from the code in over 12 hours.” Natasha and Clint shared a glance. 

“Should we pull out, sir?”

“Negative, agent Barton. Stay for another night. Whether or not the code is there, they still have a base. It needs to be taken care of.” 

“Got it boss.”

“Romanov.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to see what you can get from the sheriff. His reports on the most recent murders and missing persons in that town have unusual.”

“Do we think he's hydra?”

“It's unclear. Find the files. See if there's something not being put in the system.”

“What kind of unusual we talking, boss?” Clint asked, and there was a pause followed by the sound of rustling papers. 

“Some of the dead and some of the missing persons – we've had our eyes on them. Either to assess their threat level or to consider recruitment.” Natasha and Clint exchanged another look, this one frowning. 

“We'll check it out.” Clint promised, and that's when his eyes caught movement. “Gotta run, sir. I think we've found our first hydra agent.” with that he ended the call and easily pulled into a parking spot, sliding out of the car. 

“What did you see?” Natasha asked, and Clint gave a sheepish grin, waving at the old fashioned pizza parlour.

“Pizza, Tasha. Gotta have pizza for a stakeout.” Natasha rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Following her partner into the pizza place. She slid into a booth as he went to order the pizza, and realized her partner had placed them in a direct line of sight with the police station. At the sight, she couldn't help but wonder why the sheriff of a small town might be involved with Hydra. She'd given the files of all police employees in the town a cursory glance and from what she'd seen of the sheriff seemed rather upstanding. He was widowed, wife having passed away over ten years earlier from illness, and single dad to a single son just out of high school. The son was currently at home and from surveillance, seemed to take great care in making sure his dad ate well enough to live a long and healthy life. The more she thought about the son, the more she realized they may be looking in the wrong place. While the sheriff was almost always either at home of the station, the son disappeared for days on end. Theory forming, Natasha pulled out their laptop, turning it on and turning on the encryption so nobody could see what she was seeing without having to break through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s, and therefore Stark's, software. She turned so that her back was to the wall, avoiding any unsuspecting strangers glancing details over her shoulder, and then pulled up everything they had on the sheriff's son and was quickly realizing that he was someone they needed to seriously look into. Almost all of the bad or dangerous things that had occurred in Beacon Hills had Stiles' name on it in some way or another. His medical reports were also consistent with someone who could be pursuing the kind of training of a person thinking of joining her own line of work. When Clint sat across from her, waiting for their pizza, she closed the laptop.

“I want to look into the son.” was all she said, and Clint didn't argue. Instead he sent a text to Coulson asking for the boy's location and a minute later he received the response, showing the text to Natasha. The kid was at home.

“Still got time to wait for pizza.”

>>>

The two assassins waited until after dark to approach the Stilinski household. The sheriff had the evening shift and according to Coulson, the boy should've been home alone. Both assassins knew that was untrue the moment they reached the front door. Though the door was closed, neither missed the drop of blood on the welcome mat. Testing the doorknob, they weren't surprised that it was unlocked, but they were no longer certain if the boy was Hydra. The front hall was a mess, clear signs of a struggle, but despite what they expected to find, the house was completely empty. 

“Hey, Tasha.” Natasha moved from her sweep of the kitchen to stand in the doorway to the backyard which backed onto the woods. The backdoor was wide open and Clint nodded to the muddy ground right outside the door, layered with footprints. There were the clear prints of the boy, flat footed sneakers, covered with layers of military issued combat boot prints. The boy had obviously run out the back door, at least a dozen agents on his heels. The two exchanged a glance. This was no longer a capture and question mission. It was a rescue. Silently, they both took off, following the prints. What both were wary of though, were the canine prints that seemed to be running under all the other prints alongside the boy. As they followed the path, they passed 4 hydra agents down – but the most chilling part was how their throats were literally torn from their bodies. The farther into the forest they got, the more the sounds of a fight became clear, and soon nothing could hide the sound of gunshots ringing out. Natasha drew her second handgun, watching Clint trade gun for his bow. When they reached the edge of the trees, obviously having reached the clearing in which the fight was happening, they once again exchanged looks. Clint lifted a brow, questioning, but Natasha shook her head, nodding in the other direction. Clint just shrugged, obviously deferring to her idea. Decided, they both moved, circling around the edge of the clearing while staying in the cover of the trees. They took down any agents that had stayed hidden, but the shots being fired in the clearing hadn't slowed and moments later they both heard the yelp and whimper that meant whatever type of canine was with the boy had been hit. 

“Derek!” a young voice shouted with worry, obviously the boy, and that settled it. Clint's jaw set at the sound and even though Natasha couldn't see him, she knew what her partner would do. Preparing herself, she launched into the clearing, Clint already there, smashing a man across the face with one end of his bow before spinning it over and behind his shoulders so it was back in his shooting hand so he could draw an arrow and shoot it across the clearing with deadly precision. Natasha followed suit, guns blazing, and soon enough it was only her, Clint, the boy, and most surprising, a wolf, left alive in the clearing. Natasha's eyes flickered between the wolf and the boy, watching the boy do the same; look at the wolf, and then at her and her partner, anger burning in his eyes. Clint moved first, lowering his bow and taking a step towards the wolf who had blood spilling down its side, and both the wolf and the boy snarled. 

“Stay away from him.” the boy ordered, and Natasha felt nearly dizzy as a rush of energy hit her. She blinked the feeling away, eyes narrowing on the boy, but he didn't seem to be displaying any signs that showed he knew just what he'd done. Clint, however, wasn't deterred.

“We aren't Hydra.” he said seriously, and the boy just rolled his eyes.

“Obviously.” that had both sets of eyes narrowing at the boy, the wolf just making a huff sound that seemed to amuse the boy for a second before his eyes were once again on Clint in Natasha, eyes blazing. “You're Hawkeye and the Black Widow, formerly with S.H.I.E.L.D., currently with the Avengers. Unfortunately, the only proof you might actually be on my side is from the battle of New York and even that is sketchy at best. Of course you saved the world. You live in it too.” Natasha chose that moment to lower her weapons as well, amused. She liked the boy.

“If you don't get your wolf medical attention, he's going to die.” the boy's face grew pinched with worry again as he looked down at the wolf, the wolf returning his gaze. They seemed to be having a silent conversation which had Natasha both curious and suspicious, before Stiles looked back at them. He looked from Natasha to Clint before finally huffing out a breath. 

“I'm only choosing to trust you momentarily because I know you have a soft spot for animals.” he aimed that comment at Clint who returned the comment with a smirk and a nod. 

“I'll carry him inside.” Clint offered, and Stiles stilled, making it clear he didn't want them inside this house. 

“No, my first aid kit is in my jeep.” both assassins frowned, not having seen the jeep at the boy's house, but then Stiles was hurrying to the left, and they both saw the blue siding of the jeep hidden in the trees. “Hurry up.” he snapped, and both moved, Clint carefully lifting the wolf and Natasha remaining by his side as they moved to the jeep. When they got there, the tailgate was open with enough space to lay the wolf out on a blanket that was obviously stained with more than a little blood. He reappeared beside them with the first aid kit and glanced once more from the wolf to Clint before shoving the kit at Clint. “Your hands will be steadier than mine.” he admitted, and both noticed now how the boy's hands shook, and had been shaking since they'd first caught sight of him.

Clint ignored the boy then, focusing entirely on the wolf with the bright blue eyes staring at him. The blue was unnaturally bright, nearly luminescent, but that wasn't important, what was important was the pain in them, and the very obvious worry as the wolf's gaze switched between the boy and himself.

“Alright, I've gotta get the bullet out. Hopefully it isn't too deep.” Clint didn't know why he was talking to the wolf, whether it was for his own comfort or the wolf's he wasn't sure, but he continued on easily. Making sure his hands were clean with the disinfectant in the kit, he then grabbed the thin set of pliers there, wondering briefly if their existence in the kit meant this wasn't a first time thing. As gently as he could, he moved the fur out of his way which was mostly matted down with blood, and was grateful that he could actually see the silver glint of metal in the wolf's hide. Carefully, he reached in with the pliers and grabbed the bullet, pulling it out as smoothly as he could. The wolf whined in pain and the boy reacted immediately, moving to stand at his head and rubbing comforting hands through the fur between and behind his ears. When the bullet was out, Clint reached for the stitches, but Stiles waved him away.

“Don't do that. He hates stitches. He'll just tear them out. It's easier if you just leave it.” Clint frowned, about to argue when he realized he couldn't even see the hole anymore through the fur and blood and the wolf was already moving to stand, ignoring the pain as if he'd never been shot in the first place. The wolf leapt down from the back of the jeep and what came next Clint never expected; the wolf actually bowed, a front paw reaching out in front, head lowered so the nose was nearly to the ground before standing straight again, keeping between them and the boy. “That was his way of saying thank you.” Stiles informed them, and Clint just nodded dumbly.

“Yeah, no problem.” the com in his ear buzzed then, and neither he or Natasha missed how the wolf's ears twitched as if he heard the sound too. 

“Barton. We got a ping. Somewhere in the middle of the preserve. There's only one address listed on the preserve but it's undergoing renovations.” Coulson was saying, but both assassins just looked at the skeleton of a house looming behind the boy and his wolf. Rather than answer, he allowed Natasha to pull out her phone and reply with a text, not wanting to alarm the boy, though it seemed the wolf was aware of the voice in his ear. He saw the wolf shift, fur just barely brushing the boy's hand, but the boy reacted immediately, going on the defensive and retreating from them.

“Look, we appreciate the help, but you really shouldn't be here. This is private property.”

“Yes. Hale property, but you're not a Hale.” curiously, the wolf bristled at that, but the boy ignored it.

“I'm friends with the only Hale in town. I'm helping with construction.” the boy said easily, but Natasha just narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer. The growl that ripped through the air was a warning, and Natasha stilled, eyes now trained on the wolf, fingertips brushing against the holsters of her handguns. “Look. You showed up, you helped with the Hydra goons, and you helped with the medical stuff, but we don't need your help anymore.”

“We aren't here to help you.” Natasha returned, and Clint winced at her choice of words, watching both boy and wolf bristle. Strangely enough, the danger vibe he was getting though came from the boy. 

“I've had enough of people trying to hurt my friends.” the boy snapped, and boy was Clint's danger meter going haywire. “I know what you're here for, but you can't have it. In the last week, there have been 6 attempted kidnappings, 3 attempted murders, 4 attempted maimings, and 2 attempts at torture, all to get this thing, but you know what? Every single one of them who tried to get to me and my friends, didn't even get the chance to warn their buddies not to follow their stupid lead.” now the wolf wasn't growling at them but turning to comfort the boy, keeping a wary eye on the spies but leaning carefully against the boy to soothe his ire. 

“Are you trying to say that you took down every person whose come looking for Zola's code?” Natasha asked, not bothering to deny what they were there for since the boy obviously knew. The smile that she got in answer was sharp and dangerous. 

“I had a little help.”

“Stiles!” the voice was female and neither assassin had heard or seen the girl coming, both instantly having a hand on a weapon. The girl who appeared in the doorway of the Hale house though was a small, soft, pretty young redhead, though her sharp eyes showed what a mistake it would be to think she was weak. The danger seemed to seep from the boy as he relaxed, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah?”

“They could help.” Stiles scowled in answer, but the redhead just lifted an imperious brow and Stiles made a sound of defeat.

“Fine.” he snapped, turning back to the assassins. “Lydia thinks you can help, but if you so much as even look at them the wrong way, I will erase you from existence.” though that sort of threat usually wasn't something that either took seriously, the thrum of power that rushed through the air with the words had both exchanging wary glances. Once the threat was said though, the boy completely relaxed, even offering them a smile before he stepped out of the way and gave a welcoming wave towards the house. “Now that we're working together, let's give introductions. I'm Stiles, this is Derek,” he motioned to the wolf, “That's Lydia glaring at me, and inside working on the code is Danny, our tech guru.” the words had Lydia rolling her eyes, but it was fond and Natasha and Clint exchanged glances. This was looking more and more like a group of teenage vigilantes. 

“What are you doing with the code?” Natasha asked as she stepped up beside Lydia, walking beside her as they went inside.

“We're altering it. The way it is now is too dangerous. Anyone can access it and whoever has it can basically destroy everyone else's electronic files. Or collect them. Depending on what their purpose is.” the words caught both assassins by surprise because the automatic expectation would be that the kids would be using the code to protect themselves, not changing it to protect everyone. “When S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and Hydra decided to come out of hiding, we realized that the illusion of safety we had in our small town was just that, an illusion.”

“Well, ignoring the fact that we haven't been out of trouble since high school,” Stiles added, bringing up the rear as they all went upstairs. Lydia just ignored him though.

“What we're trying to do is make the virus self containing. Whatever it touches, rather than getting unlimited access to everything, will become completely cut off. Become individual closed networks.” Natasha couldn't help but be impressed by these kids, her initial impression once again proving faulty. It wasn't often that she read people wrong, but with these youth, it was pleasantly surprising. They reached a room at the back of the house that made Clint feel like he was stepping into a computer and he immediately felt on edge.

“Yeah, I don't like it either.” Stiles muttered, obviously having read Clint's discomfort. "In fact, I think I'm next to useless in here cause while I have mad research skills and average hacking skills, I know next to nothing about altering code as complex as this. I'm going to keep an eye out for more Hydra agents.” the wolf gave a huff of agreement and they both looked at Clint. Clint in turn looked to Natasha who gave a nod. With a shrug, Clint accepted the silent invitation, following the wolf back out the door, Stiles beside him.

“So, what brought you to Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked, breaking the silence once they'd left the house, and Clint wondered how much he should tell the kid. Then he thought, why the hell not?

“We thought your dad might be Hydra.” there was a moment of silence before Stiles burst out laughing, laughing so hard he doubled over barely able to breathe, tears in his eyes. The wolf just seemed to roll his eyes at Stiles' antics, but also looked amused. 

“My Dad, Hydra. God, he'll love that.” he laughed until he managed to calm down and then struggled to control his giggles. 

“Then we thought you were Hydra.” Clint finally added, and that had Stiles looking thoughtful.

“Makes sense.” he admitted, and Clint frowned at him. The look he got in return was earnest. “No, it really does. I disappear for days on end with no documentation of where I am or could be. My name pops up in a lot of police reports cause I've often been first on the scene to the various dangerous crimes in the last couple of years, if I wasn't somehow involved. Then there's my medical history, which looks pretty consistent with someone training to fight and kill. Not to mention the fact that there was an explosion listed as one of the incidents, and I'm taking chemistry at university. It really isn't that hard to see.” then he smirked. “I'm not, though. Hydra. If I was, killing them would be kinda counterproductive.” Clint just rolled his eyes. Though the things the kid had listed were the exact reasons they'd suspected him of being an agent, or at least in training, having met the kid he knew he was the last type of person to work for that kind of group. He was the kind they broke. Not the kind they trained. The thought had him wincing internally, turning at the sound of rustling in the trees. His bow was out and an arrow was nocked in a matter of seconds, but before he could release it, Stiles was scrambling forward. 

“No, wait! It's Scott.” on cue, a boy who looked the same age as the rest of the kids stepped out of the words. He looked far more built than Stiles did, making Stiles look practically gangly in comparison, but he had a puppy look about his eyes that made him too innocent looking to be dangerous. “Hey, Scotty! Whatcha doing here? We've got everything under control.” the other boy, Scott, just rolled his eyes, but it too was affectionate. Clearly all of the kids were used to Stiles' antics. 

“Your house is a mess. Your dad's going to kill you.” then Scott was frowning, and between one second and the next, he was right beside Stiles, moving so fast Clint barely had time to register the movement. “Stiles, you're bleeding.” Stiles blinked and then frowned, obviously not believing his friend until he saw where Scott was reaching. Now that Clint could see the kid's back, he could see how the red hoodie was dark with blood, right along the bottom of his ribs along his back. “Let me see.” Scott ordered, and though Stiles heaved a sigh, he shrugged off the sweater, and then, with a self conscious glance at Clint, pulled his shirt over his head. Though he hadn't initially thought Stiles would be the type to be self conscious about anything, the moment the shirt was off, Clint understood the hesitation. Across his back was a tattoo that stretched out from his spine and across his shoulder blades before curling up and around his shoulders. When he shifted so that Scott could get a better look at the gash along his back, Clint saw that the tattoos curled onto his chest where they connected with an image of the moon directly over his heart. They didn't stretch down onto his biceps though they were clearly meant to eventually, but what was most interesting to Clint was that in the centre of the image of the moon, there was a celtic knot in the shape of a wolf's head, and it wasn't in black like the rest of the tattoo but deep, dark red. 

“Nice ink.” Clint said, and saw the fierce, proud grin flash across Stiles' face. 

“Thanks. Taken me a while to get them.” something about the words sounded odd, but Clint shrugged it off. 

“I'm curious though, the wolf knot – the rest of it is a continuous pattern. Why isn't the wolf?” Stiles' grin softened, and his eyes almost seemed to glow with happiness. 

“It's because I found the love of my life. His spirit animal is the wolf.” the words had Scott snorting out a laugh but the boy otherwise stayed quiet, still examining his friend's would. Clint though was still stuck on Stiles' words. The way he'd said the love of his life made it sound so much deeper than the words implied, and despite how ridiculously cheesy Clint knew it sounded, he couldn't help but think of it as if the boy was claiming to have a soul bond with someone. He shook the thought off since he wasn't sure he even believed in that sort of thing, but clearly the boy did, and that sure was something. Before Clint could think of a reply, Natasha, Lydia, and the boy who'd never actually spoken but he assumed was Danny, stepped outside, a triumphant grin on both of the youth's faces. Natasha was equally as pleased, but for her, it was all in the eyes. 

“We did it. Natasha may have called Tony Stark for a bit of coding advice, but we did it.” Danny said, speaking the first words Clint had heard from him, and he looked thrilled. In reaction, Stiles grinned back, immediately stepping away from Scott despite the boy's protests, and towards Danny making grabby hands. Danny didn't even hesitate to hand over the flash drive, and Clint saw Natasha twitch as if to grab it, but she too was curious as to what Stiles would do with it. What neither of them expected was for Stiles to hide the drive between his palms and close his eyes, mouth pursing in concentration. Before their eyes, the tattoos took on a soft golden glow and Clint's eyes widened in disbelief. Looking at Natasha, he could see she was just as shocked. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Stiles opened his hand only for them to find a perfect pale gold arrowhead. He looked around at his friends who all nodded before turning to Clint.

“Here. You should keep this. You're more likely to need it than we are. But it can only be used once, okay? And only by you. And I mean you you.” he impressed, and Clint was starting to find this kid more than a little unnerving. “So, don't use it unless it's like “the world is about to end if I don't use it” moment.” Clint accepted it, not really sure what to say. Luckily, Natasha had no such problem.

“You're just giving it to us? You threatened us before and now you're just handing it over.”

“Yeah well the old code was dangerous to everyone and all the time. This is dangerous once. And only at your partner's discretion.” he gave a sheepish smile. “No offence, but I still have my reservations about you, Widow. Hawkeye on the other hand lead you into a fight just because he heard Derek in pain.” his smile widened, grateful. “That is something I trust.” Clint nodded, fingers closing around the arrowhead. Natasha took that as her cue to lead the way away from the group of young adults, and Clint just saluted the kids before following after her.

“Stay out of trouble.” he tossed back at them, and grinned when Stiles' full laughter followed him into the woods. 

Chapter Text

Stiles was chained across the stump of the Nemeton and he cursed his awful luck. He should've blasted the druid to hell but instead he'd given it the benefit of the doubt and the Druid had trapped him and his spark with these chains. Stiles was fairly certain the Druid meant to sacrifice him – and to Loki of all god-like figures – and Stiles cursed his luck again. He tugged against the chains and the Druid turned. 

“You can't escape these chains. Your own attempts to struggle feeds them. Soon enough though, your spark will be mine – relieved from having to exist within your weak mortal self.” Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“My mortal self? And what exactly does that make you?”

“I studied the ancient arts – from the old ways of the elves, light and dark.” the Druid murmured, hands splayed out dramatically, but even bound Stiles could feel how weak the link between the Druid and magic was. 

“Yeah, okay buddy, if this is a competition, I studied under magic users from all over the world who knew magic older than that of the dark elves – the dark elves weren't the first. Didn't you know? They were second at least.” the Druid snarled and Stiles felt the small flex of power in the earth but he just rolled his eyes. “Please. The only reason we're in this position is because I gave you a chance not to be an asshole. You blew it. Obviously.” The response he got was knife being drawn and without any hesitation the druid cut a line down his chest, right along his breastbone, and Stiles cried out in pain, cursing up a storm. The druid started chanting, moving to draw the knife along the inside of Stiles' arm, and he snarled this time, blood staining his skin. As the blood flowed, Stiles saw the storm clouds beginning to gather, and for a brief moment he felt panic. What if the ritual actually did work? He had a brief flash of the Spark being ripped from his body – of the cruel grins on the trickster god's face as well as the Druid's – and then set his jaw. He would not go down so easily. Despite the pain, he twisted his wrists around to grip the chains, and as the Druid turned his face up to the gathering clouds, brandishing the bloodied dagger, he gathered the chains in his hands, gripped his Spark, and tugged. Even as he felt the shudder through the ground and the chains, the first bolt of lightning struck, and Stiles couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do if the god appeared after all. He closed his eyes, using the energy to see so he could focus, and gave another tug. He felt the chains crack and grinned without opening his eyes. The rumbling thunder began then and behind his eyelids, Stiles could see the energy in the sky building, see it reaching it's peak and begin stretching towards the ground like a cyclone, the earth shuddering now from the new energy rather than his own. Stiles knew he was growing weaker but he ignored it, knowing it was now or never. Gritting his teeth, he gripped both the chains and his Spark as tightly as he could, and gave one last tug. The chains disintegrated in a burst of dust and as the god landed from passing through the bridge of energy, Stiles took the dust from the chains used to bind him to then bind his wounds until he could escape. He felt dizzy from the amount of his blood now soaking into the Nemeton, but he still moved, sliding to his feet and supporting himself on the stump. He placed a palm flat against the Nemeton and waited for the dust to clear. 

“Oh Great Loki, I present you with the blood of a Spark as sacrifice in deference to your mighty power.” Even as the Druid spoke the words Stiles tried to slip back, moving around the Nemeton and away from the settling dust. He was not out of sight though when the god became visible, and he saw red rather than green. Even as the Druid saw him free and moved to rush towards him, the god finally spoke. 

“Who would dare to summon my brother?” The booming voice was angry and threatening and Stiles took another step back. He knew who Loki's brother was, knew of Thor, but nowhere did that mean he wasn't a threat. 

“I have offered blood for a boon, oh mighty Thor.” the Druid simpered, and Stiles watched the Thunderer stand taller, looking down on the Druid. 

“Whose blood do you offer?”

“The blood of a Spark.” he looked towards Stiles who curled his fingers into the wood of the stump, watching as Thor frowned. 

“Why would you offer the blood of another? Is not the purpose of calling one such as my brother to demonstrate the power you hold within your own veins?” Though Stiles had intended to slip away quietly, that Thor was just asking the questions was infuriating him. Who was he to consider Stiles as sacrifice?

“He called your brother here to steal my Spark for himself. He wants to be able to live on the Hale land, where the power is old and runs deep. He wants to destroy my family, my pack, because with no pack, there's nobody here to stop him from stripping the earth of it's power. I'll be damned if I let either of you destroy what's mine. God or not.”

At the words, Thor turned his gaze on the boy the Druid had presented, finally taking in his appearance. He wore only a pair of denim jeans, otherwise bare save for the three slashes on his skin smeared with what appeared to be dust, and the tattoos that spiralled across pale skin. The power that thrummed through him was to Thor, awe inspiring. The three cuts were obviously made by the Druid and the bloodied blade, stretching vertically down the boy's chest and from his elbow to his wrists. The tattoos that spoke of his power though, that twisted with a story only visible to those with the ability to see the Spark itself, were, in Thor's eyes, most intriguing. Directly over the boy's heart was a celtic wolf knot, the boy's wolf mate's name inscribed there in the curves in light as pale as that of the moon. Around it was a full moon, that sang with the moonlight, and spoke of the pack the boy had named himself a part of. Outward from the moon curled the stories of much pain, and learning, and beauty – the path along which the boy had tread to reach where he was. They curled out from the moon and back over his shoulders beyond Thor's view, before reaching down, never disconnecting, over his biceps and twisting all the way down to where they became a single tendril along the inside of his wrist, pointing towards his palm. Though he could not see the boy's back, he assumed the design connected there, as there was clearly a pattern of knots and there was a power to be found in the endless. 

Despite his appearance though, it was clear to Thor that the boy's strength was failing, and a decision needed to be made. 

“Is this true?” he looked at the Druid who looked suddenly on edge, suddenly as if he were as likely to flee as if to attack. 

“He is a blight of nature.” the Druid snarled, though neither Thor nor Stiles missed how he all but shook with fear even as he spat his rage. “He wastes his power serving the beasts that live here rather than serving the natural way.” 

Stiles watched Thor give a mirthless laugh, hand tightening it's grip on the hammer that Stiles only just realized had been in his hand since he arrived.

“What is it to serve nature if it is not to serve the ones she created to live in this world?”

“Werewolves are a blight. Just like him.” Even as he said the words, Thor heard the shouts approaching, and so did the others, both Druid and Spark tensing.

“Stiles! Stiles!” the voice was male and panicked, and it was followed by another voice shouting the same name, just as panicked, though younger. Before any of them could respond, two men burst into the clearing, even as other shouts of the name rang out behind them. The Druid acted before any of them could even react, tossing the bloodied blade that sang with power and anger as it flew threw the air. Even as the blade was thrown though, Thor was caught by the boy's – Stiles' – reaction.

“You will not hurt my pack.” even as he said the words the energy he contained glowed nearly too bright for Thor to look at, and then suddenly the knife had changed course – and because blood required blood – the knife slammed home into the boy's thigh. It seemed he'd chosen it to hit there because while he gasped from the pain, bright eyes filling with tears, he didn't stumble, despite how the others called out for him. But he just put up a hand to stop them, jaw set.

“I'm going to give you a chance to leave. To retract your request for a boon, and find a home somewhere else.” there were growls of disapproval from the wolves that were slowly gathering on the southern edge of the clearing, behind the boy and farthest from the Druid. 

Thor watched it all, fascinated. He could see that the boy was not the alpha – apparent by the wolf with the red eyes that stood with the other wolves, and yet even he deferred to the Spark, trusting him to protect them. It was a brave and noble thing for the boy to do, offer the Druid his life when he had every right to it. Thor turned his gaze on the Druid, and the moment he saw the dark light in his eyes, knew that what could come next was only darkness. He watched the energy gather in a swift motion and lash out, and even as it did the hammer came forward smashing into the Druid's chest and sending him flying, through the trees with a crunch of bones. He spun quickly, hammer moving to his belt as he hurried towards the Spark who'd gone deathly pale. Despite the growls from the wolves, he still lifted the boy quickly, despite his protests. 

“The Druid has poisoned him with his foul magic. I can remove it, but in order to do so we should not be out in the open as we are. Not where the Druid's magic still lingers.” There was a moment of pause before the oldest wolf stepped forward. 

“Follow us.” and then the oldest wolf stripped his clothing and Thor was giving chase to an actual wolf. Soon he found himself approaching a house, and there were more people there, clearly part of the pack. Nobody seemed surprised at his appearance, stepping aside to allow him to follow the wolf inside. He found them in a living room and set the boy down on the couch. He was still conscious but barely and caught Thor's wrist before he could pull away. 

“You have to pull the knife out. I can convert the energy to electricity – but there's too much for anyone else. It would kill them.” Thor nodded, hand closing around the hilt. 

“You are sure?” Stiles nodded and Thor watched the energy. When it settled where the blade was, he braced the boy's leg and tugged the blade free. The boy's jaw clenched shut and Thor felt the electricity snap through his arm. 

“Can you heal on your own?” Thor asked, not ever having met a Spark before. The boy shook his head. 

“I need bandages.” Even as he said it, the wolf who'd lead Thor to the house appeared with gauze, ripping the jeans clear of the wound before wrapping it. 

“Thanks Derek.” Thor looked between the wolf and the mate mark on the Spark's chest and realized this was said wolf. He knew better than to speak on it though – thought it better perhaps to question about the Druid.

“Why did the Druid think my brother would grant him your Spark? What could he have to offer my brother in return for that?” Boy and wolf exchanged a glance before the energy in the boy surged and shimmered with power, an amulet appearing around his neck. Though the script was old, Thor recognized it, and he reached forward without though, touch brushing against the metal. He noticed how both boy and wolf were tense but didn't pull back.

“This was a very powerful object.” Thor noted, and the wolf frowned.

“Was?” Thor looked at the wolf and nodded. 

“Yes. The power within this amulet is weak with time.” he paused, reading the runes. “Where did you find this?”

“Africa.” there was a hesitancy to the word but Thor just nodded.

“It is incredible, but impossible to use as it is.” the boy was watching him warily and Thor wondered if he'd heard the offer in his words. It seemed the boy had though because he ever so carefully pulled the amulet off over his head, gingerly setting it in Thor's palm.

“Can you fix it?” he asked, and Thor nodded, folding the amulet into his clasped hands. Though he was no expert on magic, he understood enough to know what had happened to the amulet and how to fix it. It wasn't so much a solution of adding power as coaxing the old magic forward. Thor closed his eyes, listening to the whispers of magic surrounding him; from Mjolnir, from the boy's Spark, and finally from the amulet. He allowed his mind to reach out, returning the whisper with whispers of his own, and spoke out loud only when the amulet began to respond to him. 

“Can you hear it?” Thor asked, fixing the boy with his gaze, watching how he tilted his head, eyes flashing momentarily brighter. Then the whiskey coloured eyes widened and the boy was leaning forward, fingers fluttering just above the amulet. “You have only to speak to it, and if it deems you worthy, it shall answer your call.” Stiles nodded, the wonder in his expression so child-like that Thor couldn't help but smile. He allowed the boy to take the amulet back and listened as the boy's Spark sang to the amulet and the amulet sang back. The energy came forward until it glowed as it would have when the runes had first been carved. 

“Wow.” Stiles breathed, pulling the chain back over his head so the amulet itself was once more resting against his chest. “Thank you.” Thor inclined his head.

“I have never seen a power quite like yours.” Thor admitted even as the rest of the pack filtered in. He could see the questions forming in the boy's eyes, but even as he saw them, he heard the crackle of thunder, the power flickering around them. 

“I must go. Heimdall must have news. It was an honour to meet you, and your pack.” he left without waiting for a response, brow furrowing. For Heimdall to be calling him, it must be urgent. 

With Derek's help, Stiles made it to the window, watching Thor disappear just as he'd appeared, travelling on the energy bridge. When it disappeared from sight, Stiles turned his gaze to the amulet, listening to the magic flowing through it. Even as the pack started giving him flack for getting caught again, Stiles just listened to the tune. The magic was dying to be used, and he wondered if he'd get the chance. 

one month later

The pack all sat together, shocked by what they were seeing on the television. The Avengers were fighting an army of robots – but unlike with their usual foes, this time they were losing. Stiles' mind was spinning – he recognized all of their faces, and the pain he saw when their faces were caught on camera, was a pain he recognized. Even as he thought this, the news signal cut out, the mechanical voice coming through the speakers. 

“I offer you freedom.”

Even as the words were spoken, Stiles was on his feet. 

“We have to help them.” his pack stood as well, and it was Derek who stepped forward.

“How?”

Stiles grinned, and the amulet shimmered into view even as the plan spun together in his mind. 

“I have a plan.”

Chapter Text

They were all exhausted. They were beaten and bloody and cracking in places, and despite their best efforts, it didn't look like they could win. Tony's suit had literal cracks, metal split from the last battle. Bruce was still Bruce, and they had no way of knowing if the Hulk even could come back. Both Clint and Natasha held themselves well but it was obvious that they were both exhausted, slightly stiff from injuries. Steve stood, covered in rubble dust and blood, shield missing from his arm. He kept reaching for it before wincing as he remembered it was missing. Even Thor looked exhausted, the hammer appearing for the first time like a heavy weight in his hand. They could hear and feel the energy coming, the rumble in the ground, the mocking tune that seemed to hum through the air. 

“Alright team,” Steve began, straightening his shoulders. “Stick together. They're going to try and get us away from each other to pick us off one at a time. If we stick together we have a better chance.” there were grim nods all around but the air was tense with the knowledge they were all unlikely to make it out alive. Steve turned to look at his team, managing a grin. “It's been an honour.” Even as he said the words, he heard the sound of metal cutting through air – and the tune was unbelievably familiar. He turned, hand coming up, right in time to catch his shield being thrown at him. 

“You dropped that, punk.” the sound of Bucky's voice had warmth rushing through him and this time the grin wasn't forced. He wasn't sure how Bucky had made it through Ultron and his army, but somehow he had and now he was here, slinking over to place himself at Steve's side. “Still not backing down from guys bigger than you.” Bucky grumped, and Steve managed a laugh even as the robots came over the ridge of the cliff. Swarming up. 

“Knew you'd be here to have my back, jerk.” was the reply even as guns were drawn. Even as the first rounds were shot, a sudden hum filled the air.

“Thor?” Steve asked, but the demi-god shook his head, frowning as the hammer flew back to his hand after knocking several robots off the cliff face. 

“I do not know where this is coming from – but I do recognize this new power as magic.”

“We thinking it's on our side?” Tony asked into the coms as he fired blasts of energy at the never ending flow of robots. Thor cocked his head, curious. 

“I recognize this energy – I've felt it before – it's-” his words were covered by the Hulk's roar as the green giant leapt over their heads to smash into the front line. Before anyone could ask Thor to repeat himself, a pulse of energy appeared behind them in a bright light, and as suddenly as they'd been alone, there were wolves leaping from the light, snarls coming from their throats as they surged towards the robots. Behind the wolves, a gangly figure all but tumbled out of the light, and they all heard muttered cursing. 

“Really? Fire? He didn't think to warn me?” a voice they all recognized grumbled, and there was a pause where all eyes seemed to turn towards the boy yanking off the scorched remains of his shirt. He grinned at the shocked faces on the superheroes in front of him, air around him crackling with power. 

“We thought you guys could use a hand.” then his attention turned to the wolves and the grin grew sharp. “On three!” he shouted, and the wolves, instantly pulling back to surround the team. “One.” the light behind the boy had disappeared but now his tattoos appeared in stark relief against his skin. They curled up and around his shoulders and down his biceps, curling all the way down to where they became a single tendril along the inside of his wrist, pointing towards his palm. Where they curled over his shoulders they reached onto his chest where they connected with the image of the moon directly over his heart, a celtic wolf knot etched in it's centre. Around the moon, the swirls continued down his chest, creating a point so that it looked like an inverted tangled triangle from his shoulders to his navel. “Two.” the energy crackled outwards from the boy, seeming to reach out to each wolf. “Three.” on cue, the wolves howled in unison, and the wave of the energy that surged outward shorted all the robots that had reached their level. “And clear.” Stiles ordered, the wolves immediately moving to push the robots off the cliff, and Stiles moved forward, moving to stand in the middle of the group. “Okay, not that you guys aren't incredibly awesome and genius, but your plan isn't working. We need Ultron to appear.” 

“Then what, Stiles?” Tony asked, and everyone looked at him in surprise. Before the questions could be asked though, Stiles pushed forward.

“Then I've got a two step plan.” the air around him shimmered and the wolves returned, creating a circle of protection around the team as an amulet appeared around Stiles' neck. 

“You still have that arrowhead?” Stiles asked Clint, and the archer nodded, clicking the settings on his bow and pulling out an arrow with the pale gold arrowhead at it's tip. “Great. When Ultron appears, that needs to hit him. As soon as that happens, I'll use this.” he gestured at the amulet and gained frowns from everyone but Tony and Thor. 

“It seems too easy.” Bucky stated, and Stiles' smile was more of a grimace.

“Magic is never easy.” Stiles admitted, and his tone was chilling. There was a growl from the wolves and Hulk and they all turned to see Ultron leading a new wave of robots, the wolves instantly leaping forward. Nearly faster than the eye could see, Ultron knocked the single black wolf out of the air, grabbing a blonde wolf by the throat. 

“Derek! Isaac!” Stiles shouted, and before anyone could stop him he ran forward, revealing his back and how the tattoos reached back over his shoulders stretching to attach at his spine. Reaching down his spine, starting beneath his shoulders, there were 10 infinity knots; 1 was deep red, 2 were navy blue, 4 were burnt gold, a single burnt orange, and the final 2 were pale purple. And every inch of ink glowed like sunlight. The energy sparked along his skin, hair standing on end with flickering energy. His hands flew out to the sides, hands in fists. Then his hands opened wide before sweeping them around in the air. “Don't. Touch. My. Wolves.” the words were snarled as his hands clapped together and Ultron released Isaac, stumbling a step back as Stiles stormed forward, the earth all but reaching up to consume robots at his motions. 

“Clint! Now!” the arrow flew forward, and Ultron caught it before the tip could touch him, but with a motion from Stiles the arrow lost it's form, gold melting onto Ultron. The robots began to lash out with less choreography and more violence, and the Avengers surged forward to protect the boy even as they watched the amulet lift itself off the boy's neck, floating in the air in front of him, glowing like the tattoos. None but Thor understood the words the boy all but sang, watching in near horror as the robots seemed to be coming apart – liquifying, separating, becoming no more than small particles of matter. The sudden silence was blaring, and nobody could help but stare at the youth, arms outstretched, glowing with power, and surrounded by tiny pieces of what had once been their enemy. It was awing, but awe quickly turned to horror as the tiny particles slowing began to move towards the boy before speeding up – obscuring him from view – but all of them could smell the scent of fresh blood that came from boy invisible from view. The wolves pained howls were chilling and all they could do was wait, tense. As suddenly as he'd disappeared, he came back into view, the particles nowhere in sight, the amulet completely gone, tattoos all outlined with fresh blood. The cuts healed as the glow faded and they all waited with baited breath as the boy turned, eyes luminescent. The smile he gave spread slowly across his face, looking pleased but exhausted.

“We did it.” his eyes faded to their regular whiskey colour that shone with relief. He gave a laugh and then looked to his wolves who'd padded over, obviously exhausted. “They're not used to having that much magic channeled through them.” Stiles offered as way of explanation, then he blinked, slowly shifting so he was standing straight, a frown marring his brow. “Actually, neither am I.” with those words, the Avengers watched the boy's eyes roll back in his eyes before he dropped in a dead faint. With some shock on the part of certain heroes, the Avengers watched the black wolf suddenly become a man just in time to catch the boy. Then bright blue eyes were turning up to look at the heroes. Even as he caught the boy, the rest of the wolves shifted into human form, and the one with the red gaze spoke.

“Is there somewhere he can rest?” even as he said that, the werewolf who'd caught the boy rolled electric blue eyes.

“Preferably before he can get himself into more trouble.”

>>>

Stiles opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the New York skyline behind a mass of fur he was clearly in the centre of. The wide grin was immediate and impossible to contain. 

“This is becoming a habit – me passing out and waking up on Stark property. People are going to start thinking the worst of you, Tony, after all, I'm only 21.” he sat up carefully, not at all surprised to see the whole group of heroes relaxing on the other end of the room. Though his smile remained, his gaze was sharp as it looked each of them over. “Everybody okay?” he asked, and he was rewarded with various expressions that were unimpressed. Even Derek finally reacted, giving a snuff, head butting into Stiles' side so he'd lift his arm and allow Derek to rest his head in his lap. 

“Are you okay?” the question came from Steve, and Stiles nodded, slowly untangling himself from the wolves so he could stand. 

“Me? I'm totally fine. I've just got – well I was actually going to ask you, Tony. Got anywhere to store raw materials in bulk?” there were frowns passed around and Stiles started fidgeting. 

“Why?” it was Bucky who asked and so Stiles turned his attention on the assassin. 

“Because I've got all of the elements I tore apart running through me and despite the fact that I've momentarily changed them to energy form, it actually really hurts and I'd like to get it out of my body.” then he gave a blinding grin. “It's good to see you joined the good fight though, I really didn't want to take anymore bullets meant for Steve.” he said it with a wink and it had everyone shaking their heads, prompting Stiles' grin to widen. “I guess you've all come to the conclusion that we've all met.” there were nods. 

“We hadn't yet had the chance to share our experiences,” Bruce said mildly, and Stiles' smile softened. 

“No problemo, I can explain as long as someone shows me where to drop this stuff off.” that had everyone moving and soon Tony was leading everyone down to his workshop, wolves following behind as if they'd never actually been asleep. After only the few touches of a button, the floor pulled away, revealing what seemed to be an endless chasm. “Aw man, this is sweet.” then he grew serious. “Alright, everyone stand back.” Not knowing what was going to happen, they all did as he advised, moving back until Stiles nodded and then turned towards the pit. They all watched in horror as the edges of his tattoos all grew bloody, the liquid dripping along his skin as the metal particles seemed to pull themselves from his body, coalescing into blocks before floating into the pit to find homes. The boy didn't make a sound, and though his skin all but ran scarlet he didn't move an inch. When it was done, the cuts healed themselves, but then the boy finally moved, and it was to sway. The wolves all surged forwards, the black wolf, Derek, once again becoming human in time to catch him. The heroes watched the words exchanged through looks alone. 

“Well, as cute as this is, I for one would like to know just when you took a bullet for Cap.” There was a huff and the wolf with the red eyes changed back.

“Me too.” Stiles looked sheepish.

“It's not a big deal, Scott. It was just in the arm.”

“Shoulder.” Steve corrected, and Stiles shot him a look.

“Really? Not helping.” he turned back to Scott. “To be fair, if I hadn't taken the bullet, he'd be dead. What happened was, tall dark and dangerous over there was getting tired of Captain Rogers chasing him around like a love sick puppy and decided to take a shot at him.”

“So of course you jumped in the way.” Derek said, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Well yeah, it was either that or watch Captain America bleed to death. Not really on my bucket list. Plus, he helped with bullet removal so fairs fair.” Steve nodded, agreeing with the story. 

“How did you meet Dr. Banner?” at that, Stiles' smirk dropped.

“When Hydra was still hiding inside S.H.I.E.L.D. they used to collect the supernatural to run tests. Scott here is a true alpha, not many of those around, but when they tried to take him I tried to stop them. Course, I wasn't as powerful then as I am now. They were going to experiment on him using radiation, Dr. Banner must have sensed it somehow and between him and Hulk, we got out safely. Even patched me up afterwards.”

“I'm sensing a pattern here.” Tony noted, and Stiles just stuck his tongue out at the billionaire.

“Hey, becoming a badass isn't easy. Speaking of badass, we met your two super spy agents when they were doing a job in my home town, trying to find the code we'd stolen from Hydra. Of course, Hydra doesn't like being stolen from and when they showed up to try and steal it back, Derek got hurt and these two swooped in to save the day. We helped each other with the code, and voila, everybody won.”

“Hey, wait! I remember that!” Tony tried to interject but Stiles waved him off. 

“I met Tony when I was looking for that amulet I used against Ultron. He found me being tortured by some friendly guys who wanted the amulet for themselves. Anyways, Tony swooped in, kicked butt, and got me out of there.”

“And Thor?” Natasha asked.

“Right, Thor. This Druid was going to sacrifice me to Loki and give him the amulet in exchange for ripping the Spark from my body and giving it to the Druid. Thor appeared instead.”

“Aye, it is so.” Thor agreed with a nod of his head. 

“Where are the rest of your friends?” Natasha asked, and it was clear she meant the humans.

“Back home. As awesome as they are, it was safer for them to stay behind.”

“And now?”

“Well we'll be heading home soon ourselves so they won't have to worry.” that got lifted brows.

“Are they often left behind?” Stiles just laughed.

“Not even half the time. Not even a quarter. More like a 16^th. Which they find perfectly reasonable.”

“Even Argent?” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Even hunters know when they're outgunned.” he stepped away from the edge finally, drawing Derek with him. “Plus, it's not like we aren't going back. You guys don't need us here anymore and to be completely honest New York's a bit big for us anyways. Isn't that right, guys.” there was fond exasperation, but none of his wolves argued with him. 

“Stiles, you and your – werewolves – were instrumental in defeating Ultron. We could definitely use your team in the future.” Steve invited, but Stiles shrugged. 

“Fun fact, we actually do go by pack, not team, but I don't know if that's such a good idea. Plus Lydia will totally kill me if we don't head back. She gets irrationally worried when I don't check in.” he said fondly, and not at all annoyed. Obviously it had been a recurring issue.

“So you're just going to what – open another portal and jump back to Beacon Hills?” Tony asked, and Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“Nah, I figured you totally owed us a trip home in one of your fancy jets for saving the world, don't you think, Tony?” the billionaire just heaved a hard done by sigh but he pulled out his phone, tapping away on it. 

“There. Flight's in an hour. Car should be here any minute to pick you up.” accepting the words, Stiles turned to the wolves, and the others could only watch as they communicated without having to say a word. 

“Right then. That's us out of here. You know where to find us.” and he sauntered off, wolves quite happy to follow along. As soon as they were out of sight, Clint spoke up.

“I like him.” and the words were met by Natasha smacking him over the head. 

>>>

Stiles stepped off the plane behind everyone else, the only one of them not bothered by being so far off the ground and grinned at the sight waiting for them. There was another limo like the one that had taken them to the airport, and waiting in front of it were the avengers. 

“We figured we owed you and the ones you left behind a thank you.” Tony said with a smirk of his own, and Stiles rolled his eyes. They were obviously in for more than they'd bargained for, having helped out international superheroes, but when Derek took his hand, the exasperated eye roll fond, he figured it was probably worth it.