Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite all that Castiel had done and prevented, there were a few things that he couldn't stop or fix. The breaking of his Grace and falling was one of those things. Short of stealing someone elses Grace (which they were in short supply of now with the lose of angels) or having someone higher up repair it, there was nothing he could do to help himself. He knew he was going to keep getting sicker and weaker until eventually he simply—faded and ended up in The Empty. There was no easy fix or short cut for a falling Angel.

The Winchesters, particularly Dean, didn't really want to believe that.

“There has to be someone who can help you Cas!” They had this argument many times, it got to the point where even Sam just tunes them out and turns away. He was to busy researching something for their next job anyway. Dean didn't look like he was going to back down this time however. “I know you said only a goddamn Archangel can repair your—Grace and in that line we're really short in people. Michael and Lucifer are far from out of the question, Raphael is dead and who the hell knows where Gabriel is but—there has to be someone.”

Castiel's expression remained impassive, staring blankly at Dean from his place on the couch. The TV had been muted for his speech, one Castiel had heard many times, and like always he responded in the same empty tone. “I cannot return to heaven the way that I am and no one will answer my call. There is no Archangel to answer my call, Dean. You must let this go.”

The only Archangel he knew left was—unknown. They all assumed him dead actually, having left heaven nearly eighteen years ago. Just vanishing actually, and it was Michael who had declared him dead to the rest who wanted to know where their brother was. Michael who launched his own investigation into the Archangel's disappearance, on his own, and then came back declaring him dead. They had—no reason not to believe him however.

“Cas? Cas! Earth to Cas!” Dean snapped his fingers in front of Castiel's face, drawing the Angel's attention back over to him. “You have that look, like you realized something, come on spit it out what are you holding back on us?"

Castiel frowned and turned his head away from Dean to blink at Sam who now actually was actively listening to the conversation. “It's—not concrete, but, there was another.”

“Another Archangel?” Sam spoke up, standing a bit from his chair in front of the laptop to join the conversation. “Who Castiel? Where is he? Is he anything like the others--”

“No, but listen, we assumed he was dead. He just—vanished from heaven about eighteen years ago and was declared dead by Michael.” At the two Winchesters determined expressions Castiel took another breath and relented, giving them the information. “The archangels were the four chief angelic creations of God. They were created in this explicit order: Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel. Michael is the mightiest and the most loyal archangel, Lucifer was the most prideful and avaricious, Raphael was the most ruthless and imperious, while Gabriel was the most mischievous and deceptive.” He paused briefly and took in the Winchesters expression, Dean's tight with get to the fucking point and Sam more curious as he absorbed the information. “However, there was another, the youngest. His name was Zadkiel.”

“Zadkiel, otherwise known as 'Righteousness of God' or Grace of God.” The teacher's voice echoed across the classroom and Stiles suppressed the snort at her last title for the Angel but still scribbled down the notes. “He was the archangel of freedom, benevolence and mercy, and the Patron Angel of all who forgive. Zadkiel is the one who followed directly behind Michael as the head archangel entered battle.”

Lot of good that was for him, to be Michael's right hand in battle. The humans didn't realize just how much that title, if that was it was to be called, weighed him down. Michael then turned to him expecting more, expecting Zadkiel to instead take his side in everything. It then pissed the Angel off when he so much as disagreed, like his hatred of killing Nephilims, they were just as much family as the lower ranked angels.

It didn't just end there, he disagreed with a lot of what Michael did, which was the entire reason for his leaving. Wanting to let Lucifer out of his cage, wanting a war on earth, it was terrible and he couldn't agree and Michael made it quite clear those who didn't get with the program were either dead to him or cast out to shut their mouth. But him not agreeing, his right hand who was right behind him on a battle field not agreeing pissed him off incredibly.

His little brother was a traitor.

The windows beside Stiles started to shake before they just abruptly shattered, the entire left side of the classroom screaming as glass fell on top of them and they tried to cover themselves. Stiles flinched and quickly stood from his chair, stumbling to the right in a flail of limbs as he caught himself on the desk beside him. Eighteen years, he shouldn't let his anger get to him that much.

“Is everyone alright!?”

His teacher cleared them from the room and called for the Principle and janitorial staff. Stiles could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket with a series of texts, the Pack probably concerned. He replied to as many as he could as they were guided into a different classroom with a shaking teacher. Seemed he'd have to have Lit elsewhere for the remainder of the week.

“Dude, the hell happened in there?” Stiles backpack was tossed into the back seats of the Jeep as Scott ran up to his side. It seemed the teacher had been to shaken to continue class actually, she had burst into tears and been forced to leave the room. They'd sat in silence the remainder of the time and Stiles was forced to think the entire hour. That was a dangerous thing for him, especially when he was left thinking about... them. Thankfully no windows were subjected to his anger in that hour.

“Don't know man, they think a stone hit a good pressure point and shattered them all at once? Spiderweb effect? Otherwise they're as clueless as the rest of us are.” Stiles shut the Jeep door and turned to look over at his friend. “You and Allison still going out for date night? Derek called us over to the Hale House for a pack meeting.” The Hale House that Derek had torn down and rebuilt in honor of his family. There was a family photo taken from the Hale Vault overhanging the fire place in the new living room. It was nice there now, cozy, and Cora had even shown a few tears at it's finally creation. Derek still wasn't the best Alpha but it was nice to have a real place for their pack. Erica and Boyd thought the same thing.

No more creepin' around in old railways or sleeping in abandoned buildings. They had a real home, with walls and heat and bedrooms. Not that Erica and Boyd needed separate bedrooms, that just left more options for Isaac to pick a room anyway. Isaac—who he didn't even want to think was doing who knows what with Scott and Allison. He got enough information from Malia and Kira about what they did behind closed doors. Malia was a lot like her father, no need for personal space or privacy.

At least they were cute... kinda. He was more grateful for the fact she wasn't sneaking into his bedroom in the middle of the night for bizarre sex and growling demands. Malia was not his—greatest moment in choices of people to get over Derek Hale with.

Derek—tall, dark, brooding Derek who growled and slammed him into things still. He was lucky Stiles was an angel, he was sure a human body would not heal everything he's gone through. Between car parts to the head, bones crushed and shoved into walls and then driving into buildings a normal human would have had all sorts of problems.

He should know, the body was still human and he still needed to heal those problems magically. His father should be grateful the hospital visits were as few as they actually were.

Eichen House was just a mistake, a minor laps in judgment when he started to fall out of sorts with who he was. Stiles just wished that with all the magic he had he could make money just appear to solve all of John's financial problems, however unfortunately he couldn't. Angels were a lot of things, including miracle workers, but as he was now he was as subjective to human things as anyone else and that included the financial struggles of humans.

There was the thought of opening his own business with the magical title that Deaton had supplied him with, spark, and doing odds and ends sort of magical things for people like dream catchers, but he still needed to graduate school first anyway.

“Allison and I are going out, Isaac is coming with us too,” he still didn't want to know--”She's thinking of going dancing, probably at the jungle.” From there Scott started his preaching about the odes to the beauty that was Allison Argent and their relationship. Stiles tuned him out halfway through until Isaac came running out of the school to drag Scott off to where Allison was waiting. He shouted a goodbye to Stiles which Stiles politely replied with a 'See ya later buddy!' just to get out nicely.

They might miss Pack Night but Stiles still intended on going, it wasn't like Derek needed all of them there all the time, it wasn't an official pack bonding night anyway, those were Saturday. Sliding himself up into the Jeep he threw the car into gear and eased out of the school parking lot. He got a text from his Dad earlier that night, he was going to be working overnight because some big guys showed up asking questions.

When Stiles asked what kind of questions he was a little confused and concerned they were asking about ancient ass shit. The Hale Fire, the killings from the start of his High School Year, what FBI wanted with that information he wasn't sure and a part of him—was less concerned and more suspicious.

As the car eased up onto the dirt road that lead to the preserve and the Hale House he snagged his phone out of the cup-holder and scanned the new text from his Dad. They had asked for the case files on all the killings in the preserve and didn't believe the title animal attack at least that was the impression his father got.

Frowning a bit more tightly Stiles tossed the phone down onto the passenger seat and parked the car in front of the house. Derek, in those blessed tight jeans, was already waiting outside it for him. He had proclaimed once he could hear the ratty old Jeep from miles away and then promptly shut up about it when Stiles told him it was his mothers Jeep and all he had of her. Actually, since then, he'd even helped Stiles work on it a few times.

He knew it was only because Derek knew what it was like to lose his mother and then have very little to remember her by.

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

His backpack was pulled from the back of the Jeep, Derek slinging it over his shoulder and motioned for Stiles to follow him inside the house. “You're the only one here, Isaac already told me him, Scott and Allison were going out to the jungle. Erica's got detention and Boyd's in the woods. I think Malia and Kira are at the Yukimura's, Noshiko invited her to dinner.”

Stiles had to bite back the question is that really a good idea. He knew Malia was trying and maybe eating with people like that would teach her a few more manners. Somehow he doubted it though, even if she had made a lot of progress since and could even, mostly, make it through school like a normal person. “What about Peter?” He arched a brow over at Derek and the tight frown that overtook the Alpha's face.

He knew Peter had made... personal progress in being a complete and total batshit case but he was still creepy crazy Peter and always would be to Stiles.

“Last I heard he was in New York.”

“Do I—want to know why?” Given the look he got the answer was a no. Either Peter was up to some shady shit or he was lying and neither was good for them. Nodding his head reluctantly he opened his mouth to speak again when Derek beat him to it.

“He said he'd be back in a few days. He was checking on some books he wanted.”

Oh, maybe not lying then. “Peter's been helpful in that regard. He gave me a lot of good books on Emissaries. Do you—think we can trust him then?” This time the look Derek cast him as he opened the door to the house spoke volumes. Derek wanted to trust him, wanted to believe his uncle considering all the help the man had been, considering he was part of the little family he had left, but that bridge had been burned far to many times before, no pun intended. Peter wasn't bad just—Peter. He did little unless it benefited him and that was the problem. A pack didn't think just for themselves, it took into consideration the rest of it. Pack was family, and family meant being together. No one knew that better than Derek.

“We'll watch him Derek, we'll give him the benefit of the doubt, that's all we can ever do right?” Stiles gave the Alpha a small smile and reached his hand out to grip the others shoulder tightly. He leaned into Stiles touch just the slightest bit and Stiles could have sworn the man had smiled over at him if only briefly. He pulled back out of the teens grip moments later and started leading Stiles into the living room, to which Stiles followed instantly.

“I heard your classroom windows shattered today, are you hurt?”

He willed his heartbeat to remain as steady as possible and Stiles dropped down into one of the chairs in the living room. His backpack found itself tossed onto his lap and Stiles quickly busied himself with pulling out his homework as he replied. “Was the freakiest shit man, one minute we were sitting there and the next the windows fucking exploded like they were made of paper. Not a single one was left in tact and I think the girl in front of me got a bit lodged into her shoulder but I'm fine, not even a scratch on me and there really wasn't much time to get in the way of the glass considering the teacher dragged us from there seconds later. Even the Principle seems dumbfounded on what happened thought it was a rock--” His usual rambling was cut off by Derek saying his name, those elegant eyebrows up into his hairline. His heartbeat was only the slightest bit faster and hopefully Derek would connect that to him thinking on what happened not the lies mixed in there.

“Do you think it's supernatural?”

“Well I didn't sense anything if that is what you mean. No sparky sensation there like with teacher assbag. Would suck if we had another Darach.” Sparks again, what the pack believed he was. Ironically it wasn't to far from the truth however. Spark just didn't mean one thing though, a Spark was a general term used for supernatural or magical related things. Wolves had a spark, Scott's true alpha power is actually a spark power. Same with Druid's, their ability to use magic was a spark inside them. He was assuming that was what Deaton thought he was, just another human with the spark to do magic like himself either if that meant following the path of a Druid or a Mage depended on Stiles. However, Sitles wouldn't become either.

Because his spark was actually grace and he was an angel of the Lord.

Stiles was Zadkiel the Archangel.

A strong part of Stiles, the part that connected him with the Lord and his brothers missed heaven a lot. He heard the call like everyone else, felt the desire to return when shit hit the fan, especially now that Michael was gone but—a bigger part of him loved this life and the people in it far to much to leave it. He loved his father and his friends, loved the life that he got to live among the mortals—and he was in love with the resident brooding Alpha who was struggling to make himself better.

Derek Hale was a big part that kept Zadkiel from returning to heaven and claiming his role, he was who kept him Stiles Stilinski son of the elected Sheriff John Stilinski.

However he was still sure that Derek didn't and would never love him back. He had to many issues of his own to work through still and love was no complete healer. Many personal issues couldn't be healed by love and if they weren't it just made things worse. Derek needed to find himself, find his center as an Alpha and then maybe think about love. He watched the wolf throw himself head first into love to many times only to end up back to square one. He was in no place to be dating both Jennifer and Braeden proved that.

Derek figured it out too eventually, that was how he fell so head first into his role as Alpha—or well co-alpha beside Scott. Derek was more Alpha one-o and then Scott was maybe I'll Alpha today. Stiles was... well to be honest he was more like second to one Alpha today and second to the other later. It was very confusing and they still needed to figure the dynamics out.

Which Stiles pointed out at every single damn Pack Meeting only to be brushed off. Deaton said he was the Emissary but until he figured out to which fucking one of them he couldn't do much. Because the Emissary bonded himself to the pack but right now they were basically two packs.

Which Deaton pointed out to Scott and Derek but only Derek listened.

It was Hale Land, but Scott argued it was McCall Land because the Hale's left. Derek argued that it was still Hale Land because Laura returned and claimed it and then Derek claimed it far before Scott became the True Alpha. Scott flashed his read eyes and yelled something Scott Stupid and then Derek flashed them back and—the Pack meeting ended.

They got fucking no where and it stayed that way sense.

Stiles had an idea what was going to happened and he just—really didn't want it to come to that. So he kept thinking and arguing of better ways to do it but he couldn't Emissary for both packs, it didn't work that way and Deaton wouldn't represent the Hale's because he wasn't their Emissary, hadn't been since Talia died.

“Derek?” Stiles head perked up at the sound of Malia's voice, the wolf standing there with Kira panting beside her. It seemed the women had run from the Yukimura house all the way here. At least that was the way it looked even with Kira's increased agility it was a bit hard to keep up with Werewolf speed.

“Malia, Kira, you alright?” Derek stood from the couch, the book he was reading dropped down onto the table as he took in the other girls appearances. Outwardly they were fine but Stiles assumed Derek was smelling something the angel couldn't. He could do a lot but emotional sniffing was a dog thing in the end.

“We saw some things on our way here we thought we should report as soon as possible.” Malia replied instantly, the epitome of calm and collected.

Kira, however, was far from that and panting out; “Ran. All the way. Here.” Between strong gasps of breath.

Malia brushed her off by folding her arms across her chest and nudging Kira briefly in the shoulder. “We saw a couple shady guys and a car that smelled strongly of—weapons and bullets, a bunch of other shady chemicals. Kira said it was a 1967 Chevrolet Impala.”

Stiles entire body sat straight up, muscles tensing as his heart rabbited in his chest like it was trying to murder him. Derek's head whipped over to him and before he could ask anything Stiles already had his phone out and shoot a string of texts to his father demanding to know about the men who had visited the station. Immediately he got a few texts back to which he replied before shooting up from the chair.

The books in his lap clattered loudly to the ground, papers flying in every direction.

“Shit, fuck fuck fuck why didn't I notice it earlier!?” Winchesters, Winchesters in his town. He should have known those weirdo's asking questions weren't normal. They had an entire fucking pack of Werewolves and now they had the most trigger happy Werewolves in town.

Ignoring the confused and slightly worried expressions of the other occupants in the room Stiles started diling Scott on his phone. “Stiles? I told you it was date night dude! Gonna have to talk loudly over the music!”

“Scott! I need you to ask Allison what she knows about Winchesters! Do the Argents work with them?” He kept his voice just slightly above normal volume, Werewolf hearing had it's advantages sometimes. He could barely hear Scott supply his question to Allison and when he got a reply it was from the woman herself having taken the phone from Scott.

“Stiles no one works with the Winchesters.” Usually her dismissive tone would be a welcome but right now that just sent him even more into a frantic worry. If there was no code between the Argents and the Winchesters that just meant more work for them in getting rid of them. “They're kinda a lose canon in the hunter world. But they at least abide by the code of not hunting in another hunters territory. Since this is Argent territory they'll usually need Dad's permission to hunt. But—Dad's retired so I'm not sure if they'll stick to that code. They might count me since I'm an Argent but—technically I'm underage. Do we have a problem?”

Did they? Stiles worried his bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before heaving a sigh. “Red Alert. We need to stay as below the radar as possible, do you understand?”

There was silence on the other line, the tension clear to not only him but everyone else. Red was just a step below black, and black was definite alert. Red was their code for appear normal and cause less suspicion. “Understood. We'll keep ourselves sober tonight.”

The line went dead and Stiles pulled the phone away, tucking it back into his pocket. “We have another problem, Hale's are known Werewolves to the hunters, aren't they Derek?” Stiles twisted to look to the Alpha who gave a single nod of his head. Shit, once the Winchesters learned of Derek being here they'd come looking and then they'd look for the pack. Maybe he should have marked this black.

“Winchesters are cut off from other hunters a bit though, they don't communicate with many from what I know Stiles. Maybe they'll just pass through.”

“Do we really want to stake our lives on a maybe though Derek?” He didn't mean that to come across as cruel, it was a genuine concern. Thankfully Derek didn't seem to take offense to it. “Hoping we get lucky and actually getting lucky are two different things. We need to be careful I mean the red alert seriously. The less attention we draw to ourselves the better. But also keep an eye on them, just not a stalking eye.” His last words were directed toward Malia who gave a single nod of her head. Understood then, that was good. She was their best creeper next to Peter.

The Winchesters were not a joke, once they latched onto something they wouldn't let it go. Stiles had already concealed his grace and magical trace as much as he could, even Deaton didn't pick up on it and none of the wolves smelled it on him. So, hopefully, that meant the Winchesters wouldn't notice... and neither would their Angel.

Castiel.

He missed that man, he missed him a lot. He was one of the best angel's that he knew, the one who had saved them all along side the Winchesters. As much as he wanted to talk to him though he worried drawing attention to the wolves, like them he needed to run beneath the radar.

Their small pack night ended up with them marathoning Underworld and they were halfway through the third movie when Scott, Allison and Isaac stumbled in completely sober like promised. They joined the bonding, snuggling up together and Stiles passed out near the end. His head having fallen onto Derek's shoulder and when he woke back up to his alarm for school going off he was actually in bed with the Alpha. Derek grumbled about the alarm and Stiles pulled himself carefully from the sheets.

A quick shower and clothing later he was out the door heading to his keep. The door had just been pulled open when he got a feeling at the back of his neck, like someone was watching him and breathing down his neck. He glanced a bit over his shoulder, scanned the tree line but when he came back empty he turned away and climbed into the Jeep.

He was over thinking things, stressing over nothing, it was probably fine. Last night just had him worked up, looking for Winchesters wherever he was. Taking a deep breath Stiles counted to ten and then eased out of the driveway and off to school.

Of course it was bit harder to ignore the fucking Impala parked at the bottom of the driveway off to the side of the road. So he was wrong, it was something to worry about he wasn't looking for Winchesters everywhere. Pulling over he shot a text to Derek warning him and telling him to stay out of the woods. He got a text back simply; really Stiles? Alright so it was a little hypocritical of him to warn others from the woods but at least he wasn't wrong!

At least Derek would be safe too for the time being.

They only made it to Lunch before a fight broke out in the middle of the cafeteria. The Winchesters had dropped by the Hale house, demanded a few questions of Derek before getting the door in their face and without proof of Derek being a Werewolf couldn't pull a gun on him. However, Malia had calmly suggest gutting them and then Kira suggest slight harm to scare them off.

But Scott, high moral and pacifist Scott, had freaked out and started screaming which caused the entire cafeteria to shut up and turn to look at them. He knew that the Hale way of doing things wasn't Scott's favorite idea but Stiles didn't think they'd get out of this easily. The Winchesters wouldn't just leave it wasn't what they were known for. 9 times out of 10 it ended up in a fight and that might be what it comes to in the end here too. Murder wasn't an option though, Stiles would never kill Castiel or those important to him.

“Guys, remember? Red Alert. I need you to calm down and breath. We can get out of this mess without murder and without completely ignoring them. We can't kill them for several reasons including the fact they're human,” he stressed that last word toward Malia, “and we can't just ask them to leave because they're the Winchesters. Just ask Allison that'll never work.” He waved toward the woman who nodded her head. “So, Lydia, what's our best course of plan?”

The girl manicuring her fingers briefly paused in the work to admire them before speaking. “Diplomatic. We wait until they finally figure us out and then we coerce them into leaving based on the code. Assuming they follow a code?”

“I think so. I've never heard of them killing something just for what it was. Usually they deal with things causing problems.” That was the way the hunters usually worked and all that Stiles heard or read on them pointed to that. He'd even read their books despite how dry the work was to him. He was mostly keeping an eye on what was going on and what Castiel had gotten himself mixed up into. It was quite clear from all he read too that Castiel was stupidly in love with one of the Winchesters. He wondered if his own brother realized it yet.

Probably not, most angel's never really—did that. They were kinda like Castiel was described, cut off from the way that humans worked. It usually took one falling and living among the mortals to realize what love was and felt like, which Castiel had been doing for a while. At least the living among the mortals part. There hadn't been any new books to read for him to know how the angel was doing lately. As far as he knew since the war Castiel was fine. Maybe he even bagged himself the Winchester finally.

The Angel network was just as unhelpful lately too, it was frightfully quiet. Angel's were technically a rare species now since so many had died after the falling. He could hear himself think at an alarming volume, he really wanted to know what was going on with heaven.

He was only suspiciously aware that he might be the last Archangel.

“It's a good idea, lets stick to Lydia's plan. Everyone, try to be normal. That includes no stupid risks on the Lacrosse Field too. You never know if they'll show up at a game.” Jackson certainly didn't like that plan but at Lydia's glare reluctantly agreed. No one wanted to draw the Winchesters attention to themselves and risk the entire pack, not even Jackson.

They broke apart after lunch and continued on their own ways to their last classes of the day. Stiles was counting away the ticks at the clock, begging the final bell to ring quickly. He hated the idea of leaving Derek alone unprotected without the Pack and Winchesters wandering around town. He ended up burning a bit of time by reading the entire Spark Notes version of their books and reminding himself of everything he could, making vague notes about Castiel and things that alarmed him.

Contrary to popular belief (popular being among romance stories online) Angels didn't fall or become—tainted when falling in love with a mortal or having sex with them, even sex between same genders. Their father after all wouldn't have created love if he wanted angels to be celibate of all things, romance was quite common up in heaven between Angels and even Angels of the same gender. So Stiles knew, reading what he was, that Castiel wasn't getting sick because of his feelings for Dean that were very insanely obvious to everyone reading these things that weren't Dean and Castiel themselves.

It was honestly as blatantly obvious as his own feelings for Derek. Derek who enjoyed beating Stiles up and shoving him into various parts of his Jeep or whatever wall happened to be behind Stiles. At least Castiel's lover didn't enjoy damaging him in various ways.

From what he kept reading though it seemed most the time Castiel fell ill he managed to recover which while settled a sick feeling in Stiles' stomach didn't completely reassure him. It was rare Angels got sick, even more rare they stayed sick if they weren't falling. Either what Castiel kept experiencing was him getting sick from repeated use of his Grace or—the longer he stayed from heaven assisting the Winchesters and killing Nephilims—the closer he got to experiencing a falling.

They couldn't afford to lose more Angels, much less good Angels like Castiel. Vaguely he realized the feeling in his chest was the desire to make things right, to return to heaven and take up his place as an Archangel, one of the last ones if the last one. If Gabriel was alive he would take Michael's place and then Sti-Zadkiel would take Raphiel's, the two of them would form the court, but Stiles didn't want that. He enjoyed his place here even if it wasn't his true place or his true calling.

Eighteen years was a long time to be away from heaven and this body had a lot more time on it, he couldn't leave. When Zadkiel had first come to earth running from Michael he was following a prayer, a desperate cry of a woman to save her dying infant. The boy had been born prematurely, locked in the NICU the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit with his mother watching over him. There was no saving the baby, his body was to weak and underdeveloped to support itself.

Seeing the opportunity presented Zadkiel had let himself into the boys body and gave it the strength it needed to live in exchange for living out the boys life. The body needed a soul so it was there just weak and asleep, underdeveloped like the rest of him had been. The nurses had declared him a medical miracle, the mother called him a gift from god.

However if Zadkiel ever left the body it wouldn't live. The soul couldn't support itself having never experienced life and grown into something. It was more like a battery now and Zadkiel's Grace charged it. If he dropped the guise he was using to hide his grace anyone with the ability to see souls would know the truth and he just hoped no hunter ever threw him from the vessel.

Stiles had told the Sheriff the truth the second he had to, the second Werewolves were out of the bag. The man had mourned his baby with a bottle of jack and then the next day while Stiles was pouring the remainder of the alcohol down the drain they had a talk. A long talk, including what Stiles was, who he really was and then at the very end of it through all the patient questions Stiles answered—the Sheriff told him that Stiles was his son still.

He had cried that day as hard as he had the day his mother died right into the Sheriff's jacket with the fabric clenched tightly in his hands.

It wasn't his proudest moment but it was one of the memories Stiles cherished. The Sheriff was the most important person to Stiles, even more important than the Pack if he needed to say that. Stiles had made two promises that day too; one to never withhold information from John Stilinski and a second one to never just leave. The man didn't want to lose his son a second time.

He had tried to explain the second request was complicated, a human supporting an Archangel in their body was—for lack of a better term damaging. If this body's soul could survive on it's own after he left there was still the chance his leaving would have turned it into a catatonic mess anyway. There was also the proven fact that continued time spent in humans for Archangel's left the body burning inside and out. Stiles had surmised that the reason this didn't happen to this body was because he not only built up the resistance from a young age by healing the boy but also because the soul was a natural spark, had the child lived it would have moved on to become a magic user, perhaps a mage or druid.

Magic users naturally could handle more from possession and though it wasn't a perfect belief his last theory was the blind love from the boys mother, that desperate prayer accompanied with pure belief. That might also be what was supporting his existence in the body.

When the bell finally rang Stiles jumped a bit in his chair startled and closed down the Spark Notes app on his phone. Gathering his things up he practically ran to his locker to get his backpack and then jogged outside.

Chapter Text

Stiles had almost reached the Jeep when he heard Scott's hushed whispering from his bike, a hand on Allison's hip as he spoke to her. Though he tried to not listen in the fact that Scott kept 'subtlety' glancing at him made Stiles worried. He slowly sat his backpack in the Jeep's backseat and honed in on their conversation with his Angel hearing.

“--wrong. I don't like it Allison. Stiles can't make all the decisions and expect us to follow them. I'm the Alpha to our Pack and he didn't even ask my opinion he asked Lydia.”

Alright, he'd give Scott a point there, he probably should have asked what he wanted to do but Scott wanted to ask them to leave. If he suddenly walked up to Dean Winchester and announced himself as one of the Alpha's of the Beacon Hill's Pack he'd end up with a bullet in his skull the second WereW—was out of his mouth.

“I know Scott but it might be the better idea.” Bless Allison Argent and her ability to see reason. Even if it didn't seem to be getting into Scott's thick skull considering what he heard next.

“I'm going into the woods tonight, we need to talk to these hunters and see if they'll leave or cause problems. We can't go into this blindly not knowing what they're planning and they can hide their presence from the Pack so keeping an eye on them like Stiles 'suggested' isn't going to work.” The helmet clicked into place on his head and Scott started the bike. Stiles had to concentrate harder to hear the last of his words. “--come with or not.”

Great, great, just fucking great. Here he thought Derek or Jackson would fuck the plan up getting impatient but it seemed Scott was the one going to do it. Of course his plan was to invite the Argents too rather than the pack and Stiles.

Shaking his head Stiles practically threw himself into the drivers seat of the Jeep and slammed the door shut, already dialing Derek's number as he hightailed it out of the school parking lot. Their brief phone conversation left Derek waiting on the porch of the house when Stiles pulled up, waiting as the teen grabbed his bag from the back and made his way up to the house.

Stiles greeted him with a nod of his head before stepping inside the house and depositing his backpack onto the dinning room table.

“So Scott's an idiot, we already knew that one.”

Stiles lip twitched at the corner of his mouth and he dropped himself down onto one of the dinning room table chairs. Derek had told him this table had been in storage too after his mother had his father make her a new one. Apparently a leg on this one had broken from a fight his younger cousins had during dinner. Derek had fixed the leg and brought the table here after the house had been finished.

It was a beautiful dark oak wood, hand crafted by Derek's own Grandmother Thea. The chairs had been made by the womans mate, Derek's Grandfather Albert. It had been a bonding thing, they created a lot of the furniture for their home rather than buying it. The Pack's symbol was carved onto the table and in the backs of the chairs too, the beautiful triskelion standing out against the wood. Stiles absently tracked the end of the mark closest to him and looked up at Derek who sat a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Are we even one Pack together, Derek? Tell me, you're the Werewolf here and an Alpha you should feel and understand it stronger than me.”

A tight grimace formed on the Wolf's face and he turned his head away, he didn't even seem to be thinking about the question which meant he already knew the answer and Stiles was fearing this most of all. “No, and I'm sure you already knew that too don't play coy Stiles. It's been clear with Scott fighting my every decision since the beginning. A Pack can't function with two opposing Alpha's who aren't married. Like with the Alpha Pack someone has to be the leader otherwise it ends up in chaos or divided.”

He should have known it could never work that way. They could work together but they could never be the in the same singular Pack. But two Alpha's sharing a territory? Even in the wild that didn't happen someone ended up fighting. The Preserve was perhaps more Hale territory and the town McCall territory, the school was certainly McCall territory with the way Scott always freaked out over Derek being near there.

“So I'm assuming your Pack is--” he motioned with his hand for Derek to speak up.

“Eric, Boyd, Cora, Peter, Malia, Kira, Jackson and Lydia..” he seemed to pause here and Stiles got a bit worried, noting that Isaac was left out. “John Stilinski and you Stiles. You smell like Pack to me far more than you smell like Scott lately.”

Alright well, given how much time he had been spending here he really should have saw that coming but it still somehow manage to surprise him. Even more so the thing with Isaac. “But—Derek Isaac has a room here, he spends Pack Nights here with us.” Stiles trailed off a bit, his voice getting quiet as his mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

Derek simply shook his head and curled his hands around the coffee mug. “I can't tell you what's going on with Isaac, just what I feel Stiles and Isaac doesn't feel like my Beta anymore. If I had to guess though it probably has to do with his conflicting feelings for Scott and Allison.”

Stiles would also wager a guess that Isaac had a crush on Danny at school given how much time he'd also been spending with the human. He noticed that today, the way they laughed and carried off to Lacrosse practice together. The fact that Scott had completely skipped Lacrosse practice altogether was not missed on him either. He might have had work but Stiles was willing to bet it was more like he wanted to consult Deaton on the hunters.

They should be worried and he was. Picking up his own coffee mug he revealed in the warmth of it a bit before looking to Derek. “We need to cut him off tonight, if he's bringing his own Pack—Allison, Chris, Deaton and probably Isaac we need to counter measure him. Preferably before he finds the Winchesters. Any theories, Alpha?”

He did notice the way the others eyes flashed red, acknowledging that Stiles accepted the information he was Pack and Derek was his Alpha. The man was clearly pleased by this but he didn't let it inflate his ego or pride to much. Stiles also had to suppress the odd urge to flash his own bright blue back at the man, he didn't quite want to give himself away even if the desire to tell Derek everything was there. He knew he could trust the man, he just didn't trust anyone else who might be listening.

Including other Angels.

“I'll call Erica and Boyd they had patrol tonight anyway, I had canceled all patrols given the situation so they'll be restless. Peter still isn't back and I don't trust Jackson to keep his head out of his own ass in a situation like this.” Lydia was also out of the question being she'd straight up say no so long as it didn't benefit her in any way. He couldn't blame her, she had a school night and a shit ton of work to do—he should know he had that same exact work in his AP classes.

“So Erica and Boyd are all we got. It should be enough I'm not completely defenseless I am a spark.” Stiles pulled a small bag from his backpack and dangled it in his fingers. “Mountain Ash can do wonders when used by a spark in the right way.”

Stiles slid it down into his pocket and finished off his coffee before standing from the table. “Come on Sourwolf, we have plans to enact.”

It took them the remaining time to get ready, between Erica and Body actually managing to get away in the middle of the night from their houses and Stiles trying to get a few weapons to prepare himself if they needed to fight Scott.

He'd borrowed his Dad's old pistol from the locked drawer in his room (a quick text getting him off the hook for borrowing it given the situation and a promise to not shoot anything that won't heal). He'd also loaded it with Silver bullets, they won't damage Scott but so long as the bullet is in his body he won't heal fully. Stiles had also gone and gotten more Mountain Ash from his room in separate smaller bags, if he misses he'll at least have backup.

They'd gone over the plan with Erica and Boyd, who apparently had already known for a while that Stiles was Pack but everyone else wasn't. How they knew that and Scott clearly didn't was beyond him. It did explain though why Jackson listened to him but Isaac clearly shared Scott's doubt of the plan... and then why he didn't ask Scott's opinion and instead Lydia's.

He would focus on that later right now they had bundled up (or well Stiles did Derek threw on his leather coat) and we're getting ready to leave.

“Can you smell them Derek?” The question earned him a sharp nod and Derek grabbed Stiles forearm to lead him through the blind darkness toward where he clearly knew people were in his territory. They needed to cut them off before they reached the Winchesters and Derek knew that, which Stiles tried to tell himself is what lead to Derek moving his hand down to take Stiles hand and running.

The Beta's kept up easily but Stiles, not using his own powers to keep up was struggling with the normal human speed. It took them less than three minute to cut Scott, Allison, Isaac and Chris off (no Deaton which means he simply gave his usual cryptic speech and kept out). Stiles stumbled to a stop beside Derek, the Alpha releasing him as the human curled up in himself, hands on his knees and gasping for oxygen that couldn't come fast enough. “You're going,” he huffed and dragged in greedy gulps of air, “to kill me, one day.”

“Derek? Stiles?” Stiles managed a small wave to his gaping friend, still gasping for air. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“We could ask you the same thing Scott.” Derek threw back, grabbing Stiles forearm and dragging him back up straight. He could have done that himself thank you very much after he could breathe without his lungs trying to burn themselves out of his chest. “Throwing yourselves to the hunters? Are you stupid? They'll eat you up and spit you back out, or better yet just burn your entire family alive.”

Scott had the common decency to not flinch and instead just stared back at Derek with anger and Stiles with something he hoped couldn't possibly be betrayal. He was trying to save his wolfy ass here Scott was his best goddamn friend. He just had a tendency to do something stupid now and again and needed to be smacked back to intelligence.

“We're trying to do the right thing Derek, if we explain the situation to the hunters they might listen!”

Or beat back to intelligence. “The world doesn't work that way Scott, it's not so black and white. Hunters kill if given the chance.” Stiles, tried, desperately to reason.

“Chris and Allison listened!” Ah, and there it was, that blind love for Allison that was going to get them killed. Romeo and Juliet apparently forgot how that book ended.

“Scott, when are you going to accept that Chris and Allison are not the description for all hunters! Not every single one has a code and the Winchesters don't exactly like to listen before shooting!” Derek actually looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of Scott and Stiles wasn't sure he could stop him if he tried... or if he even wanted to. Sometimes people needed to learn things the hard way, he knew that well enough himself. Michael needed to learn the hard way too.

“We can at least give them the benefit of the doubt, can't we?” He looked desperately to Stiles and Stiles wanted so badly to assure his friend that yeah sure they could try that it would turn out fine but Stiles knew that wasn't the case. You say Werewolf and Dean Winchester loads his gun with Silver Bullets to murder them. He wasn't used to Werewolves that were sane, that weren't feral, he doubted the man had even seen anything besides an Omega or knew they came in well together packs. He hunted what Peter became, not what Derek was.

He would not hesitate to shoot and knowing that Stiles grabbed desperately at Scott's arm when the Alpha tried to walk around them.

He nearly lost his head for it.

Scott lashed out, swinging at Stiles with a fist. He managed last second to dodge it the Alpha's knuckles grazing his nose. He knew the other was upset, his emotions and sense of betrayal along with the pull of the approaching full moon heightening his anger. He wouldn't ever hold this against Scott when he was thinking rationally again and accepting Stiles wasn't pack anymore.

Derek however saw it as an act of violence and an act of war on his Pack. He reacted like Scott would have if the situation was reversed. He grabbed Scott by the arm he had flung at Stiles, twisted the younger man around and shoved him back into the tree. The wood cracked under the weight and as Derek took a step toward Scott the distinct sound of clicking had every single one of them freezing and a cold chill running down Stiles' spine.

He turned slowly to look at Allison and Chris, expecting their guns and bows aimed at Derek but they weren't. Blinking in surprise he turned a bit more and noted the new people now gathering a bit away with their guns trained on Derek and Scott.

Derek had Scott cornered, Eric and Boyd had Isaac on the ground, Chris and Allison had their weapons pointed at the two people on the edge of the clearing who in turn had their own trained on the wolfed out werewolves.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah!” Stiles threw himself into the middle of everything, holding his right hand out toward the other hunters and his left up at Chris and Allison. “No one needs to shoot anyone, Derek is going to back off aren't you Derek?”

“Stiles, get back! Those are the Winchesters.”

“No shit Chris I could have figured that one out on my own!” He threw a pointed look at the man before twisting his head back to look at the others. “You guys don't understand everything, put the guns down and we can talk.”

“There is nothin' to talk about kid, those five are clearly Werewolves and given the amount of animal attacks around here we would be doing all of you a favor.” Alright, that was a pretty good assumption he would give the man that expect it wasn't them that had done it. “If you're human you'd be smart and run away from here.”

We'll, good thing he wasn't human. “Please, I am begging you, don't shoot my friends.” He stressed the last word, turning his eyes toward the taller hunter who actually spared him a look of sympathy. Alright, he might be able to work with that. “You don't know the whole story, there is more to it than what's in the police records. We're been through a lot of shit, but these guys didn't do it.” He took a smell step forward and froze when the gun turned a bit toward him. “They're my friends and my family, don't shoot them.”

“Sorry kid, we're hunters.” Dean pulled the trigger as Sam shouted his brothers name, the bullet embedding itself in Derek's side who had actually stepped in front of Scott. Scott would have gotten shot in the fucking head if that bullet had actually continued to carry on. He fell down to his knees, digging his fingers into the side where the bullet had embedded itself. Scott was already working to tear the shirt open and check the wound when the gun in Dean's hands cocked again.

Allison did let lose an arrow that Castiel had caught, Stiles finally noticing him and pretty certain the man hadn't been there the entire time. Chris used the distraction to let loose a bullet that just barely missed Dean's head when Sam tugged him down to the ground.

No, no, no.

It was to much, to many people moving and getting shot around him. His head felt like it was floating in water with the sounds muffled around him, his ears ringing in a high pitched sound as someone screamed his name, probably Derek or Chris since he was still just standing there frozen. He barely noticed the bullet fly past him, catching Isaac in the shoulder who screamed and then Scott howled and--

“STOP!”

His own words tore through his throat, a practical scream that had everyone freezing. He wasted no time in dropping the guise he used to hide his Grace, his own eyes glowing a bright elegant clear blue as he snapped them to Castiel desperately. The Angel starred back, for once actual shock appearing in his own gaze as his eyes widened. No one spoke, no one dared move and Stiles let the other Angel feel him before he swallowed the burning fear in his throat.

They could all see him, Derek included.

“Castiel.” A pleading note was heard in his tone and Stiles watched the other Angel swallow before finding his words.

“Zadkiel?”

Stiles nodded slowly and glanced a bit at the two groups of hunters who still had their weapons raised but not a single muscle moving. “Castiel please. I am begging you. Tell your—friends to put their weapons down.”

The Angel shifted and glanced back to Dean and Sam before sliding his gaze once more to Stiles. He looked uncertain as he watched the Werewolves, the five of them trying to gather around each other and stop their bleeding. They wouldn't until the bullets were removed Stiles was sure it was just Silver and not Wolfsbane. “But--”

“Not happenin' Cas, they're Werewolves!” Dean actually looked like he was explaining this to a three year old. “I'm glad you found your buddy but we're shottin' these monsters before we carry on to magical Angel land.”

“No!” Stiles snapped again, glaring heatedly at the man who actually rolled his eyes. “You pull that trigger Dean Winchester and God forgive me I will leave Castiel the way he is!” Well, that certainly got their attention, he watched the man actually flinch toward him at that, the gun wavering slightly before his arms dropped fully. “I am under no obligation to heal him, he knows that very well but I can sense what is wrong with him. If I don't save Castiel he will fall into The Empty. Is that what you want?”

No, he could tell, Dean wanted Castiel saved and hopefully he could be forgiven for using that against the Angel but he needed to keep his friends alive. Turning his eyes from the Winchester he glanced to his brother once more.

“Castiel.” Stiles tried for a soothing tone this time, hoping for not only forgiveness but the other to agree with him or at the very least understand. “You're falling, brother, and I will help you but only if you help me. Please, don't let them kill my friends. They're important to me, like the Winchesters are to you.”

Finally there was an understanding gaze that met his, Castiel nodding his head briefly toward him before glancing over at Dean and Sam. “Put them away guys.”

“Cas--!”

“Now Dean!”

Sam was the first and then slowly and a bit reluctantly Dean settled his own gun over his back. Stiles turned to Allison and Chris and nodded his head, the two quickly following suit and once everything seemed a bit more calm Stiles rushed to Derek's side and dropped beside him. “Hold on Derek I'll heal you.” Grasping the Alpha's head he fed his grace into the others body and instantly healed his wounds, the bullet being forced from his body and onto the ground.

He moved to do the same to Isaac when Scott choked out the first question. “Zadkiel...? Like we learned in school?”

Stiles flinched ever so slightly and forced a smile onto his face, glancing a bit over at his best friend. “I'm still Stiles just—tada?” He wiggled his fingers a bit and the smile slipped off his face as he sighed. “I ran from heaven eighteen years ago, before the apocalypse, when such a thing was just an idea that Michael was playing with.” Stiles turned a bit and glanced at Castiel and the Winchesters who were eyeing him curiously. “I felt you looking for me, Castiel, I felt the call when and after shit hit the fan. But I like it here.” He turned back around and removed his hands from Isaac's head to heal the others. “The mother of this child, the vessel I'm in, prayed for someone to save her son. He was born prematurely and wouldn't live. I took the body as my own, healed it and have been living as Stiles Stilinski since. I'm the same person you grew up with Scott, just—a bit different and older I suppose.”

Stiles stood from the ground and helped the Wolves to stand, looking a bit unsure at Derek who eyed him curiously for a second before pulling him into a hug. It threw him off and he glanced at the Werewolf curiously before the words “you're still Stiles” was whispered into his ear. Warmth flooded his chest and the hug was soon extended by Erica and Boyd throwing themselves around the two. Derek voiced a bit of a complaint but the warmth Stiles felt was far from complaining. He could even feel the corners of Derek's mouth twitching up into a smile against his skin.

Far, far from a complaint.

“Alright, this is disgusting, can we end this so we can talk to the Archangel to heal our friend?” Dean shifted and folded his arms across his chest, waiting impatiently for the snug fest to break up. Stiles heaved a sigh and pulled himself from his friends arms before taking quick strides over to Castiel's side. It was weird with the man being so much taller than him.

“What the hell is your vessel six feet tall Castiel?” He nearly had to stand on his tippy toes to get a good tight grip on the mans head. Pushing his own grace into the others body he felt out the other Angel's grace and general well being before taking his hands back with a tight grimace. Feeling the impatience stares on himself he glance idly over at the Winchesters before turning back to Castiel. With a snap of his fingers the two of them were surrounded by a silence barrier. This conversation was not for prying ears.

“Do you even realize how far you've already fallen, brother?”

The devastated look he got in turn before Castiel turned away spoke volumes. “Another month or so and I assumed I'd fall into The Empty.”

“You're not to far off though I'd guess two months at most, you can still walk and fly after all. You weren't there with the Winchesters when they first arrived.”

“No, I was in the hotel room. Dean said he was putting me on a bench? But he sat me on a bed.”

Stiles laughed, full out laughed and dropped his head forward to rest on Castiel's chest. He felt a hand on the back of his head, Castiel briefly seeking comfort in the warmth a fellow angel provided before Stiles righted himself again.

Glancing a bit at the very Winchester who was arguing with Derek now over the silence and secrecy Stiles soon turned back up to Castiel all smiles. “He loves you, he wanted you healthy. But bed rest won't do much for you I'm afraid.”

Castiel didn't seem to want to believe that but Stiles didn't have the time to convince him nor was this the place for that. Breaking the barrier he placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder and squeezed it briefly before turning to an expecting Dean. “Don't get your panties in a bunch Winchester, I needed to ask him something personal. I can't heal Castiel right away, it's not an instant thing.”

At this information he got an exasperated sigh and Dean ran his hand through his hair as Sam tried to placate him with soothing woods. “Right away Dean doesn't mean not at all.”

“He's right.” Stiles waved a bit toward Castiel. “Castiel is worse than I thought, it'll take time for me to heal such a thing. Grace is a fickle mistress and in order to heal him I need to feed him some of my own and then I need to recover from that. I'll be weak in between and it'll take me about a week to do it completely. After that Castiel should be able to recover on his own.”

Should be. There was no guarantee that at this state Stiles could even save him, which Castiel was aware of and the reason he never told the Winchesters exactly how far he had really fallen already. But Stiles was willing to believe in Castiel's determination to live, considering everything he had gave and fought for clearly he wanted to live, or live as much as Angels could.

“Alright, so where are we moving this freak show?” Dean stepped up beside Castiel and reached his hand out to help support the Angel. Though his face held the same cold closed off mask Stiles was sure the Wolves could smell his worry underneath it... and given the look Castiel was showing the man Castiel could read beneath that mask. Much like Stiles could do with Derek and his eyebrows.

“I suppose we can take it back to the Hale House?” Turning a bit Stiles glanced unsurely at Derek who did appear reluctant to let the hunters into his den. “Or... not... alright we'll go back to my house. Castiel can I catch a ride with you three?” His Jeep was back at Derek's house and Derek didn't want them there so he'd have to make due. “Derek you guys can probably squeeze into Argent's van right?”

Chris gave an acknowledgment nod of his head. “We'll make it work. Allison get the bags we hid, Derek grab your—or Scott's Beta whatever is going on here.” Derek shot Chris a heated glare before moving to Isaac's side and lifting the healing Beta partly up. He'd be fine in a few minutes Stiles got out the worst of the wound all he needed was his own healing to kick in, he'd tried to conserve as much energy as he could.

Sam motioned for Stiles to follow the three of them and with one parting look to Derek he soon followed off after the hunters, coming back the way the two of them had come. They'd park quite far on the side of the road away from Argent's van but Stiles assumed that was for the better. Had Dean and Derek stayed in the same area for to long they would probably bite each others head off.

Despite all the questions Stiles wanted to ask he bit back his usual rambling nature, letting silence surround the four of them before apparently it became to much. Funny enough he wasn't the one to crack, the tall brunette was. “So—Zadkiel? The fourth Archangel created by God? Freedom, benevolence and mercy? Right hand of Michael?”

“Woah there man, careful how you word that last part.” Stiles shot him a slightly pained look before turning away again. “I was no ones bitch.” That got him a snort from Dean, either of humor or disbelief Stiles wasn't sure. “I followed behind Michael in battle but I was far from the person who followed him constantly. That was Raphael's role.. or one he seemed to take anyway. Kinda hard to say we didn't really—follow each other. We worked together, supported and bounced ideas off of each other. But at the end of the day clearly we can all turn on each other and stab them in the back.” His words took a more bitter tone to it and Stiles turned away from Castiel's watchful gaze. “Angel of forgiveness or not I'd take an blade to Michael's back without even blinking.” In his heart he knew there was a cold truth to that too. Michael had become corrupt for lack of a better term, he was a cold and uncaring bastard to the things they were supposed to protect.

“What, exactly, happened between you and Michael? Cas—he said you left eighteen years ago but that was it. You just vanished he said.” Sam had slowed his quick pace and kept a close stride beside Stiles, completely open and trusting. It was such a difference from Dean and Derek that he almost wondered if the man was faking it but he could clearly tell he wasn't. Perhaps he had gotten so comfortable around Castiel and Gabriel that the idea that Zadkiel could just be trusted was already in his head.

Interesting, he'd probe that theory later by asking invasive questions back that no one wants to answer.

“It doesn't really matter. I heard Michael isn't in heaven anymo--”

“He's locked in Lucifer's cage with Adam Milligan, Dean and Sam's half brother.”

Stiles was not ashamed he actually tripped in his surprise, falling flat onto the ground and causing his three companions to stop. He stared at them all wide eyed, well he certainly hadn't seen that coming. Sam offered him a hand and Stiles took it, letting the other yank him back up to his feet. As they continued walking Stiles flailed his arms wildly and looked to Castiel. “What do you mean he is locked in Lucifer's cage!? Is Lucifer in there? I—the last thing I remember hearing was all the Angels panic as they fell and then—well everything has been dead quiet since. I heard a passing rumor that we've become a rare species practically, though I didn't expect it to be true considering there were hundreds of Angels last time I was in heaven!”

At that, he got a bit of a story as they piled into the Impala, Castiel informing Stiles of what he had missed including the fact that Dean Winchester had personally sealed Lucifer back into his cage along with Michael and his half brother with Castiel's help. The fact Castiel had gone against so many Angels, killed so many of his kind and stole Grace was what Stiles finally decided had been the reason for Castiel's current situation. He needed forgiveness and ironically it was Stiles, the Angel of frogiveness who he had come to be healed from.

It'd been a while since he had to heal anyone in such a way, listen to their sins and their desire to be forgiven. As far as Stiles was concerned there was nothing to forgive, Castiel had done what all of them should have done from the beginning. He knew personally that Michael needed to be stopped, he couldn't just want an apocalypse, couldn't just want to fight for the sake of doing it. He was greedy and blood thirsty and far from the things an Angel should be. Despite the fact that he was created to fight in the end.

They lapsed into silence soon after as everything he had been told settled in. Stiles gave short and simple directions to his house and as they eased into the driveway where the others were waiting along with Stiles father he leaned over in the seat and placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder.

Fading blue met his own bright whiskey ones and Stiles offered Castiel a gentle smile. “I will always forgive and believe in you, Castiel. You are by far the most angelic out of all of us. You should have been born into our ranks.” Turning away he exited the car and left a stunned Angel behind, moving over to stand in front of his father as the Winchesters got Castiel out of the car.

“Stiles.”

An exasperated sigh left the old mans lips and Stiles flashed his father a brilliant grin. “Angel stuff pops.” If a group of werewolves and hunters could looked more stunned than they did Stiles would be impressed but as it was he ignored them altogether and waved toward the men making their way over. “Sam and Dean Winchester along with my brother Castiel. I need to heal him.”

“Like you did the last one? Stiles, healing—whatever the hell his name is left you asleep for days. I was tempted to admit you to the hospital but wasn't sure how to explain angelic sleep to Scott's mom.”

Ah well, that was one way to tell Castiel he had seen Gabriel. “Not quite like that Dad, Gabriel wasn't healing for—very complicated reasons and Castiel is instead... well dying basically.”

“You saw Gabriel!?”

Was it Sam or Dean that shouted that? Maybe they did together. Either way Stiles flinched a bit and glanced at them sideways before Stiles father spoke again. “Will it kill you?”

“Probably not but he will die if I don't try at least. I'll take it slowly instead of doing it all in one go like I did with Gabriel and yes I saw him,” he directed his last words toward the Winchesters. “But that was about a year ago. I don't know where he is now.”

“Did you try meditating for him, Zadkiel?”

Angelic calling, almost telepathy, he knew what Castiel was asking and no he hadn't thought to try it but he wasn't overly eager to. The second he did any other Archangel around would hear the call and he hadn't wanted that, not if Michael or Raphael was still alive. Apparently they weren't, so he could risk it now and he'd have to meditate to recover after he healed Castiel. “I'll think about it, how about that Castiel?”

It seamed to appease him for now at least and the Sheriff motioned them all inside so they would stop looking suspicious to the old lady across the street who kept peeking out of her curtains at them. Once inside Castiel was moved over to one of the chairs in the living room and Stiles was bombarded by Scott.

“Your Dad knows and I didn't!?” Though he wasn't raising his voice practically every other Werewolf flinched and leaned away from him. Alpha voice then and the flash of Scott's eyes confirmed it. Angel or not the angry eye flashy thing wouldn't work on him.

“Yes Scott my father who raised me knows his son died back in that NICU. I'm sorry I didn't find the time to tell you between your blatent deniel of Werewolves, the rabid Alpha, the fucking Kanima, the Alpha Pack, all your Allison issues!”

“Alright, alright I get it Stiles!” Scott made placating gestures with his hands before heaving a sigh and leaning forward into Stiles personal space. “I just—feel a bit betrayed I guess. You don't smell like Pack anymore and now I learn you're not even human when you know I'm a Werewolf—you just seem to be keeping things from me.”

“Keeping things or being unable to tell you Scott? Because there is a difference and—you've been pulling away you can't deny that.” Stiles reached his hand out and gripped his best friends shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “I miss ya man, you're my brother and you're more interested in your relationship and your new power than me.”

“That's not true.” Stiles laughed at the whine in the others voice and dropped his hand from Scott's shoulder. “We'll figure this out Stiles, we'll bring back bro night if we have to.”

“Bro night was kinda replaced by Pack night man. But we can try at some time. Till then I kinda gotta--” He waved vaguely at Castiel who had been watching the entire thing intently. Scott nodded in understanding and he moved around the Alpha to get over to the Angel. Seating himself on the coffee table across from Castiel he held his hand out for one of Castiel's. “I'm going to need a knife--”

“What for?”

“Now Dean, it's not nice to bite the Archangel's head off who is trying to help you, kindly remove the angel blade from my neck when you know it won't kill me.”

“It might not kill you but I'm willing to bet it'll hurt a hell of a fucking lot.”

“Dean.” Castiel turned the other with a blank look that even Stiles couldn't quite decipher but apparently Dean got enough of a message to remove the blade from Stiles throat. Derek looked ready to commit murder and Stiles held up a hand in the others direction before nodding toward the hunter.

“I need to see his grace. I have to touch it to heal it. I know, sounds shady, but Castiel trusts me, right?” Said Angel gave a nod of his head and Stiles father brought over a kitchen knife for him. Taking the knife he again held his hand out for Castiel's own which was easily given and a cut across the palm of his hand was quickly done.

Stiles unbuttoned the mans shirt and took a bit of the blood to draw the sigil over the center of his chest. Stiles rested the tips of his fingers over the mark and murmured some words in a language no one but Castiel understood. The second the last word was uttered the blood gave a slight glow and created a hole. In the center of the hole was a bright light with a bluish tint that seemed almost burned in some places, it was Castiel's fading grace. “This might hurt, Castiel.” He gave the other two seconds to process his words before holding his hand out and reaching into the Angel's chest.

The scream he got in turn was expected and Sam had to physically grab and hold Dean back when the man lept for him. Stiles fed a bit of his own grace into the others chest, wrapping his around Castiel's who had finally quieted down and almost appeared to be unconscious had his eyes not been wide open and glowing.

“He'll be like that for a while.” John Stilinski sighed and motioned for the Werewolves to follow him into the kitchen. “Come on we'll make food while we wait.” No one seemed particularly interested in leaving the scene before them but eventually one by one they filtered out until it was just Derek, Sam and Dean waiting by the two Angels.

“If he kills Castiel--”

“If this kills Stiles--”

Needless to say if either Angel died there would be blood spilled in payment.

“Well, I guess we won't be going anywhere for a while.” Sam dropped down into a vacant chair and watched the Werewolf and Hunter glare daggers at each other.

It was five hours of waiting. Five painful hours of Castiel's grace being forced into restoration by Stiles' own. He could feel the cuts at the edge of his grace as it gave parts of itself to patch Castiel's own. It was like someone was taking a dull worn down dagger and sawing at his insides, trying to cut out parts of him for whatever reason. It was more painful and draining than when he had to heal Gabriel's wounds when he suddenly appeared outside the Sheriff's house.

In the last few minutes, when he gave what he could for Castiel before he gave to much Stiles yanked his hand back from Castiel's chest gasping for breath. His fingers curled into his shirt, gripped at the fabric over his own chest. His vision blurred, going black for a second before he collapsed forward and into Castiel who easily caught his brother. Wrapping his arms completely around the other he tugged Stiles a bit against him and glanced to the other people in the room.

Derek had moved forward, ready to take Stiles when he had swayed the first time but stopped himself when Castiel held him protectively. “Is he alright?”

“I think so, he gave more than he should have. He'll sleep a while, probably not as long as before Sheriff, and then he'll wake up starving. Grace is our—energy I heard humans refer to it as before? When he uses that much of it he has to restore himself. Food is a small way but meditation and sleeping helps the most.” Castiel shifted and tugged Stiles up a bit before looking to the Werewolf to take him. He needed rest first and foremost. Derek took him easily, lifting Stiles up into his arms before moving around everyone to carry him upstairs to his room.

“I'm going to pretend you can smell where his room is, not that you know where it was because you've already been in my underage sons bedroom.”

Derek paused on the steps and glanced a bit back at the man smiling. “...Of course Sheriff.”

“Son, there are four hunters in this room, one of them will tell me how I can shoot you if I need to give that talk.” The slight red tint that took over Derek's cheeks was not missed by anyone.

“Which bullets do you want? Silver? Wolfsbane?” Dean was already emptying his pockets holding them out.

A hand snagged out and grabbed the hunters wrist, Sam tugging him back toward the couch. “Dean, don't sound so eager to 'help' and—Derek? You should get Stiles upstairs already. How are you feeling Cas?”

“Better actually, more whole and intact. I know I'm not healed completely but it helped a lot. Just—the thought of doing this for an entire week, Zadkiel passing out like that every time—I think it might take longer than he thought.”

They might be stuck here a bit longer than they originally thought was what he was trying to say. Hopefully it didn't come to that but if it did—could that really be such a bad thing? This town clearly needed their help if what Sam read was true.

Derek had continued up the stairs with Stiles in his arms, gazing down at the man when he twitched slightly and seemed to almost be waking up. He nudged the door open with his hip and moved inside, lowering Stiles onto the bed carefully over top of the blankets. Removing both the teens shoes and his red hoodie he sat them on the desk chair and made his way back over to the bed to sit on the side closest to Stiles.

After a few minutes of watching the teen he slowly started to stir, sleep heavy whiskey eyes blinking open at Derek before falling shut again. Stiles seemed to fight the exhaustion but it was really no use, he had probably given a bit to much to Castiel in a desperate attempt to heal him. “Derek?” His words were a slurred whisper but the Werewolf clearly heard him.

“It's alright Stiles, go to sleep.” He hesitantly reached a hand out, briefly hovering over the others hair before finally settling down on top and carting his fingers through the dark locks. Stiles stilled for a moment, barely half a second before practically melting into the touch.

Sighing contently he leaned a bit into the Derek's hand before forcing his eyes partly open to look at him. “Did you mean it? When you said I was still Stiles?”

Rolling his eyes fondly he offered a small smile to the boy. “Of course Stiles, you're the person we got to know, the person we care about, the person we made Pack. I don't care if your name is Zadkiel or Jesus Christ you're still uncoordinated, flaily, Stiles Stilinski.”

Stiles blinked, his eyes widening just the slightest bit in surprise. “Did you just—make a God joke? Christ I think I love you Derek Hale.”

And he knew, he knew his heart didn't waver in the slightest bit when he uttered those words, the rock still appearance of Derek saying that much. He still watched Stiles for a moment, watched the way the Angel swallowed harshly and seemed to clam up. When he found whatever it was he was looking for the Alpha suddenly leaned down and captured the others lips against his own.

The kiss was hesitant, almost confused before one of them got their barrings straight and deepened it just the slightest bit.

“I changed my mind Dean! I want the Wolfsbane bullets! Derek Hale what did I say about my underaged son? I don't care if he is a possibly millennium old Archangel get off his bed!”

The laughter that carried out from Stiles lips into Derek's own was enough to make the man smile against him before jerking back and striding to the front of the room. “Sorry Sheriff.”

“Get downstairs young man we are having the talk and Stiles you better sleep because you bet your angelic ass we are having the same one when you get up!”

“Minus the shooting me in the ass if I break his heart?” His father offered him a slightly amused look before stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door partly behind him.

“I love you kid.”

“Love you too, Dad.”