Chapter Text

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THE BLACK WOLF DIARIES

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Chapter 1: What’s in a Diary?

 Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Please read Notes for information on Part II

Stiles stared at his laptop with a wary edge, not that he was afraid of anything getting leaked out of His own firewalls. Something Danny would be somewhat impressed by, mostly because the logic behind the software was something that only made sense to Stiles. And wasn't that something.

Sighing he conceded defeat and set out to begin to actually do what he set out to do, even though he felt he was regressing into a twelve year old girl with a penchant for swirly pens and trolls with vivacious multi colored hairstyles.

He could practically feel his balls cringe in sympathy.

Dear Journal;

Now, let me just start with I have never done this before. I am way too much a private person that just letting out all this....

*

Stiles waved his hand around before shrugging warily and honest to God face palming before continuing;

*

.... Angst. That's the best word I can use to actually describe this feeling.

So, um... Yeah there's that.

Now to introduce myself…

I'm Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, and yes you're an inanimate object but I'm still not trusting a computer blog with my birth name. Just no way. A). Apart from my relatives and dad no one can really pronounce it and (B). There's the added problem of it looking like key-smash.

T he Whole debacle is better off left alone.

So that's me Deary Diary...and yes typing that has caused my balls to shrivel up and crawl back up state.

Okay, now, moving on...

I'm supposed to let out, how I spend my days.

It’s supposed to be therapeutic or something.

I'm just gonna ignore the screeching Alpha male part of me that's yelling adamantly... 'Abort, Abort, Abort, For all things Holy Abort Stiles, ABORT!!!!!'... And continue, even though this will forever mark me as the biggest loser to ever exist.

So, it’s a Friday night and you would think...well not you, being an inanimate object and all, but I'm calling you D.J for now.

Mostly because if you become my confidant, and I can't believe I actually wrote that...I'm going to need to call you something, besides if I accidentally ever let it slip I'm writing in a diary, douche-bags like Matt-creepy-Lanter and Jackson-douchebag- Whittemore would take great pleasure in tormenting me over the fact, and let's just face it I'm really not the roll over and take it quietly kinda guy...it’d be catastrophic if I maimed Matt or Jackson, the therapy people would need after…sigh...I'd have to take resposnsibility, and there's only so much of those two I can take on an Average. 

I'll introduce you to, them...a little later.

Anyway going back as I stated you would think as a healthy red blooded testosterone fueled eighteen year old senior in high school I would be out partying up the streets... You would be wrong!

Anyway, it’s a Friday night, and I am at home cue the fanfares!

It’s not like I'm a leprosy plague victim, at least if I were I'd still have people cursing out my existence. Hell the most human interaction I get is from Her Majesty Lady Primrose - Our next door neighbor!

Why do I call her that?

When I was six or five, I don't really remember, I accidentally trampled her prized petunias.

The woman's held a grudge against me since then. Whenever I'm in her eyesight or in her general vicinity she glares down daggers of wrath.

And boy, is she terrifying! Let me tell you, dad actually agrees.

He jokes she may actually be Lilith the devil's demonic child.

Mind you I'm pretty sure half of Beacon Hills agrees.

Even though she's like the sweetest person to ever live.

 She cooks these amazing delicacies from France, where she hails from, by the way, intricate French pastries that are damn near impossible to pronounce, and I have a Polish first name and Romanian middle name.

And she gives that to the poor.

Every damn day of the week.

I mean she has like the biggest heart out there.

And though she never really talks about it, she misses her son... Rat-bastard abandoned her when he moved back to France for his supermodel French girlfriend. Which is so annoying and here's the kicker she sends money to the douche-bag. Ugh!!

I sometimes wish dad wasn't the sheriff so I can hire a hitman to kill the guy.

Jeez talk about cheapskates.

And though pretty much all of Beacon Hills, me included (she's still terrifying dude) avoids her, she walks on like she doesn't care....she's my hero.

After mom passed on, she sorta came up to me, almost wet my pants then, and said;

'It'll hurt and the pain pretty much never goes away, but you're your own person. So never change no matter who pushes you down. You stand up, you dust yourself off and you walk on...'

Mind you it’s similar to something someone, once said to me before, it sounded so much like what Winston Churchill once said...

'If you're going through hell...keep going...'

The point is the woman is a rock star! A terrifying rule the world megalomaniac, but still a rock star. And also the only person who's said two words to me.

Of which were;  ‘

Get of my lawn you pesky imp!’

Remember that part where I said she scares me, yeah, she pretty much puts the fear of God in me, all she has to do is glare and yell in that gruff voice, I practically picture her holding a sniper Army rifle like Clint Eastwood, going, ‘Get off my lawn before I stack you under my yard piece by piece’… Just Nope! Don’t want it. Like at all to ever happen!

But she’s the one person who spoke to me all week.

I mean I know I wasn’t in BH during the Summer Holidays, had to go visit my Aunt Masha in LA, and it was pretty cool, but well, I distinctly recall telling Scott I’d be back on Thursday.

And well, he’s probably busy with Allison and Isaac.

I should probably introduce you to Scotty McCall first.

Scott’s been my best friend since before we could really understand what friendship really was.

We were seven when we met, my mother was slowly dying from FTD (Front Temporal Dementia), and he was Nurse McCall’s son. We bonded on some childish level or the other, I don’t really remember.

We were pretty much inseparable after that. Along the way, I realized I never would have gotten over mom’s passing if Scotty hadn’t found me, when dad wasn’t there, and the last thing mom said was to be strong;

‘My darling boy, I am so sorry, mama has spent so much time forgetting you. You’re mama’s greatest gift. Mama is so happy to have you. My darling, Kochanie dziecko, mój syn, moja ... be strong for Papa, you must be strong for papa. He’ll lose his way, he will, but he’ll come back. So be strong for Papa, be there, and wait… I love you my Kochanie dziecko, mój syn, moja’…

Dad found me there later, me with my head in my hands, Scotty standing guard, a silent vigil by my side, while Mrs. McCall, took dad away to explain things.

I remember going to look for him, Scott shadowing my movements, and when I saw my dad just sink to his knees, and sob, these painful wracking sobs, screeching in Mrs. McCall’s shoulder, hanging on tightly, crying…losing his way… Scotty was there, he was there.

We’ve been the best of friends since then. Brothers. I’m pretty sure Mrs. M. knows you can take the boy out of the kid, but you can never take the Stiles!!!

Buwahahaha…

We’ve been together forever.  

Somewhere along the way, though, Isaac and Allison took him from me, when they all got together.  

Even though Scotty’s been dating Allison Argent, I guess it’s the power of double dates. Isaac Lahey’s dating Malia Tate.

Gosh So many people.

Lemme introduce them all.

Allison is and always be a good person. I'm just putting that out there, but I also am clearly stating it’s not like I don't like her. And yes, that is a double negative. But my feeling on her, I like her, and yet I don't...

It's not really my fault. It probably has something to do with my instincts when it comes to her;

On top she’s chock full of internalized misogyny that makes her terrified of her feminine traits, particularly the expression of emotion. This underlying fear is at odds with her girlfriend role – a role that is more often than not defined by compassion and emotional understanding.

She’s supposed to be there to teach the guy how to feel but Allison doesn’t even know what to feel herself.

Luckily Scotty-Scotsman-McCall doesn’t need any help in that department.

But, unlike other girls, she doesn’t have to sacrifice other feminine traits to achieve this reversal. She’s still incredibly compassionate – her and Scott first bond over saving an injured dog after all – but that’s only the beginning!

Then there's something about her, something... I can't put it in words...

Right from the start there’s a role reversal between her and Scott. Because Scott is definitely the more emotionally aware of the two of them (In our relationship too, Scott's got the Emotional Range of a Guiding Missile. If anyone is going to teach someone how to feel, it’s Scott).

Allison Argent just gets more complex, more interesting, more dynamic, and more...well more.

Allison might be a badass babe... but she’s also a teenage girl whose dealt with too much heartache and death in the family – the biggest one being her mother, her Aunt, her Grandfather. And though I've never met Kate Argent and Gerard Argent, the idea knowing/mourning either one,  when one died via suicide, in prison and the other in a mental institution respectively, it gives me the Heebie-Jeebies.

Other than that, she's also the girl who made Scott smile, gave him someone to love besides his mother, he lives for her, she's lucky to have him, but did she have to take him away from me?

Couldn't we have shared him? I can share, I'm not good at it, but I can share.

It's official...I'm a sap! 

***

So Isaac Lahey age 17, he’s a year younger but in our Senior Year Class maybe he joined school early or something who knows. I once heard him say; 'You being happy isn't really a priority of mine’.

 You have to wonder about that. It's not like his history is much of a secret, all of BH knows he's a survivor.

I may not like him, like at all. I hate him to be honest.

But I respect him.

To have gone through what he lived through, the kid has a good heart.

A terrible personality but a good heart…

I personally feel like he has to face his own demons before he can really open himself up to someone. Sure he wants a deep meaningful relationship, and he'd probably be keen to jump into one, and even though he's dating Malia Tate (Another anomaly that really shouldn't have jumped into a human into human interaction like at all), but I don't think he'd be emotionally capable to keep something like that running until he gets some serious therapy or self-realization or something.

Isaac's situation is a complex one, and something that still is not fully explored in reality.

There are reasons for this, of course- his situation is rather dark, most of Isaac's trouble originated in his home life - his mother and brother are both dead, and his father was a physically and emotionally abusive asshole.

Speaking of; if he wasn't incarcerated I'd revisit that Assassin Plan, and have the man killed. I wonder how Prison walk-in freezers would be like; I'd have him hang from a hook.

The problem with Isaac is he’s impulsive.

This goes hand in hand with his violence, but he's rash, quick to anger, and when he's operating by himself, he doesn't think things through very well - this is likely because he's never really learned a positive way of dealing with anger, considering how his jerk of a father resorted to violence at such times.

Thankfully, he's capable of taking a step back and looking at the situation, especially when being influenced by other characters, but most of the problem solving skills he's displayed have been 'hit it until it stops being an issue'.

This repeatedly gets him into trouble, especially with his tendency to pick fights with enemies who are stronger than him.

AKA Jackson and on one truly special occasion he managed to piss of both Caster twins Aiden and Ethan.

I never want to know what he did to garner their attention.

When it comes to his personality;

Isaac is intentionally flippant in morbid times, using dry wit and sarcasm to diffuse the situation.

There's an almost inappropriate sense of laziness that rises up when serious things are mentioned, and above all, he just seems exasperated with things, rather than taking things at a deadly face value like any normal person. For insistence that time with the guy who liked placing bombs in school Boiler rooms…

There is something very wrong with this kid.

When it comes to his Romantic view point, the kid unashamedly comments on the physical attractiveness of a teacher, once asked Lydia to go out with him at one point for no apparent reason, she was beautiful he was bored, and openly stares at a myriad of other people.

To put it bluntly, Isaac is a bit of a typical hormonal teenager, and while it's difficult for him to put stock into closeness and trust, that doesn't necessarily, mean he doesn't want to, which is why he's a walking talking contradictive cliché.

Also he wears Scarves in seventy five degrees weather. He's clearly a moron.

Isaac presents himself as overconfident and generally pretty secure, and his moments of self-doubt are only in situations where he's put in a situation where he's extremely vulnerable and as such.

Frankly, he's had to create a strong external persona so that he could keep himself from falling back into being a victim again.

And since he doesn't know how to be kind and strong, this mask often shifts to being condescending, arrogant, and cruel- just like his father. Which he knows, and on some levels more than normal-absolutely loathes…

Then somehow between our sophomore year and junior year, he became an integrated member of the Scott and Stiles fan club. I guess dating Malia helps.

And well I guess I wasn't much needed, having never dated anyone ever. I don't really spend all that time with Scott anymore.

But you would think he'd at least pick me up from the airport. Was two whole months with Isaac not enough? Where was I? Did I do something wrong? Maybe I pissed him off, if I did should I say sorry?

*

Anyway it’s now Friday, and I’m going to sleep. It’s barely nine at night, but I don’t think I feel too good, so I’m gonna sleep. I’ll also be switching off, my phone, no point wasting battery life. Not when the House phone works, and no one’s actually called me these last two months. I’m pretty sure the only reason I charged my phone a hundred times this vacation was due to the addictive Games I downloaded. Like Candy Crush, Slingshot, and Pirate Kings.

If you were sentient you would enjoy Pirate Kings.

*

Knock, Knock…

“Hey Kiddo, you okay?”

Stiles looked up to see his dad lounging against the door jamb, eyes worriedly trained on his bed.

Stiles hummed, “Just”, he shrugged laconically, "I don't actually know", he answered softly.

“Maybe get some sleep, your head’s still hurting right?” he asked softly.

“Yeah”, he whispered.

“Here”, his dad walked to the bedside cabinet popped two Tylenol PM tablets and handed him a glass of water.

Stiles thanked him as he took the small blue pills, swallowing the medicine; he cringed as a particularly nasty throb resonated through his skull, now that he was aware of the headache.

“Into bed kiddo”, Sheriff John Stilinski gently coaxed.

“I just have to save this dad”, he jerked at the laptop.

“It’s okay. I’ll wait”, he hummed and moved to his bed and sat down. Patting the bed spread with exaggerated movements.

Huffing with mild exasperation, Stiles simply rolled his eyes, and quickly resumed to typing.

*

                I guess this is it for tonight.

Somehow typing up the residual feelings of being probably unwittingly abandoned by my best bud, and actually getting out the words, I’d wanted to actually say to Allison and I saac for ever long, is therapeutic. That and I don’t want to poison his intestines. Yet…

Also Allison, she’s great I guess, but I don’t like or trust her.

And I may not be BADASS, but I am ruthless. If she ever hurt Scott, if anyone ever did, I’d find interesting creative ways to hurt them. T

here are many things I can do, I’m brilliant at Research I’ll find a way to hurt you.

*

“That is not something a father ever wants to hear kiddo. Whatever vendetta you do have keep it within the threshold of legal retribution”, John sighed.

Stiles choked on nothing as he realized he’s been speaking out loud.

“Sorry”, he apologized and went back to hurriedly typing.

*

                Well I guess that's  all for tonight Deary Diary, talk (write) more next time!!!

*

“Enough Stiles. Your Aunt Masha practically begs you sleep now”, John raised his phone showing the list of incoming messages.

“Yeah just a second…”

“No. Now Stiles”, John stood up and leaned over him, ignoring Stiles’ protests and pronounced flailing…

“Daaaaaaad!!!!”

“Nope. Not Gonna listen Kid!”

Stiles barely paid attention as John clicked on a random button; and let a dialogue box open;

If You wish for This work "The Black Wolf Diaries" to be saved please press ‘OK’

 “Okay!!!” Stiles pushed the chair back, hobbled forward like a man with two sleeping legs, and almost lost his balance, letting his dad catch him, he pressed ‘Okay’.

John sat him back in to his seat with a weary put upon sigh; “Honestly kid, all I have to do is take your mouse to the ‘Okay’ button. Will you relax?” he demanded.

Stiles huffed at the strict eyebrow of admonishment. And here he thought he’d already pressed ‘Okay’.

“Is it any wonder your cousins call you Bambi?” John huffed and pressed ‘Okay’.

They watched as the screen blanked and returned to the Homepage.

“There! Now please get it, I can power down your laptop kiddo”, John gently walked him to his bed, and put him down to sleep. “I’ll be taking this”, he lifted the laptop, “You need to rest”, and he bent down and kissed his forward, “Sen Dzieciaku, puścić bólu. Przykro mi, że nic się nie stało ...” he whispered and tucked him under the covers.

Stiles’ heart clenched at the misery on his father’s face, so he reached up for a hug, like he was five again, and held onto the man’s strong frame;

“To nie była twoja wina, tata”, he returned.

John scoffed, but relented as he ruffled the boy’s hair careful of the bandage wrapped around his forehead.

“Goodnight Przemysław-Grezegorz. I’m very proud of you”, he murmured.

Stiles flushed bright red and nodded, burying himself under the blanket.

John chuckled at the action, but moved back to the desk closed the laptop lid, and switched off the light and walked out of the room.

“Love you dad”, Stiles’ muffled voice filtered through.

“Love you too kiddo”, he hummed and closed the door gently.

***

Had either the two of them noticed they would have been able to redact and resolve their error. And because neither Stilinski noticed, the events on Monday were going to be an exercise of some sort. Because when Stiles pressed ‘Okay’, the documentary blog was saved, and yet when John pressed ‘Okay’, he’d accidentally published the work across the globe.

People would now be privy to one young man’s thoughts. His conflicts, his heart and his very soul. Because at the end of the day who didn’t want to know about the secrets of someone who could lie, without actually lying at all…

The Black Wolf Diaries, pinged on every server in the county, the state of California, and all the way to New York, where a curious young women with heavy dark hair with shades of burgundy (or red, when the light hit her just right), packed up a large box filled with cutlery, bright Green eyes dancing with amusement and curious wonder.

“Laura Hurry Up! Mom said we have to go now! Derek will be picking us up at San Fran and driving us down to Beacon Hills, and well the flight’s in two hours!” there was a pause and then, “I still can’t believe I’ll be in BH as a senior. Ugh!! The whole making friends thing is going to be a disaster!!! Hey are you listening? What are you doing? Laura!!!” the voice exclaimed.

A brunette with blonde streaks appeared in the doorway, "What are you doing?" she asked warily.

"Nothing Cora, but it is going to be worth going to Beacon Hills", Laura announced.

"As opposed to New York?" Cora asked skeptically.

Laura grinned brightly, smile one part feral three parts downright mischievous;

"New York doesn't have The Black Wolf Diaries!"

*xx~X~xx*

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Moving Matters

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Cora blinked at her sister.

“The what now? What wolf diaries? Is that some kind of New Age thing or you know a Pack Thing?” she asked warily.

“It’s a Stiles Stilinski Thing”, Laura corrected. “And New Age thing? What are you one hundred years old??” she shook her head amused.

Cora ignored the latter part of Laura’s statement and asked, “Stilinski?” Cora frowned, “As in Sheriff Stilinski’s son?” she asked.

“You know him?” Laura queried picking up her handbag, and suitcase.

“I am a student at Beacon Hills High Laur, you know our traditions, study at home, and college can be anywhere else. Although I was hoping the year I spent junior year with in New York would last. Going back feels like a moronic move on the social scale”, she grumbled but pulled herself together, and “I know who he is”, she answered eventually.

“Look at it this way, you’ll be the exotic new old student at BHH and it’ll be interesting. People will flock to you for gossip. Do you know him really well?” Laura asked as they made their way to the front door.

Cora shrugged, “Not really”, she hummed.

“I don’t understand. What does that even mean you clearly recognize who he is”, Laura gently coaxed.

“It’s difficult to explain. He’s enigmatic. At first glance you look at him, and think… ‘Ugh Spastic goofball ahoy’...but then when you know he’s not watching you look at him differently”, she paused, “It’s like looking through a prism, at first it’s just colorless light and then there are seven different colors to see because of that light”, she summed up eloquently.

“If nothing else, your eloquence will spell a Romance”, Laura teased but grew serious again; ”What does that mean?” Laura asked.

“I told you it’s like trying to solve an impossible puzzle. He’s an enigma. He’s also difficult to approach. He’s been known as Scott McCall’s best friend, at first glance you see a teenager who’s a little goofy, hasn’t grown into his limbs, tends to trip over thin air, and has way too many strange questions. For example he once wrote the history of the Male Circumcision, for an Economics Paper”, she shook he head.

Laura snorted, “No, wait seriously???” she gaped at her sister.

Cora nodded.

“He also asks Danny Mahealani the only loudest non flamboyant Gay guy in school, if he’s attractive to gay guys? I mean seriously who does that??” she asked as she juggled her phone and the keys.

Laura snorted, “Oh man I’m starting to like this kid”, she laughed.

“And then you take a step back and realize he is ridiculously intelligent. He’s second in the whole school. He’d be on par with Lydia Martin but Harris has a grudge against him, and spends most of the time handing him detention. So that’s about it. Most people want to get to know him, but they choose to stay back because his shield of sarcasm pushes them back. It’s like no one wants to get close enough to the source to lean in and just touch him. Then there’s also the part where he’s the Sheriff’s only child. Bit of an uphill battle you know. I’m not explaining this well”, she sighed defeated.

“No. I think you explained it perfectly. He’s lonely though. He wants people to see him, I guess no one’s been worthy enough to reach him”, Laura wondered.

“Why are you curious about Stiles?” Cora asked as she leant against the Taxi.

Laura slipped on her sun glasses and hummed, “I don’t know. Something curious”, she hummed as she opened the car door.

“Are your Spidey senses tingling?” Cora asked.

Laura though her beloved sister, had the observational skills of a blind person. As in zero not that the blind weren’t sensitive in other ways, but Laura wouldn’t notice a sudden change, if it wore a pink tutu and flapped around in front of her.

And yet things in Fate’s lines changing, destiny markers, connections out there, it’s like everything unseen comes together and Laura turned into a miniature Oracle.

“Is it bad?” she asked softly worriedly.

“No”, Laura shook her head, “I don’t know what it is. It’s not as clear as the time with Paige or Kate, or with Erica or Isaac, or Lydia, it’s blurry. I can’t see”, she opened her eyes, and green met her own Hazel eyes, “I woke up with it this morning. That familiar pulse just here—” she pointed at her heart, “—like an anxiety attack, like my wolf wanting to lose control. I was scared. Because I couldn’t see what terror was going to befall us now”, she whispered shakily, hands shaking as well, “And then it felt different, it was something else”, she whispered.

Cora reached out for her hands and held them.

“What do you feel Laur?” she asked softly as the cabbie opened the driver’s car door and sat down.

As the engine revved Laura whispered too low for human hearing;

“Hope”.

Cora gasped, “For us?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s like Spring-time Cherry blossoms. Uncle Peter’s mad science Kitchen explosions, dad’s comforting hugs, Drew’s ridiculous monologues on Pluto not being a planet, Ivory’s stories, Mom’s wolfy Hugs, it feels like home, and happiness”, she breathed, “It feels like us, before The Argents tainted it, before Paige died, Kate manipulating us, before Gerard tried to kill us all by becoming some kind of twisted Alpha”, she hissed.

Cora tightened her grip on Laura’s hands.

“It feels like redemption, affection, warmth, care and love”, she listed voice barely a whisper, “It feels like Fate”, she murmured.

Cora’s eyes flashed at the words.

The last time Laura had said those four words, Uncle Deucalion had been blinded by a raging psychopath, Ethan had bitten Paige in revenge, Paige had died in Derek’s arms, Derek had lost his innocence, Derek had been seduced by Kate Argent, Kate Argent almost tried to kill them all, Gerard Argent had concocted a dangerous plan to turn into an Alpha werewolf with the help of a Kanima, only to end up dying in a puddle of black goo he regurgitated thanks to the timely interferences of the Family druid Alan Deaton and up until recently a witch by the name Jennifer Blake almost tried to complete a threefold sacrificial altar at the base of the Preserve under The Nemeton in Mother’s care.

“Those words are not a good Sign Laura”, she whined, even as she hurriedly texted their mother.

Cora_ The_Magnificent: Laura’s has Spoken! =-O

The reply was swift as if their mother had been anticipating something bad. And this was when there was a good distance between Laura’s apartment and the New York Airport, where she was waiting.

Alpha_Mother_Hen:  Oh God No! Are you sure?

Cora rolled her eyes, and “Seventeen years and she still doesn’t believe me”, she grumbled and typed quickly;

Cora_ The_Magnificent: Would I joke about the dreaded words, ‘It Feels Like Fate?’ /^^\!

The reply pinged on everyone’s cellphones (Probably, given Laura’s glare at her, as she resurfaced from Bizarroworld).

Alpha_Mother_Hen:  All members of The Hale Pack Attention. Alpha orders, keep in mind no one will inform Derek of the news; Laura has spoken!!!

And with that replies poured over the Hale Pack Chat screen (Although as Names saved according to the Contact Details she saved them as. Thank God too… she’d given them all strange nicknames):

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire: You’ve gotta be kidding me, I just bought this whole new Winter Wardrobe; I don’t want blood spilling on my new Shoes, Lady Hale!

Cora couldn’t help but both laugh and simultaneously roll her eyes at Lydia’s reply.

Erica_Catwoman_Reyes: Never mind your shoes Martin, why isn’t Derek allowed to know? Is something gonna happen to him? Is he in Danger??

/00\
>

Cora hummed. It was a good question; “Is it?” she asked Laura.

“I don’t know”, Laura answered.

“How—”

But before she asks properly, Laura was already typing;

Laura_HBIC_Hale: unlike my previous pre-cognition moments. This time it’s not clear. It won’t happen at once like me knowing one day prior about things like Kate and her penchant for match-sticks.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: It’s blurry and all I’m getting is Feels, I woke up to the feeling

Laura_HBIC_Hale: I woke up to a full-fledged Anxiety Attack. And it wasn’t my panic or pain I was feeling.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: It’s not something I can explain, because it’s not clear. At all. It feels like something is changing.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: And the reason we don’t tell Derek, is because every time I had these visions, in some way or the other Derek is always the endgame. Deucalion gets injured, Paige dies. Paige dies, Derek’s innocence is lost, and Kate happened, Derek stopped smiling. And then Jennifer took away what little faith in love he did have.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: My brother is dying inside. And none of us can reach him. I want to hear him laugh.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: I want to see him love.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: I want him happy.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: And yet all I have is this niggling unfurling bud of warmth that blew up into an igniting flame, as soon as I read The Black Wolf Diaries.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: This is the link. I think we’re supposed to protect the writer’s secret and keep our mouths shut, till he receives whatever therapy he’s supposed to and maybe he can help Derek. I don’t even know what I’m typing. But for the first time in eight years I have hope.  So let’s just Hope!!!! http://www.archiveblogs.org/The_Black_Wolf_Diaries

Cora read through the messages, and blinked at the onslaught of emotions pouring off of Laura.

After ten minutes of silence and no one replying a timid answer came via unexpected text message;

Queen_Iris: Laura, this is the Sheriff’s son, is he the one who is giving you warmth? o.O

Cora blinked, “Oh. My. God!!!” she gasped, “She can text???” she asked the cabbie of all people. Laura snickered, as the cabbie looked at her quizzically.

“Didn’t you know? The woman may be ninety, but she has a Facebook page with over 500 friends? And she spends her days liking guy on Tinder and FaceTime, or well whatever those social media pages are called. Oh and the best part, she’s a Slash Fan. Oh yeah, she’s got some pairings she totally fan-girls over. Is Merthur (Merlin/Arthur from the show Merthur. It’s her Irish showing), Cherik (Charles/Erik from X-men: First Class), and oh my personal favorite Stony (Steve/Tony from Avengers)”, she grinned as Cora groaned.

“Oh. My. God! Please stop talking! That is so much information about Grandma I did not need!!!” she whined. “I’m scarred for life!!!” she whined ending with a tired moan.

Laura snorted but typed a reply;

Laura_HBIC_Hale: Yes.

Queen_Iris: I see. :-D

Laura_HBIC_Hale: Oh Lord. Grandma don’t you dare scare him off!!!

Queen_Iris: What, all I’m going to do is casually meet the young man.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: That’s it…We’re doomed!

Alpha_Mother_Hen: Laura! Be nice… X-(

Laura_HBIC_Hale: Sorry Mother. I apologize. :'(

Cora closed her eyes and tried to recall the last time she’d even spoken to Stiles.

“Hey watch where you’re going you dweeb!!!”

The kid who she actually crashed into, snorted, and promptly rolled his eyes, “Lady”, he bowed mockingly, “Be that as it may be my utter disregard for your highness, please lay weary upon my soul and saunter off upon my corpse, as you wander forth”, he snarked oddly poetically, “Be as I in servitude as thy queen-ship ventures forth, trampling innocents in her wake”, he bowed regally and promptly saluted her as he walked right past her.

Honey-whiskey eyes looked up and captured her attention, as she almost gasped as the light hit them just right, offering a semblance of glowing enchantment. As if not human, but a Beta wolf were standing before her.

The owner of the captivating eyes then turned and blew her kiss, “It’s been nice knowing you, may we never have the pleasure again!” he said and walked off.

Cora had laughed then, it had been one of the most amazing highlights of the day. She’d had an argument with her mother, and Uncle Peter who usually was so level headed took mom’s side. She’d been on a thunder-cloud hovering over her head mood. And then she’d met Stiles.

He’d been like an Avenging dark Lord, who just stood there, stood up to her in a classic demonic version of ‘The Hell If I gave a shit Dude!’ and walked on uncaring.

The whole day everyone had given her a wide berth, but this human, who’d sarcastically yet poetically, told her to kindly ‘Fuck Off’.

Cora smiled as she remembered his beautiful eyes, “He has the eyes of a Beta Wolf”, she whispered.

Laura swiveled around to stare at her, “What?” she asked.

Cora hummed, “I’ve met him once. He was 147 pounds and carried weapons in the form of words. Tall at sixteen, six feet, lanky build; buzz cut, and golden eyes, whiskey-honey in the norm, but as the light hits him, they were radiant Golden in nature”, she explained simply.

Laura gaped at her, “Beta wolf glow?” she whispered.

“HmmmMmmm”, Cora nodded.

Laura grabbed her phone and quickly typed out a message.

Laura_HBIC_Hale: Is it possible that a human can have Wolf eyes?

Queen_Iris: What do you mean?

Alpha_Mother_Hen: Laura explain…

Laura_HBIC_Hale: Cora explained meeting Stiles once, she stated, his eyes changed. Whiskey-honey normally, but as the light hits him, they were radiant Golden in nature

Queen_Iris: Oh My… :o

Alpha_Mother_Hen: It’s actually quite normal, brown eyes when hitting the light, shine almost Hazel like, or Green eyes, when a flash hits them could be mistaken for Alpha Red, the red-eye symptom. And well, for us wolves it’s the same, once the Flash hits us, our eyes flare up. The photos we have are taken from non-flash cameras. Even videos we had to capture by editing by pausing. Thank God for digital accomplishments.

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire: Would there be a possibility like mine? What was it Alan called it…

Queen_Iris: A Spark of Magic that connects you to our world

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire: Yes. That. Could Stiles have a Spark? *.*

Alpha_Mother_Hen: I don’t know. I’ve never met him, even as Alpha, I’ve only ever met the Sheriff and that too only a couple of times at conferences with the Mayor. And we were contracted for any business.

Alex_Buzzkill_Hale: I’ve already done Full Research on the entire family and close friends and relatives. The strange thing is most of the information about them is sealed. The Sheriff’s Government documents are sealed. He’s an Ex-Marine. Claudia Stilinski wife and mother to John C. Stilinski and P. G. Stilinski respectively, died when he was seven.

 Alpha_Mother_Hen: P. G. Stilinski???

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire: He renamed himself after his mother died. I think in Elementary school he had an Epic fight with Jackson, and Principal Myers (retired now), he started calling himself ‘Stiles’. Eventually everyone pretty much started calling him that.

Isaac_Puppywolf_Lahey-Hale: I remember that, Camden was picking me up that day. I remember Jackson taunting him about his name, which all I remember is damn impossible to pronounce.

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire: True. It’s Polish or Russian I think. Anyway the truth is, Stiles had all documents completely and totally white-corrected. The few places that have his full name are under lock and key. Even Danny can’t hack into the records, and he’s actually stated, he doesn’t follow the Programming’s logic. Something about missing Keys, and Impossible Language barriers...

Laura_HBIC_Hale: I can try.

Alpha_Mother_Hen: What does it say about me, that I’m all but ready to give you six hundred Green Flags to go ahead? Hack away…

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire: LoL Alpha

Isaac_Puppywolf_Lahey-Hale: Alpha Rules!!!

Alex_Buzzkill_Hale: Seriously Sis…

Queen_Iris: My Daughter people…

Erica_Catwoman_Reyes: Go For It Alpha!

James_PapaWolf_Hale: Honey, we already have one Peter and an Ella, we do not need another psychopathic Hale on the loose, rein it in…

Alpha_Mother_Hen: But babbyyy!!!! I can be a good girl!!!

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire: That’s my cue, gotta go!! :<

And that worked as well as any alarm setting could. They were just pulling up to the Airport, as everyone commented and logged off at once. All leaving a quirky statement behind;

Lydia_ bean_sìth_Extraordinaire has logged off.

Isaac_Puppywolf_Lahey-Hale: Yup I gotta jet too…

Isaac_Puppywolf_Lahey-Hale has logged off.

Alex_Buzzkill_Hale: I think I just threw up in my mouth…

Alex_Buzzkill_Hale has logged off.

Queen_Iris: There are just some things a mother does not need to know!!!

Queen_Iris has logged off.

Erica_Catwoman_Reyes: Go For It Alpha! Talk Dirty to him!!! ;P

Laura_HBIC_Hale: Oh. My. God. ERICA!!!! K

Erica_Catwoman_Reyes: What? I think it’s cute!! ;)

Laura_HBIC_Hale: That is not cute! It’s nauseating!!! :/

Erica_Catwoman_Reyes: You are such a khsjdgwjfcgeajgvhjegytr4767465t782ih

Laura_HBIC_Hale: What?

Vernon_ TheThird_ Boyd:  Wrestled the phone away from Erica, please relax. Also Have a safe journey Laura and Cora. We’ll celebrate when you return. J

Vernon_ TheThird_ Boyd: "Yiba Safe , futhi True , futhi Kwangathi ngohambo lwakho ulethe injabulo nokuchuma". May this prayer keep you safe on your travels. ;)

Laura_HBIC_Hale: Thank You!!! :D

Cora_ The_Magnificent: From me as well, Thanks Boyd, ’Rica!!! J

Erica_Catwoman_Reyes has logged off.

Vernon_ TheThird_ Boyd has logged off.

Laura_HBIC_Hale has logged off.

Cora_ The_Magnificent has logged off.

There was silence in the cab for a few minutes as the Cab was cleared at the security marked post and the driver was patted down. Cora looked down at the E-Ticket, tracing their Flight's logo absentmindedly;

And re-read the Flight Details, eyes scanning the page blindly as she thought about everything that had just occurred:

7:00am - 9:55am

Virgin America

5 hrs 55 mins

JFK - LAX Nonstop

One way price for 3 travelers, including taxes and fees: $834.78

Total distance 2,461 miles.

7:00a  9:55a 5h 55m

New York (JFK) to Los Angeles (LAX)

Virgin America 399

First Class/ Coach (L)

Airbus A320

Bag fees

Estimated baggage fees charged by Virgin America

Carry On                                           No fee

1st checked bag                               $25.00

2nd checked bag                              $25.00

Refolding the print out she wondered, it was too early on a Saturday Morning to be thinking about all these things.

Hell she was surprised the others were even awake. It was after all four in the morning. Although Lydia and Erica were probably partying. and if they were Isaac would be with them, and if Isaac was Allison and Scott McCall would have been and if they were Danny, Boyd and Jackson and other teens would be there. 

And Mom was usually awake at five, and God knows why Grandma Iris was awake, maybe her Arthritis was acting up. For a Human, she sure was spiritely though. 

Cora exhaled softly, “For the first time ever—and I can’t believe I’m about to say this—I’m looking forward to going home. Back to Beacon Hills”, she laughed then and grinned brightly at Laura.

Laura smirked, “I told you; New York doesn't have The Black Wolf Diaries!” she teased.

Cora laughed and clapped her hands, “I am going to Facebook stalk him. Wanna see?” she asked.

“Oh definitely!” Laura agreed, even as they walked into the airport and Laura helped check them both in. Cora finally found Stiles’ Login Facebook Page.

Strangely he had a Security Block on his page, which only let her see his eyes, as his profile Photo.

“Did you find anything?” Laura asked.

“Nope. Just his eyes, he has a security block”, she turned the I-Phone around and showed her the photo.

“Oh wow, actual beta wolf eyes”, Laura murmured in awe, tracing the eyes just so.

Deceptively so... Cora agreed mentally.

Cora smiled, and “It’s going to be fun”, she started.

“And Coveted”, Laura added.

Talia found them grinning at each other, “And metamorphic, I think I can feel it”, she whispered softly. A smile transforming her features into the beautiful woman she was. Is. Will always be.

They both grinned, and turned to follow their Alpha; Cora had already started reading the first entry and, could barely wait for the rest. Turning to Laura she grinned;

“I think this is the start of something new…”

~xxXxx~

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Casper Had it Easy

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Stiles put down the groceries on the Kitchen table and stared at its surface for what felt like eternity.

John found him ten minutes later, “You look like you saw a ghost”, he commented idly picking up the eggs and starting towards the fridge, to put it away.

“I think I did”, he shook his head.

“Oh?”

“A ninety-something woman kind of asked me a few strange questions. I have literally no idea why? Kinda felt like I was on a dating site, filling out a profile form”, he shivered, “Besides if she were a ghost, I have to tell you Casper had it easy”, he grumbled.

“Well was the Granddaughter or grandson at least good looking?” John asked amused, biting into a red apple leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Not my type given she was twelve”, he shuddered.

John choked on a bite and burst out laughing.

“Oh My God, don’t laugh it was embarrassing. Hell the girl Gemma looked like she was contemplating diving into the on display soup bowls”, he laughed despite the situational therapy he may end up subjected to.

John snorted and handed him a glass to drink the juice.

Stiles rolled his eyes, and “I wasn’t going to actually put the bottle to my mouth”, he defended himself.

John scoffed, “My ten years younger self scoffs at your words child”, he snarked.

“And people wonder where the Sarcasm comes from”, Stiles mocked.

“You are my son”, John stated simply shrugging.

“You heading in?” Stiles asked, as he started making a Heart Healthy lunch.

“Yup. Night Shift’s a-calling”, he stretched languidly dressed in a simple blue sweatshirt and jeans.

“When are you due in?” Stiles asked, as removed a few ingredients from the fridge.

“I’ll be leaving by one”, he stated.

“Okay”, he nodded, “How about you go relax and do old man things”, he shoo-ed him from the kitchen, “Whilst I make you some Heart Healthy lunch”, he grinned sadistically.

John groaned, “Ugh! Nooooooooo”, he whined, “I’ll chuck all tofu and greens into a bin, if I see ‘em”, he warned.

Stiles snorted, “Like I’ll be stupid enough to hand you the lunch. Parrish is picking you up right? Since the whole Partner scheme you started up, after Tara’s attack”, he stated.

“Yeah?” John didn’t like where this was going.

“Excellent”, Stiles rubbed his hands together maniacally, evil laughter all but ready to be belted out, “Mission accomplished”; he announced and walked back into the kitchen.

“All you need to complete that look is to start stroking a cat!!!” and then “Dammit Stiles, you will not turn my deputy against me, and here I thought I’d finally found a man not corrupted by your schemes”, he huffed petulantly.

“Your five year old is showing Old Man!!!” Stiles replied simply.

“That’s an entirely contradictive statement!!! Aren’t you an A++ student! Have I truly raised a hooligan?!!!” John sighed painfully.

“Oh completely dad”, he poked his head out of the kitchen and stared at him balefully, “I’m your run of the mill delinquent, if there were murders happening, I’d be popping up at all your crime scenes”, he promised and ducked back to the skillet smirking at his father’s horrified expression.

“That-what No! Don’t you dare”, he sputtered as the truth in that entire statement sunk in.

Stiles snorted, even as he cooked the shredded chicken in the skillet, as it cooked for twenty minutes on a high flame, in two teaspoons of Soy-Oil.

He started on the carrots, and shredded them into a pile of grated orange mess.

Sprinkling a pinch of salt on meat he gently waited until they cooked into a golden-brown texture.

John had already switched on the sports channel and was grumbling to himself.

Stiles smiled, and taking the chicken off of the stove he allowed it to cool for a bit, before he combined the chicken, carrots and barbecue sauce in a bowl and mashed the lot together.

As the mixture cooled, he brought out the walnut Bread Ms. Mathieson made every Sunday at the Farmer’s Market, and cut them in Bun size, shapes, it was tricky, but he liked the exercise of it. He maintained the walnut bread was shaped in buns.

He’d prepared the Ranch Dressing on Friday it was an easy recipe his Aunt Masha had written down for him, when he’d first started worrying about his dad’s health.

The ingredients were 1 cup plain, nonfat Greek yogurt, 1 packet dry ranch dressing mix (1 cup dried parsley, 2/3 cup garlic salt, 1/2 cup crushed saltine crackers, 1/2 cup dried minced onion, 1/2 cup onion salt, 1/4 cup onion powder, 1/4 cup garlic powder, 2 tablespoons dried dill weed and 2 tablespoons ground black pepper (optional)) and 1/2 cup reduced fat milk.

Stiles then whisked all ingredients together and let it chill for at least 2 hours before serving; the entire preparation only took 2 minutes.

Stiles spread Ranch-dressing on the bun, topped it with the chicken mixture and lettuce.

For dessert with the ingredients; 1/2 cup Blueberries, 1/2 cup Banana slices and 2 tablespoons nonfat vanilla yogurt, 3 slices cocktail-size pumpernickel bread, 1 tablespoon shelled unsalted pistachios and 1 tablespoon bittersweet chocolate chips.

Stiles combined the blueberries, banana and yogurt in another container. He placed cocktail bread in a fourth container of The Bento Lunch Box. Nestled within a dip-size container in with the bread; filled it with pistachios and chocolate chips.

 “Dad I think you should go get ready, it’s almost quarter to one”, he called as he neatly spooned in the Blueberries-Yogurt salad.

“Yeah, okay. Make something for Parrish as well, kid hasn’t been eating right”, John stretched languidly.

Stiles leant against the kitchen doorway, “Is he sick?” he asked worriedly.

“I don’t know. I’ve been noticing his lack of weight. I’ve been worried about him”, John hummed.

 “That’s alright Dad, I’ll make him something too. Now up and at ’em Daddio gotta catch me some baddies”

John rolled his eyes, “I raised a brat, you listening Clauds, our son’s a hooligan”, he sighed mock-put upon.

“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah get on with the clothes wearing”, he pushed his dad towards the stairs and laughed at his antics.

***

By the time Deputy Parrish came a-knocking; Stiles had already packed both Lunches and was cleaning the kitchen.

“Hey is anyone at home?”

“In the kitchen”, Stiles called, and scrubbed the pan, he’d reheated the Grilled chicken from last night, and had already left them cooling by the table so he could box them neatly, after they’d cool down a bit.

“Making Dinner for your dad?” Parrish asked as he walked to the fridge and grabbed something to drink, as he always did whenever he came over.

Stiles nodded, “And for you too”, he stated.

“For me?” Parrish blinked in shock, accidentally swallowing down the wrong tube, coughing he cleared his throat at least half a dozen times, before accepting the glass of water Stiles gave him.

“You okay?” Stiles asked warily, even as he began by taking a Tupperware dish and gently placing a foil sheet on its bottom.

“Stiles what do you mean you made something for me?” Parrish asked as soon as he could.

“You haven’t been eating well”, he shrugged. “It’s a simple Grilled Chicken sandwich”, he said.

“Why?” Parrish asked voice oddly pitched down.

“What do you mean by why? It’s so you can quit looking like a Zombie”, he teased.

“I can feed myself Stiles”, he hissed angrily.

Stiles looked up to Green eyes seething as they bored into him.

“Hey whoa!” Stiles raised bot hands in surrender, “No one is saying anything about methods to take care of one self”, he flailed wildly, “I figure you guys work too late hours, and by the time you get home, sometimes cooking for one, can be just exhausting”, he rambled, “I was just taking care of that”, he gestured to the Grilled Chicken with Strawberry and Pineapple Salsa, placed in a small bowl, and the chicken on two pieces of lightly buttered Wholes wheat toast.

“I’m not your dad Stiles. I’m not some pet project who needs to be fed healthy food, I can take care of myself!” he snapped chugging down the juice and bringing it down on the table harshly.

The glass wobbled dangerously and Stiles hurriedly reached out to steady the glass, Stiles looked up the Parrish glaring at him.

“I-I know that. I would have given you white bread, but Whole wheat is what we have—”

“It’s not about the Goddamn Bread!!! So you think I’m too weak to even take care of myself, what do you take me for? You’re just a stupid brat to afraid to realize your dad’s a Sheriff he’s strong Stiles you don’t need to baby him so much! One burger with fries won’t kill him!!!” he slammed both hands down on the table.

Stiles flinched and took a step back.

“Deputy!”

Both Stiles and Parrish looked up to see The Sheriff standing there angrily, glaring down at them.

Stiles shook his head he didn’t want this, he could feel the panic creeping in, he could feel phantom hands pushing him down, his eyes flashed and he saw Jordan’s expression crumble as realization swept him, he stumbled and grabbed the nearest closest aid, which turned out to be the back of the Dining chair.

“Stiles!”

Stiles blinked, and “I’m fine dad”, he exhaled and closed his eyes, reining the panic back. Turning back to their guest, he clenched his right fist, the appendage shaking as tremors wracked through him, tremors he shielded behind words.

Looking up he could see through the kitchen window, the sky darkening and lightning flashing almost vindictively as if in tune with his emotions.

“I apologize Deputy Parrish”, he looked up and closed both Lunch boxes, “I meant no disrespect, I understand a man of your years, who has graduated at the top of his class in Military Medical Emergency and as a Deputy at the Sheriff’s Station, a man of your stature and experience would be more intelligent when it came to taking care of oneself”, he gently closed both lids, and handed Jordan Parrish his container and his dad the other.

He carefully ignored the man’s ashen features, or the flinch his words garnered.

“As it may be, I do feel afraid but for the very reason you have stated, He may be the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, but I laid claim to him first”, he leant in and hissed, “He’s my father”, he growled in sync with the thunder rumbling and promptly ignored his dad;

“Stiles, easy…”

“Now, maybe familial relationships don’t hold much salt with you, having you abandoning yours, when demons hit too close to home. Being the sole survivor of an air raid, and going back home, to the part of wherever you hail from—” he whispered into his ear as he circled him, “—must be hell on the senses. All those pitying looks, the thinly veiled insults, ‘Why did he have to live?’ questions, andthe utter disregard for your feelings”, he paused and smirked, as he trailed a hand down the man’s feature as he laughed at his dad’s words;

“Oh Lord Clauds, we raised a wolf in sheep’s clothing”, John muttered.

“See the thing is, I don’t care what you think about the people I give a shit about. Whether you like it or not, I’ll still be here taking care of them”, he promised, and stepped back, “You can throw the food away if you want, but seeing as I spent time on it, time I won’t be getting back, do the honorable thing Deputy maybe give it to someone who can confess to not getting enough sleep, has zero nightmares, has no panic attacks, heart seizing terrors, and tremors that course through their systems, as the dolls they are”, he pat the Deputy on his back, and hummed.

Pulling his dad in a tight hug he whispered softly;

“Try not to fillet him. The guy looks like crap. Love you dad, Be Safe”, he added louder at the end deliberately smirking at a flushed ashamed Deputy looking every bit like a kicked puppy would look.

 “Stiles…” Parrish whispered pleadingly.

Stiles ignored him, but then “Oh”, he paused, “I forgot to add; you are definitely not my dad, considering I already have the best”, he smirked, “But you are a supposedly elder brother-like…” he turned back and grinned, “Try to swallow the veggies dad. Nom-nom”, he teased.

“And imitate a flying airplane with a spoon?” John asked exasperated.

Stiles snorted back and he grinned, “Well… I think, I am going for a walk in the rain”, he nodded once and started for the front door. Just as the first tear dropped from Parrish’s eyes, the skies opened and fell with an air of release.

Stiles hummed, “Take care then”, he murmured mostly to himself.

*

Parrish moved forward and his dad turned to the deputy, “Listen kid!” he pushed the man back a step, watching his son, gently close the door.

It was the gentleness his kid did things with, that scared the man. Stiles had always had a mean streak a mile-wide. The problem was the Dark side of his other half only ever surfaced, when Stiles’ temper flared.

“What the hell were you think? Snapping at him like that, if you can’t handle the stress Jordan, you can go home, sleep. Rest. No one is forcing you to work straight shifts”, he scolded. “Now, choose? You wanna stay here; catch up on some much needed sleep? Or force yourself so badly that getting shot would be ten times less painful than having Stiles, talk to you. And when I say talk, I mean talk. Because I’m warning you now, for all Stiles rambles, he never really gets to the point. A fact you should consider a blessing, as you can see, him making a point, ends badly”, he sighed as he pulled the deputy into his arms.

Jordan broke as warm arms circled him; he cried softly as the man closest thing to a father he had held him up, as the guilt and pain washed through and over him.

“Did your nightmares come back?” John asked softly.

Jordan nodded, “I can’t, I can’t sleep”, he whimpered, “E-every time I close my eyes, it’s the same, same thing over and over again. There’s fire and debris everywhere, and blood so much, and bodies burnt to a cr-crisp. And I’m just standing there. N-naked as the day I was born”, he hiccupped, “And the only one alive. No burns, no cuts, no anything, just covered in ash”, he shivered, “What am I”, he whispered brokenly.

“Human”, The Sheriff answered easily.

“B-But”, he sputtered weakly, “I-I—”

“Listen kid, I can do today’s shift by cleaning up the paperwork, just sitting there rotting the very wood, from which it’s by product exists”, he grumbled, “You on the other hand, are going straight upstairs, taking a shower—because God, you Reek—and Kid, you really do look like a zombie. Get in bed, sleep”, he ordered all the while ushering the kid upstairs, he reached for his cellphone and called the station.

‘Beacon Hills Sheriff Department Tara speaking how may I help you?’

“It’s John Tara, I’ll be in a bit late. And Parrish is taking a day off”, he informed her.

‘Oh Thank God!’ Tara’s voice echoed down the line.

John pressed the speaker button for Parrish and quirked a smug brow.

“The exclamation??” he prompted.

‘You’re kidding right?’ Tara asked.

John noted her voice oddly scratchy after her assault at the High School she’d been checking up on, a disturbance. The caller was still MIA, and the reason was still an utter mystery, Stiles had shrugged and stated;

‘Maybe it was a stalker dad, Tara has recently got engaged, and she is beautiful. Maybe he’d just wanted to see if he could have her. A last ditch effort that went South? Or maybe he balked and couldn’t do it.’

The others had agreed, Melissa had even commented the ligature marks around the neck were sloppy and almost half-hearted at best.

But that only forced to put Tara on Desk duty until her broken arm healed, and her voice lost that scratchy lilt to it.

“Not particularly”, he answered promptly despite his memories’

‘The kid has been trying to take every damn shift since my accident’, she snorted the word, ‘I may just fire my therapist Bossman, but the point is Jordan really needs to sleep. So did you get him to take an off? Go all, Bossman on him, order his ass down? Come on Bossman, I need me the deets’, she queried.

John chuckled, even if half of what she said went right over his head;

“You sound a bit like a pre-teen there Tara, easy on the sugar”, he shook his head at her ‘Meh’ sound and sighed, “I didn’t really do anything. Jordan just snapped thanks to his lack of sleep, and Stiles ended up as his unintentional victim”, he explained.

‘Ouch. Oh Dear Lord, did the kid snark back with all his witty repartee and dismiss all with his sarcastic dry wit?’ she sniffed mock pityingly.

John huffed, and “That would have been the better option, he deflecting like that”, he sighed as he coaxed Parrish to pull off his shirt as he adjusted the water temperature.

It was like asking a toddler to take a bath. The kid barely moved. Blinking owlishly at him, as whatever energy he had left died straight after Stiles gently closed the front door.

‘Uh…?’

John sighed, “He talked to him”, he stated.

A shocked gasp sank the room into heavy silence.

John half wondered if the line had been disconnected, and pulled the phone away to see the signal marking the call.

‘Oh Holy Crap!!!’ Tara squawked in shock loud enough to be heard from miles away.

“Decibels woman!!!” John cringed shaking his head.

‘He talked. Like talked, talked?’ she asked.

John sighed heavily, “Yup”; he popped the ‘p’ languidly and gently maneuvered Jordan under the warm shower. Pulling the curtain closed he let the kid take off his own boxers, under a modicum of false privacy.

‘Oh. Dear. God!! That’s a double Ouch’, she hummed warily, and ‘Is Jordan Okay?’ she asked softly.

“A little shell-shocked but I’m getting him to take a shower and sleep. He’ll be okay, after a goodnight’s sleep. Well a few more than one anyway”, he walked to his room, and found a pair of sweats that’d fit him.

‘Well Okay, take care of him Bossman, we need the help and I need him to be there. It felt a lot safer with him being here; especially with the lunatic that attacked Stiles on the loose…And my attacker for that matter. I just I feel safer with him here. And there’s just something about this whole End of the year thing, I feel as if everyone’s all in one place and something’s coming. So if we’re all in one place, I think it’s safer’, Tara wished carefully.

“I don’t know what that all means, but yeah sure I agree”, he nodded and shook his head.

‘It’s all in the psyches doc’, Tara stated.

“Again no idea what that means… Get back to work Deputy”, John retorted weakly.

‘Aye, aye El Capitano’, Tara saluted no doubted before logging off the call and leaving the sheriff with a pair of track bottoms and an old California Police Academy sweatshirt.

As John stepped back towards the Hallway he found Jordan standing a tad confused with a towel around his waist and a towel slung around his shoulders.

John sighed, “Come on Kid, put these on”, he turned around but stayed close, the kid, did look like he was going to just end up fainting.

After two minutes a soft tug on his blazer pulled him back, and he turned to look at Parrish all but drowning in his clothes. John’s heart twisted and he sighed, and pulled the kid back into his arms.

“The Fact that I don’t get laid at all, it’s an utter miracle I manage to have three kids?” he shook his head.

“T-Three??”

“Well yeah”, John shrugged, as he gently maneuvered Jordan into their guest bedroom, and he sighed, “You physically the oldest and yet, practically drowning in that sweatshirt. Stiles can actually fill that, he has broad shoulders. And then Scott who’s like a Puppy and yet is at least mature enough to maintain a healthy life style, so definitely the middle kid. And then there’s Stiles. Who grew up way to quickly and lost touch of his inner kid and wouldn’t know what fun was, unless you picked up a lunch tray and slammed it down on his skull”, he shook his head.

It took what was approximately another ten minutes to coax Parrish to eat the oddly light yet filling Lunch Stiles had prepared.

Even though it took an actual phone call to confirm, if a Grilled Chicken Sandwich served with Strawberries and a pineapple salsa.

Was too heavy for Jordan, given he’d probably hadn’t had a decent meal since before the nightmares began, although he’d have to start him on new therapy sessions, because clearly their Station’s therapist was ridiculously bad.

An accident… really, that’s what she told Tara to think. The idiot.

So against better judgement and doubting his kid, he called Masha and asked her for her advice. After all she was the Double major holder in Nutritional Science and Psycho-therapy. A therapist who ironically ate her weight in, more than the average, and prattled at less than fortunate people about ridiculously elaborate and tasteless diets.

‘Hiya Bigger Brother!’

John rolled his eyes at the greeting he kept one hand on Jordan’s shoulder, on occasion petting him, and realizing belatedly it was the act one did when petting a cat or dog.

And yet every time he stopped Jordan whined.

Shaking his head he sighed;

“Little sister, I need some advice”.

‘Okay. Shoot’.

John relayed the situation, and Masha hummed, ‘To clarify and summarize lack of sleep. Nightmares, lack of any kind of diet, short temper of an otherwise placid temperament? And a guilt complex to rival guilt complexes?’ she asked.

“Yes”, he answered succinctly.

‘And what did Stiles prepare?’ she asked.

“Grilled Chicken with Strawberry and Pineapple Salsa”, he answered.

“The Grilled chicken doesn’t seem to be well done, and the salsa seems—I don’t know—what’s the word I want to use here, not heavy?” he shrugged as he explained what he meant.

‘And you called why? Do you doubt Stiles?’

John flinched, hand stilling and he swallowed, “I—”

‘Idiot Bigger Brother’, she scoffed, ‘You’re an idiot, going by the dish he emailed me, a list of the recipes he wanted to feed you, better tasting than the ones with tofu and greens. The grilled chicken one you mentioned originally serves 4, with three hundred and twenty calories and 453 milligrams of sodium. So going by Stiles and his brain, the one in front of you has I reckon at least 112mg of Sodium or salt, which is less. Like basically good for the cholesterol and heart and the bare minimum of just eight calories. The nutritional quotient itself is on par with a normal Energy Bar, actually less than that. Also chicken contains protein and if grilled hasn’t contained an excess of oil, to be clear. The food is okay to eat and is light. So relax and quit doubting the kid, who has zero kid like skills. Maybe we need to hire someone to give him an adrenaline rush. An adventure!!!’ she crowed.

“Goodbye sister!”

‘I’m not talking Trauma, I’m taking adventure!!!’

John shook his head and hung up the phone. “Well eat up”, he turned to Jordan who was gnawing on a bone, “Or not, seeing as you practically demolished the food. When the hell did you start eating?” he wondered warily.

“About two seconds after your sister answered”, he answered softly.

“Huh…” he snorted, “You really are a toddler. Man Melissa will be so happy to hear someone can act younger than Scott”, he ruffled Jordan’s hair and grinned, “Now, will you go up and sleep, on your own, or do I have to actually read you a bedtime story?” he teased.

Jordan flushed, “I’ll be okay sir”, he paused.

“Yes?” John prompted.

“Can I, can I sleep anywhere else? Somewhere familiar?” he asked warily.

“Sure”, John nodded, understanding the need for something familiar. Trauma victims, always clung to something that meant more than coddled comfort.

“I-I where?” he asked curiously.

“You can take his bed”.

They both looked up to see a very drenched muddy Stiles standing in the kitchen doorway.

And what did that say about his cop-skills, he didn’t even hear his son’s entrance or return.

Jordan shrunk back, but Stiles snorted, “Come on idiot brother of mine, we need to get you sleeping”, he all but pulled Jordan up and out of the kitchen all the while talking a mile a minute, like he wasn’t or hadn’t been hurt moments ago;

“Let me just tell you, no grown man, should ever want to sleep in a teen’s bed, the horror that could befall your eyes, oh my god! I do not even want to think about it!!! Can you imagine”, he shuddered violently, “I have porn under the bed…” he hissed, “and stuff related to porn, on the bed”, he whined, “Just no, no, no, no! I mean would you even wanna sleep on my spunk-y sheets”, he asked, “No, right? I mean horror, dude horror”, he reminded.

“On the other hand, if dad does you know, choke the chicken—”

“Stiles!!!”

“Oh My God!!!” Jordan whimpered.

“—there’s that”, he laughed and continued explaining things about sex to an increasingly traumatized flushed deputy who looked like he’d the ability to turn invisible.

“Did you know, your average healthy man produces approximately 300 million sperm in just a teaspoon of his semen? However, it only takes one little swimmer to fertilize a woman’s egg……..”

John shook his head, “Poor kid, it was nice knowing you. May God bless you and keep your memory alive”, he sighed, and turned to Claudia’s photo on the Mantle, “My Darling, another one bites the dust…”

He grinned as he heard a terrified yelp and Stiles’ loud cackle.

“DAD!!! JORDAN FOUND YOUR PORN STASH!!!”

And that was his cue to leave; he all but bolted out of the house.

“Well it’s probably like Tara said, something wicked this way cometh!”

 ~xxXxx~

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Maudlin Rhymes with Addams, right?

(Part I)

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Stiles entered his room and promptly face planted on his bed.

By the time he'd managed to get Jordan into bed, and under the covers, the deputy had all but clung to him like a limpet, and refused to let go.

It had to have been an hour since his dad's escape and the crying apologetic mess his pseudo-brother had been.

"Ugh!" he grumbled into his pillow, "Between Scott and Parrish. The puppy and masochist, and me the sociopath, our Addams family is taking the original out of the running", he sighed and turned onto his back, to contemplate his life.

When did it all go to hell?

There only was one answer, logically he'd say when he was seven, and the phenomenon he NEVER talked about happened, but the actual answer was the night before their Sophomore Year, and he and Scott had snuck of to look for a dead body.

Okay...yes, it was not one of his brighter ideas but he was curious.

Thank God! They hadn't been caught then, because it only sunk in a little later when Scott's Asthma or well they had been, just it was Derek Hale that had caught them, exclaiming gruffly, 'What are you doing here? This is private property', like the old man he secretly pretends he is.

Sighing he got up and walked to his laptop, he was so never confessing this to his therapist but it had been therapeutic to put down all his feelings in words and get it all out of his system and though, he'd never confess this—even under pain of death—he actually felt like DJ was a real person, and it felt as if he was talking to someone, even though it was highly unprecedented he'd ever let that happen. Talking to someone about his feelings? Yeah even if Pigs do learn to fly, never going to happen!

Settling, he opened the Tab to his App, SpillTheBeans.com and exhaled once, long and hard, getting out all the pent-up emotions that had been building since he's first entry

Dear Diary,

Hey it’s me again, Stiles...Yes, I understand how utterly maudlin that sounded, but have you yet not figured it out? I'm an eighteen year old boy, who is unforgivably dementedly, singularly alone right now.

My dad spends most days bringing down the deceptively Good, The Really Bad and oh My God What is That Ugly people, of and around Beacon Hills to justice.

My elder pseudo-brother hasn’t slept a wink since before the Iraq wars even began, and my younger pseudo-brother makes all Romantic comedies shame and pale in comparison, to what he has with Allison.

Okay…

Stiles paused, stood up walked around shook out the anger inside him, and returned back to the task at hand.

Yes, sorry about that. I took a minute to step back, shake out the irritating self-flagellating thoughts and now I’m better. I took a nice long breath; inhaled-exhaled did the whole heeheehoo-heeheehoo breathing exercises most pregnant women on the cusp of birthing do. I am all better.

I do not have any intention of picking up my laptop and chucking it out of the window.

Nope, no, no-siree, I am all better!!!!

Stiles growled low and angrily pushed back and all but bolted from his chair and opened the window, stuck his head out and cursed fluently in Polish;

“Wszystkich pieprzonych kurwa fragating kurwa fuckitty, Fucking Fucked, kurwa, do cholery, pierdolony bzdury!!!!”

Pulling his head back in, he exhaled again sank down to his knees and clawed the wall, “Okay, Yeah I’m a shitty liar”, he sighed wearily. Head down he stared at an obscure brown stain and relaxed his stance, breathing in and out, closing his eyes he controlled the mish-mash of thoughts in his head and pushed back up.

Looking around his room, he suddenly felt bereft of comfort and warmth, and also an immediate need to cry, not to mention he still felt like shit. Spending around thirty minutes walking—scratch that—trudging through the forest at the back of their house, as he screamed out his pent up feelings in sync with the ridiculously loud rain pouring down on him.

Looking around he hummed, “What I really need is a that”, he muttered, “And a shower, a hot bubble bath would feel different no doubt better”, shrugging he peeled off his clothes and kicked away his sodden jeans, and ridiculously sopping wet T-shirt.

He was definitely an idiot, for trying to organize his rage in words, when he was downright uncomfortable.

Pulling away his dirtied bedding from the bed, he collected the Laundry and his sodden boxers he walked to his dad’s room, took Deputy Jordan’s clothes and decided to finish some chores, and started on the exercise to clear his mind.

*

If he’d been paying even a half an ounce of attention to his laptop, he probably would have noticed a blinking message right next to the pop-up ads, he simply could not disengage, clearly stating, ‘Live Feed’.

*

Stiles hummed as he scrubbed down the kitchen counters with scented Bleach he’d bought that morning, the tiles and floor were gleaming and the ceramic counters practically shone. Thirty minutes of organizing Laundry, cleaning the supplies closet, the back veranda wet from the unsuspecting Rain shower, and now the kitchen, he was pleasantly sore and relaxed.

A clear cut precise way of writing down his thoughts out started forming in his mind, somewhere between his trek from the Veranda to the Kitchen sink and he was ready to tackle the session, straight after showering and re-making his bed of course.

Shaking his head, he squeezed out the rag he’d been polishing the floor with and peeled of the protective yellow gloves, stored away the supplies, took out the ‘Caution Wet/Polished Floor’ sign he’d bought as a joke, a long time ago, and switched off all the lights he’d switched on and smiled happily.

“Good”, he nodded to himself, waved to his mom, and walked to the Linen Closet, taking the duvet, sheets, etc. and pillow-covers he climbed the stairs and whistled softly, careful of not being too loud as Deputy Parrish—Jordan was still sleeping. Pretty much like the dead—another good thing.

Switching on the light in his room, on a six o’clock evening he blinked at the light and blinked.

“Okay, re-organizing. I can do that”, he set the linen on the floor next to the Laundry hamper for his dad’s room, and walked into his own room, he pulled back and paused, “On second thoughts, it’s spacey enough as it is”, he walked back to the door, to look around and nodded.

Looking in, he took in the details of his own room;

To his left was the closet, just behind his door, and out of sight, adjacent to the closet and between both doors, the closet and bedroom, were two rows of shelves for a few selected items, books mostly.

In front of that, were his clothe-chest and bed, and a chair he’d kept there, when he felt like sitting up in bed and doing homework, and spreading out his books.

Above the mantle of his bed, were a dozen photos, posters, quotes, images and several wallpaper ideas. If inspiration struck right, he would post a new thing above his twin bed, the mess would look well messy to anyone else, but it made sense to him.

His bed, being a twin and small for two was good enough. It was cozy. It felt oddly nest like, and he drew comfort in that. Beside it sat a right against the wall, an area in full view of the door, and besides his window. Next to it was a Lamp-desk with a phone and a Tripod stand for his telescope—he had a thing for the stars, a period he religiously studied after his mother moved on, and Melissa McCall gave him the speech;

‘She’s a star now Stiles’.

Shaking his head, he looked away and to the right and directly in front of his bed, sat his study table with his laptop, and behind that, a collage of photos, news that intrigued the police, cases he solved, for the heck of it, carefully structured so it looked like a casual indulgence of people and parks.

Most times staring at it for too long, when it made no sense to anyone was dizzying. It was the best camouflage.

All in all, the abstract designed rug, and waste-paper basket beside his bed and desk respectively, the comfy couch across the desk and other miscellaneous extra things he placed all around the room, it was a lived in cluttered Teenage room.

Pulling the linen out and unfolding it, he made the bed, and lay down the extra sheets into a comfy nest like shape, adding the additional throw pillows adding the pillow covers on his own pillows, except his blue-pillow his favorite one, and set up the blankets and duvet around him. The end result was picturesque and comfy. Nodding to himself, he pulled back and went to take a shower.

*

*

*

*

                Okay, I’m a liar.

I think it’s safe to say, that lying about my antsy feelings, is a ridiculous thing. It’s not like you’re a judgmental human.

I don’t really have the heart to talk about everything—well write about everything. It’s a bit difficult to articulate.

And sometimes, I tend to start ranting and rambling and getting off topic—you know talking in circles—before I can make a point.

This is how I want to write The Black Wolf Diaries. To get all the words out, to get all my feels out there, I need to talk—write—to you.

I understand how I can start, and how to bring it all out, I get if you were an actual sentient person/thing you would have given up on me.

I tend to have a lot of that around me. People who can’t carry forward my words, and get lost between my thoughts or segues, and I just…I’ve learnt to live with it. The fact that when that happens, my snarky, sarcastic-self crops up, and puts people off.

The whole being rude, without actually being rude…yeah it’s unfortunately my entire self. It’s a defense mechanism, and I can be sarcastic about everything. Adverts, books, stories, shows, movies, lines in a play, people, situations, everything.

I’m scared that if I tell you what I’m really thinking, you’ll laugh at me, and I will be responsible for your grief. Because I don’t think me crying about it would help. It would hurt too much to see that look on your face—the ‘I don’t know what you’re saying, I wish you’d make sense and the please I pity you’ look. It scrapes away the tiny bit of confidence I possess and makes my heart ache.

And yet, because I’ve been this way for so long, I’ll crack a joke, and smile and let it go.

But with you—this, I don’t have to do that. I can be honest. Introduce you to The Me that lost his way…

                I’ll begin with the end of my last entry on Friday, because mind you I pretty much slep all of yesterday.

In it I told you I’d introduce you to a few characters I mentioned. So I told you about Scott, Isaac and Allison. Today I’ll explain my Stiles-View of all things Jackson Whittemore, Matt and Malia Tate-Hale.

I’ll start with the easiest one.

Malia Tate-Hale;

Malia was born on November 28 at Midtown Memorial Hospital, she was officially adopted less than a month later by Evelyn and Henry Tate. Malia believes herself responsible for killing her adoptive mother and sister, when a sudden accident derailed their car into a ravine.

She ran and lived in a den near the crash site for eight years. She kept many of her human belongings and developed a sentimental attachment to her younger sister's doll. I know all this, because I read it every single case file that was built on her. Also, i was curious to know her. i don't know why...

To say that reintegrating into society--uh-huh--high school has been a struggle for Malia is an understatement.

Having spent more time in the woods of Beacon Hills than out of them, Malia constantly feels the pressure to be normal. Surrounded by her friends and with Isaac at her side, Malia has found where she belongs in the world and is always ready to take on whatever comes her way - especially a fight...

And seriously??

She apparently lost control and transformed into a hell beast, the last time I heard, on a full moon no less, and beat up a few guys being mean to Scott. I don't like her, I don't like her love for Scott, but I am grateful to her, for having his back. For looking up to him…I guess she sees him to be a big brother of sorts. The Kid is just barely 16. And Scott is 18.

Anyway...Just before the accident, she had argued with her mother and said she wished they were all dead. This adds to her feelings of guilt about the incident. And despite knowing that, she still blames herself. I know this, because I've heard her say it.

The words;

'I am so sorry Mom, Cara, please, please, please forgive me. I am so sorry!!!'

I get the guilt, and I get the pain, and I understand where she's coming from, but what I don't get is she's both infantilized and sexualized by the same person.

Isaac; if he really loved her, he should choose, whether to treat her like a child (A feral child no less) or to treat her like an actual girlfriend (especially since they're clearly having sex).

What? It's true... I can see!!!

I know she was found by Talia Hale, the Matriarch of the Hale Family, never met her, and must be scary. I've only ever seen her, she left BH last year, Cora Hale--Middle daughter I think, in tow. Something happened, no one was ever privy too, and well that's another story.

Malia at first seemed resentful that she was forced to return to human civilization. A fact as to why she was committed to Eichen House, our Resident Mental Institution.

Creeptastic Place that one!

Been there myself, I had insomnia, nightmares, sleeping issues. One thing for sure, Nurse Brunski, should have his license revoked, the man takes a sick pleasure in torturing the patients there. He tried it with me, I punched him... That's also another story.

Back to Malia, I've noticed, Scott has been teaching Malia how to harness herself in Human-integrated society. Abilities while Isaac and Allison are helping her reintegrate into Female society and think less like a feral wild child-Animal.

Why I'm stressing on Isaac and her relationship is because, Malia views Isaac as her 'mate' in every sense of the word.

Remember Mowgli...he had to make a choice whether he would stay in the jungle and be free under the Law of The Jungle, or return to Society and Live with the Laws of Man.

Although now enrolled at Beacon Hills High School and is having difficulty catching up to our peers academically.

It's only been a few months where we learnt, that Peter Hale is her biological father.

It was actually quite an uproar in our circle (wherein which I am completely invisible most days. Yes, I am a bitter, bitter individual), the problem was Lydia (And despite my Epic-crush on her, has daddy issues that could fill a hole in the ground a Mile in radius, and depth.) She wanted to work with him to find her mother until she saw him as the crazy guy (Crazy in a good way, I like the guy; he's got a crafty sassy thing about him. I can understand his whole thing, because Peter's the kind of guy who keeps the cards close to his chest, pretty much close in a way, if his psyche ran away from him like his body and soul were separate entities with two different brains. His psyche wouldn't know what those cards really were. And that's the idea I have about the guy. I know he's manipulative, but I think that's his defense mechanism. And if The Hale's were the Mafia, he'd definitely be the consigliere) he really is.

So far the woman is known only as "The Desert Wolf", and oh my god! Is that really the only pseudonym the police can give?

People do know, right, that "The Desert Wolf" is actually a Coyote right? And Coyotes are related to wolves, so if you want to find someone don't just go looking for her with codename filters of 'wolf' in them.

Well there really isn't much to say about Malia, except she has to know, the only way she can really be together with someone is if she ever gets all her, her-ness together.

***

Next, Matt Daehler aka Allison's Stalker;

I'm not kidding, he quite literally stalks Allison.

You would think, as a guy why am I not warning this girl she's being stalked...I've tried! A dozen times for Christ's sakes. No one believes me; in fact I am going to list how many people I've told, and what all replies I've got back...

The people I've told and the answer I get back:

Lydia - - - 'You're just projecting Stiles. Look just because you and I aren't going to ever be a thing, doesn't mean you can just say shit like that. The guy is just a photographer, maybe once in a while Allison comes in to the frame, but it's not always. The guy has talent. And this is the last time we're discussing this, it's not what you think! Quit being so obsessive. Idiot, weirdo'.

Yes those words.

Jackson - - - 'Shut it Stilinski. The guy is good with a camera. Maybe you're just jealous because Scott's boning Allison and you don't want more competition. But with you it's probably because you want Scott all up inside you. Ugh...I've grossed myself out!'

And this, from a guy, who is best friend’s with the loudest non-flashy gay guy, in the whole of Beacon Hills.

Danny - - - 'Let it go Stiles. Gay guys don't find you attractive and Matt's a good guy. I like him...'

And he got a really goofy look, oozing gooey feeling all over the place. Which you know that should be plenty proof. Danny's got the worst type. He always, always, always dates, jerks, weirdest and really creepy dudes.

Harsh, but honest opinion nonetheless.

Isaac - - - 'Allison can take care of herself and really Stiles, how would you know? You've never had a girlfriend ever... Oh wait… maybe you do know, didn't you stalk Lydia for like ten years...Ha...Like she would have ever given you the time of day.'

And nope, that did not hurt at all... Not even a little bit. I have no homicidal tendencies, to hack at a Skinny scarf wearing bastard up and torture them with pointy instruments at all. Me, naaah....

Scott - - - 'He's not skeevy Stiles. He just likes taking photos. Allison is not going to get hurt'.

I can always forgive Scott, he's a puppy, and he doesn't really know any better.

Dad - - - 'Concentrate on your homework Stiles!!!'

Allison - - - 'Stiles'

No really that's pretty much all she said, it was her expression just overflowing with exasperation, disdain, irritation, annoyance, chagrin, vexation, anger, fury, rage, wrath, spleen, ill humor, crossness, tetchiness, testiness, pique, indignation, resentment, disgruntlement, disgust, discontent, displeasure...

Well I'm sure you get the General Idea.

I can't stop how people think. And I know my words will never reach them... Hell my voice doesn't even reach them. And yet, sometimes I wish someone out there could listen. Pay attention, please, Oh God! Please.

Before something terrible happens, because I'm powerless, and no one can see me, so…. please.

For now, the only thing I can do is keep watching, paying attention. Because despite how much I loathe Allison, if anything were to happen to her, Scott would cry. And making Scott cry, a big no, no...

Really…the only way any truth were to occur, were if Chris Argent (Allison’s dad obviously) were to go in Matt’s room, with dogs, and deputies, and raid the twat’s room. If they don’t find some sort of creepy alter to Allison, I’ll start using my real name.

 No really, I will.

It’ll be painful and embarrassing, but I will do it.

***

Now, last but never the least, since I’ve introduced Lydia, Danny, Talia Hale, and Peter Hale…

Jackson Whittemore;

Jackson reminds me of the brown tree snake, a snake which is while--mildly venomous--is not actually dangerous, despite what Jackson wants you to believe.

He’s a bully yes, but as much as he’s dangerous because he’s a stupid asshole he’s not truly dangerous the way people like Kate or Gerard are.

Someday I'll tell you about those two.

Back to Jacks, I mean really, what does he do? The worst he does is be really fucking creepy towards Allison, really mean to Lydia, and just in general be a douchebag.

Once in a while when he's especially moronic, and irritatingly noble, he even tries to warn people away from him.

He’s an asshole, but in his personality He’s not truly dangerous.

However, BH natives are NONSENSICALLY afraid of the brown tree snake aka Jackson. Like, run screaming and crying from the sight. It really is absurd how much credit Jackson gets as a Bad Guy when really he’s just another Gucci douchebag.

That being said, unlike 99% of snakes, the brown tree snake is actually aggressive as hell.

Jackson in a nutshell.

It will attack you with its shitty, shitty venom when actually dangerous snakes will let you walk away.

Can you say OVERREACTING much?

Overcompensating is basically Jackson’s entire character - he is desperately afraid of being unimportant, to the point where he will do whatever it takes to be powerful and popular.

He was born on June 15, 1995.

His birthday is the day after his parents, Gordon and Margaret Miller, who were killed in a car accident. His mother was apparently kept on life support long enough for doctors to deliver Jackson via C-section.

Jackson was then adopted by attorney David Whittemore and his wife. Believe it or not, his father (David. the actual father he seemingly is blind to) says his son hasn't said "I love you" since learning he was adopted and that the circumstances of his parentage causes the teen to labor under self-imposed unrealistic expectations.

Which like I said, the guy's an idiot...

He’s also just an aggressive guy, despite not actually having the power to back it up. He fucks shit up by basically just getting in the way, and eventually that turns out badly for everyone involved.

I can name a fe instances, mostly Prom... Hell I only went with Lydia, is because you haven't really been threatened until Lydia threatens you...shudder...

Jackson is famous for being an invasive species.

As in, they fuck shit up where they don’t belong.

Jackson keeps sticking his nose into most everyone's business that he doesn’t belong in, and as a result shit REALLY hits the fan.

Really I cannot stress enough, he's ongoing Ross-and-Rachel relationship with Lydia is catastrophic and unhealthy for all kinds of reasons. Mainly because despite everyone's snarking attitude, and laconic jibes, it is no fun matter when the woman I had been so horribly hung up on for ten years always, no really, always comes to me for comfort.

Like I'm a Goddamn bucket of ice-cream.

Fucking Jackson, he's the sole reason my heart clenches every time they break up. Not for any residual feelings for Lydia, because I end up being someone's wet blanket!

And Dammit I deserve better!!!

That's just his general character, but the honest actual truth no one knows, not even Jacks himself?

I think Jackson has pretty good excuse to be afraid of himself and the situations around him. 

In addition, brown tree snakes go after birds.

Both Lydia and Allison have bird daemons - Lydia even has a pretty little songbird, the kind brown snakes love to go after. But Lydia’s smart, and she’s got the wings to fly circles around him. So he’s always going to have the violent advantage and she’s always going to have the wings to fly away, just out of reach to taunt him. So he’ll always be straining after her, so she can control him right back. It’s not a very equal relationship - it’s balanced the way a teeter-totter is balanced, someone’s always in power. It just changes who it is.

And may I stress, how much their Teeter-totter is driving me mental. It's dizzying DJ, like traumatically enough!

That predatory skill is mostly based on the bird not the snake though - because the brown tree snake is so invasive that it’ll get into areas where birds never learned how to deal with snakes.

I'm pretty sure if I listed anything else on this; I might end up with some kind of mental-allergy, and the next time I see them being all gross and creepy with each other. I will break out into hives. Birds develop techniques to keep them from being shaken off branches instead so when the snake crawls onto the branch the movement causes the bird’s leg muscles to freeze - easy prey.

This translates to someone who likes to… take advantage of someone who doesn’t know better.

You wouldn't know this, but there was a time, where how incredibly Jackson was in to Allison, because he thought she was easy prey?

An easier target would have been...oh anyone else.

That's just a basis for who he is when it comes to his relationships. Now here's a kicker, Danny probably knows this, and keeps quiet about it--which you know highly ironic, you would think someone who has been through this, would know how to take care of said person--anyway. Jacks is Bisexual

I'm not kidding, he keeps going, 'I'm everyone's type', and he's not wrong. But it hasn't really sunk in I guess, he hasn't realized I think, he's eyes follow girls, and boys. Boy in particular. And no, it is not Danny.

Jackson is ridiculous.

What he needs to do, is realize a few key points:

A). He loves Lydia, will always love her. They have the True-Love for each other thing going, and it's beautiful. But they make each other and everyone around them miserable. And despite knowing each other's secrets, they hold each other back, and I know that's not healthy.

B). He needs to actually study his sexual-orientation. Because Oh My God! There's really nothing wrong with being Gay, or Bi, or pan, or asexual. It’s who you are, get over it, please.

And C). The guy really needs to say "I Love You" to his folks, because it's not like Mr. and Mrs. Miller didn't want him, they died. And David and Mary did want him, do want him, do love him. For crying out loud, they bought a 16year old a Porsche—if that doesn't scream, "Please notice how much we love you, we'll do anything for you!!" – I don't know what will...

Jacks needs to get a grip.

Can you even imagine how are conversation would go, if I pointed that all out to him?

Locker meet my face!! Wham-bam-thank you Mam....

Yeah I'm not interested.

Stiles put the laptop aside, and stretched, “I should wake up Deputy Parrish, get him to eat something”, he muttered to himself.

Also he needed to move around, his hands were cramping up before he continued, and climbed off the bed, humming an odd show-tune;

“Food for the soul, lalalalal….”.

~xxXxx~

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Xander: What, How, What?!

Pt II (Diary Verse)

(A/N: Story Timeline:

This takes place in Stiles’ third year. I reckon a lot of you are confused about a lot of things. Predominately the pack, and humans, and magic, so allow me to clear up a few things.

Firstly…The Canon Characters, Occupations and their ages:

1.       Talia Hale (53), Alpha/Businesswomen. Managing Director of Hales IT Software. Third Highest grossing International IT Software Company in the world.
2.       Peter Hale (33), Beta Wolf/Chef. Head Chef of Little Red.
3.       Laura Hale (25), Beta Wolf/Corporate Communications Officer (PR) for the Sheriff department, Beacon Hills.  
4.       Derek Hale (23), Beta Wolf/Student at NYU.
5.       Cora Hale (17), Beta Wolf/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
6.       Isaac Lahey (17), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
7.       Lydia Martin (18), Banshee/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
8.       Vernon Boyd (18), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
9.       Alan Deaton (46), Human/Druid-Vet of Beacon Hills.
10.   Mason (15), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
11.   Liam Dunbar (15), Bitten Beta Wolf/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
12.   Ethan Carver–Caster (17), Bitten Beta Wolf/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
13.   Aiden Carver–Caster (17), Bitten Beta Wolf/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
14.   Erica Reyes (17), Bitten Beta Wolf/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
15.   Brett Dalton (15), Bitten Beta Wolf/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
16.   Scott McCall (18), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
17.   Allison Argent (19), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH). Not yet a Hunter.
18.   Jackson Whittemore (18), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
19.   Caitlin Adams (19), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
20.   Danny Mahealani (18), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH)
21.   Melissa McCall (42), Human/Head-Nurse at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital (BHMH).
22.   Stiles Stilinski (18), Human (Unknowingly a Mage)/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
23.   Sheriff Stilinski (51), Human/Sheriff of Beacon Hills.
24.   Jordan Parrish (25), Human (Unknowingly a son of Hyades nymphs)/Deputy of Beacon Hills.
25.   Malia Tate (16/17), Werecoyote/Student at Beacon Hills High.
26.   Kira Yukimura (17), Kitsune/Student at Beacon Hills High. Has yet to arrive to Beacon Hills.
27.   Matt Daehler (18), Human/Student at Beacon Hills High (BHH).
28.   Chris Argent (43), Human/Hunter-Argent Clan and Arms and Ammunitions dealer in and around Beacon Hills, from CA.  

Non-canon characters introduced so far:

1. Masha Stilinski Everson (38), Witch (Currently unknown)/Psychiatrist Los Angeles.
2. Gemma Hale (12), Human–Hale Pack/Student Beacon Hills Middle School.  
3. Ella Hale (38), Human-Hale Pack/Middle School Teacher.
4. Iris Hale (89), Human-Hale Pack/All round baby Sitter slash matchmaker slash interferer. 

Now to help you understand the setting stage for this story:

It is the last year of Beacon Hills, Stiles’ senior year. Now I’m not really aware of the School systems in the US, it’s confusing, even after a helluva research.

So it starts in the first day of September. 1^st September is a Tuesday, this year. Stiles starts the diary on 28^th August, 2015, Friday, it coincides with Cora rejoining BHH, because their flight is on Friday. Gives them three days to let her get settled back in, unpack and be prepared for the school year.

 The Supernatural World is NOT known to everyone.

The Humans aligned to The Hale pack are Isaac, Lydia, Boyd, Alan and Mason. The werewolves are, Liam (Bitten by Ennis who is killed by Talia for breach of Pack Law), Ethan, Aiden (Alpha Pack betas), Erica and Brett (Satomi’s pack not Hale)

So yeah I hope that clears a few things up, any other questions, I’ll be happy to answer).

Paige was killed by an unknown wolf called Ethan as well, not Ethan Carver, just some random werewolf called Ethan. Peter didn’t tell him, to bite Paige, in this verse; Peter does act like the manipulative jerk to Derek, and recommends Paige to get the bite. But he does not go to any Alphas and propaganda this.

Ethan (Villain) just some passing wolf who attacked her and Derek felt her pain, and ran to her. They were connected but weren’t soul-mates, or mate-mates. He just loved her enough to feel a blossoming pack bond with her. You know what they say, ‘It feels like losing a limb’, so he could feel her dying.

Jennifer Blake is not Julia Baccari in this verse; she’s a random witch who had a need to kill everyone in a threefold death pattern. Julia is the actress who played “Miss Blake—Teacher version” and Jennifer Blake is the scarred Darach we were genuinely creeped out by.

Ethan and Aiden are Beta wolves to the Alpha Pack—Headed by Deucalion, Ennis, Kali, with Julia, Morell and Damien (OC) as their Emissaries.

The Alpha Pack isn’t a pack of murderous wolves but the Actual Police; Canon introduced them as, except without all the unnecessary bloodshed.

Don’t worry there are villains in this story yet to be introduced, but for now  

~XxX~ 

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Balancing a plate of Peanut butter & Jelly (Jam) sandwiches and a bottle of flavored water and climbed back into his nest of blankets, he’d just force fed, Chicken soup and a buttered toast to Deputy, who looked paler than he was when he’d gone to sleep.

And now as he munched on his sandwich he started typing again…

*

                Sorry about that DJ.

I had to get something to eat, and feed Deputy Parrish.

There’s a really weird thing about Deputy Parrish, I often compare him to Hyades. Don’t ask why. I’m about to explain anyway.

In Greek mythology, the Hyades (/ˈhaɪ.ədiːz/; Ancient Greek: Ὑάδες, popularly "the rainy ones"), are a sisterhood of nymphs that bring rain.

The Hyades were daughters of Atlas (by either Pleione or Aethra, one of the Oceanides) and sisters of Hyas in most tellings, although one version gives their parents as Hyas and Boeotia, it can get confusing.

The Hyades are sisters to the Pleiades and the Hesperides.

The main myth concerning them is envisioned to account for their collective name and to provide an etiology for their weepy raining-ness:

I wonder if it's just a coincidence, but Parrish rarely cries and when it does, it rains. It's probably just a weird coincidence.

But dad always says;

‘One is an incident, two is a coincident, three is a pattern and four guarantees a warrant’.

Anyway, Hyas was killed in a hunting accident and the Hyades wept from their grief.

They were changed into a cluster of stars, the Hyades, set in the head of Taurus.

Their number varies from three in the earliest sources to fifteen in the late ones. The names are also variable, according to the mythographer, and include:

Aesyle or Phaesyle

Ambrosia

Cleeia

Coronis

Eudora

Pedile

Phaeo or Phaeote

Phyto

Polyxo, etc.

Accordingly, Servius gives a set of five names that doesn't match any other known list: Pytho, Synecho, Baccho, Cardie, Niseis.

Additionally, Thyone and Prodice were supposed to be daughters of Hyas by Aethra, and have been added to the group of stars.

Okay, maybe this is all confusing; the honest truth is the guy never gets burnt. It's like, he's impervious to fire.

Anyway, the Greeks believed that the heliacal rising and setting of the Hyades star cluster were always attended with rain, hence the association of the Hyades (sisters of Hyas) and the Hyades (daughters of ocean) with the constellation of the Hyades (rainy ones).

The Hyades are also thought to have been the tutors of Dionysus, in some telling’s of the latter are infancy (which really could be like a whole Highlight of Parrish he really operates on the point of trying to teach me something).

And well I digress, the point is, Jordan's having a bad day, and is sleeping off his cranky-bitchiness, and I am babysitting.

Trust me the irony does not escape me.

Speaking of irony let me tell you how my morning went.

Dad had to wake me up, because I pretty much slept the whole of yesterday.

Anyway, I went to the Farmer’s Market this morning and accidentally ran into this adorable twelve? Maybe eleven year old, she was kinda small for her age, little girl.

We almost crashed into each other, a fact I am amazingly grateful never happened because I was carrying over one dozen eggs and she was carrying a fresh package of Pesto-sauce.

Neither one of use wanted to smack into the other.

Oh! Her name is Gemma. And she has the shocking Blue eyes, practically cerulean. And they sparkle.

Yes…My balls are cringing, and I feel hair growing out of the side of my head, like pigtails.

*

Stiles shook his head, and crammed the rest of his toasted sandwich into his mouth and washed it away with some Guava Flavored Vitamin water.

Munching aggressively he swallowed and shook his head, “Okay. It’s Okay, I can do this”, he exhaled and then continued typing;

*

                Anyway, we actually managed to somehow start talking, for a kid, she sure is dangerous.

I’ll try to reiterate the whole conversation from my point of view. Look at it like a Play/Script of sorts:

 ‘Whoa!’

Stiles pushed away just seconds before he careened right into a petite three feet tall person.

‘Oh man that was totally too close for comfort!’ the girl—as it turned out to be dressed in Pink Jean overalls and a white open Sweatshirt, she had her hair pulled back in a complicated French side plait and left to fall in a curly ponytail.

‘I’ll say, you’re like a ninja, you kinda just appeared out of nowhere’, Stiles gently placed his eggs in the trolley he was pushing.

‘What about you? You’re kinda like a ghost. One minute you’re there next you’re not’, she huffed.

‘That’s me. I’m Stiles, and you are?’ he asked helping her with the dozen cans of Tomato puree and pesto sauce bottles she was carrying, “More importantly how much of these do you really need?” he asked as he counted six bottles into the basket.

‘Uh…I’m Gemma, and well I have a big family, and others are coming back’, she looked up at him, and ‘You’re really tall’, she craned her neck to take her in, ‘Will I be that tall too someday? Because the only one who’s tall is my cousin, and even his twin is shorter than him, and that’s how my Aunt can tell them apart’, she grinned. ‘And there’s my dad, he’s also short, Uncle P says he’s stout like the Irish, and Laura’s supposed to be too tall for a girl but she’s still shorter than my cousin’, she informed him .

Stiles chuckled, and crouched down, ‘Someday you’ll grow into your limbs and will be tall too, well, maybe not as tall as I am, but relatively tall. So Gemma huh…like in Marvels Agents of Shield Gemma Simmons. Are you a Geek?’ he teased tugging on her ponytail playfully.

‘I am smart’, she huffed, and then turned to stare at him unwaveringly, ‘Is-is that a bad thing?’ she asked warily.

‘No!’ Stiles stated strongly and then sighed, ‘Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. Let me tell you a secret’ he looked left and right and then bent down, ‘I trust you with this, so keep it a secret also. Okay?’ At her nod and silence zipping of her mouth he added,’ I think Geeks are super Badass and Awesome’, he whispered. ‘I mean Spiderman was a Geek, and Fitz kicks ass in Marvels Agents of Shield and even Skye is pretty Badass, and there are so many others. All our superhero’s started out as Geeks and Nerds’, he grinned, ‘Right?’ he asked.

Gemma yipped and nodded, ‘That’s true. But who’s your favorite?!’ she asked softly.

‘Uhm…everyone thinks it’s Superman, but if I have to be really honest, I really, really, really Batman’, he confessed.

‘Why?’

‘Duh…cause he hasn’t got any superpowers’, he answered, ‘what about you?’ he asked, ‘And are you here with someone?’ he asked realizing a tad belatedly of the non-parental supervision of an extremely underage girl walking with cans of sauce.

‘I’m with my Grandma, and my mom. They’re in the pol-poultry—the bird section’, she answered instead stuttering over the word, ‘And we’re gonna have a Big Dinner, and celebrate something’, she shrugged, ‘Lots of food, lots of people’, she muttered and then she grinned, ‘My favorite is Ironman’, she answered.

Though he should keep the conversation on the superheroes, he noticed her clenching and unclenching her fist;

‘Are you nervous sweetie? About the dinner tonight?’ he asked.

Gemma looked up in shock, ‘I-I…I…’

‘You can trust me Gems, I won’t tell anyone if you are’, he promised.

‘I-I’m scared’, she whispered.

‘Why sweetie, they’re family right?’ he asked.

‘B-But we h-haven’t been f-family for a l-long time’, she started to cry then.

‘It’s okay sweetie, that’s normal. People drift apart its normal’, he promised.

‘N-No’, she shook her, ‘N-not like this. It-It happened when I was still a baby, I-I was four. It started when—I t-told you a-about my really Tall cousin right?’ she asked sniffing.

‘Yeah?’

‘S-something r-really bad happened to him and he-he stopped smiling, he looked so sad and hurt. I even hugged him loads, but It was like he was not there—like something cold was in the way’, she whimpered.

Stiles pulled her close and cradled her to his chest, settling on the bare ground of the parking lot where the stall for fresh produce was placed. Their area was fairly unpopulated, thankfully.

Gemma nuzzled under his neck, a bit like a kitten or a puppy, ‘It’s, and he-he won’t smile. Like from the heart, he gives these weird ones—’ she paused, ‘Mama Calls them smirks, and he looks lonely, and it hurts. And I don’t feel like the others, I-I don’t always get it, like everyone else does. And I can see, but I don’t—I can’t’, she whined clutching his sweater and whining low and troubled, ‘I want him to smile, I want him to be happy. E-everybody does, everyone wants him happy. I miss his smiles, the ones I can remember’, she cried.

‘It’s okay, Sssshhhh, it’s okay’, he whispered rocking her gently, ‘Gems, will you do me a favor?’ he asked.

‘Hm’, she nodded, ‘If I can’, she promised.

‘My mom, she’s an Angel she used to give me this present, it’s filled with warmth and love, and hope and all kinds of good things. Maybe your cousin is stuck in Pandora’s box—ask mummy what that is—and he just needs a little bit of hope, a little bit of warmth. I’m going to give it to you, all you have to do, when you see him, is giving to him. You can do that right?’ he spoke softly.

In peripheral he noticed two people approaching them.

The older of the two, keeping the younger one back, just so, he was thankful because his Magic only would work on an innocent soul.

‘What-what do I have to do?’ Gemma asked.

‘This’, he tilted her chin just so, and moved in;

Stiles kissed her on the forehead, whispered ‘ uzdrowić’ .

With a hand to her forehead, she tilted her head just to the left, ‘Uzz-dro-vee-ch??’ she asked.

Stiles smiled, ‘Very good. That’s good pronunciation. It’s magic Gems, it’ll purge the darkness he hold so dear to him, out of his being. And it was warm, wasn’t it?’ he asked.

‘It was. What does Uzzdroveech mean? That isn’t English’, she blinked up at him.

‘It’s Polish sweetie. The language of my forefathers—well half of them anyway, my mother used to do that when I was sad and hurting. A warm love-filled kiss to my forehead—’ he pointed, ‘Just here, dead center and whisper ‘ uzdrowić ’’, he explained.

‘How do you write it in Polish?’ she asked curiously.

Stiles hummed, ‘Give me your hand’, he removed a blue ink pen, and wrote it on her inner left wrist, ‘This is a rune sweetie, it’s used in instances to heal wounds, and he drew the symbol. And just below it gently wrote ‘ uzdrowić ’ and bound it under another symbol that looked like a star, ‘There we go’, he grinned at her, ‘You believe in Magic right?’ he asked.

‘Uh-huh. Mama says there’s magic in everything’, she yipped nuzzling back under his chin.

Stiles laughed, ‘Yeah that’s really true. Speaking of your mama, she’s here’, he looked up and smiled, ‘Gemma’s mom and grandma’, he greeted the women.

 A tall woman in white jeans, a black sweater and blonde hair blinked down at them.

Stiles let go of Gemma, as her ninety year old lady beside her huffed, ‘Well now, that was interesting. Tell me boy, what is your name child?’ she asked.

                You would think boy and child were enough, but she was weird. She’s the second reason why my morning went from weird to downright absurd.

A). Children and animals don’t like me. I’ve made kids cry before, usually with zero of a clue as to why. And I’ve been banned from the Vet clinic, because apparently I skeeve puppies and kittens off. I’ve been bitten twice! By Puppies!!! And cats hiss at me. Ironically enough and this is the only example I have so bear with me…I was in LA and Aunt Masha took Dean and I to the zoo, well I babysat Dean, and we were asked to volunteer to feed the animals. The baby animals—and despite the warning and me, telling them practically urging. ‘You don’t understand Animals loathe me, you put it, her in my arms, and there’ll be actual bloodshed. You may not wanna risk it!!’

And yet, the next thing I have is a squirming playful wolf cub in my arms, I remember holding a wolf cub and having a baby bottle of milk, and its drinking from my arms.

If I had ovaries they would have melted. I actually have a photo of me holding the cub, I’ll upload it. It’ll be like a memory collage thing right? Anyway moving back to the grandmother, Iris;

‘My name? Stiles Stilinski and you are?’

‘Honored and excited to meet you. Iris is ma name, and this broad is ma daughter-in-law, Ella!’

‘I’m not a broad mother!!!’

Iris ignored her, ‘So tell me kid, other than appearance, what is the first thing that people notice about you?’she asked promptly.

*

           What the hell? No seriously that’s the first question she asked after introducing herself. Seriously. What. The. Hell?!!!

*

‘What?’

‘Answer kid?’

‘Uh… Quiet self-confidence. I guess, why?’ he asked.

‘Good, good’, she ignored him and pulled a chair from thin air (or the stall side), ‘What are your three BEST life skills?’ she enquired.

Stiles shot Ella a confused look. But Ella was long gone…

Shaking his head Stiles sighed heavily, ‘Could you ask while we go looking for your people? And the answer, life balance, personal integrity, ability to laugh at myself, romanticist’, he answered.

‘Oh ho! You’ve got spunk kid! I like that, asking a ninety year old woman to walk around with you. I’m ninety kid, I get tired easily’, she huffed.

‘Lady, for a 90 year old you sure got some spritely energy. You just jumped over a log with ease. The fountains of youth are all dry because of you aren’t they? Well there’s a price for eternal life, you lose the youth’, he grinned at her.

Iris burst out laughing.

‘Oh they aren’t prepared for you kid!’

‘They?’

‘What’s the most important thing you’re looking for in another person?’

Stiles shook his head at her deflection, ‘A genuine zest and passion for life, and/or someone who is ready to be an amazing partner and accept an amazing partner into their life, mostly I just want their trust’, he answered as he bought some fresh strawberries.

‘Hmmm. I see’, she hummed, ‘What will you be making with all this?’ she looked at his trolley.

‘A Grilled chicken dish wish strawberry-pineapple salsa, a chicken-carrot homemade ranch burger on Italian Honey whole grain bread and cookies’, he answered.

‘Who taught you how to cook kid?’

‘Books, TV, a few lost memories’, he answered.

‘Favorite cookies?’ she asked.

‘Depends on my mood, do you have a favorite grandchild?’ he asked.

‘Yes’, she answered swiftly.

‘And their favorites?’ he asked.

‘If it’s him, Lemon tarts’, she answered.

Stiles hummed, ‘This person is Gems’ cousin right. I can make those, I’ll give it to you before I go to bed tonight, just come by and collect them at around seven, or send someone I can give it to them. Maybe they’ll be the perfect weapon to add to Gem’ magic’, he grinned and picked up some Lemons from the fruit section.

‘Definitely not ready for you’, she hummed, ‘Tell me child, what are the 4 things your friends say you are…?' she asked.

'Annoying, irritating, crude, sarcastic', he answered easily.

Iris frowned, but Stiles shrugged, and went to get two liters of milk.

'' What are 5 things you “can’t live without?”

'My mother's Blanket, she made it from scratch, out of old woolen scarves, my father's badge because it is known to ward off evil, and I have one of those, It's been dented and bent out of shape, but I keep it close', he patted his left breast pocket under his Red Hoodie, 'Scott's Inhaler, I have to take care of him, Mrs. M's smile, and my Adderall', he answered.

'What are you most passionate about?'

'My Star Wars Action Figure Collection, their books, and all their DVDs, finding the best Curly Fries in the world, or attracting/cultivating an amazing relationship with my perfect partner, if I ever get one', he laughed quietly.

Iris grinned and nodded, 'Well at least you have your priorities sorted. Can you believe it I have a family of Twelve and only my grandson has seen Star Wars?' she shook her head.

'Oh My God! That's ridiculous? And Gemma???' he sputtered taken aback.

'Han Solo is my favorite', Gemma piped up, dragging her mother back to them.

'I know', Iris smiled.

Stiles snorted and crouched down to level with Gemma, 'What's your favorite sweet?' he asked.

'Duh...chocolate silly', Gemma rolled her eyes.

Stiles snorted again, 'Of course', he grinned, ‘Anymore questions?’ he asked heading to the checkout area.

‘A few’, Iris nodded, ‘Walk with me son’, she ordered.

'What are the 3 things for which you are most thankful?'

'My mother's smile & her remembering me one last time, my dad, and family', he listed simply.

'How do you typically spend your leisure time?'

'Really?' he asked, 'I'm a teenager, how do you think?' he smirked.

Iris leered, 'Well now', she smirked, and ‘Other than that?' she asked.

Stiles laughed, 'Well, enjoying a great meal with dad and time with friends, I guess', he paused, 'Well it was. Weekends: reading a graphic novel at my neighborhood coffee shop (I’m the artsy one in the Newsboy cap and horn-rimmed glasses), re-watching Star Wars, hmmm getting drawn into a Wikipedia maze of information, and/or checking out the latest documentary at that restored theater downtown, I don't really know, Teenage-y things you know', he answered honestly.

Iris hummed, ‘Bend down boy, you’re too tall’, she ordered.

Stiles smirked, and crouched to her level.

Iris kissed him on the forehead whispering uzdrowić’, ‘I hear it’s a Magical Healing spell’, she smiled and pats his cheek, ‘Be Happy Stiles, you deserve all the happiness. Truly you do. Thank you. Drive safely now’, she smacked him on his rump and walked off briskly—well as brisk as a 90 year old woman could walk.

                And that’s pretty much what happened.

I almost had a heart attack when she said all that, if predator was close by, the thundering beat of my heart would have rendered them (/it?) deaf.

By the time I came home even dad commented on how I looked like I’d seen a ghost, because somewhere between the parking Lot, and back home, I just realized I gave a Marriage interview of sorts.

I repeat… What. The. Hell?!!! I’m starting to feel like Xander.

*

*

*

Knock. Knock. Knock…

Stiles looked up and noticed the time, “Oh early”, he nodded. And then went downstairs.

Opening the door, he blinked, “Hello, you’re Iris’ family member aren’t you?” he asked.

The man standing in his doorway, dressed in Beacon Hills Fire Department garb nodded, “James Hale pleasure to make your acquaintance”, he greeted.

“Hale? As in brother to Peter Hale?” he swallowed nervously.

What were the odds he’d written something about him and his brother showed up? Scary.

“Brother-in-law actually. Do you know him?” James asked.

“Nope”, he answered a little too fast, “Not at all, anyway, please come in”, he greeted and moved aside.

“Thank you”, he stepped into the house.

“Wow Kate Argent was really going for irony points”, he muttered mostly to himself.

“Why do you say that?”

Stiles flinched, “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

James waved the thought away, “It’s okay, I’m curious why you would say that?” he cocked his head to the side.

“Well you’re a Fireman aren’t you? And the Chief going by the uniform, so really irony”, he shrugged as they walked into the kitchen, “She did try to murder you all by setting your house on fire”, he pointed out.

The kitchen descended into silence and Stiles winced.

Foot. Meet. Mouth…

But then it started small, much to his consternation, lips twitching as Hale desperately suppressed his laughter.

Stiles cocked his head puppy like, whilst someone else laughed, prompting a shocked look, and worry for his sanity for all of a few seconds before he was sitting as he full on hunched over, tears in his eyes, belly shaking with a fit of hysterical laughter.

“O-Oh God! Grams, was totally right, not ready at all”, he then hiccuped and laughed again, glancing at Stiles before falling into a fresh fit of laughter.

Eventually after what felt like hours and Stiles had arranged all the treats carefully, Mr. Hale cleared his throat as discreetly as he could,but still ended up sounding distinctly strangled (a sure sign of extreme emotional gut wrenching laughter), which is on par with conversing with any Stilinski, really, that or mostly him.

It’s been documented. Mom even made a video.

A few moments pass, as he pulls himself together in a semblance of dignity being restored.

"So.... Well... that happened", Stiles bit out, though warily.

"Oh G-God S-Stiles never change!!!"

Mr. Hale coughed and sputtered through a fresh burst of barely smothered snickers.

Stiles shrugged, "Okay?" he nodded agreeably.

Mr. Hale pulled him in for a hug, "Thank you", he whispered strongly.

Stiles blinked, and "They're just sweets", he muttered and pulled back, awkwardly.

Hale grinned at him and took the four Tupperware containers, “So what are the goodies?” he asked curiously.

“Well Lemon Curd Tarts for—I actually I don’t really know his name, but he’s Iris’ favorite”, he muttered, “For Gemma Chocolate cake, for Lady Iris Caramel delight brownie bites and for your family one dozen red velvet cup-cakes. Uh… if possible I’d like those cups back after you’re done with them”, he swallowed nervously.

“Lady Iris?”

That’s what the guy gets out of that?

“She seemed like a Lady Iris kind of person?” he ended up asking instead.

James Hale snorted but nodded, “She sure acts like it sometimes”, he agreed, “I’m grateful for this Stiles, we need a cheerful dinner and these colorful desserts do seem to bring that needed cheer. So thank you”, he picked up the dishes and walked back to the door, “My family is very grateful for this tiny bit of Hope you’ve given”, he whispered softly.

“I really haven’t done anything”, he disagreed, “I hope your family stays well. Goodnight Mr. Hale”, he waved as the man walked down the steps and retreated back inside.

Shaking his head, he walked back upstairs, checked on Parrish and hummed as his fever had pitched lower, he changed the cooling pad, and walked back to his room.

Grabbing his laptop, he started typing;

                It’s been a really weird day DJ; between I think I’m going to sleep. I’ll upload the photos of me and Daisy. The wolf cub…

That's Daisy DJ, isn't she just the cutest, if I could, I would've brought her home with me! 

Thanks for the trust, Daisy!!!!

  Goodnight Deary Diary.

Stiles powered down the laptop and sighed heavily. For literally no social life, he sure was tired.

Maybe it was all that talk of hope, what was it the Fairy said to Pandora, after she unleashed all manner of afflictions upon the world:

"I will always be there as The Promise of Hope!"

~xxXxx~ 

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Interlude...

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

  Ella watched as her daughter, though human like herself, ran full speed ahead, climbed over her wolf siblings, and pounced on her unsuspecting target, the person in question, stood with his back to the part of the house, that had been burned by Kate and was still under renovations

‘Oof!’

The man let out a sound, and picked her off of him, as if she weighed less than nothing. And put her down in front of him.

“Well as I live and breathe Look Laur, it’s my little star!!!”

Derek picked her up and swung her around, “Gemma, Gemma, Gemma, Gemma… ” he chanted as she replied with equal passion, nuzzling him (habits she picked up from her siblings no doubt), and replied with;

“Derek, Derek, Derek, Derek, Derek…”

“I kind of forgot they did that”, Olivia, her oldest twin piped up, unlike her sister she had strawberry blonde hair. A  mixture of both Ella and Alex (her dad).

“It’s better than when she used to call him Uncle Derek, when she was still four”, Laura muttered as they made their way to the two chanting and nuzzling each other non-stop.

“I still think it’s unfair, I should get Olivia, if Derek gets Gemma”, a whine came from the Porch.

Tristan Hale, Derek’s twin, and Talia’s eldest son, leaned over the railing pouting at the scene. They were carbon copies of each other, except for the part where Tristan was human, had blue eyes and was around two inches shorter than Derek’s 6’2” inches height, and unlike Derek smiled enough to make most people wary.

Where Derek was the carbon copy of James and Talia’s characteristics, Tristan, Laura and Cora were evenly as Grandma Iris, Peter and Alex’ characteristics.

There was the added benefit of Derek’s entire monochrome wardrobe and Tristan’s vivid brightly colored wardrobe.

 Ella sighed, “I still can’t believe you. A broad? Really? And getting sweets out of it, you’re so underhanded Grandmamma”, she huffed irritably.

“It was a reconnaissance mission, you were an unnecessary addition”, Iris waved her concern aside.

“What was a reconnaissance mission?” Tristan asked curiously.

“This is the part where at least one of us cribs about your lack of a phone”, Cora grumbled, “Come on I can hear mom calling us in”, she dragged Tristan away and left Laura behind.

And no doubt debrief you on all things black wolf diaries, Ella muttered.

Ella watched idly as Derek listened intently to Gemma as she regaled him of her adventures with Grams and her, in a Farmer’s Market. Oddly leaving out the part as where she met a human boy who talked to her as if she were an adult and not eleven years old.

“Alright you two, break it up, time to go inside. Come on Gemma sweetie, I need you to let go of Derek, so we can get you properly bathed and into your new clothes”, Ella walked towards them.

Gemma whined, “Noooo”, she scrambled up Derek, climbing him like a tree, and pouted from her vantage.

Derek smirked softly at her, but he nodded politely, “Come on kiddo”, he lifted her off his shoulders, and gently ever so gently, placed her on the ground, “Listen to your mama, go take a bath, become all pretty for me”, he tweaked her nose and smirked again, “I haven’t seen you in so long, princess, won’t you dress up for me?” he asked.

Gemma pouted, “No Fair! You’re playing dirty”, she pouted up at me.

Derek grinned, “I am, but it’s a selfish request”, he smirked at her.

“Okay”, she sighed, “But I have to give you something”, she stated strongly, “You’ll accept won’t you?” she asked wisely, wise beyond her years this girl.

Sometime she imitated five year olds, and then sometimes she became as serious as many older people.

What her daughter lacked in the werewolf genome, she made up with her intelligence that scared most adults. What was its Grams always said about redheads, the twins in particular;

‘She’s 1. A grown woman (because apparently twelve years old was practically grown up—A women married at twelve, she’s a grown up, trust me ya damn broad, the girl’s even had her first period!). 2. A witch. 3. A redhead. You couldn’t have stopped her if you tried!’

Ella shook her head and tuned in just as Derek stood up and gently ever so gently pushed Gemma towards her. If she didn’t really know him well enough, his penchant for dressing up in black armor from head to toe, she’d wonder who this stranger was, be scared of this tall stranger with a mean-look almost serial killer-like in a sense. And this kid, who she used to play with, stopped smiling, stop living, was damn near painfully crude, harsh and rude to everyone around him. Except family, a wall built around him, to keep people out and it hurt to watch, as everyone he met steered clear after one meeting.

Even when he handled Gemma, or Cora or Tristan or even Peter with the gentleness of a wolf placing a cub in his maw and moving it from place to place, it broke her heart. Because she didn’t recognize this man, at all…and it hurt.

“Mama?”

Ella looked down and Gemma took her hand, “It’s gonna be okay mama”, she promised and tugged her inside.

Ella looked around and spotted Derek headed towards the property line, a phone in his hand, lips moving.

“He picked up the phone to someone called ‘Darla’”, Gemma informed her.

Ella found Talia watching Derek from the kitchen window, eyes drawn and brow frowning upon him, “You can’t hear him can you?” she asked.

Talia turned to her and shook her head, and Ella sighed heavily, “I am not nearly calm enough to care. Come Gemma, Olivia you too, I want you in your room in two minutes, scat!!!” she ordered and herded Gemma up the porch steps and to the hallway stairs.

For now she was simply going to wait for dinner, and watch. It was somethings he was good at, watching, taking notice, she’d leave the action and reaction part to the actual Hales, she was born a Simmons, and Simmon’s watched thing, rather than actually took action. Ella nee Simmons Hale, that’s who she was.

***

'Did you know that there are currently 112415 people with the Hale surname in the USA? Hale is ranked number 120 for popularity in the USA!'

“Hello Darla, why thank you for calling, it’s a pleasure to hear from you, after such a long time. Yes, everyone is well here, it’s all good. My day has been quite fine, and you? How are you?” Derek snarked as he answered the phone.

‘Shut it dipshit, remember I’m doing this as a favor to you, I could have been in the Bahamas enjoying the sun with my boyfriend, but noooo what am I doing, trolling the internet for you’, an equally snark-tastic voice griped.

“Ah…so the money I’m paying to get that lovely boyfriend of yours bailed out of jail isn’t the reason you’re doing this?” Derek asked humming dolefully, “How sorry I am, for disturbing you, I’ll just—”

‘NO!!! Hey now, no need to be so hasty, I’m doing it, calm down!!!’

Derek smirked devilishly, “Yes?” he asked patiently.

‘Anyway Boss, you asked for information of any kind that would bring your family name out and onto the internet?’ she confirmed once.

“Yeah?”

‘I may have found something, but I don’t think it’s anything bad. In fact it just seemed odd. Twice anyway. I’ll send you a link, just in case it does make sense to you. For me it just seemed like a lonely kid, needing a friend’, Darla stated simply.

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked warily.

‘Something that most people would call a Blog, but I’m pretty sure the kid has no idea what he’s posting is a Live feed or a that it’s even on the internet. The only reason his diary entries seem connected to your family, is because he’s from Beacon Hills. And I think it’d be easier if you just read the blog’, she explained.

“Send me the link”, Derek ordered sharply.

‘Aye Captain’, she nodded going by the tinkering of a jewelry down the line. Derek scowled, “How do you know it’s not a threat?” he asked.

‘I may be less instinctual than you, what with your animal side’, she snarked, ‘But I am a witch, and maybe not a high level one, but it’s strong enough to get vibes off of things. And I an a  techno-path. I can feel things. The kid’s binary code makes it impossible to hack into his files, because ethe logic is truly twisted, but it just means he’s a careful kind of kid. Though the feelings of angst, and pain, and anger and hurt and just practically every emotion on the negative scale, pouring off and into his word, it’s similar’, she stated elaborately.

“You’ve felt the same before? When?” Derek asked sharply.

‘The very first day I met you!’ she answered simply.

Derek swallowed, and automatically as the memory surfaced unwittingly;

                Derek hated the idea that he was shipped to New York without a second opinion. He didn’t want to leave Beacon Hills, something connected him to the place, he couldn’t leave. It felt as he walked away and into the car, his wolf was whining pawing its way inside him and trying to break free.

His mother pressed a talisman in his hand, and whispered, “Chant with me Derek, Alpha, beta, omega”, she gently took his hand and massaged his knuckles.

Looking down he realized his claws were tearing the upholstery apart.

“Chant sweetie, repeat after me, Alpha, Beta, Omega, Alpha, Beta, Omega, Alpha, Beta, Omega, Alpha, Beta, Omega”, she repeated.

Derek growled low and dangerously, “Get. Off. Me!!! I need to get out, let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out!!!” he pushed her away, attacking both his uncles and mother as they desperately tried to subdue him.

“He’s losing control!!” Talia warned.

“No? Seriously…” Peter snarked, “Oh Do tell, what gave it away?” he scoffed, even as he grabbed Derek and pushed him back into the car.

“Let go of me!!! I need to stay here, don’t you understand, I need to be here!!! LET ME GO!!!” he roared throwing Peter off of him, uncaring as he landed against a random tree, bared his fangs at Alex, “Get off of me!!!” he warned and clawed at the man. A gaping wound opened under his shirt, the material pooled rapidly going from white to red in seconds;

“ALEX!!!”

A woman screamed as he fought against the binding his father had used against him, “I need to be here, I need to stay here, I can’t, you can’t make me go!!! Let me go!!!” he cried as he tore through his bindings, ignoring the burn of Wolfsbane or the chafing of the ropes.

“Derek calm down!!!”

That voice. He hated that voice; it was this man’s fault he was being sent off to an unknown city without his pack.

Derek turned and growled low and dangerously, “ You ”, he hissed and advanced on the colored man, dressed in simply a shirt and jeans, a white veterinary coat over his shirt as he stood expressionless, “You”, he tossed his mother—his alpha aside even as she stood guarding the man who was trying to send him away, he attacked his sisters as they tried to stop him.

Eyes glowing blue and angrily he roared as he was pushed back, “You’re the reason my pack is breaking ties with me. I’ll. Kill. You. You better run”, he warned, “Before I tear you to pieces. RUN!!! OR I’LL KILL YOU!!!!” he howled and leapt over his uncles as they tried to subdue him again, he reached the Vet and clawed his shoulder, blood spurted and he growled viciously, “You’re the reason!” he hissed, “You’re taking them away from me!!” he slashed again, ignoring the screams, and dangerous sub-vocal warning from his Alpha.

“Derek please stop!” a voice called out.

Derek’s hands faltered as they were, as the plea reached him, he turned to see a girl with dark black hair and dark brown eyes standing at the edge of their property line.

Derek laughed, and pushed the vet away, “And I should listen to you?” he scoffed and advanced on her angrily, as if from a great distance he heard;

“What’s an Argent doing here?!!” Talia growled.

Peter shrugged and Alex hissed, “Hell if I know!!!” he whined as pressure was put on his wound, “What I want to know is why my wounds won’t heal”, he hissed painfully.

Derek stopped mere a foot away from the girl and stared at her, “Well?!?!!” he demanded.

“No”, she whispered, “I don’t think I or any of my family members are worth giving you any requests, but your pack is important is it not?” she asked softly.

Derek flinched, eyes shifting back to regular green.

“Here”, she handed him a black plush wolf, “A friend gave it to me, I like him, and he’s a good friend, but he told me ‘The wolf will protect you from The Darkness’. Derek I don’t have any darkness, so this is for you, from him, please take it”, she offered it to him.

“What’s your friend’s name?” he asked softly.

Allison looked up, and blinked, she gently tilted the wolf’s neck back and showed him a collar and grinned, “I named it that, I felt it was appropriate”, she answered equally softly.

Derek took the plushy from her, hands and squeezed it’s black fur, “This is Rabbit fur”, he muttered.

“Yup”, she laughed a delighted honest happy gesture, “You should have heard him, ‘Oh My God! The irony Scott, a black wolf plushie made from rabbit fur, the injustice!!! Thumper weeps!!! Weeps I tell you!!!!’ but he won it fair and square in a shooting game”, she smiled softly at a memory.

“Is he a hunter as well?” he asked warily.

“Him???” Allison snorted, “Definitely not. If he knew this world existed, he’d probably toss my ass off his property and side with the things that go bump in the night”, she paused then, “Uh…no offense”, she shrugged awkwardly.

“He has zero self-preservation then”, Derek laughed and hugged the wolf closer.

“Him? Definitely not, he goes up against men twice his size just to protect Scott”, she smiled delightfully.

“Pleasing, sophisticated, Loyal, Honest and soothing”, Derek hummed strangely;

“Most would call him, annoying, irritating, crude, and sarcastic”, she pointed out.

“I don’t think so”, Derek hummed, and “Why are you here Argent?” he asked softly.

Allison paused, “I don’t know”, she answered truthfully, “I woke up from a very strange phone call from him, he was worried about Scott and couldn’t reach him, his mother wasn’t answering and he was freaking out, muttering about, ‘He’s crying in the forest Allison, he’s crying, and screaming, and hurt. And hurt, it’s not right Allison, it’s not good, there’s darkness Allison, so much pain!!!’ The truth about him is he’s an enigma; it’s difficult to understand him on a good day. And I just calmed him down, told him he had a bad dream, but I felt like had to come and at least check. I saw you attack your uncles, and I was afraid to move, and when you lost control, screaming and hurting and crying, and I couldn’t help it Derek, I couldn’t. So I stepped up I guess”, she finished quietly hands clenching and unclenching.

“Thank you Allison”, he whispered. And stepped back his fangs receded and eyes stopped flashing, his claws transformed to their nicely manicured beauty. And his growls subsided.

“Derek”, Allison stepped forward and without stopping on carrying she hugged him tightly, “I’m so sorry for everything my family has been responsible for. Not actively being a hunter and taking notice truly does make me as guilty as them”, she paused and squeezed him harder, “But I am sorry, so, so very sorry”, she whispered, “And I know the pain of being tricked hurt like hell, because if at twelve I can understand why, then at eighteen I know why you hurt”, she whimpered, “And I can’t do anything but apologize”, she stated, “For moving here to Beacon Hills, where your family’s lived peacefully. I don’t want to hunt those hunt others, if I have to become a hunter, I want to protect those, who cannot protect themselves ”, she ascertained.

“You’ll be a great Matriarch to the Argent name then”, Derek promised hugging her back, “Thank you Allison, for him and for apologizing”, and he nuzzled her gently and then pushed back.

They were both crying but the truth was they felt a little lighter by the end of it.

*

*

*

 Derek had barely stepped into his dorm room, when a spunky blue haired girl slammed right into him.

“What the hell—” and she took several steps back hurriedly, “Oh my God!!!” she hissed.

“Uh… are you okay?” he couldn’t help ask, the girl smelled human, so what triggered that reaction?

“You reek”, she hissed.

“Hey! I took a shower at the airport; it was a horrible flight! Don’t be so rude!!!” Derek snapped.

“Not that kind of reek”, the girl shook her head, “You reek of pain, loneliness, loss, heartbreak, agony, grief, sorrow, despair, the whole nine yards and then some, on the spectrum of negative emotions…You reek of Painful inner torture!! You’re starting to smell”, she warned.

“Like what?” he raised a sardonic brow.

“Like of Death!” she retorted warily taking two more steps back.

*

Derek hissed angrily, “Keep me posted”, he disconnected the call, and opened the link, his heart speeding up at the first few lines, “No, no”, he pleaded as the word practically clawed through his heart;

‘I'm Stiles. Stiles Stilinski and yes you’re an inanimate object….

He could practically feel Darla say;

“You reek of Death”…

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Interlude II

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Laura screeched as her phone pinged.

"Easy on the decibels Laura ", Cora winced.

"Shut it you'll heal. Give me, give me, gimme, gimme...." she chanted.

"Ever notice her vocabulary all but dies when she's excited?" Tristan huffed.

Cora snorted, "That's true, but what happened to you?" She asked quirking an amused brow at her Aunt Ella’s overly drenched body.

Even her clothes were dripping.

"The horror that is Gemma", she cringed.

"Gemma making fuss during bath time, that's new", Tristan bit his lip, "Everything okay?" He asked.

"She refused to wash away the ink written on her wrist, and—“

“Oh My God! I wanna see”, Laura emerged and grabbed both her shoulders, “Please tell me you didn’t wash it off”, she cried out.

“What is going on?” Tristan wondered.

“Gemma met Stiles”, Laura answered and Cora gasped, “Really?” she asked.

Ella nodded, drying her hair out by the kitchen sink, “Where are the others?” she asked.

Tristan hummed, “Mom went to answer a client calling, Uncle Alex is still in his study doing whatever programming something or the other, Granma Ella is conspiring something dangerous”, he pointed at the trees where she stood waiting for his twin, “Olivia and Ivory are still getting ready, and Uncle Peter and dad are enroute”, he listed.

 “Aunt El, quit with the ridiculous, jibber jabber, and tells me, did you wash it off or not?!” Laura demanded shaking her wet shoulders.

“For Christ’s sakes someone tell me what’s going on?” Tristan cried out as he wrestled his shifted sister off of his aunt.

Cora sighed, “We’re talking about this”, she handed him Laura’s phone, and “He’s called The Black Wolf Diaries”, she stated and quickly explained everything from Laura’s Calling and the coincident of his page/blog pinging on every server across the globe.

The more she explained the blanker Tristan’s features became. It made her nervous, she ignored Ella exclaiming;

“Oh for the love of God, LAURA, he used Permanent INK!!!” she snapped and pushed away from their sister.

“Trist?” Cora started warily.

Tristan’s jaw ticked, in many ways he and Derek were nothing alike, what with the polar opposite personality, except when someone touched upon things that pissed them off, and something she said had pissed him off.

“So when you say The Black Wolf Diaries has been written by this kid, Stiles Stilinski, who has no idea he’s privacy has been slipped through the crevices of the world and has taken root on so many people’s systems. Basically his private thoughts are not so private after all?” he asked quietly.

Voice dangerously quiet;

Cora swallowed and Laura stopped mid-screech of a litany of, ‘Yes, Good, Yes, Good, Yes….’ And turned to him, “Well It’s for a good cause”, she stated.

Tristan growled, very lupine like, “This is an invasion of privacy”, he growled low.

“There are reasons for—”

 “No Man’s Privacy is worth another person’s entertainment!!!” he hissed angrily.

“No. That is true, and I would never deny that, but he is not just some kid venting on the internet!” Laura argued.

“Oh pray tell sister who is he then?!”

“Hope!!!” she whisper-yelled

 Tristan frowned, “What?” he asked.

“He’s hope to our family”, she sighed.

“Yeah, no, you lost me”, he repeated.

“Every time I read something about him, his day, his feelings, something warm blooms here, just in the center of my heart”, she pointed, “And I feel warmth and loved and I need to see the warmth in his words. Something about him connects me to this family, and Tristan you can’t disagree our family isn’t whole”, she stated, “It hasn’t been since he was sixteen. And can’t breathe like that anymore, can you?” she asked softly.

Tristan sighed in defeat, “I don’t like this”, he tossed her phone onto the cushioned dining chair and shook his head, “I don’t support this blatant disregard for another man’s privacy exploited like this, without his consent”, he shook his head, “I don’t like it”, he shook his head again and walked out of the kitchen area, almost slamming into Derek.

“Whoa! Hey, what’s going on?”

Derek asked warily.

Tristan scowled, “Nothing. I need to take a walk, before I do or say something irrefutable”, he hissed at Laura and walked away.

Derek hummed, “Wow, not even five minutes in and the claws are already out”, he frowned, “This must be your own personal best time Laura”, he stated knowingly.

Cora swallowed tightly, “Maybe you and I should get started on dinner”, she said.

Derek nodded, and pocketed his I-phone, and wasn’t that a shock, her brother actually owned a smart phone.

“So what do we actually make?” he asked.

“Well Aunt El and Grams bought a lot of Bison and Venison, so beef chilly and uh, we could make some kind of Italian Dish with the deer?” she suggested.

Derek nodded, “That’s okay with me, but first—” he turned to Laura and their aunt, “—you two get out”, he ordered.

“What?” Ella screeched, “Why?” she asked.

“Yes why do we have to leave?” Laura snapped.

“Laura I’ve seen you burn water”, Cora answered as she collected on the ingredients.

“And Aunt El no offense but you’re a kitchen hazard and really my history with fire is not good, so let’s not tempt fate, eh?!” Derek begged as he collected al their utensils.

All three of them winced behind his back and exchanged wary glances. It had to have been the first time Derek had even talked about the fire or his history with fire, but none of them were brave enough to ask anything, or retort in anyway.

“Well whatever”, Ella scoffed, “I have an appointment with my shower”, she flipped her wet hair over one shoulder and stalked off.

Laura huffed, “And I have to go see a girl about some ink”, she stated and walked off.

“Ink?” Derek asked.

Cora shrugged, “Bro, its Laura no one understands Laura”, and she paused, “Well except for maybe Lydia and Erica”, she answered.

Derek shuddered, “Oh God! I forgot about those two”, he paused mid cut of the venison steak, “Am I going to have to actually interact with them?” he asked warily.

“RUDE!!!”

Derek smirked at Cora and winked, and Cora blinked as she looked up to see Lydia Martin dressed impeccably as always, standing in the kitchen doorway.

Cora snorted as Erica sauntered in, stiletto Christian Louboutin Shoes, CL Boots, Red Bottom Shoes, Red High Heels, and skin tight painted on jeans, that were folded three inches above her ankles, and a howdoyoubreatheinthatteeshirt, that's red.

“Well as I live and breathe!” Erica growled, “If it aint the wolf who got away”, she hugged him tight, all but squeezing the life out of him.

“And the vixen who is neither wolf nor Catwoman”, he pulled her towards him, hands on her tiny waist and lifting her just so.

Erica laughed and Lydia grinned, even as she picked up a cutting knife, and started on slicing the cucumbers.

As Derek put down Erica, the werewolf jumped onto the counter, and began kicking the air as wont a toddler would do.

“Do I not get a hug Lyds?” Derek asked softly.

Cora stepped towards Erica; this was one of those times, when she had to share her brother, with those who loved him more than she did, but were equally as emotionlessly masked as her. If there were a few of them all Hales who were divided into two factions within the Family, there was Laura, Dad, Alex and Aunt Ella who were under Talia. With the twins Olivia probably, because everyone knew Gemma belonged to Derek alone. The Humans associated to the Hale pack were Isaac, Lydia, Boyd, and Mason, with Deaton as their druid.

“Hey where did you go, they’ve finally broken the ice?” Erica asked as she watched Lydia all but throw herself onto Derek, crying silently into his collar, Derek cradled her close and whispered something to her, that even as a werewolf, Cora had no idea what he’d said.

“What did he say?” she hissed at Erica.

“Something not in English”, Erica huffed as she sat eating a red apple.

“What is it with you and Apples?” she asked eyeing the red apples Erica had all but demolished in three seconds flat.

“Apples appear in many religious traditions, often as a mystical or forbidden fruit. I am embracing the forbidden fruit", she shrugged easily, devouring the third one in seconds.

“If you fill up on Apples, you won’t have space for dinner”, she warned.

“You do know I am a werewolf right? I mean I know it’s barely been a year from when I got the bite, but I am a werewolf. Besides we still have to go for a run. The Hale Pack run, you don’t remember”, Erica scoffed.

“Oh”, Cora gasped, “I forgot about those”, she murmured.

“How?” Erica asked.

“It’s difficult to go for runs in New York, I mean I was there only for about a year, but in the hustle-bustle of the city you don’t really have much time to go for a run. It’s not like here in BH where you drive to school, where the roads are small and you reach the school in seconds, relatively speaking that is”, she muttered.

“Cora’s right you know”, Derek stated as he helped Lydia cut vegetables, “I lived close to campus, so it was easy for me to get to classes on time. In High School, it’s a bit difficult. Cor stayed with Laura, obviously, and getting to school, she had to catch the nearest metro-train or subway as you know—”

“Hipster!” Erica coughed.

“—to school”, he ignored Erica’s remark, and continued with, “and get a cab or walk to the school mom put her in, which with you it was Prep school right? So via cab”, he collected the greens and started on a salad.

“Worst year of my life”, Cora cringed, “For an American School it was so very British”, she muttered.

“Hey there is nothing wrong with the British, we’re half British Cor!” Derek huffed.

“Just coz we’re half Irish half Spanish, does not mean I had to endure one year of words like fieldhouse, form, and master”, she cringed.

“Master!?” Erica asked.

“Another word for teacher or teach”, she explained.

Erica and Lydia both shuddered.

“They call a teacher master?” Erica asked, and Lydia frowned, “Sounds like someone with a BDSM thing, yeuck, oh god! Bad mental imaging”, she shuddered.

Derek snorted and Cora laughed, “I can almost imagine that as an actual thing there, we also had to conform to words like Alpha Greek and or commodore”, she muttered.

“What’s a commodore?” Erica asked as she threw the chilies at Derek who rolled his eyes, but caught them all in one big bowl.

“A really slow computer”, Cora and Derek answered in unison.

“What the hell?!” Erica and Lydia exclaimed at the same time.

“How the hell do you know?” Cora asked Derek.

“I went to York Prep from sophomore to Senior Grade remember”, he said.

“Was it a good school, and why on earth was I put in, Ivy Prep?” she asked.

“It’s based on a grade point average, you were in Ivy prep because your grades were good. However, I had low grades thanks to my—” he paused swallowed and slipped a hand into his pocket, right hand shaking despite fisted, “Paige and Kate”, he hissed the names out with speed borne of desperation to get them out.

Lydia continued chopping, Erica deliberately slowed her munching and Cora swallowed as she brought out there Grandfather’s famous Bison Chili recipe.

“Anyway”, Derek continued after a beat, relaxing his hands and slipping the left out of his pocket, “York Prep was a good school. I made friends there, it was different to Beacon Hills High, but it was refreshing in a way”, he swallowed, “Anyway, Cora You should start on the basic ingredients, I’m gonna head out back and ground the buffalo meat, you get started on the Venison steaks”, he pointed to the freezer.

“About that, are we doing a Mushroom sauce, a port one? Or a Pan-seared venison steak?” Cora asked.

“Before that, can you two even make a proper steak?” Erica asked warily, “Mind you I don’t want food poisoning”, she swallowed.

Derek and Cora snorted, “We were personally trained by Peter”, the latter explained.

“When?” Lydia asked, “I’ve never seen him leave Beacon Hills, ever, isn’t he The Hale Pack enforcer? He isn’t allowed to leave the Alpha’s side”, she stated confused.

“Oh no”, Cora gasped leaning against Derek, “If only there was this thing to connect people over great distances. Don’t we call those things telephones?” she asked Derek dumbly.

“Yes. And then there’s that whole thing with the square box where we can see people’s faces”, he proclaimed eyes wide.

“And isn’t there these applications people down the load”, she wondered, “with the time and the face and the skip thing with a ‘y’ and an ‘e’…?” she asked.

Derek smirked, “Darling Cora I think they call it FaceTime and Skype I think”, he pondered contemplatively.

“Oh, shut up!!!” Lydia and Erica huffed in unison.

Cora laughed falling over a smirking Derek as both girls blushed.

“Go, before the claws come out and the Molotov cocktails”, she pushed Derek out the door.

He nodded, “We’ll make a Pan-seared venison steak”, he said and walked off a small barely there smile. She would have wanted to see her brother smile, but it seemed like a small victory that he managed to say two names that hadn’t been spoken in the house for seven years.

“So”, Cora stretched, “That was new”, she commented idly.

“I’ll say I almost had a heart attack when he said Paige’ name”, Lydia muttered.

“And I almost choked on the apple I was eating”, Erica hummed jumping off of the counter.

“Before that he actually joked with Laura about the fire”, she offered.

“No way! Really?”

All three girls looked up to see Allison standing in the doorway with Chris Argent, Peter, their mom and Isaac.

“Allison!!!” Lydia grinned and ran towards

“Oi”, Isaac protested, “What are we chopped liver?” he protested, “Where are my hugs?” he approached Cora.

“Step any closer and this carrot will wilt in fear”, she pointed it straight at him.

Isaac raised both hands in surrender, “Whoa! Easy there, what the hell did I do?” he asked.

“What didn’t you lot do?” she snapped, “I don’t really know the guy, but you’re all mental if you think being oblivious helps”, she growled at Allison, Lydia and Isaac, “Mr. Argent”, she addressed Chris, “I don’t like you”, she stated strongly, “I don’t trust your family. You or her”, she pointed at him and Allison, “I don’t care what Derek thinks”, she pushed ignoring Erica and her mother’s hissed warnings, “I don’t care about your feelings unlike some”, she glanced at Peter who remained impassive as always, eyes veiling thin amusement, “I don’t like any of you, but if this is to be trusted, as a hunter and a guardian you actually suck at it”, she snapped angrily.

“What”, Chris asked an eyebrow rose, for added effect.

“Do you trust anyone in this room?” she asked instead of clarifying.

“Yes”, he answered.

“Who?” she asked, well demanded really.

“Peter”, he answered honestly.

Peter crashed into the wall, “What?” he asked shockingly.

Pretty much everyone agreed at that, but Cora ignored that, “Why?” she demanded an answer.

“Because he never changes”, he answered honestly, “I can always expect Peter to be himself”, he shrugged easily, “With all of you, you have so many layers, despite being half wolves operating on base instinct. But the fact is, Peter isn’t just a werewolf, he would have been an Alpha, if he could, but I think he’s better as Beta who can control the situation to an advantage. I’m never wary when it comes to him, because he is always in control, always aware. In a way I can be wary of him because Peter is dangerous. Any normal person should be wary of him”, he stated his explanation with sure clear words.

“And if I were to tell you your daughter has a stalker, would you believe me as Peter’s niece. Trained by Peter and not any of the others, Gemma, Ivory and Tristan were trained by Alex and Erica, Isaac were trained by dad, and mom trained Isaac and Erica and Liam. But Derek and I were always trained by Peter and if you trust him, you need to believe me”, she requested.

“Alright. What is it you wish to tell me?” he asked.

“Allison has a stalker. Would you take the news and do something about it, or will you brush it off, as nothing?” she asked.

“Cora!” Lydia and Allison exclaimed, “Shut up!” the latter hissed.

Cora ignored them both, “Will you believe me?” she asked.

“Yes”, Chris answered promptly, “Now I ask you for your proof?” he said.

Cora handed over her tablet, “Read with an open mind”, she requested again, but keeping a good distance between the others and Chris, acting as a shield, keeping everyone else at bay, as he read through the blog.

It probably took thirty minutes for Chris to read everything and by that time, he nodded, “Alright, seems like good proof. I’ll have it noted. Peter would you accompany me to the sheriff’s office? I think we have enough time before dinner begins to find out whether or not there is any incriminating evidence to support Mr. Stilinski’s suspicions”, he turned to the wolf in question.

Peter cleared his throat, “Uh…sure”, he agreed and stepped back and waited for a beat.

Chris nodded at Allison, “Stay here”, he ordered sharply.

“Dad it’s nothing, look Stiles is just a little paranoid, and he really doesn’t like Matt, so really it’s nothing”, she promised.

“Then there won’t be a loss of any police resources”, he agreed and then turned to Talia, “I—your family owes me nothing, but would you do me a favor and keep my daughter safe?” he requested softly.

“She’s safe as long as she wants to stay”, Talia ascertained.

“She’ll stay”, Chris promised and shot Allison a truly severe look, “Won’t you?” he asked.

Allison swallowed, “I’ll stay”, she promised.

Chris nodded and marched out the doorway. Peter nodded towards Talia and smiled, “Save us some dinner just in case there does turn out something nefarious in the works”, he saluted and followed Chris Argent.

Cora hummed, “Right well those of you who can’t even boil an egg, get out”, she ordered and you two, she pointed at Erica and Lydia, “You two better not drop any false nails into any of the ingredients”, she warned. “We’re carnivores not cannibals”, she shuddered.

“A). I don’t have false nails”, Lydia scoffed showing her small nails, “And B). What the hell Cora? What the hell was all that about?” she pointed at the doorway.

“I want Stiles Happy”, she shrugged, “And not just my family, because I’ve only met him once and I really like him”, she then looked at the time, “Get the ingredients”, she ordered, “The rest of you out, I ‘m going to go find Derek”, she huffed and walked off.

Cora sighed and inwardly shrieked;

‘HOLY CRAP! What the hell was that?!!’   

***

Chris walked into his office, and pulled out some surveillance cameras.

“What exactly are we doing here?” Peter asked.

“I don’t dissuade your notions and trust in a seventeen year old kid—”, Chris started.

“Eighteen”, Peter corrected.

“Right well eighteen years old, but I’ll have two of my men check on the address of this Matt person, before we head in”, he advised.

“As you wish”, Peter nodded, “I am going to go raid your fridge”, he nodded and left the room.

“Peter”, Chris stood up and rounded the desk and turned to him, “About what I said”, he swallowed.

Peter snorted, “Let it go Argent”, he grinned, “It’s not like you care about us Hales”, he scoffed at the very idea and left the room, sniggering to himself.

Chris clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes, and then snapped.

“You and your stupid wolf instincts”, he growled and stalked forward.

Peter whirled around, “Huh?!” he gaped at the hunter who stalked forward and slammed him against the wall, “What the hell Argent?” the wolf growled.

“Aren’t you supposed to sense everything off of a human?” he snapped.

“And your point?” Peter snapped back.

“How is it you can’t see anything?” the hunter growled.

“Dammit Argent what the hell are you talking about?” he asked warily.

The hunter sighed, “And here I thought werewolves were perceptive”, he grumbled and shrugged off his jacket.

“Uh…what?”

Chris ignored him, and unbuttoned his shirt,

“Okay. Whoa wait”, Peter flushed and looked away, “W-What are you doing?” he sputtered pushing back into the wall instinctively.

“Trying to make a point”, Argent hissed.

“And what point is that? How to look good shirtless?” he grumbled.

Chris smirked, “I look good shirtless?” he asked calmly amused.

“A blind person would think so”, Peter grumbled, “Please keep your clothes on”, he begged.

“Why is it not good me taking off my clothes?” he teased.

“Do you not understand, we-I my wolf, please”, Peter whimpered.

“Look at me”, Chris requested.

“I—”

“Please”, he begged softly.

“I can’t”, he swallowed.

“Please Peter”, Chris slid a hand up the man’s neck, and tilted his head towards him, “Look at me”, he repeated.

Peter turned willingly and as soon as the man’s natural blue eyes arrested upon him he turned his head to the side, closing his eyes as the sharp inhale and the growl that followed indicated the wolf’s comprehension.

“Y-you can’t be serious”, he breathed.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about this”, Chris murmured.

“This is—” he swallowed, “—do you understand the significance of what you’re proposing?” he asked just on the edge of letting go.

“Yes”, he answered.

“Do you want me?” Peter asked warily, “Why would you?” he begged to know.

“Because as you are mine, I am so completely yours it’s not even funny, and don’t you know Peter”, he whispered softly, the name more caress than anything else, “Peter, Je ne ai jamais aimé un homme, et il sera toujours être que vous”, he promised.

Peter growled low and dangerously (to anyone else), and moved forward, and arm vice-like around his waist pulled him, and fangs bit down on his neck.

Chris groaned biting back the scream, and submitting the only wolf he would ever give himself to.

As the wolf pulled back, Peter licked the bite mark, and kissed the mark, tears fell on blemished skin, and Chris smiled, “Peter”, he whispered.

Peter pulled back and swallowed, “Chris?” sounding oddly child-like. “Can I kiss you?” he asked so quietly, Chris wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t been ear to mouth close to the man.

“Duh…”

Peter laughed and pulled him in for a hard kiss, Chris laughs as Peter reverses their positions and pins him against the wall, gets a nice grip on the Peter's jacket to pull him in, connect their lips in a bruising kiss.

Rough hands sliding against his skin, and brought his lips down to Peter's in a warm kiss that tasted like home, foreheads pressed against each other and chests rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time”, Chris murmured against his lips.

Peter hummed, “I tried to stay away, how do you, how did you know?” he asked warily.

Chris kissed the man’s clavicle, “I’m a hunter Peter, I watched you. I watched you all the time, and when you thought I wasn’t looking I saw you look at me”, he kissed the man’s forehead, “Granted it nevr was easy to understand a guy liking me, or me liking him, I was married to a woman, I always thought I was straight. And then…I realized I wasn’t as straight as I thought”, he shrugged.

“And you like me?” Peter asked softly.

“I love you, you big gigantic puppy”, he answered honestly.

Peter grinned against his lips and kissed him again sweetly this time, as if wanting to capture a taste of him and bottle it into memory.

Chris slid his arms up and around the man’s back, pulling off his jacket, pausing as Peter pulled back and shot him a sarcastic questioning look;

“Seriously?”

“What?” Chris asked worriedly.

“Light ‘em up? That’s your ringtone?” he asked shifting back.

Chris flushed, “Shut up, I liked the music”, he grumbled and walked to his study.

Peter laughed, “My songs know what you did in the dark!” he teased.

“Go raid the fridge, this is probably just a work thing”, he muttered.

Peter shrugged and nodded, “Okay”, he walked to the fridge and Chris answered the phone.

“This is Argent”, he stated coldly.

‘Yeah boss, we found the kid, Taylor’s tailing him he went to the library. Bossman we’ve found something you need to see, I’m sending you a digital copy of the well…it’s just creepy’, he muttered.

“Oh. Send it through”, he allowed.

‘Brace yourself Bossman, it aint something the toughest of us could stomach’, he stated.

“It could not be that bad”, he laughed a bit warily, Trace never sounded spooked, not even when they hunted wendigoes.

‘Yeah boss, it’s not something I wanted to ever see’, he shuddered, the shiver in his voice practically audible, ''We found it in his closet', he informed.

Peter wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled his neck, nibbling on his neck.

“Send it through”, he ordered leaning into Peter’s body, and he hung up.

Peter hummed, “I never really took your hunters for being scaredy-cats”, and he huffed amused.

“Likewise, I’ve never heard Trace sound so terrified”, he shook his head as his laptop pinged and he walked to the laptop—with a clinging limpet.

“You can walk you know?” he said without really complaining about it.

“True, don’t wanna”, Peter pouted.

Chris snorted, “Okay”, he agreed, he opened the email and waited for it to upload the data Trace sent over, and turned to look up at Peter, “What do you think is on the file?” he asked.

Peter’s eyes flashed and he growled, “Nothing. Good. At. All”, he growled each word with vengeance and wrath.

Chris should have taken that for the warning it was, and when he turned to face the computer, bile rose up and he felt anger and cold rage crawled through him, and only three words could be spoken, as the screen blew up with photos of Allison, and a creepy message of her name.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK!"

~xxXxx~

 DEAR AO3 That image of Allison and Matt's is mine! Made in "Paint" from My laptop!!! I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to prove it... I am Not Taking it down!!!

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Interlude III

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

  Warning: Alternative POVs

Peter hissed through his teeth, shaking out his fingers and un-clenching and clenching his hands.

“Fuck!”

Peter agreed the sentiment pretty much fit the situation, and he sighed as he found the hunter and wrapped his arms around the man, anchoring them both.

Chris swallowed and leaned into his arms, “So… this is not what I was expecting”, he sighed.

“We all wanted to believe he was just a paranoid kid, but he is also the Sheriff’s son, so this is our proof”, he whispered.

Chris looked away, “How did I not see?” he asked, “I should have known. Trace or one of the guy’s should have known, someone should have known”, he cried out.

“It’s maybe because none of us were really looking. We don’t really expect hunters to get stalked you know”, he answered nuzzling the older man.

Chris grits his teeth, “We need to take this to the Sheriff”, he whispered, “I think I’m going to be sick”, he grimaced.

“Take care of business now, throw up later, eh?” Peter advised, “We’re all going to need the time to process this, and most of all I think Allison needs to know”, he whispered.

Chris nodded and swallowing he released Peter and stood up, “Burn that into a disc eh, and I’ll call Trace and Taylor back”, he sighed.

“Keep Taylor on the kid, if he’s a stalker he’ll know if someone messed with his room, the paranoid are not always sane. And psychopaths that start young will run”, Peter intervened.

Peter watched as Chris nodded and placed the calls, “Peter, do I tell Allison?” he asked.

“Later. We’ll tell everyone later”, he promised kissing the man’s cheek, and walking the three steps to the man’s laptop.

“Chris”, Peter called and as the hunter and his mate faced him he grinned, “We have a watcher and he’s a protector too. So relax, everything’s going to be okay”, he smiled.

“Peter Hale providing assurance, well now I’ve seen everything I’ll sleep well tonight”, he grinned.

Peter scoffed, “Nope, never gonna happen, you think after waiting eight years for you I’m going to let you sleep?” he leered, “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk”, he promised.

“Whoa?” Chris stopped mid-call, “Who said anything about me getting fucked? I am a good fucker I’ll fuck you hard, you won’t be able to see stars”, he warned.

“Oh. You saying your cock can leave me speechless?” Peter smirked.

“My cock is thick and long and will reach places inside you; you didn’t even know you had!”

‘So much about you I never wanted to know, Bossman!’

Chris’ eyes widened and he pulled the phone away from him, to see the call connected to Trace O’Leary.

Peter snickered as he ripped the DVD.

“You”, Chris hissed, “You, I will deal with you later”, he promised and rolling his eyes he returned to Trace, “Ignore that”, he warned.

‘You say something boss, I went partially deaf’, he said nonchalantly, ‘so anything to do here, or should we pack up and come back home?’ he asked casually.

“You yes, keep Taylor on the creeper. Head straight to The Sheriff’s station, we’re taking everything to him”, he answered sharply.

Returning to the task at hand the bile rose, and he swallowed thickly, “Did you –did you find anything else?” he asked really not wanting to know, but knowing there would be no escape and he wouldn’t hide from this truth.

‘A few articles of clothing definitely not belonging to a male kid, Allison’s bracelet, I recognize it as the one Kate gave her for her eleventh birthday, I also remember her chucking it at Kate’s grave. There’s a few scented candles decorated lavishly around the creepy collage of photos I sent to you. I’ve sent you more photos. There’s also the’, he swallowed and then pushed the words out forcefully, ‘Underwear. Definitely not male, definitely not clean—’, he coughed and cleared his throat painfully, ‘—I, can I leave, it’s making me feel itchy all over. The girl’s my sister and this is something no brother should ever see, and uh Boss—’, he paused, “—there is one more thing”, and stopped speaking entirely.

Chris frowned unaware of tears falling because the thought of his baby being so thoroughly violated it made him sick, “What is it?” he asked, well croaked if her were being honest.

‘There’s a…’

“Spit it out Trace!”

‘I’m trying, it’s not like you’re here and seeing all this, makes me want to find the creep and wring his neck!’ he yelled and then paused, ‘Sorry boss, just give me a minute yeah…’

Warm arms wrapped around him and Chris murmured his assent as the man on the line, desperately took in oxygen as if the supply of oxygen in the room had all but depleted.

Peter whispered soft reassuring words as they waited.

‘Boss you there?’

“Yeah, Trace”, Chris stated.

‘There’s a well devised elaborate kidnapping plan. If he wasn’t such a creeper, I’d recruit him to be a hunter. It was scheduled for Monday’, he informed.

“Monday? This Monday? Tomorrow?” he asked swallowing the rock in his throat.

‘Yes sir’, he answered, ‘The plan according to creepo was to ask her for some help with well something that would need her assistance, and then inject her with a paralytic, and kidnap her’, he explained.

“And you know this how?” Peter asked catching the phone from his suddenly slack grip.

Chris scratched at his throat, almost as if wanted to dislodge the rock in his throat, Peter grabbed his hand and squeezed offering the only silent form of comfort he could.

‘Uh… Peter Wolf?’ Trace asked, but answered, ‘Never mind, I hacked into his files and found it in a folder inside a folder, inside a folder inside another one. Short version, it was buried under six folders, thirteen documents within a series of one document. Yes it was confusing but it made sense after a while’, he paused, ‘Ah…shit’, he hissed, ‘Gotta go, kid’s back, why the hell didn’t Taylor mention that…oh…well that’s not good!’

There was a clatter and then the dial tone.

“Let’s go”, Peter growled angrily.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Now Chris”, he urged and stalked out of the room, and straight to his car, “Drive”, he growled.

Chris knew better to argue, and followed the severely pissed off werewolf.

*

*

*

“We need to talk to The Sheriff”, Peter walked up to the deputy and stated it plainly.

The deputy nodded; probably instinctively aware she was facing a predator, and escorted them to the sheriff.

“Sheriff, there’s two men to see you. It seems urgent”, the deputy informed after the sheriff allowed them to enter.

The Sheriff looked up and stood up, “Oh, Hale, Argent, what brings you to me?” he asked.

“Chris’ daughter has been stalked and I think the stalker now knows that we’re onto him”, Peter started without any warning.

“And you knew she was being stalked how?” he asked standing a bit straighter.

“We have a good source who pointed out the evidence”, Chris whispered softly.

“I’ll need to talk this source. Before that who do you think the stalker is?” he asked.

“A High School Kid, Matt Daehler. And I don’t think you’re gonna want that source here”, Peter growled out the words through clenched teeth.

“A kid? Wait…did you say Matt Daehler? And why won’t I have the need to interrogate your source?” he asked.

Peter’s eyes fell on the man’s name plate, “What’s your name?” he asked.

“John Stilinski”, The Sheriff answered.

“Sheriff Stilinski, if I tell you who the source is, will you please take into account we have digital, verbal proof that my daughter is in grave danger?” Chris asked quietly.

“Yes”, John answered.

Peter handed over the disc and brought up the blog page, “Our source”, he swallowed warily.

John frowned but let Peter load the disc and started reading, only to push it away;

“This is...what the hell is this?” he demanded.

“We think he may have accidentally put it all out there, but that’s not the important part, it’s because he’s so damn perceptive—”, Peter bit the word out angrily, “We know this is real”, he scrolled down to the page and pointed at the main line that were highlighted by the man’s selection;

Matt Daehler aka Allison's Stalker; I'm not kidding, he quite literally stalks Allison. I can't stop how people think. And I know my words will never reach them... Hell my voice doesn't even reach them. And yet, sometimes I wish someone out there could listen. Pay attention, please, Oh God! Please.

Before something terrible happens, because I'm powerless, and no one can see me, so…. please.

For now, the only thing I can do is keep watching, paying attention. Because despite how much I loathe Allison, if anything were to happen to her, Scott would cry. And making Scott cry, a big no, no...

Really…the only way any truth were to occur, were if Chris Argent (Allison’s dad obviously) were to go in Matt’s room, with dogs, and deputies, and raid the twat’s room. If they don’t find some sort of creepy alter to Allison, I’ll start using my real name.

 No really, I will.

It’ll be painful and embarrassing, but I will do it.

 “This is…” John trailed off as the laptop was turned around and the man paled considerably, “Oh Dear God!” he breathed steadying himself with one hand on his desk.

“Jesus Christ she’s not dressed in most of these, this was taken by a long range camera and these are those digital GIFs my kid's always harping about, a smart phone can do these”, he pointed to one, “That’s it”, he glared at the laptop, and Peter suddenly understood why this man was a Sheriff.

my life, my one day wife, Soon we'll share a bed, and everything else, my heart!!!

The man moved with the precision of the best hunters and predators he’d met, as if before him stood a jungle cat and not a man, “Gloria”, he barked as he hit the intercom button on his phone.

‘Sheriff’, the woman answered promptly.

“Get a team of the best we have, we have a 31S and need to bring in warrant to search premises, contact Mr. Whittemore have the document ready, you have twenty minutes. Get medical on standby and have the Crimes Scene tech guys at the ready—”, looking up he asked Chris straight, “You have an address?” he asked.

Chris rattled off the address, and John nodded, “we may have a 646.9 on hand. Approach with caution suspect may be armed, and may have hostages”, he warned he disconnected the call, “I understand you want to come, but you will sit your ass down, and stay here, until we bring him in, and so help me Hale if you so much as twitch forward I will handcuff you to my desk, even if I have to chuck you into a cell, with my desk. Are we clear?” he asked politely.

Peter stepped back, “Crystal”, he agreed.

“Excellent. Stay with Argent, the man looks like he needs all the hugs”, he pat Chris on the shoulder once, slipped on his sunglasses and strode out of his office in a khaki blur.

Peter stared at the door, “What the hell just happened?” he asked no one in particular.

Chris swallowed, “I think that would be the best proof that Stiles is not someone anyone would want to mess with, that and I’m going to take a guess is the Sheriff being a badass?” he asked curiously.

“You bet your ass he’s badass”, a women stated.

Both men looked up to see a colored woman standing in the doorway.

“And you are?” Peter enquired.

“Tara Graeme, here to make sure you stay”, she grinned all teeth.

And something just screamed at him in Iris’ voice, ‘Kid you do not want to mess with a woman in uniform!!!’

Peter raised both hands in surrender and sank into the seat next to Chris, reaching out for the older man’s hand and holding on.

“It’ll be okay Chris. I swear everything is going to be okay”, he promised.

 Chris nodded and all but fell into his arms, nearly crashing the, both to the ground, but Peter handled them and steadied their chairs, “Okay, let’s please not do that again”, he begged.

Tara snorted, but remained silent otherwise.

Chris huffed against his collar and nuzzled in closer.

Peter smiled and caressed his fingers through the man’s hair, “I swear”, he repeated and Chris relaxed into his—wobbly thanks to their almost crash—embrace and stayed there.

“I’m going to take a wild guess here, but you two have just got together right?” Tara spoke up, stressing on the ‘just’.

Peter blinked, “How do you…never mind… so is that the deputy perception?” he asked curiously.

“Are you joking? P-uh-lease darling”, she waved her hand, “A). I’m a girl, a species far more intelligent than yours, B). I’ve been married for five years, and C). you two ooze sexual tension just standing next to each other. A blind man could see you just—quite literally just, as in a couple of moments ago—got together”, she drawled.

“No one is that perceptive”, Peter scoffed.

“Uh yeah they are, and we all have had special training to see things that most would never see even if they had the eyes of Superman”, she snorted and settled easily into a chair, in the doorway.

Peter blinked, “You don’t have to sit there”, he stated, “I’m not going anywhere”, he said.

“And pigs fly honey”, she rolled her eyes.

“What kind of training are you talking about?” Chris asked curiously.

“Ah we have had the best training exercise ever designed”, she grinned sarcastically.

A passing deputy paused, “Oh no! Don’t you dare say that, I hate that plan”, he groaned.

“You just suck at it Henderson”, she teased.

“Are you kidding me, Tara?!!!” Henderson squawked, “I was almost traumatized!” he yelled.

Another passing deputy snorted, “In his defense, not any of us could have prepared him for that test”, he shivered.

Tara scoffed, “Pussies”, she rolled her eyes.

“I am not!”

“Neither am I”, Henderson snorted, “That was not fair to us”, he snapped.

“It was unconventional, but it made you better didn’t it. I mean come on Ray it helped you with that kidnapping case awhile back, it helped you recognize the pattern, and Henderson, you remember the drug Cartel the FBI almost shut you off on, well it’s because of the YPY sequence that you didn’t fail, and you found out who was the head honcho, reclaiming Glory, and yada, yada”, she pointed out.

“YPY sequence?” Chris asked.

Henderson nodded absentmindedly, “Young Padawan Yoda Sequence”, he muttered, “That may be so Tara, but what about him and that doctor’s glove thing, or the excess information of the Duck Mating Ritual!!!” he growled.

“Duck mating ritual?” Peter asked turning to Chris.

“Did he just say Yoda?” Chris asked in return.

“I did not need to know about a duck’s erection!!!!” he yelled.

A few snickers broke out in the bullpen and Peter sighed, “Oh for the love of God, what is the YPY and what is up with you and ducks?” he demanded.

“We’re talking about Stiles—The Sheriff’s son”, Tara answered.

“Stiles?!!!” they asked in unison.

Tara grinned, “Settle down boys and let me tell you a story about Stiles and the Jabbermonkey”, she grinned maliciously.

Both Peter and Chris instinctively reared back and nodded allowing her to speak.

“It all began one summer years ago, when Stiles had just turned eight…”

***

Derek stretched as he filled a huge bowl with ground Bison meat.

“Hey”, he greeted Cora who walked in, “What you doing here, please tell me you haven’t left Erica and Lydia with the ingredients in the kitchen?” he asked teasingly.

“The ingredients are safe”, Cora grinned and she walked to him, and sat down in front of him on an upturned crate in their garage, “Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

Derek looked up, he couldn’t remember when he’d actually last been comfortable with any of his family members, except Peter and Cora. Laura had always been the eldest and getting to train as Alpha, pulled her away from her sibling duties. They weren’t close but he did care for her. And though Tristan was his twin, they were about as close as Fire and Water or Earth and Wind. Their compatibility as twins wasn’t even there. The only thing they agreed on was to stay out of each other’s private business.

Ivory was Cora’s twin, but she never really liked him, speaking of;

“Sure, if you answer mine?” he requested.

Cora nodded, “Sure”, she agreed.

“Okay, ask”, he said as he cleaned the grinder.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Derek paused mid-scrub and blinked.

“Derek?” she prompted.

“I-”, he exhaled, “Not really Cora”, he answered.

“Okay. Can you fake it Chief”, she asked softly.

Derek’s head snapped up, “Cora”, he hissed.

Cora scoffed, “If you think I don’t notice things and change, you have to be mental. So are you capable of it?” she asked.

“Yes”, he answered.

“Okay. Then you have me in your corner, and Gemma and I think one half of the Argents with Peter”, she said.

“Peter and Chris?” he asked.

“Today, I’m guessing. The UST has definitely been corked, well maybe not so much as corked but you know, simmered down a tad”, she reported.

“Finally”, he breathed sagging against table, “I wasn’t even near but I could actually feel all the tension through the computer screen”, he shivered.

“Don’t tell anyone, but thank God I was in NYC for that one year. Between Erica mooning over Boyd and Lydia salivating on that new deputy Parrish something, even though she strings both Aiden and Jackson along in a crazy love-triangle thing, and then there’s the whole, and Allison’s gooey love story with Scott, Ugh! Let me just say I was glad for the reprieve”, she sagged as well.

Derek huffed amused.

Cora grinned, “So, what did you want to ask?” she asked.

“Ivory”, Derek paused, “Why does Ivory hate me?” he asked.

Cora blinked, “Uh…” she cleared her throat, “I—”

“Wow, it’s that bad a reason, okay. Never mind don’t tell me”, he pushed away from the table, and placed the meat grinder into a bucket of water pre-filled and soapy.

“Derek it’s just that—” she swallowed.

“I had my first girlfriend killed, and my eyes changed into that of innocence lost, and instead of grieving for someone she cared about like a proper guy would have, I fucked a Hunter who then tried to burn everyone in our house, to death”, he nodded to himself, “Yeah, that doesn’t really need a reason”, he scoffed, “Come on administer”, he smirked at her, “Let’s go, we still actually have to cook, it’s four already”, he ushered her up and off the crate and out of their garage into the kitchen.

Derek almost yelped at the several faces staring at him, “Jesus”, he hissed, “What the hell… Oh, hey Allison, Isaac, when did you guys get here?” he asked as he spotted the two teens.

“A few moments ago”, Allison answered.

Isaac cleared his throat, “We’ll get out of your hair and let you two cook”, and he swallowed.

Derek frowned. “Okay”, he agreed and watched as one by one his family and friends walked out of the room. Quietly. Like scolded children…

Cora hummed, “I’d say they probably heard that, but we have a sound proof garage”, she muttered.

Derek nodded, “And half of them are humans”, he pointed out weakly.

Cora shrugged, “You know what, I don’t care. Like you said its four and I am so not in the mood to understand why my family is damn near impossible to understand on a good day—”

“OI!!!”

“—and I think we have some chili and steaks to make”, she continued ignoring several different voice protest to her words.

Derek snorted, “Yeah okay, so let’s line up the ingredients. Okay so for the Chili”, he looked down, “I’ll count, you check which ones we need and what to get rid of, yeah?” heturned to her.

“Gotchya Chief!” she agreed pencil at the ready.

“Okay, 2 pound ground buffalo, 1 teaspoon ground cumin, 2 pinches cayenne pepper, 2 (20 ounce) cans of diced tomatoes with green chilies, 2 (21.5 ounce) cans of tomato soup, 2 (9 ounces) can kidney beans, drained, 2 (30 ounce) can chili beans drained, 1 medium onion, chopped, 2 teaspoon minced garlic, 2 Anaheim chili peppers, chopped", he paused, "2 poblano chili pepper, chopped, 4 tablespoons chili powder, 2 teaspoon red pepper flakes, 3 teaspoons ground cumin, 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper, salt and ground black pepper to taste”, he stopped.

“Well you repeated Cumin and the cayenne pepper but yep, those are our ingredients”, she agreed.

“And now for the steak, I was wondering would you prefer the pan seared one or caramelized onions and mushrooms?” he asked.

Cora hummed, “The Latter”, she agreed, “But you do know, only Gemma, you and Peter and I actually like deer, oh and Malia”, she added after a beat.

“I know. The recipe is for juts four to five people so, it’ll work out”, he told her.

“Okay, cool. Speak oh mighty chief!” she declared.

Derek snorted, “As you wish administer”, he rolled his eyes, “Let’s see, okay, unsalted butter half a cup, 3 onions, salt obviously, dried thyme, just about a teaspoon worth”, he paused and blinked heading to the fridge, “Ah…okay honey, and the venison you brought out, one pound backstrap in one piece”, he shook his head, “Porcini powder, fresh maitake mushrooms, parsley and Dandelion leaves”, he hummed, “Dandelion leaves?” he asked turning to her.

“It’s the garnish”, she said and ticked it off, “So let’s get cooking. The bison first”, she stated and he agreed silently.

Derek inhaled and then exhaled, and then started on the cooking; they worked around each other like a well-oiled machine, as he browned half the buffalo in a skillet, she browned the other half, “Isn’t it weird Peter hasn’t driven home in a mad rage to bark instructions at us yet?” he asked.

Cora shrugged, “It’s Peter do you really wanna crawl into his brain and know his reasoning?” she shuddered.

Derek hummed, “It’s easier than wondering how Allison and Isaac actually managed to herd everyone into the Family room?” he wondered.

“I have good management skills!!!” Allison yelled.

“Eavesdropping is a crime!!!” Derek yelled back.

“If you say so werewolf!!!” she replied.

Derek smirked, and added half a teaspoon of cumin and a pinch of cayenne pepper to his chili half, as Cora following along, and adding to her half of the Bison, and hummed a song under her breath.

He slipped a hand into his left pocket and gripped his phone; he hadn’t had a chance to read any of the entries, and he really didn’t want to. They were supposed to be private and Stiles didn’t know that his thoughts were being broadcasted across the globe and he felt sick just thinking about reading someone’s private thoughts.

“Derek?!” Cora barked.

“Huh? What?” he looked up.

“You’re kind of going to end up burning the buffalo there”, she warned straying his hand a little to the left.

Derek swallowed and brought the skillet to the counter, “Sorry”; he shook his head and brought his hand out of his pocket.

“You okay?” she asked warily.

“I’m fine”, he nodded and, hummed as he combined the buffalo, tomatoes with green chilies, the tomato soup, kidney beans, chili beans, onion, garlic, Anaheim chili peppers the poblano chili pepper, chili powder, red pepper flakes, the teaspoons of cumin and cayenne pepper, salt, and black pepper in a slow cooker.

“So we cover and cook on Low and overnight for 8 hours, where overnight is a few moments after The Run, where we run in the woods”, she stated.

 “Yep. Dinner is actually after the run, which I think he’s after eleven?” he asked.

“It starts at around seven, right?” he asked warily.

“As soon as Peter and your dad get in, and The Argents will be running perimeter”, she said.

“So, um… we’ll be cooking it at one I guess, so before the run, I guess we can share the steaks?” he wondered.

“Or eat apples”, Cora snickered.

“Double up on them”, Erica yelled.

“What’s with all the yelling in this house?” Derek wondered, “We have eavesdropping humans and werewolves”, he muttered.

Cora snorted, “Oh wow, you definitely are going to enjoy living here for your internship”, she laughed evilly.

Derek snorted, “Shut up and start by caramelizing the onions, is it okay if I instruct will it be okay?" he asked.

Cora nodded, "Please", she answered.

"Okay, good. Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter in a large saute pan over medium-high heat. When it’s hot, add the onions and toss to coat", he advised and cover the onions, turn the heat down and cook slowly, stirring once in a while, you okay with that?" he asked.

"You are looking for them to slowly soften and brown, not scorch on the edges?" she asked.

"Yep, after 10 minutes or so, they’ll start to get soft. Sprinkle salt over them and let them cook some more. When they are just starting to brown, add the thyme and honey. Cook until they are a nice brown", he advised.

"Gotchya", she agreed.

They worked in tandem after that they removed the caramelized onions, and set it aside. While the onions were cooking, Derek took the venison out of the fridge and salted it well. And let it set to room temperature Peter had practically drilled into their skulls, because it was especially important if they were using elk or moose backstrap, which was thick.

"Well the onions are done, wipe out the pan and add the remaining butter", Derek instructed.

Derek pat the venison dry with a paper towel and seared it over medium-high heat, turning it to make sure all sides are well browned, using the finger test for doneness to determine when to take it out of the pan.

He let the meat rest on a cutting board.

"Hey can you roll the venison in the porcini powder as it rests. Oh, and while the venison is resting, put the mushrooms in the pan and turn the heat to high. Sear the mushrooms until they release their water; this might not happen with hen of the woods. When the water has almost boiled away or when the mushrooms begin to brown, add some more butter and sauté hard until the mushrooms are nicely browned. Salt them as they cook", he ordered.

"Whoa wait, are you going somewhere?" she asked as she juggled porcini powder and mushrooms.

"Yeah, I need to take this call", he showed her his ringing I-phone.

"But once the mushrooms are ready, add back the caramelized onions and the parsley and toss to combine. Heat through and put some on everyone’s plate. Add the dandelion leaves if you are using them. Slice the venison into medallions and serve", he added.

"Are you not coming back?" she asked a tad hysterical.

Derek snorted, and kissed her on the forehead, "You'll be okay", he smirked and let her go.

"B-B-But", she sputtered.

"It'll be okay", he repeated.

Derek walked off and Cora whined, "Lydia!!! I think I'm gonna need to borrow your brain!!!" she yelled.

Derek huffed amused and left them to listen to Cora whine.

"Hale", he answered the phone.

'It's me, we may have a thing', she replied vaguely.

Walking into the Garage he closed the door, and climbed into his Camaro, "Explain", he demanded.

'The Beacon Hills Sheriff department issued a Penal Code 646.9 against someone called Matt Daehler, teenage resident of BH', she informed.

"Stalking who?" he demanded.

'Allison Argent', she answered.

Derek swallowed, "When was the arrest ordered?" he asked.

'Twenty minutes ago', she said.

"Peter and Chris are at the station?" he guessed.

'Yes. The Sheriff seemed to attest to that, in scanner records, the suspect ran, there's a manhunt out for him, and he’s armed, and has shot two men. Both flesh wounds and headed to the Hospital. He may come after Allison', she explained, 'He ran into teh woods, according to the reports', she explained.

"Understood", he climbed out of the car, "Darla you know what to do?" he confirmed.

'Aye Bossman', she agreed.

"Do it", he ordered as he walked out the Garage, "Hey!!! Cora?!" he called out.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"You good? I need to do something, be back in like an hour?" he said opening the car door.

"Derek", the living room window went up, and his mother stuck her head out, "Where are you going?" she asked bewildered.

“The Library at BHH called, I forgot to give them the Dean's slip, so I have to head over there and called Dean Mathews, before they close the Library and Dean leaves the building. Gotta go mom, Cora hold the fort, yeah?!!!” he called as he hurriedly got into his car and backed out of the garage...

'Slick', Darla drawled.

Derek snorted, and hummed the Batman theme...

'Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Batman! Let’s go catch a killer’, she sang.

“A stalker”, Derek corrected.

‘Who just shot two people’, Darla informed.

“Are they dead?” he asked sharply.

‘Trace O’Leary gunshot to the heart—’, she paused and sighed in a relief, ‘Okay’, she breathed.

“How?” he demanded.

‘His heart is on the right hand side, which wow that is rare’, she exhaled in relief.

Derek nodded, “Thank God, for that. And the other guy?’ he asked.

‘Taylor Adams, ligature markings around his neck, trachea almost crushed’, Darla paused, ‘ah… he flat lined twice before they stabilized him’, she detailed.

“Current location”, he barked.

‘According to the Sheriff Departments radios, he’s heading west, closer to edge of the forest towards the nearest water body’, she informed.

“The Lake”, he nodded, “Thanks stay on contact”, he barked.

‘Aye Bossman’, she agreed and the line went still.

He could make out the rare sounds of her moving about, probably using a tracking spell, via the systems she had jacked up around the loft they both stayed in.

Now all he had to do was hunt a snake…

“Should be easy…”

~xxXxx~

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Of Wolves and Psychopaths

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

“Hey Buddy, wake up, Stiles, son?”

Stiles stirred and blinked up at his dad, standing over him, “Wha—dad?” he asked sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “What time’s it?” he asked sleepily.

“Just after three”, his dad settled on the edge of the bed.

Stiles blinked and then zeroed in on his dad’s voice and posture, sitting up; he threw the bedclothes of and went from semi-asleep to awake in point five seconds.

“What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” he began to pat down the sheriff and his hands trembled over the blood stains on his uniform, “Oh God! Oh God! Someone died didn’t they, who dad who? Is— oh God?!!! What?!!” he asked frantically.

The Sheriff shook his head and pulled his nervous son into his arms, squeezing the life out of him, “No one is dead, but there are a few good men and women of Beacon’s finest in the hospital”, he whispered.

Stiles’ hands fell to the bed, “Dad? What happened?” he asked.

“I’m the worst dad on the planet is what happened kid”, he cried onto his shoulder.

“What?” Stiles pulled back, “No dad, hey no, come on look at me here”, he pushed the man’s head up; “You’re the best dad ever. I’m like super-duper lucky to have you has a pa—”

“If I had been, I would have listened to you!” John pushed off the bed and glared unseeingly at the wall.

“What?”

“Allison!” he broke down and sat down on his computer chair.

Confused he sat on the bed swinging both feet on the floor, “Is Allison okay?” Stiles asked, “Is Mr. Argent okay?” he asked warily.

He wouldn’t begrudge the girl her life, but losing another parent would probably just drive her mental.

John sighed and pulled out a flash-drive, “Maybe this will explain everything”, he offered the drive and Stiles took it warily.

The room plunged into awkward silence as Stiles woke up his ‘Hibernate’ ing laptop and entered the password lock for the Flash drive, his eyebrows raised with every passing second, at the lewd photos that popped up, the strategic kidnapping plan, which wow…he didn’t think Matt owned any brain cells, and the creeptastic Gifs, to a girl.

“Huh.”

John snorted, “That’s all you have to say? Huh???” he asked shocked.

“I’m well”, he shrugged and exhaled, “I already knew about these”, he shrugged, “Couldn’t really prove it, but uh how did you get these?” he asked curiously.

“How do you know he had these?” John demanded.

“Matt was the school newspaper’s Editor and photographer. Most of these photos were taken with her in school, and granted the few of her in her shower and others, it’s not really impossible, they were paired up a lot for a few projects, he could have taken these at any time, he may have a really distinctive head, but Matt was quiet you know”, he closed the lid of the laptop and sat cross legged on his bed.

“So, how did you find out?” he asked.

“Cora Hale”, John started, “She uh… she asked Chris if he could guarantee his daughter’s safety. The Argent and Hale family have a strange affiliation, but she asked if he could guarantee her utmost safety”, he stated.

“She issued a challenge. Good, she must have noticed something, I’m glad someone listened to her. So the blood, is it Matt’s?” he asked warily swallowing.

“Why are you so calm about this?!!”

“Because it was inevitable, I mean he has always been a stalker; it was only a matter of time, when he’d slip up. They guy’s been obsessing on her for two years, sure he was pretty careful that first year, but he got sloppy with his constant staring, and his camera he practically had welded to his hands”, Stiles stretched, “I love video games, one would call it a passion bordering on an obsession, you do not see me holding it like a dying man in love with his last earthly possession”, he rolled his eyes.

“And how did it tip you off, he wasn’t just a guy with a crush?” John asked.

Stiles snorted, “Dad, a crush by all definitions is a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable”, he agreed, “But an obsession, is an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind, all the time, every single time. You can have a crush on more than one person; you however only ever obsess on one thing or person. Like I have a crush on Danny, Lydia, hell even Mrs. Amberson, I don’t care she’s married, or Lydia’s with Jackson this week and Aiden the next, and Danny’s with Ethan Carver-Caster—and really they should stick with one surname for crying out loud—but more importantly, dad, Matt watched her every time”, he said simply, “Like I could stress on it but it wouldn’t make a difference”, he pointed to the flash drive, “That pretty much rests my case”, he specified easily.  

“All the time”, John asked warily.

“In Lunch, during classes, in the hallways, when she’d walk to the girl’s bathrooms, he’d wait until she got out”, he shuddered, “Actually now that I say this I have to tell you, creepy”, he shook his head.

“And you know this how?” John asked.

“Most of my classes I share with Allison and Scott and Jackson, we would wait because Jackson would wait for Lydia, and Scot for Allison, obviously”, he added a tad sarcastically, “And Matt’s in most of our classes too, so he’d fiddle with his locker until then, is it just me, or is it not ironic Matt’s lockers are adjacent to the washrooms”, he scoffed, “Wow, I really never noticed that”, he shook his head.

“Kid”, John knelt in front of him.

“Whoa dad, your knees are not as spritely as you think, or maybe there is youth potion in Beacon Hills Water supply after all”, he muttered recalling Iris Hale, “Come on get up—oof—Man, we have got to cut down on dem potatoes—why are you even kneeling on the floor of all places for Christ’s sakes”, he heaved as he pulled his dad up.

“I should have taken your warning seriously”, John whispered ashamed.

Stiles shrugged, “I’m just glad someone paid attention, and someone listened”, he expressed easily.

“Yeah?”

“Yup, anyway tell me the details, was there action, were you BAMF???” he asked excited, rubbing both hands together.

“Was I what now?” he asked warily.

“BAMF you know? A Badass Mother Fucker, hehehehehehe!!!” he giggled hysterically.

John rolled his eyes, and Stiles grinned inwardly relieved as the weight of whatever lit candle of guilt his dad possessed, extinguished.

“So…” he crawled closer, deliberately making his eyes all big and eager.

“Oh For the love of all things, please not the weird puppy eyes, that just looks creepy kid, I hate to break it you kiddo”, he ruffled his hair and huffed exasperated.

“DaaaaaaaaaaD”, Stiles whined, “Please…. I want a story”, he pouted.

John chuckled, “Okay in to bed you go, let me tell you the story”, he grinned.

Stiles let him-self be tucked back into bed; he smiled as his dad kissed his brow.

“I must admit this is a nifty set up you’ve got here, very classy”, John teased.

“This is my Fort Casa La Stiles, welcome Lord Sheriff”, he grinned.

John chuckled dryly, “It be my honor”, he bowed and crawled up next to his kid, “One fine day, the town’s Sheriff sighed with utter boredom, and wished ‘Oh God, I will do anything for a little Action. Gloria, will you have that baby already, we are equipped for the baby to be born right here!’ he demanded. Only for Gloria to scoff, toss her hair and strut away offended by the very notion her baby would be born in the sheriff’s office”, he started.

Stiles snickered; he could almost imagine the exact expression Gloria would have made at the mere suggestion.

“And then two men came in, one panicked the other pissed off, demanding for help, and with gathered proof and absolute belief in the source, he said, ‘I shall go fight the slimy lizard!’ he proclaimed and walked out of the office”, he smirked as Stiles laughed.

John smiled, and kissed his brow, making Stiles melt into a puddle of goo, as his dad’s warm arms shielded him from the human-monsters in the world;

~~~~

John climbed into his car and turned to deputy Lavie, “I need you to get a dispatch straight to Daehler household, reports may not have come in, but it’s gonna be one of those days”, he buckled in and drove.

By the time they reached the kid’s house, there was a trail of blood and a man with ligature marks around his neck, stumbling to their car.

“Whoa!” Lavie exclaimed and ran to him, barely catching him as the man whimpered, “Easy”, he settled him down on the driveway, and called in a dispatch to them.

John ran into the house, and found a pool of blood, and grimaced following it to a man in his early thirties, bleeding out from a bullet wound in his chest, skidding he knelt and checked for the man’s pulse.

Eyes fluttered and blue-grey eyes turned to him, “All-iso-n”, he choked out, “He-he’s goin-g to Al-s-n, y-yo-u ne-eed t-o…” he coughed up blood.

“Which direction”, John asked as he pushed down on the man’s wound.

“Wes-t”, he sputtered. “H-Ha-le territ-”, he coughed again.

“Easy”, John pressed down harder, his jacket a make shift blanket, warming him and staving of the cold edges of shock. “Now, just nod, okay”, he warned.

The man blinked once.

“Or that”, John nodded, “Is he still armed?” he asked.

One blink

 “Is Allison with the Hales?” he asked.

One blink

“Is she safe with them?” he asked.

One blink

“Good”, he looked up as the EMTs rushed in and he smiled, at him, “We’ll find him, and don’t worry”, he promised and stood back up.

John found Deputy Lavie and Deputy Meyers standing warily, “Sheriff, this is a kid, right?” he asked warily.

“Yup... He’s heading to the girl, she at the Hales, west of the preserve. He could hide his tracks there, we need to find him now, and it’s going to be a Chase!” he explained, “Get the dogs”, he ordered.

Meyers nodded, “I’ll get the others”, and as he stated he left.

John frowned, and “We’re going to have to shoot to kill”, he sighed.

Lavie’s head shot up, “What? But he’s just a kid!” he protested.

“A kid who just shot two people, leaving them to die, is armed and has no moral qualms?” he asked.

Lavie swallowed, and “I’ll inform the others”, he nodded.

John could understand the man’s hesitation, having a kid Matt’s age as well, and the thought that any kid could be this bad, they’d have to hunt him down, it left a sour taste, but it wasn’t as if there were other alternatives present.

John sighed and sent a small prayer to whoever was listening. Not entirely sure if he was praying for his deputies, Matt or those close to Allison.

*

John was running. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of the dogs and deputies as they followed him.

To be honest, it kind of pissed him off.

They could have been on Matt at least four times since this... this hunt had started.

But they held back and kept out of sight, with only the cracking of broken twigs and their menacing growls to drive Matt into running faster.

And it was working.

He knew they were toying with him, but he also knew he couldn't stop them, for all that, he knew it was wrong to herd the teen, a primal part of him raged at the disturbing atmosphere of who he was chasing. If he'd had a daughter, he wouldn't have been able to stay in, Tara Graeme, be damned and he would have knocked her out and followed.

He had to praise the man's patience, Chris Argent, waiting patiently of news when he knew his daughter's life was in grave danger. The man often carried himself as a predator, having him turn into a mother hen, was shocking all in it-self.

If he stopped this messed up game, he was going to be living in guilt, for a very long time.

This game of chase, it wasn't just a hunt, it was retribution for his son as well as he ran, knowing his son had been right, it ate away at him, realizing this—all this, was his fault.

He should have listened.

It probably didn't matter in the long run - pitting Matt against several of Beacon's Finest, but the kid, was loaded on Ammunition. Where he got the weapons was anyone's guess, but he'd enraged a lot of good people, as he kept shooting.

Three deputies had already fallen back, having been shot in either their shoulders or legs,

It meant the entire game was rigged from the start.

 He couldn't outrun them, and while Matt might be able to outsmart them, he didn't have the means or the strength to overpower all of them. And for some reason he didn't think they'd wait long enough for him to think of a plan clever enough to outmaneuver them.

Which brought him back to the trails they'd followed, having had a head start, Matt was resourceful, John would give him that, but he was injured, going by the path he'd cut, it was broken in-between, as if he'd been attacked by something or he'd fallen. Wouldn't it be justice if he'd fallen into a coyote/fox-den and was being hunted; same as John was doing.

It was a cruel thought. But he'd seen images of a young woman, barely dressed and at times completely dressed but captured in this boy's eyes.

Held captive in a monster's eyes, behind him, John heard one of the dogs growl—a wicked sound.

He grit his teeth, rage boiling in his stomach. He didn't want to kill a kid, but he didn't want a monster alive. He certainly didn't want to die like this, getting shot at multiple times, and having trees and foliage as a barrier.

The Kevlar only protected his heart and midsection. Arms and legs were still game.

By the time John guesstimates he's halfway along the loop, the daylight has slipped behind the western hills, and John is starting to wish he'd asked Jordan to come along. Also, that he’d brought a flashlight, but flashlights are for people who think ahead.

And having not listened to his own son, he'd let a-would-be killer loose in Beacon Hills.

John makes his way around a blind turn in the trail, carefully avoiding a small rock slide. The trail clears and John raises his head to check the path before him, yelping in shock as there is an enormous black shape in the middle of the path. It has glowing eyes. Or well that's probably the sun's fault.

John screeches to a stop, before considering that turning his back on this thing might not be the best plan.

John wheezes a little and coughs, "Wow, you're a big, big dog that I don't recognize, with, hey, look at that, no collar, no tags, and..." he swallows and takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm his rocketing heartbeat. "You are really wolf-shaped", he shook his head.

Which really, he knew wolves in California had been extinct for over 200 years. "Or maybe you're Balto", he muttered to himself.

The animal's coat was thick and shaggy, and so black it gleamed blue where the tips of its fur reflected what little light filters through the trees onto the trail, like silver.

It regarded John calmly with its strange, intense eyes.

The pupils were blown deep and black inside wide bands of bright amber within rings of violet-blue. It would have been shocking to see that many colors, but his adrenaline and need to find Matt warred with common-sense and curiosity.

It's still late evening, and John is about a third of the way up the main trail by the time the animal showed up.

John moved forward past a small boulder in the path, high steps over a stick, looks up, and the animal, that is standing quietly a few yards ahead of him, watching him with his odd eyes.

In the mellow, dappled light of the dusky sun through the trees he seemed to be made of shadows.

The breeze picks up the tips of his fur and ruffles it, tiny black waves that look soft to the touch.

The wolf-dog-creature raises its head blinks, which wow he had no idea dogs could blink, well of course they could blink, but not like that, with wary acknowledgement of some sort;

John paused, "I need to find him, he's already shot a lot of good people, injured two, and I need to stop him, before he reaches the girl. I know, you aren't a normal wolf-animal-creature", he swallowed, "Mostly because you would have attacked by now", he knelt carefully, "I need your help. Please, let me go find him, I cannot let him be free", he waited patiently one hand on his gun, the other extended forward.

And maybe he'd spent way too much time with Stiles' brain, exploiting his inane curious streak to study everything, and using it to his advantage to terrorize and scare his deputies, but Stiles, had once stated quite clearly;

'Talking isn't just sound leaving my mouth in shapes of words with meaningful syllables. It's a handshake of sorts, dad. If I can say something that incites a reaction, I can judge a person based on that reaction. It's a key to bond with another person/animal/toad if you will. Talk dad, you'd be surprised about what you can learn from words you say...'

And now here he knelt on a forest floor, his deputies dwindled down to three, Lavie having two dogs with him, who'd rushed forward missing him completely.

Deputy Meyers who'd followed with two dogs.

And Jason Black, recent rookie who'd taken both Jordan and Tara's place. Barely twenty three, looked utterly terrified but determined, as he followed.

The animal-wolf, really he was just going to go with wolf, bowed its head, after what John figured was way too much deliberation. Granted he had taken his hand of the gun, but trust was a two way street for a reason.

Really, the wolf was too damn selfish.

And he really needed to stop thinking like that—was it any wonder Stiles was like him. Most people always figured he was like Claudia, but Claudia had always been too straight-forward, and he'd always been the talking in circles guy.

Masha had always called him the Mandy Moore to Gabriel Macht, a fact that had confused Stiles when he was ten, and wondering if talking in circles was a pre-dominated genetic predisposition.

Masha had laughed so hard she'd peed herself.

Axel had only met Masha then, and wondered how Stiles would turn out, given Claudia not been present for helping with his ADHD side. And if John without ADHD was this bad, Stiles was likely to be a nightmare, and John should probably keep the kid away from the general public.

Although in Axel's defense Stiles had just asked him, 'did you know that some insects' genitals explode during sex? Or that some fish can change gender?'

At ten, he was already terrifying.

The wolf-in the meantime, had taken his circling thoughts for his quiet patience, because its cold muzzle pressed against his upturned palm, and licked him.

John blinked at the wolf, "Okay?" he stated.

The wolf pushed back and waited and John stood up, intent to move forward after his deputies, when the wolf stepped in front of him, and barked, once sharply and stayed there.

Okay...

The wolf then herded him back.

"But..."

The wolf remained relentless in his herding and pushed him back again, and John sighed;

"Fine, but I am trusting you on this..." he shook his head, "Ignoring the fact that a large wolf the size of a small pony is herding me away from my deputies and the direction Matt ran in, I am also talking to a wolf", he swallowed, "Stiles would be squealing right now..."

~~~~

"Hey!!!"

John snorted, "Don't tell me you wouldn't", he laughed, and then tickled his kid, at his disgruntled offended pout.

Stiles squealed at his teasing and flailing his hand hit his phone.

They both winced at the sound the phone made, as it fell on his floor, with a loud clatter.

Peering over the edge, John hissed, "Ah Kid, I'm sorry", he picked up the pieces of his phone.

Stiles shrugged, "Meh... It's not like anyone calls me, beside you and Aunt Masha, I'll take it to the shop tomorrow, its still under warranty. It’ll be fine. Now, about your wolf tell me more..."

John frowned at the statement, 'Not like anyone calls me', gritting his teeth, he sighed and continued.

~~~~

The wolf turned to him at the name;

"Stiles? My son, about six feet tall, really skinny, has amber-whiskey eyes. Do me a favor, you ever see him, don't eat him, okay", he nodded and walked on.

They walked for what felt hours, but were probably just under fifteen minutes, when they came upon a clearing, near the lake.

John startled in shock as he spotted Matt leaning against a tree panting, one hand to his side, pressing down.

Removing his gun from his holster, he stepped cautiously into the clearing, "Don't move", he ordered.

Matt snapped, and stood up, gun in hand, bleeding from a wound on his side, clearly pissed off.

John frowned;

Seriously...which part of 'don't move' did he not get?

"D-Don't come any c-closer", Matt's gun hand wavered as his voice shook, and he took a step back, away from the tree, towards the water.

John kept one hand up and opened his mouth;

"No! Don't s-say anything", Matt screeched, "F-First call off your mutt", he pointed the gun at the wolf, who had already silently inched closer to Matt, and wow, when did he even move?

"C-call him off!!!" Matt barked warily, taking another step back.

"Don't look at me, I don't own him", John shrugged easily.

"Y-You came w-with him! You probably already ordered his attack!!!"

John's eyes slid to the red blood seeping steadily into the boy's side, staining his light grey striped T-shirt, and wondered had the wolf already been the one to attack him...

"As much as I would love to take credit, kid, I don't own a wolf!" John reasoned.

"She's mine!!!"

The wolf growled in tandem with John's anger.

At least they were on the same page.

"See now, that's not true. Allison doesn't know who you are. If she knew you stalked her, do you think she'd let you have lived freely?" John stepped closer.

"I saw her first! They just came later, Scott and Isaac and them. She's mine. I took her to the Principal, I walked her to her first class, she's mine", he screamed taking a step back, unaware of the water lapping around his ankles.

John moved forward again, "Kid, Allison Argent is her own person. She doesn't really belong to anyone. Come on kiddo, bring the gun down, you don't have to do this", he warned, the water had seeped up the kid's ankles.

If he couldn't feel the water, the wound had to be pretty bad; his shivering was an indication of the shock setting in. It was a cold evening, as well.

Things were not looking good.

John took a wary step forward, only to be pinned as Matt's eyes snapped to his, "I won't give her up she belongs to me. Mine!! Mine!!! Mine!!!" he screeched petulant.

John felt his jaw tick, but it wasn't his growl that warned the kid to shut up. John watched in his peripheral as the wolf had stalked forward again, fangs bared, eyes glinting dangerously.

As the light hit them just right, in the dusky glow of the setting sun, they looked almost fiery red.

"I'd warn you to stop saying the word 'mine', you seem to be incurring the wrath of the wolf!" he pointed out dryly.

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of the kid and he screamed;

"You don't know the half of it!" he yelled arms waving madly, knee deep in Lake water, "This town you've sworn to protect, is filled with monsters!!!" he announced.

"Yeah kid, I'm kind of looking at one", he rolled his eyes.

Misunderstanding Matt grinned, "You know!" he proclaimed victoriously, "You know then", he laughed, "Werewolves, Hunters, Kanima's, Witches!!!" he listed madly, "It's like a freaking Halloween Party every full moon", he grinned manically.

The wolf paused in his pursuit, and turned to him, as if to point out;

““I think he's lost it””.

John couldn't agree more, but if he was mostly worried about the kid wading deeper into the Lake.

Was it a tactical retreat to disappear into the water, or had he not realized, he was in the water yet?

Matt's eyes were glassy and distant.

"Kid, Stop moving, you're going to drown!" The wolf turned to him and with a really sardonic look seemed to state;

““Really? You're going to warn him, about that now? Do you really want me to bite him!?””

"In my defense, shooting him would be too much paperwork!" he shrugged.

"See...you're talking to a werewolf!!!!"

John sighed, "Stop Matt, look, just put down the gun", he walked forward and stopped just on the edge of the Lake, "Look, kiddo, you're hurt, clearly have lost a lot of blood. Come on out, let me get you to a hospital, you need a doctor", with every sentence he took a step forward, "Listen Matt, you need a doctor", he warned.

"No!" Matt screamed and fired.

John hit the ground seconds before impact, a large—really pony sized—wolf on top of him. If wolves could talk, it'd probably be yelling;

““I Told You so!””

"What I need is Allison!!!!" Matt screeched and then he yelped.

John turned to see Matt flail wildly, looking down, he screamed, "No! No! No! I will not die again!!! NO!!!!"

But the more he struggled the water seemed to move around him, clearly his leg was stuck, or probably tangled. John scrambled out and from under the wolf, and moved forward, to help...to do something, only for the wolf to bite down on his jacket and pull him back.

The tide rose, as the moon rose and the next thing John knew, the calm placid water of the lake, stirred angrily and Matt's struggles went from frantic to terrifying maniacally, and had started to shoot at the water, screaming hysterically.

"I will not die again! I will not die again! I will not die again! I will not die again! I will not die again!"

John ducked as a bullet flew past him, and the wolf tugged on his jacket again. Somehow, the wolf pulled and pushed him back into the tree line, and behind a tree as a bullet whizzed and hit the tree.

"Holy Crap!"

The wolf huffed and John glared;

"Enough with your attitude", he hissed, as a loud wind stormed into the clearing from nowhere.

*

By the time the quiet returned to the clearing, John winced at the sudden silence, looking up he noted, his wolf-protector had run off—not that John could blame him. Animal instinct to steer clear of the howling wind, and bullets firing was self-preservation kicking in no doubt, and his deputies had run into the clearing, as the Lake's tide settled.

"Sheriff!!"

"Here", he raised a hand.

"Whoa!" Meyers exclaimed, "What the hell happened here?" he asked shocked.

John blinked at Lavie who had teleported to his side.

"Sheriff?" he asked.

"I'm fine, a little rattled, mostly confused, otherwise fine. Matt?" he asked as he stood shakily.

Meyers popped up beside Lavie, "Drowned by the looks of it", he turned to see Deputy Black, wade into the water.

"He", John cleared his throat, "I tried reasoning with him, but", he paused and frowned, "It suddenly, the lake went crazy", he huffed.

"Weather report claimed a storm coming in", Meyers stated, "It was a 50-50 chanced event, I guess it's a hundred percent now", he whistled at the destroyed clearing.

John nodded, "Between the storm and he maniacally shooting the water, and the air, I kind of just... ducked", he rolled out the tension in his shoulders.

For some reason he didn't mention the wolf—well the obvious reason was how would he explain a sarcastic wolf saved his life.

Meyers and Lavie nodded, "Yeah, boss we're not gonna argue against basic common sense", the latter stated.

Meyers walked to the lake bank and helped Deputy Black, pull Matt's body out of the water.

"It—", Jason coughed out some water, "Sorry", he cleared his throat, and continued, "It looks like he got tangled in some water weeds. Also", he lifted Matt's Tee-shirt, "Looks like he was bitten by a Wild cat or a dog", he poked at the wound with a stick, "The Black stuff must be an infection? The water?" he wondered.

John shrugged, "Don't know, these paths lead into Mountain Lion territory", he swallowed, "Probably got attacked, managed to run away. I found him leaning against a tree", he sighed, "Somehow between me trying to coax him into giving up and the weather changing, he'd already lost a lot of blood and was going into shock. The reeds/weeds probably had to be a last ditch effort to get away from whatever would come next. I think he instinctively knew he wouldn't make it, started yelling about witches and werewolves, and the end of the world", he shook his head.

Lavie snorted, "Werewolves? The full moon is on the 28th", he informed.

"You keep track of the full moon?" Jason asked as Meyers called in Matt's drowning.

Meyers had a cut and gashes on his hands and face, likewise with Lavie.

Jason just looked ruffled.

The dogs however looked drained from running all over the woods. Pieces of Matt's jacket dangling from their mouths.

"Where did you find the Jacket?" he asked.

Lavie answered Jason, "I do when it coincides with my wife's menstrual cycle", he shuddered and then turned to John, "Found it dangling from a tree. We think he knew the dogs were following so he veered off path, hung his jacket and threw us off his trail and doubled back to the Lake. He must have had a high awareness of the preserve's layout", he informed.

~~~~

Stiles nodded, "Blame Coach Finstock and his cross country routes", he said.

John nodded, "Yeah we figured that out", he exhaled.

Stiles sighed, "So Matt's dead", he stated simply.

John nodded, "Yeah", he sighed, "I want to say I feel sorry for the kid, but he wasn't entirely stable was he?" he asked.

"Matt's never been stable", Stiles yawned.

"Sorry for keeping you up kiddo", he hummed and climbed out of his bed.

"It’s okay. I think I’ll be able to sleep a little early tonight. One less weirdo to worry about”, he stretched.

John bent down and kissed his son’s forehead, “You’re a hero kiddo, sleep well”, he murmured.

“Not a hero”, Stiles grumbled, and “That would be you and your blue furry friend with red eyes”, he snuggled under his quilt and mumbled indecipherable.

John chuckled, “Do you want the fairy lights on your Blanket Fort switched off as well?” he asked softly.

Stiles nodded, “Goodnight dad”, he said.

“Good night kiddo’, he whispered and let the brat sleep, gently closing the door. As he turned around he nearly had a heart attack.

“Jesus Jordan, give a guy some warning!” he hissed.

“Sorry boss”, he whispered, “So wolves and witches huh?” he raised a brow.

“It’s Beacon Hills, kid, get used to it”, he laughed patting the kid on his good shoulder, “I’ll take the guest room, you need to sleep”, he herded his deputy back into his room, and “How are you?” he asked softly.

“Good. I rested enough, fever’s come down, and as far as I can ascertain I slept pretty much like the dead”, he clarified.

“Good”, John stretched idly, “I need a shower and clean clothes”, he grumbled.

“Okay”, he nodded, “Sir, I—”

“Don’t do that, don’t blame yourself. I’m glad you were here sleeping and not out there with a crazy kid on the loose with a gun shooting people left and right. I’m glad Stiles yelled at you. And I just I’m relieved”, he sighed, “Anyway. Tomorrow’s the last day of his Summer Vacation, after that he’ll pretty much be in school”, he yawned, “We need to talk, and I need your advice, but for now, we are both going to get some sleep, and rest”, he ordered.

“Yes Sir”, Jordan nodded.

John nodded, problems and stuff could come tomorrow for now his bed was calling him, mentally he proclaimed;

“Let them come!!!”

~xxXxx~

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: True Loves Kiss…

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

“DEREK!!!”

Derek had a spilt second of bracing himself against the car as his redhead cousin flew towards him, if she hadn’t been born human, he’d have wondered if she was part harpy.

“Oof… Gemma, heavy”, he caught her and picked her up easily.

“Where did you go?” she pouted.

“I had to go to the school sweety, I’d forgotten to hand in my transcripts. But that’s not important, why are you sad, cub?” he asked.

“Allison is crying”, she whispered.

Derek’s heart clenched—granted he was aware of the situation at hand, he did just aid in Matt’s death, and Darla had sent a storm his way to drown the human, in a lake. The original idea was to simply incapacitate him, but Matt had walked into a lake. Except for the part where Derek had intentionally herded him towards the lake.

But that would be his and Darla’s secret for now.

“Why?” he asked softly, letting her nuzzle under his chin, “Did something happen? Or it more girl stuff?” he winced.

Gemma huffed, “I don’t know”, she whined, “Mama sent Olivia and I up to our rooms, after Uncle Peter called with the bad news, and I still don’t know what happened. But then I saw you coming and I snuck downstairs and then you picked me up”, she rambled out all in one breath.

And wow—children sure did have energy.

Derek squeezed her closer, and “You shouldn’t have snuck out”, he whispered and then carried her inside.

As he opened the door he was greeted to a cacophony of loud noise.

“Mom”, Derek called out softly, “I found a stray puppy”, he settled his cousin down gently and ruffled her hair even though she clung to him like glue, “Hey come on, why don’t I take you up to bed and we can wake you up after the Run?” he gently settled her up on his hip again and walked forward.

He’d just reached the stairs when his mother stopped them, she gently ushered them into the family room.

Derek walked into the family room, and set Gemma on the couch and looked around.

“What happened?” he asked mock-warily—well mostly warily, given that Lydia, was holding a shell-shocked Allison’s hands, Peter stood vigilant where Chris had an arm around his daughter, Laura was pacing, Tristan was glaring at his I-pad, Grandma Iris was hovering over Olivia, Alex and Ella. His dad was trying to placate Laura Cora and Ivory was talking to each other, in hush whispers in Klingon.

Never let it be said Cora wasn’t a nerd, but it was probably best not to ever mention that loudly.

“Oh look the prodigal son returns”, Ivory snapped.

Derek stayed quiet, it was best not to pick a fight, especially when Talia shot her a quelling look.

“Allison?” he asked softly.

Allison’s head shot up and she tripped over Laura and Lydia and ran to him, “Derek”, she whined as she slammed into him.

What is with the females of his family, and trying to crush his trachea?

“What?” he asked as he let her squeeze the life force out of him.

“Matt, Matt, Matt he-he, Matt”, she blubbered.

“Matt?” he asked, “Who is Matt?” he asked anyone more coherent.

“We thought he was a friend”, Lydia whispered, “He died, the police just fished him out of the lake”, she muttered. “I-I screamed for him”, she whispered hoarsely.

Isaac teleported to her side, like a ghost…

“Who was he to you two?” he asked as he slowly rubbed Allison’s back.

“Her stalker”, Ivory answered, “You would know that if you weren’t always disappearing or you know plotting to kill everyone with a hunter”, she stated sarcastically.

Derek looked away.

“Ivory!!!” Talia snapped, “How dare you?” she hissed, red-eyes glowing angrily.

Derek ignored them, and focused on Allison, and whilst the family bickered, at Ivory who retaliated loudly and ardently about Derek’s betrayal and his subsequent feral attitude when he’d almost killed Uncle Alex when she was eight.

Good times those…

They made their way out of the living room, and to the swing set.

Gemma watched them go, but kept her distance and stood by the door. Chris, Peter, Lydia and Cora stayed behind her as well. That they followed amused him that his family of actual werewolves didn’t notice.

“Hey”, he knelt in front of Allison, “You’re okay”, he stated simply.

“B-B-But?”

“Allison, were you in love with this man?” he asked.

Allison paled and shook her head violently, “NO!” she yelped.

“Did you care about him in any special way?” he asked.

“No!!!” she shook her head again.

“So you didn’t love him? Or like him, and though he’s no longer breathing”, he winced at the statement, “You’re crying?” he asked warily.

“I-I… I’m not crying because of him or for him”, she shrieked, “I’m crying because he stalked me! And I was warned about it, and I ignored it!” she screeched angrily.

“And who warned you?” he asked almost instinctively aware of the ‘who’.

“A classmate, his name is Stiles”, she paused, “I told you about him once”, she whispered, “The Black wolf guy”, she murmured.

“Ah the plushie winner”, he nodded, “And why didn’t you listen to him?” he asked softly.

“I-I was arrogant”, she confessed, “I-I just listened to everyone else, and I didn’t take into consideration any word he said”, she whispered mournfully.

“Allison what are you?” he asked carefully.

Allison frowned, “I-what do you mean?” she asked confused.

“What are you?” he flashed his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“Human”, she paused, “A hunter”, she whispered afterwards, slightly more confident.

“Good. Now as a Hunter, do you know who you are?” he asked.

“A predator”, she answered simply.

“And what did you become?” he asked softly.

“P-prey”, she murmured ashamed.

“Why?”

“Because I ignored the signs and was almost herded into a dangerous trap”, she answered quietly.

“And if Stiles had been a member of your clan, or a fellow hunter, would you have ignored him or listened to him?” he asked.

“I would have listened”, she answered.

“So, I’ll ask again, “Why did you abandon your friend?” he asked clearly.

“What?!” Allison stood up and shook her vehemently. “I didn’t!” she protested.

“Oh… so if you didn’t ignore a friend who gave you a wolf plushy when you were barely nine, and won it for you”, he stated, “If you didn’t ignore his warnings, and you did not listen to him, then when were you his closest friend last?” he asked, “Was it when you started dating and went all gooey eyed over McCall”, he mocked, “Or was it when you broke up with McCall the first time, or was it when you broke up with him the second time?” he asked.

“How-how did you know…?” she asked sitting back down heavily on the swing.

“I never abandoned my family. Though the few that abandoned me did think I did. Would contest my abandonment”, he hummed softly, “Mwen pa janm abandone fanmi mwen. Menm si kèk nan ki abandone m 'te fè panse ke mwen te fè sa. Ta konteste abandon m yon bagay vrè. Jimo mwen, ki pi piti frè ak sè m 'yo, mwen konnen, gen nan pa gen fason yo pwouve ke li, paske pa gen moun ta kesyon li. Men Cheri, si ou pa kominike ak yon moun chak jou, w ap inyore yo. Mande Ivory, li dakò. W ap abandone yo!” he explained in Haitian.

The only language both Allison and he were fluent in. Well the only one, none of the family members bothered to learn, was Haitian French.

“But?” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to”, she whispered so hoarsely; it took more than half his concentration to understand what she’d blurted out. And he was a werewolf—Girls…really never made sense, especially when they were crying.

“What, what should I do?” she asked after a long beat of uncomfortable silence, also his knees were starting to hurt.

“Start with an apology. It’s a possibility your friend won’t talk to you, he may never acknowledge you, but you apologize. And sweetie you’re an Argent”, he grinned, “Act like it”, he tugged her plait affectionately.

Ivory scoffed from somewhere inside, “And who wouldn’t know how to act like a Hale? The bastard son who slept with a hunter”, she huffed.

The words grazed something he inside him, but Derek ignore her and the subsequent yelling Talia—restarted.

“You good?” he asked.

Allison nodded, “I’m great. I’ll give my statement tomorrow and acknowledge the fact that I was stalked by a creep, and maybe I’ll mourn for his asshole self, but before that, I’m going to call Stiles and apologize to him!” she crowed happily and bounded away from him.

Gemma walked over to him the minute she disappeared inside, dragging Lydia with her.

“Derek”, she hummed softly. “Ivory didn’t mean what she said. She wasn’t being a meanie”, she shook her head, refused to believe Olivia and Ivory were on the same page of being relatively bad.

Derek picked her up and put him on his lap, “No they meant it sweetie”, he disagreed, “When you were very little, four years old, I hurt your daddy very badly. They haven’t really forgiven me for it, or that I put this pack in danger”, he hummed.

“But mom and dad say you didn’t mean it, and they never blamed you”, she said stressing on the word ‘Never’ in all her innocence.

“Hmmm”, he hummed painfully, he buried his angst, in her hair and turned to her, “Wanna play with the fallen leaves?” he asked pointing to the fallen leaves gathered on the front lawn.

Gemma shook her head, “I wanna give you a present”, she whispered.

Derek blinked, “A present?” he asked.

“I want to give you the present”, she repeated.

“Okay”, he hummed, “What do I get?” he asked.

“You have to close your eyes”, she insisted.

Amused Derek closed his eyes, “Like this?” he asked, opening his senses to check on any threats.

“Yes”, she leant forward and Derek’s entire being froze as warm lips connected with his forehead, “Uzdrowić”, she murmured against his skin, and then moved back.

For some odd reason as his cousin pulled back, a warm liquid-y feeling coursed through him, as if an odd feeling of oily black ink receded from his choked and clogged up lungs, and white light burned the deepest darkest congested up blackness inside him.

A lighter sense of warmth surged through him, and purged the strange wickedness he had no idea resided within him.

His eyes fluttered open, almost as if he was waking up from a deep sleep. He could feel his eyes flash, “Cora”, he hissed, “Now”, he whimpered.

Gemma frowned, “What’s wrong?” she asked even as Cora moved forward and all but shoved his head into her neck.

“That’s a good question”, she hissed.

Derek opened his eyes, and though hidden by everyone’s view as they spilled out of the house and onto the porch, he shrugged, “I don’t know”, he muttered he chuckled dryly, “Kind of felt like a warm light surged through me, and magically purged an oily inky blackness from within, all but incinerating heart wrenching darkness and leaving behind a high floaty light feeling”, he pulled back and grinned at Gemma, “You can do magic Gems?” he smiled, “That was awesome!!!” he laughed and reached up to feel his heartbeat, “Can you believe it”, he smirked at Cora, “My heart’s all but galloping away”, he laughed then.

It had felt like forever since he last laughed, even as Cora hugged him hard enough to squeeze the oxygen in his lungs out. And whispered;

“Welcome Home, Derek!”

***

Talia gripped Iris hand and blinked at her as tears fell, and “He’s laughing”, she mouthed with no sound, as if they were pulled from right out of her.

Iris nodded, “Si miel, Cariño, he is”, she agreed.

Talia watched in awe as her son, and daughter both picked up Gemma and tackled her—gently—into a pile of freshly mown grass.

Gemma squealed happily and picked up the grass and threw it around happily.

“I wonder would it be too hopeful to say I can’t wait for more?” she asked.

Peter grinned, “I told you”, he smirked, “Even someone as burned and dead on the inside as me–”, he leered at Talia—temporarily ignoring their fractured pack bond, after he killed Kate in Jail, via claws and hunted down the people responsible for the ‘Almost Hale Fire’—“–knows better than to underestimate the simple, yet undeniable power of human love”, he pushed out every single syllable and glared at her, “Maybe now you won’t shut everyone out”, he hissed, “Although you may not have much choice when the power shifts”, he stated knowingly, “You dear sister are losing your spark”, he murmured too low for anyone except Iris and her to hear.

“That may be true, but I am still an Alpha”, she answered smartly.

Peter smirked, “Aren’t you careful of your grammar”, he laughed and then ignored her as he waltzed over to Chris, he paused two strides in and hummed, “Evolution states change is inevitable”, he hummed cryptically and then continued forth

“Mother, about Peter, have you noticed his allegiance has shifted has it not?” she asked softly.

Iris hummed, “That is matters to contend with at a later date, for now we shall announce the moon run festivities”, she proclaimed.

Talia grinned, “Okay”, she agreed.

Walking down the porch steps she raised he voice only a notch higher, and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention;

“Okay. Alright, listen up! EVERYONE!!!!” and when that didn’t work, she raised her voice for all and sundry.

They all paused, Derek all but buried under Gemma and Cora. Tristan, Ivory and Laura were edging on Cora and Gemma, now paused in mid heckling momentous yelling, her husband had just barely arrived in his car and announced himself, and Peter and Chris were making out behind the shaded portion of their porch. Allison and Lydia were frowning at their phones, Ella and Alex were taking all sorts of photos, and Iris simply shook her head at their antics. Whilst Ivory and Olivia paused mid-jump, all but almost upon Tristan who had his back to them.

“Good”, she hummed, “Now that I have your attention. Peter, Derek, Cora you’ll be running perimeter point-checks with The Argents. Lydia since you’re planning on staying in, do put Gemma to bed, we’ll wake them up when we come back”, she hummed, “Laura, you’ll stay with Erica, Isaac and Olivia, who will be joining us in a few, he’ll be here in ten minutes”, she noted as the arrival of his truck sounded across the forest.

“Boy’s just at the edge of the drive, he’ll stay with you Lydia. First line of defense”, she informed placating, “Tristan and Grandma Iris stay in and check on the wards with Deaton and Ella. The former is coming a bit later, once we all leave that is”, she grinned, “All wolves get to the outhouse”, she ordered.

As Laura, Isaac and Olivia moved forward, Gemma whined, “But Aunt Tali, I wanna run too”, she pouted.

Derek grinned, “Yeah?” he asked.

Gemma nodded, “I can keep up with my Alpha!” she proudly stated.

Talia smiled and Derek smirked, “Okay. So we’ll do a test run—”

“Derek I don’t think—” Talia started.

“You ready Gems”, Derek ignored her and Talia stepped back confused. Peter sidled up to her,

“Well now, that’s a new look on you”, he hummed.

Talia shot him a quizzical look at him, only to note he was staring at Derek.

Cora had moved back and watched him as well.

As if they were two betas who watched an Alpha.

“Yeah?” Gemma clapped excitedly, “What do I do?” she asked excitedly.

“Let’s see, hmmm”, Derek hummed thoughtfully, “Oh! I know”, he chirped, “You can run with me and Cora. But the minute your eyes droop, Peter will take you back. Okay?” he asked.

Gemma nodded, “Okay. Deal!” she nodded.

Olivia scoffed, “Maybe you’re forgetting this, because you’ve been negligent so far! Gemma is human”, she huffed, “She won’t be able to keep up. She’s weaker than us!” she snapped.

Talia opened her mouth but Derek growled low and dangerously.

Everyone took a step back in shock. Derek stared at Olivia.

“Is that what you think? That humans are weaker than us?” he asked.

“Well duh”, she huffed.

“I see. Then tell me this, what are Lydia, Allison and Chris? What is Boyd, Deaton, Tristan, Ivory, and your mother, grandmother, are they not human?” he asked.

“But that’s different!” Olivia protested.

“How!?” he demanded, shielding Gemma from her own twin’s scathing retorts.

“Deaton is our emissary he’s got Mountain Ash and magic on his side. The Argents are hunters they’re trained to be stronger than the average human, Tristan is a martial arts expert, same with Ivory and Boyd and Grandma and mom, Gemma is twelve, she doesn’t have the skills to be safe”, she listed.

“Seriously, how well does anyone know anyone in this pack?” he shook his head disappointed, “Ivory”, he barked.

The girl flinched.

“You keep griping and cribbing on how I abandoned my family, how I almost killed my pack. And you’re right—”

“What No! She isn’t!” Cora protested.

Peter agreed, “Like hell you were responsible it was that sadistic hunter Kate Argent”, he turned to Chris, “Uh…no offense”, he shrugged.

“None taken”, Chris nodded. Allison agreeing as she stood shoulder to shoulder with her father.

“Be that as it may be, your opinion”, Derek added softly, “But I am guilty of my sins”, he stated simply.

Talia’s heart clenched painfully.

“Derek—”

“And because I am aware of those sins, I left. No, actually I was pretty much ordered to stay away Ivory. Maybe you wouldn’t remember the part where I fought tooth and nail to stay. Clawed Uncle Peter, and Alex and dad and everyone else, I went near feral. I was losing control. It was Allison who managed to keep me calm, long enough to be hauled off. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. Before you accuse me of abandoning my pack, maybe get your facts sorted. Maybe learn the real reason why I wasn’t around, why I stayed away. And Olivia, humans are stronger than you think. We’re hindered by Aconite and Mountain Ash, Hunters can trap us, and humans can become druids and hinder, trap and impeded our movements. Your sister”, he gently ushered Gemma forward and stood behind her, “Can do magic. She can do it because today wasn’t the first time she purged whatever she did from within me”, he scoffed.

Olivia frowned skeptically.

“Granted it may have been done on the advice of someone else”, he pulled her sleeve up and showed her the inked skin, “But a rune drawn on her, is spell to protect and heal her, the spell she did on me, with a kiss, was her essence flowing through me. Her need to heal my darkness”, he explained.

“Hold on a second I ca prove this better”, he paused, “Gemma can you do me a favor?” he asked.

Gemma nodded confused, “Okay”, she agreed.

“Close your eyes sweetie”, he urged and then turned to Cora. “Get a candle”, he murmured too low, but for her Alpha hearing she understood.

As Cora ran into the house, Talia turned to Derek who had crouched back down to Gemma;

“Okay, do you remember that time when we made Halloween pumpkins?” he asked, “You were four I think”, he hummed softly.

Gemma nodded, eyes still closed.

“Do you remember how you felt?” he asked quietly accepting the candle from Cora.

“Vividly”, she grinned, eyes still closed.

 “Good. Now I want you to open your eyes”, he placed the scented small rose candle in her hand, “Isn’t it pretty?” he asked.

“Yes”, she answered softly. Her scent had transformed from confused to a gooey-warmth that traveled through her and expanded to the rest of the pack.

“Gemma do you know what you are?” he asked softly.

“Not really. I just always thought I was sensitive. Mama says it’s normal because I was born into a wolf pack, and Via and Papa are wolves”, she answered.

“Aunt Ella isn’t wrong, but I know what you are. Do you want to know?” he asked.

“Will it hurt, knowing?” she asked.

“That depends”, he hummed.

“Depends? How?” she asked.

“If you want to train with it or hone it or forget about it. When we become attuned to our wolf genome we can’t ignore it once we acknowledge it. It’ll be the same with you, once you open that door, you may not be able to close it again”, he warned.

“Does it make me weak, if I don’t want to open that door?” she asked.

“No”, he answered swiftly, “It’ll still be you Gems, you’ve never been week”, he answered.

“And I want to know, because mama says I’m more cat than wolf”, she pouted.

Derek chuckled, and Talia couldn’t help smile, even as Ella slapped her own forehead.

“Being curious doesn’t hurt sweetie”, he laughed.

“But Papa says, curiosity kills the cat. I don’t wanna be a dead kitty!” she whimpered.

Derek smirked, “I’ll tell you a secret”, he leant in closer, “For every new curious thing you learn, remember ‘Cats have nine lives’, so that means they live very long right? Gems you’re practically immortal”, he promised.

“Really?” she asked.

“Uh-hun”, he hummed.

“Okay. Yeah Okay! I wanna know”, she agreed readily.

“You really sure? There’ll be no take-backsies”, he sing-songed.

Deaton and Boyd had arrived somewhere between their dialogue of ‘open doors’ and ‘Curious cats’.

Deaton frowned, “Is that a candle—oh my—a magic test”, he hissed.

Talia shrugged, “I guess he learnt when it was ordained Tristan was born with a magical addition instead of a wolf-genome”, she murmured, “Or when Ivory helped with the wards. He may never have physically been here”, her eyes slid to Peter, “But I think he was always here”, she murmured.

“But Gemma would have shown she had the essence to do magic at five”, he informed, “I could not have missed that!” he whispered.

“Maybe you weren’t paying attention”, Cora growled, “Now shut up, I’m trying to listen”, she ordered.

“Cora!!!”

Cora flipped her hair over her shoulder, “Whatever?!” she huffed.

Talia and Deaton exchanged a startled glance.

“So what must I do?” Gemma asked.

“Traditionally Gems, you’re a person with the paranormal ability to perceive the mental or emotional state of another individual”, he explained slowly, “You have the ability as an empath to describe yourself as highly sensitive and responsive to other people’s emotional states, you can feel what they’re feeling on a different scale”, he explained.

“Does that mean I can feel what you’re feeling like Via and papa do?” she asked curiously.

“Not by scent sweetie, with you it works a little differently”, he murmured.

As he spoke the moon began to rise and Talia hummed, “the moon’s almost upon us”, she informed.

Tristan shuffled towards Grandma Iris, Ivory walked towards Deaton and her.

Isaac, Erica, Olivia and Boyd shuffled towards Laura, who was already stripping behind some foliage.

They may be werewolves, but they were also humans, the modicum of privacy and modesty wasn’t lost on any of them. But for Laura, the wolf-moon, pulled harsher. She’d always been rather sensitive to it. It was believed she’d awaken to the Alpha Spark on her twenty fifth birthday this Christmas. But for now, she was still her Beta—her first in command, who valued her modestly above all else, and since Derek was explaining to them all what Gemma was, the idea of using the outhouse, where robes and cubicles were constructed, was a bit too far away for now.

Talia’s attention moved back to Derek as Isaac and Boyd kept their backs to Laura, even as she shifted into a Grey-black wolf.

“How does that work exactly?” Gemma asked her cousin.

“I can explain that, do you remember that Halloween clearly?” he asked seriously.

“Yes”, she answered promptly recognizing his serious attitude.

And here Talia always wondered if she was sensitized to being around werewolves and was just naturally attuned to their emotions. It hurt to think she had been negligent of her own niece. Going by Alex and Ella’s expressions, they too looked as if they were hit by a wrecking ball, even as they deviated towards Olivia warily keeping their eye on Gemma and Derek, who both were in the center of the Front lawn.

Peter, stood a step behind Cora, who stood to Derek’s left Chris and Allison and Lydia stood behind Peter.

The dynamic looked too natural, as if Cora was Derek’s first Beta, and Peter was Derek’s enforcer. As if Derek was an Alpha. But Derek was never supposed to be an Alpha. The spark would always be going to Laura, would always go to her or Peter, if she didn’t take it.

Derek had never been trained to be an Alpha. And yet he stood—well crouched—before her niece as an Alpha would, before a human pack-beta, instructing her on her shift (less wolf shift more magical shift from normal human to a gifted human.)

This was all very strange, she leant into James’ arms, confused and baffled and confounded all at once. It was overwhelming.

“Okay. Now Gemma, I need you to hold on to these warm feelings, and think about them, right here”, he poked her chest, “And bring them here”, he pointed to the candle wick, “When you do, you’ll be the first to light our Moon Run with Magic”, he grinned disarmingly at her.

Gemma closed her eyes with a determined nod.

“Brace yourselves”, Derek warned.

“For what?” Ivory asked confused.

But before he could answer, Talia gasped in shock as something in the atmosphere shifted. James’ warm arms wrapped around her and he squeezed, “Tali”, he hissed, and all she could do was nod.

The entire front lawn bloomed in Talia’s eyes, as feelings of excitement and warmth, love and compassion, family, pack and the moon shifted down on her, and without her consent she lost control as the clearing bloomed with magic.

From what seemed a great distance, she heard a startled shriek. And a few harried yelps…

A deep ozone scent rushed around them, she could see through a barely stilted gaze, her wolves were swept in a current of pure white light.

The next thing she knew, she was on the ground on all fours, her red-eyes swept over to Erica and Isaac—tawny wolves, Olivia—a white Grey silvery wolf, Alex—a grey wolf, and her own black paws, basked under the rays of moonlight filtering and shining down upon them.

Peter was on one knee, besides Cora who had a hand on Derek’s shoulder bracing against the wind that surged up from nowhere.

They were the only ones not shifted. Even Chris and Allison with Lydia shielded in the elder Argent’s arms, were on the ground startled bewildered expressions, transforming their shock into awe.

Talia shifted her gaze back to Gemma who whooped;

“I did it!” she screeched, “Look Mama, Papa”, she screamed delightfully. “I lit up the candle”, she grinned, turning just so, her body facing Derek just at an angle, even as she showed Ella and Alex the magically lit Candle shimmering with Green flames.

Talia blinked, she’d never seen a candle burn with Green Flames before. In her experience, the candles light would differ in height for the level of power. Tristan’s had been three inches tall, Ivory’s had been two inches and Ella’s had been an average inch but wider in parameters.

“Look Derek! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it!” she chanted continuously, dancing circles around everyone, flopping onto her sister and sticking the candle under her nose, “Look Via, I did it!” she grinned happily hugging the stuffing out of her shifted sister.

Derek grinned, and stood up, “Yup”, he agreed.

Talia watched as he exchanged a glance with Peter and Cora, who both turned and stripped.

Talia whuffed and Derek snorted.

“Like either Cora or Peter has any idea on the definition of modesty”, he retorted.

“Hey!” Cora protested.

Derek ruffled her hair, “Oh fine”, he threw his jacket at Lydia, and offered Allison his Black T-shirt, and “Step into the parlor my shy sister”, and he rolled his eyes mockingly.

Allison giggled but she raised the Tee-shirt and Lydia rolled her eyes, using her stole rather than the jacket.

Peter had already transformed into a Blue-black wolf with a left silver front paw and a right tawny back paw.

Cora had shifted into a Timber wolf besides him, despite actually being wolf, she often looked too much like a Czechoslovakian wolfdog.

Talia huffed again, and turned to Gemma who was climbing Derek and staring at him adoringly, “I wanna howl”, she stated strongly.

Talia blinked.

“Okay”, he lifted her on his shoulders and hummed, “Howl”, he ordered.

Talia blinked again;

What?

L: Mother, shouldn’t you instigate the run?

Alex: Isn’t that protocol.

T: I-

But it was too late, Gemma had already thrown her head back and with her delicate human voice, howled. Loudly, passionately, powerfully;

Derek grinned brightly and added his howl to hers, followed by Cora and Peter. It took a second too long, but she added hers and Laura. Alex, Isaac, Erica, Olivia added their voices to hers.

Peter’s warning took shape then and she realized even as her senses sharpened, his words hovered before her;

 You dear sister are losing your spark, change is inevitable…

~xxXxx~

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Attracting Primroses

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Monday 31^st August, 2015,

Stiles hummed to him-self as he went about preparing breakfast, maybe it was the general idea, he’s father had been protected and had kept him safe. Also Matt was no longer alive and creeping around, so that was an added bonus.

Stiles worked around the kitchen as he lined up the true and tested Polish Apple and Cabbage Salad, served with a Polish Easter sweet bread, he distinctly remember his mother making sweet Easter bread and then French toast, from that bread.

Something felt lazy about today and he hummed a simple tune as he worked.

It probably had only been a few moments between the bread cooling on the shelf and him whipping up the remaining apples into his mother’s infamous, Apple pancakes.

“Ow!”

Stiles looked up to see Jordan stumble over to him.

“What happened to you?” he asked warily.

“I think I stubbed my toe on something”, he winced.

“You okay?” he asked and continued murdering the batter into a finer creamier consistency.

Jordan nodded, “I’m okay”, he paused and “Are you okay?” he asked.

Stiles paused, “I-I’m fine, relax at ease soldier”, he grinned and then hummed, “By the way, quick question are you allergic to anything?” he asked.

“Walnuts”, he answered simply.

Stiles nodded, “Okay”, he hummed, “Lucky for us, we don’t have any walnuts”, he continued as he spread the batter on the frying pan, even as Jordan watched him as he cooked.

"I'm sorry", Jordan whispered eventually, "For what I said, I never meant to hurt you, and truth be told Stiles, I miss my family", he murmured, "But they'd never accept me back, not after being the sole survivor. To them I betrayed my friends, the ones i walked in war with and left behind. They believe I should have sacrificed my life and stayed--"

"Jordan", Stiles interrupted even as he placed a plate of sweetbread French toast in front of him, "Shut up and eat", he rolled his eyes, "Dad's gonna be down any minute and really bro, your family's here", he flushed but braved on regardless, "I've always wanted an elder brother I could bully and tease. Speaking of teasing", he leered, "The puppy eyes you keep giving Lydia Martin...Hooo Boy!!!" he wiped away the imaginary sweat, "Could you not have chosen a delicate flower instead? Because Lydia Martin is formidable, don't you know", he paused ignoring Jordan's sputtering, "She's the Rule the world megalomaniac type", he smirked deviously.

"What? No-I? Wha-at?"

"And dude, really? You actually charged her for a parking ticket? Balls, Bro, balls! Be prepared though, she'll eat you alive", he grinned bemused.

"It's Not Like That!!!" Jordan protested.

"And that’s a lie".

Stiles and Jordan looked up to see the Sheriff trudged straight to the coffee pot and mumbled around a cup of the brew, “He’s way worse than what Scott was when Allison came back to Beacon Hills”, he grumbled.

Stiles winced, “No one could be as worse than Scott. You’d think he’d never seen Allison before, not after sharing mud pies as kids, but in she walks in all her seventeen years of accumulated beauty and the kid goes tongue tied”, he shook his head.

“How long did it take to ask Allison out?” John asked.

“Three months of pussy footing, until Allison just gave up and kissed him at the Summer Solstice Dance”, Stiles answered.

“Oh Yeah, I remember now. Melissa was ecstatic! She prattled on about her baby growing up and then sex education pamphlets were released”, he laughed.

Both Jordan and Stiles shuddered.

“Hey that should actually be illegal. Parents explaining sex, one hour in jail”, Stiles grumbled even as he set a healthy smoothie in front of his dad, and snagged his half-finished cup of coffee, “No dad”, he shook his head pouring the remaining drink down the drain, “You’ll shut up and drink it, for Christ’s sake, be happy it tastes as good as it looks, although I admit there have been many hit and misses, but has anything tasted bad in the last year?” he asked.

John conceded his defeat as he drank "Wow", John blinked after a sip, "This is like a liquid form of Reece’s", he grinned, and "You can make this for me, whenever you want", he laughed.

"What's all in it? And can I have some?" Jordan asked.

"Simple stuff really, 1 banana, 2 table spoons of peanut butter a cup of cold milk, one table spoon of cocoa powder, a quarter cup of oat flour (easy to do – simply put your oats in a food processor or blender and pulse until flour-like consistency), a quarter cup Greek yogurt and 1 handful ice (optional)", he listed.

“Huh”, Jordan hummed, “You’re right Sheriff it does taste like a cup of Reese's in liquid form”, he agreed.

“Okie dokie”, Stiles hummed, “if you would both settle. What’s on the agenda for today?” he asked.

“Mostly statement interviews, Chris Argent, Allison Argent, Peter Hale, mine, although a highly edited version, I doubt telling anyone I was herded by a wolf the size of a Pony would yield any major kudos. Anyway, Parrish here”, he grinned a tad evilly, “Has paperwork, and a Test to complete”, he laughed.

“Oh come on Dad!!!” Stiles protested, “You promised”, he griped.

“I did no such thing, everyone has gone through the YPY Sequence, It works wonders, and is good for disciplining, wayward children who yell at my only kid”, he smirked viciously.

Jordan flinched.

“Dad!!!”

“It’s okay Stiles. I deserved that one. So, uh…what is the YPY sequence?” he asked cautiously.

“Nothing!!!!”

“Young Padawan Yoda Sequence!”

Stiles and John answered in unison.

“The what now? Yoda? Star Wars, What?” he gaped shocked.

“Like I said”, Stiles interjected. “It’s nothing, ignore dad, its old man syndrome kicking in, doesn’t know what his saying”, he pleaded desperately, only for the sheriff to shove a carrot in his mouth, “Mphhkhdjk”, he bit down accidentally and proceeded to chock on the vegetable, excusing himself as he hacked into the kitchen sink.

“What?” Jordan asked looking back and forth at the two.

“When Stiles was I think eight”, he paused, “Yeah, Eight”, he agreed to himself.

Stiles had just barely cleared his throat, “I will shove tofu down your throat old man”, he warned.

“And he met Mr. Henderson”, John continued, completely ignoring his son.

“Dad!!!”

“And Stiles been Stiles, had just figured out how to use a gun—”

“Sir!!!” Parrish balked appalled.

“Oh My God!” Stiles whined, burying his face in both hands. “Oh so this is what torture feels like”, he shook his head, internally begging for mercy.

“And proceeded to dismantle Henderson’s gun, hiding the bullets and giving my deputy the first lesson in arms handling, any rookie should be highly aware of, he then spent the hour lecturing him on Gun safety, and how to shoot—”

“Wait, wait, wait, you can shoot a gun? You?” Parrish asked doubtfully.

“Oi!” Stiles glared.

“No offense, but I’ve seen you trip over thin air”, he hissed partly in shock partly to make a point.

“Wha-that—okay, shut up!” Stiles huffed ceasing all arguments, and burying his head on his arms, “Carry on…” he huffed angrily—well irritably, not angrily, as he waved one hand gallantly.

“Please tell me no one got shot in the foot”, Parrish pleaded desperately.

John barked a startled laugh and Stiles whined, “Oh My God!” again.

“Worse”, John coughed out.

“Oh man, what could be worse?” Parrish asked suddenly wary.

“He gave a class—standing on a chair— on how to shoot a gun, how to tie a knot with several different types of ropes. Thin, thick, medium, etc. and because we hadn’t realized he was riddled with ADHD, he proceeded to explain the collective of deputies on how to spot a creep from a mile away. You wouldn’t believe me, but the majority of arrests we’ve managed to successfully get, we got them because of this riot”, he pointed at Stiles, who was now practically under the table.

“Wait, really?” he asked.

“Up until he turned fourteen and designed The YPY Sequence, when he’d finished all his homework, he was so bored he started writing up a sequence”, he stated.

“About that, what is The YPY Sequence?” Jordan asked.

“Oh God!!!” Stiles mumbled now on the floor, burying his head under his arms.

“A Thirteen Step instruction Manual for deputies designed by a Fourteen Year old who loves Star Wars!” The Sheriff stated softly, “1> The Laying of Plans, Calculations and Estimations,

2> Waging War – The Challenge,

3> Attack by Stratagem or Planning Offensives,

4> Tactical Dispositions or Positioning,

5> Energy & Direction,

6> Illusion versus Reality,

7> Maneuvering and Dealing with Direct Conflict,

8> Moving the Force,

9> CONCENTRATE!

10> Have Faith,

11> Be True and Be Kind,

12> Start out slowly,

13> Firearms are Inherently Dangerous, Duh Even I know that, and I was almost ten the first time everyone freaked out!!!” he listed, “And that last line is actually tacked on the last line”, he grinned both proud and rolled his eyes, as if praying for patience.

“Somebody please shoot me”, Stiles whined.

“Wait, wait, wait”, Jordan perked up, and even Stiles lifted his head at the awe in his voice, “That Red Poster in Tara’s office, that’s the YPY Sequence?” he asked.

“What??” Stiles squeaked.

“Yes”, John answered.

 “Whoa! Back up, what do you mean it’s on a Poster in Tara’s office?!!!” Stiles screeched.

“You haven’t noticed? It’s a bunch of words on a Star Wars Poster”, he pointed out.

“That- That- That”, Stiles stood up in one swift movement, it surprised both John and Jordan when he didn’t trip over thin air, “That hag!!!!” Stiles hissed.

“Stiles!”

“Oh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—”

“What?” John and Jordan asked.

“Yeagh!!! I’ll do something!”  Stiles slammed both hands down on the table, “Now, you”, he turned to Jordan, “Finish your breakfast, and you”, he pointed to his dad, “Go get ready, you’re still in your Pajamas”, he huffed, “What am I your nanny?” he crossed his arms, and stared at them, wordlessly urging them to move.

Jordan snorted, “Says the Ancient teenager in the house”, he retorted.

“Oh… Shut Up”, he hissed, “You can do the dishes, if you think my old man hands can’t do anything, you can wash ’em”, he tossed the rag down on a table and walked out of the room, “I’m going to get ready too, come on already”, he pulled his dad with him, “By the way dad, if I’m ancient what does that make you?” he asked even as he dragged his all the way up the stairs.

Jordan shook his head, “It amazes me, I wonder if he knows about the truth in his entire personality? Stiles commands respect”, he paused, “Well…if it’s him, it’s probably better if no one actually points that out. The guy, has the power to rule the world never mind Beacon Hills”, he snorted and hurriedly finished his breakfast, before he accidentally incurred more of Stiles’ unpredictable wrath.

***

Jordan stepped out of the house last and locked the door, “So where are you off to?” he asked Stiles, only a second ago just realizing Stiles was up and about on the Last day of his Summer holidays.

“I’m heading to Wolve’s Diner; I need to work on a few details regarding a project I want to work on in the final year of school, also its conveniently close to the Samsung Repair center, thanks to dad’s clumsiness—yes, that is where I got it from—” Stiles smirked as John protested peeved.

“Hey!!!”

Jordan snickered, even as Stiles continued, “It’s in pieces, I may not get many calls, but it’d be great if they could give me another one, it’s still under warranty and I—” he’d barely unlocked the car and turned to face Jordan after shoving in a bunch of things on the passenger seat, only to come face to face with Lady Primrose.

“Young man”, she addressed sternly.

Stiles swallowed audibly, “M-Ma’am”, he greeted looking down just to make sure his laces weren’t anywhere on her lawn.

He had parked the car at an angle so the cruiser could fit in the driveway; maybe he’d accidentally stepped on her lawn and had been unwise to the same.

“These are for you”, she pushed a platter of warm cookies in to his hands.

Stiles gripped them, mostly in shock, too scared to wonder if she would skewer him, if accidentally dropped.

“Um…what?” he asked eloquently.

“My son as you very well know is overseas, and I had a sudden urge to bake, you will accept them and eat them, and you can share them with your Pa, it’s Gluten free, heart healthy.  And remember you are still a pesky imp”, she huffed and then smiled at him in a warm grandmotherly way, that shocked him even more, “But you do have sense, so I want you every Friday, if you’re free, to help me in my Garden. I do believe we can make many beautiful flowers blossom”, she leant down and kissed him on the forehead, “Stay well Stiles”; she whispered and then turned around and walked away.

Stiles blinked in shock and turned to stare at his father.

Jordan smirked amused at the man’s gob-smacked expression, “What the hell just happened?” he asked Stiles.

“I—uh, I’m not sure”, he lifted the platter and blinked owlishly, “Cookie?” he offered.

“We might just need to check for poison”, The Sheriff wondered even as he took a cookie, “Huh…I feel like this is a momentous occasion. Here Parrish take a picture, I sheriff John Stilinski am holding a chocolate Chip Cookie”, he raised said cookie in somewhat awe, “Whilst my Son—also known as the cookie monster—stands watching with no complaint”, he stated.

The statement wasn’t all that hilarious, rather it was the look in the Stilinski’s eyes that had Jordan cracking up;

“Okay, why do you both look like you’ve just experienced something outlandish”, he had to ask.

Both Stilinski’s turned to him with absolute certainty, “Because we did!!!!” they both said at the same time.

Jordan raised both hands, “Okay”, in surrender, “Calm down. Geez”, he huffed, and “It’s like I was committing some sort of crime, by pointing that out”, he rolled his eyes.

“Right”, Stiles nodded, “Well uh… cookie Jordan?” he asked offering the platter to him.

“Uh… sure. Someday I’m sure when I’m older I’ll understand”, he muttered.

“I’m old enough and I don’t think I want to understand”, John muttered, “Well... it goes to show, never judge a grumpy hag by her—well crone-like features”, he muttered.

“Sir!”

“Oh My God dad! She could hear you!” Stiles hissed, “Human-Bats might actually be a thing you know”, he stated.

Jordan gaped, “You two are horrible”, he rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Well, Sheriff ready to go?” he asked.

Sheriff hummed, “Stay well Stiles, I have a funny feeling the weirdness has just begun”, he stated.

“Even worse than Lady Primrose? I highly doubt that”, he muttered, “Anyway I’m off, if any more of this actually happens, I might finally faint”, he huffed. “Take care pops, you too Jordan”, he climbed into the car, “Stay safe”; he then closed the door, and drove off.

Jordan hummed, “He took the cookies”, he muttered absentmindedly.

“Yup! As the Cholesterol police, he sure takes his duty responsibly”, he huffed.

“Can’t say I blame him, you’re the best dad there is”, Jordan offered easily.

John flushed, “Aww”, he scrubbed his toe in the driveway and swooned, “Jordan you’re making me blush”, he sighed romantically.

Jordan snorted, “Whatever you say Bugs Bunny”, he teased, “Shall we be off too?” he asked.

The Sheriff nodded, and they both got into the car.

***

“So about that thing you were talking about, what is it you needed to seek counsel about?” Jordan asked, twenty minutes later when they had finished with the morning briefing. The Argents had yet to arrive.

The Sheriff hummed, “This”, he pointed at his screen and winced, “I couldn’t go further than what went on, with the introduction”, he turned the screen towards Jordan and Tara and sighed, “I feel creepy reading just two lines, and yet if he hadn’t posted that, Allison Argent may have had an unfortunate experience, and could you think of anything more worse than that?” he asked them both.

Jordan blinked, “This is…ah Hell…does he not know he’s on the internet? Or Global for that matter?” he asked.

“You saw him this morning, with Lady Primrose, does it look like that he had any inkling?” he asked.

Jordan acquiesced with a nod, “Not Really. Mostly he looked like he was just going to be lazy all day”, he stated.

Tara hummed, “So none of us are actually going to read that? Do we tell him?” she asked.

“I don’t think you should.”

All three of them turned to see a stunning brunette-slash-red haired beauty, standing in a pinstripe skirt-suit in the doorway.

“Who the hell are you?” John asked sternly.

“I—okay, first of all My name is Laura Maria Hale, and second of all please forgive me, I meant no disrespect but I was blatantly eavesdropping, and I couldn’t help myself into coming in and adding my two cents”, she confessed.

Jordan exchanged a startled glance with John and Tara snorted as she looked at the exotic newcomer.

“Oh Gosh, you sound exactly like him. For a second there I almost thought I saw him standing there. Ha-Ha it’s like you may actually be soulmates”, she grinned.

“I wouldn’t mind that, but it’s quite a possibility that he is someone else’, as I am already with another”, she informed simply.

“But who are you exactly? Or to rephrase, what are you doing here?” Jordan asked.

“Oh, my transcripts”, she handed over a blue file; “I’m the Station’s Corporate PR Manager. I was approved by Mayor Adams”, she informed.

“Oh. Wow, I remember Sebastian Adams mentioning the Hale Senior kids spending awhile in Beacon Hills. So I imagine, Tristan, Cora and Derek are back as well?” John asked curiously.

“Yes. Deputy Haigh—”, she shuddered slightly, “—has already shown me to the office I am to be in”, she informed, “I came over to hand my transcripts to you, but I got waylaid by the deputy’s um…insistence to review the news and case files he had for the last week”, she swallowed.

“Wow”, Jordan whistled.

“What?” Laura asked warily.

“That had to be the first time, I’ve heard someone—anyone say something nice, about Haighs, ever”, he snorted, “Right Sheriff?” he asked the amused man.

“It’s why she got the job”, he grinned.

“Okay. So besides sweet talking away the creepiness of one Deputy Haighs, why do you recommend not letting Stiles know, his private thoughts are not so private. Why would you recommend we keep it a secret? Isn’t it a blatant disregard of one’s privacy, and a member of the Police, shouldn’t you be the first to protest to the outrage of another man’s privacy being overthrown?” he asked.

Laura raised a brow, “Were you planning to become an English professor?” she asked, well snarked really.

Tara snorted, “I like her already”, she offered.

John smirked, “Just as well as his grammar is, could you answer it?” he asked.

“Sure”, Laura answered seriously addressing The Sheriff directly, “For one his perception is completely on mark. Isaac’s my cousin, he was adopted by my uncle Alex and his wife”, she started, “And really Stiles—your son—is completely correct. His psych evaluators and Aunt Ella agrees. And with a single read from this Blog, he’s broken up with Malia (my second cousin), and both of them are seeking the health advisement. He’s saved Allison’s life, had Matt prosecuted against his sins, even though he drowned. It’s because he’s so damn perceptive”, she paused, “He sees things no one else notices. And he wasn’t wrong about any of it. Sir, I know it’s a basic disregard of another man’s privacy”, she agreed and paused before continuing, “I just think if he stops writing we’ll be losing something important. An insight into people’s lives, there could be more walking stalkers out that, murderers, and kidnappers. I—” she bit her lip and stared at her hands.

“But would it be worth it? If—uh-huh—when Stiles learns about the truth, how we read his thoughts, how we didn’t even try to stop people from reading—how we didn’t warn him. Would it be worth it all?” Jordan asked seriously.

“Then you plead the fifth”, Laura answered promptly, “No wait, hear me out”, she raised both hands as if sensing all three of their anger.

“What?” John asked angrily.

“I’ll read them. I’m an outside party. I don’t even know Stiles. I wouldn’t be able to warn him even if I wanted to”, she offered, “And I do want to, you should listen to my brother Tristan, he loathes it when people invade a person’s privacy. It’s all kinds of a ‘Bad Touch’ vibe. But Sir, Deputies”, she swallowed, “This town needs to know about his thoughts. Eighteen years people have known him, three years in Hugh School, and no one could see what Matt was doing or how he was reacting? No one stepped up. And even when he did no one listened”, she stressed, “But the read it, and reacted to it, and I think—no I know, all the way and deep in my bones, Stiles’ perception on Beacon Hills, in this world—Sheriff we need your son’s instincts, we need his intelligence and eyes and help”, she stressed strongly.

“You’re asking me to turn a blind eye to my son’s thoughts been publicized?” The sheriff asked carefully.

Jordan swallowed.

“Yes—no”, she swallowed, “Okay, yes”, she nodded once, “Sir, your kid, I—” she stepped a foot further into the office, paused and then stayed, closing the door gently behind her.

“My son has recently been through something traumatizing. He has a bandage wrapped around his head, and several broken ribs, bruises that would make an artist envy. If we let people read what he writes, that alone is a lot worse than all that pain. Not going to him now and letting all this out?” he waved at the screen, “It’s damn near idiotic. And I can’t believe I’m about to say this, it healed a darkness his kept hidden in his heart for a year now. And I—” John swallowed, “I won’t read this”, he closed the tab, “But Ms. Hale, if you say you truly can remain a third party witness and keep an eye on Stiles, and his words. I want your dedication on this. He’s my son, you’ll be making sure he stays out of trouble, no bullying if he accidentally says words about any jock, any bully really. Do you guarantee keeping him safe? And this is Stiles we’re talking about”, he informed her again.

Laura blinked, “I’m aware sir and I can guarantee it I swear”, she promised.

“I highly doubt that”, Jordan muttered amused.

“Hey! I can! I may not look like much, and I’m in PR, but I can kick your ass six-ways-to-Sunday. I can protect Stiles”, she promised offended by Jordan.

“Oh honey”, Tara smirked and, “That’s not what Jordan meant”, she laughed. John grinned and Jordan sighed.

“I beg your pardon”, Laura huffed irritably.

“Stiles is…” Tara shot John a wary look.

“Please”, he offered, “best we let her know what kind of danger she’s gallantly offered to undertake”, he allowed.

Jordan huffed and Tara actually laughed.

“Yes sir”, she saluted, “Laura sweetie”, she smirked, “Stiles is no ordinary boy—human for that matter, for one”, she paused deliberately, “he trips over thin air”, she added without preamble.

“Huh?” Laura blinked.

Jordan coughed a snicker, John laughed, and Tara continued with barely a huff;

“And goes a mile a minute on topics that would both scar you and shock you, most probably traumatize you, can actually kick some serious ass, has no self-preservation to speak off, is damn near crudely sarcastic, has zero patience in some ways, while a lot in other ways. Cares about things toa degree that would drive you mental, give you the benefit of the doubt, keeps a lot of secrets, is practically the town’s Secret Keeper, has a Truth streak you never want aimed at you. Because when he’s honest, he’s brutal. Downright nasty, will make you cry”, she promised.

“We won’t read the articles, because we honor him to a degree, and yeah maybe it’s contradictive, we should really just tell him, but at this point, he’s perception on people is probably that special spicy kick needed to solve all the creepy things on the wrong side of justice”, she stated.

“Okay”, Laura nodded, “But you know not all things out there are bad”, she offered.

“Oh?” Jordan huffed, “When you say things, are we talking human or vampires?” he laughed.

Tara laughed, and John rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking more werewolves”, Laura smirked a tad manically.

Jordan grinned, “I like werewolves”, he offered.

John sighed, “Except the part where Vampires and Werewolves don’t exist”, he stated easily.

“Sir, careful, if you say that, a fairy will die”, Jordan hissed.     

Tara snorted, “I’m pretty sure Tinkerbell is more witch than fairy”, she smirked teasingly.

“Hey”, Jordan protested, mental thoughts already thinking about Lydia’s features.

John coughed, “Anyway”, he drew their attention back at hand, “I won’t condone blatant disrespect of any kind, but I have your word, he will be safe?” he asked.

“Yes sir!” Laura straightened.

“And if you learn of any way he is in any danger, you will let any of the three of us know”, he confirmed.

“Yes sir”, she promised.

“Well, I guess you have the job Hale”, he offered.

Laura blinked, and then smiled widely, “Thank you sir!!!” she said and turned and left at the silent dismissal.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea, why are we not telling Stiles about this?” Jordan couldn’t help asking.

Tara nodded, “Likewise”, she added.

“Because in the first line he states, ‘It’s supposed to be Therapeutic’ and if I or anyone intervenes, Stiles will shut down again, and Jordan, I really need my kid to stop burying his angst and fear and other feelings away. It’s not healthy and If Laura can somehow manage to keep it all a secret, I think its High time; people learn that Stiles is worth giving a shit about. It’s like attracting Primroses today!” he growled angrily.

Jordan swallowed, “Okay”, he got up and off of the corner of the desk and hummed, “Stiles was headed to the Wolf’s Diner, I’ll head there and eavesdrop and keep an eye on things”, he winked and saluted once before leaving, on his way out he heard Tara say;

“I hope you know what you’re doing John”.

“So do I, so do I…”

“Well I’ll go help Laura set up and have Haighs quit skeeve-ing her off”, she huffed and followed him.

Jordan hummed and he smiled to himself, whilst inwardly, he muttered;

Well at least it’s never boring when Stiles is around…

***xxx***

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Coffee—Caffé—etc.

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Monday 31^st August, 2015

Stiles exhaled on a weary sigh, and pushed the huge tomb of knowledge away, there was only so much of Liberal legislative Laws someone could study before they reached the end of their tether, depending on the marks he’d have to score for the subject, he was ready to chuck the book out the first floor window.

Speaking of inconvenient, why would they open a café on the first floor, and a business on the ground? The owners were just plain weird.

Elaine had yet to fill his cup again, and he’d already signed up for the refill option.

Sighing he stretched and looked around for the waitress, for a Monday it sure was jam packed. A few juniors sat in clusters, all arguing about the summer homework, which really—if they were going to forget about it, why bother doing it now. The juniors’ homework generally took weeks to complete.

Huffing in exasperation he stood up and went looking for his wayward waitress.

It probably took him less than five minutes to find her. It would have taken him longer, if he hadn’t heard her, “Well as I live and breathe”, she exclaimed, leaning against the counter, breasts practically spilling out of her dress, and a laconic creep-tastic drawl echoing of this walls.

“If it aint Derek Hale, sneaking back in with his tail between his legs. What our boring town charmed you back?”

Stiles sighed with exhaustion.

Seriously?

“Miss”, Derek greeted about as polite as a dead man walking.

Stiles snorted.

“Yeah?” she popped her bubble-gum obnoxiously. And that was a health violation all on its own.

“One Black coffee, please don’t spit in it”, he smiled politely, teeth sharp like fangs.

Elaine choked on her gum and Stiles laughed. He wasn’t the only one, several of the customers listening in, laughed.

Embarrassed Elaine reared back, “Well I never!” she huffed, “Is that what New Yorkers do, piss on old friends?!” he snapped offended.

Derek Hale pulled back seemingly appalled, “Oh No”, he shook his head, “New Yorkers are much worse!” he offered charmingly.

Elaine flushed red.

“Coffee Elaine, if you’d please”, he grinned then, this time actually looking large jungle cat like.

The waitress flushed but she turned and made his coffee, quietly, all but slamming down the cup in front of him, “You’re welcome”, she hissed.

Stiles raised a brow, as Derek leaned in and cockily smirked, the panty dropping kind of smirk, that was entirely to be blamed on her increased flush and several women sighing with barely concealed lust.

“It’s been a pleasurrrre”, he rolled the ‘R’s dramatically.

Stiles snickered as she wobbled at his voice, dripping like honey; he then pulled back and walked out.

Stiles wasn’t the only person who watched him take a sniff of the coffee and proceed to dump all the contents into a bin, turning slightly his eyes pinned Elaine as she straightened just so, and his smirk turned dangerous.

“Oh girl, please tell me you didn’t do anything to his coffee??” Rosalyn Adams asked, eldest daughter to the Mayor.

“I may have doctored it a bit”, she confessed.

“You’re an idiot”, Stiles offered simply.

They all turned to him in offense.

“What?! She is, I mean besides the fact that he oozes all kinds of seriously dangerous vibes of ‘I will bend you in half should you irritate me’, vibes, but also he’s a Hale. They’re all kinds of scary all on their own, not to mention, he’s Peter’s nephew. Peter Hale, your boss, own of this fine establishment? Is any of this ringing any bells?” he snarked, ignoring her remarkably tanned skin, paling rapidly.

“Besides Elaine, you’re the actual worst, what’s with your attitude problem?” he had to ask, “He your scorned lover?” he teased.

“I don’t have an attitude problem!!! He’s a murderer!” she snapped.

“What?” he asked. “And not an attitude problem, really? Because you’re like the definition of the words”, he stated easily.

“He’s a killer, a murderer”, she snapped.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“He killed his girlfriend, I don’t like him!” she stated.

“Right”, he nodded, “What makes you think he’s a killer?” he asked cautiously.

“They go for a walk in the woods, and she’s the only one with wounds on her body! It’s clear he killed her. And you just said he could easily bend a person in half!” she added strongly.

“Do you listen when you talk, or you know think about things just a little?” he asked.

“Don’t look at me like I’m spouting nonsense! I am not the only one who thinks like that, everyone does, look around you Stiles! No one wants him back in this damn town!” she screamed.

Stiles exhaled, “First of all, refilling is actual concept you can’t grasp. So let me explain it to you, when a coffee cup empties, and when a person sign’s up for that deal, it means, you, with your flask go around filling their cups, or you retrieve them a cup of freshly brewed java joe. Secondly, coming on time to open a noon café is something you seriously don’t get, let alone setting up shop. The idea is to open the damn doors, walk in, flip the ‘Welcome’ sign, switch on the lights, set down the chairs and smile”, he paused, “Not let your first customer walk in and do the job for you, while you chat with some Dumbo best friend you’ve only been with for the last eighteen hours”, he ignored her embarrassment and rallied on;

“Thirdly, you blaming Steve for not setting up shop minutes before your majestic arrival; is the equivalent of blaming Derek Hale for the murder of his girlfriend. Read my Lips, Elaine, He found her, bleeding out, dying. Have you ever watched someone die?” he asked. “No? It’s torture, like everything nice, just shatters around you, it corrodes your insides, steals your breath away, leaves you feeling cold and empty and dead inside!” he grit out angrily.

“Killing her? Are you mental? He was fifteen. At fifteen he looked like me, barely hit puberty, baby-faced and someone who would end up rather being bent as a pretzel than actually doing the bending. And did you see him kill her? How can any of you blame him for finding her almost mauled to death by a wild animal? What he suddenly grew claws and fangs? And if he did, if he suddenly turned into a cat boy, murder? That’s your desired end? Murder? You say that like killing someone is as simple as losing one’s keys or accidentally buying too much broccoli”, he huffed.

Elaine flushed at his words.

“And why do you think Mr. and Mrs. Hale sent him away, was it not because citizens of Beacon Hills, were going to look down on him, and call him all sort of names?” he asked, “A murderer for one?” he leant in, “Because of course a fifteen year old puppy-of-a-guy wants to hear about people calling him a killer. If anything it made sense”, he offered easily.

“They were protecting him!” he snapped, “And I really don’t want your attitude rubbing of on people, making them think careless things, instead, maybe you could do your job and refill my coffee cup? If not, I’ll just leave you to Peter”, he nodded at the older man who stood leaning against the counter two steps behind Elaine.

Elaine squeaked as soon as she whirled around, and found Peter lounging against the doorjamb of the Private Area. 

“Yo”, Peter greeted.

“What are you a Japanese Warlord?” Stiles asked exasperated.

“Oh”, Peter paused, “I was going for more Gangsta style”, he drawled sauntering over.

Stiles hummed, “I would say you missed that a mile wide”, he informed causally.

“Apparently”, he agreed. “So Elaine, quick notice, you’re fired”, he intoned simply as if one were discussing the weather with a weatherman.

“What?” she shrieked, “Because I was rude to your nephew! That’s blatant favoritism! You’re being unprofessional!!!” she stamped her foot.

“Actually I’m firing you for being utterly pathetic in the restaurant, your negligent attitude towards your duties and the many, and I do say many, customer complaints in the last hour never mind during a week”, he explained. “Besides if Derek was offended he’d probably forget all about it in one hour more or less”, he shrugged simply.

“Hmm, I wonder about that”, Stiles hummed, “Now I need coffee, I still have four chapters to study”, he grumbled.

“Did you not do your Summer Homework?” he asked.

“Oh”, he poured the coffee and shook his head, whilst heading the calls for customer orders, accidentally being assumed the staff, by a walk-in guest, “I finished it all in one week. I was talking about the first Year exam for NYU Mentorship Program in the Criminology Division”, he answered absentmindedly, unaware of Jordan falling out of his chair at the news, or Peter’s intrigued eyebrow raise.

“Shouldn’t you get in first?” he asked.

“Oh about that—one Caramel Frappe with whipped cream and Hazel nuts? Sure, hang on”, he turned to make the drink, “I already got in, early admission qualifications for the term, a week after senior year ends—ah there you go, and you sir? Okay a large Coconut coffee chocolate smoothie—and it’s okay, even if the mentorship program at NYU doesn’t accept me, I have acceptance letters from UCLA, Berkeley and strangely Cambridge University, England UK. Although I don’t ever remember applying there”, he muttered off-handedly as he sipped his own drink.

Peter hummed, “Thank you Stiles”, he whispered.

“For what?” Stiles asked confused.

“Helping”, Peter answered.

“It’s just coffee”, Stiles shrugged, and ducked back into the sector of people-area, he’d have to figure out what it was called in technical terms.

“Off somewhere?” Peter asked curiously slipping behind the counter.

“I have books to read, there is only so many legislative laws in this country”, he gruffed grumpily.

“What’s your senior year final project based on?” Peter asked.

“Why?” Stiles asked suspiciously.

“I’m just curious”, Peter shrugged easily, for all accounts looking unaffected by Stiles’ wariness.

“Peter in my limited experience—when it comes to you—playing around with a couple of sharks is less dangerous than you, and your curiosity”, Stiles took a nice good step back.

“That’s hurtful”, Peter pouted.

“They do say the truth hurts”, Stiles smirked and, “Well I’m off”, he saluted once and walked away, “By the way Jordan if you’re going to lurk could you lurk quietly?” he asked the deputy sitting behind the overgrown fern.

“Hey! I could have been undercover!” Jordan snapped.

“Here? Is dad really that bored?”

“Oi, my establishment could be quite the place for undercover gigs!” Peter protested ardently.

“And that’s another reason why your curiosity is perceived dangerous Mr. Wolve!” he bowed and walked back to his seat.

“I feel offended, I should be offended, isn’t something to be offended about?” Peter asked his next customer.

The young girl blinked and nodded unsure-ly, “I-I guess”, she murmured.

“Oh”, Peter looked up then, “Aren’t you a teenage boy?” he called out.

“Yes. But are you a pervert? Who asks that?” Stiles wondered warily.

“I’m only asking because you unlike my younger nephew who is an adult is attached to his phone 24x7, so why are you bereft of something everyone seems glue to?” he asked.

“Are you a displaced World War I soldier? What’s with the ancient language? And, my cellphone broke, into pieces, pieces I tell you, Pieces!!!” he obnoxiously repeated.

“What? How? What? How? Whaaat???”

Jordan sighed, “When did this become a comical skit?” he muttered.

Leanna Adams huffed amused, “No idea”, she stated easily, “But they’re kinda entertaining. And I have a question?” she turned to him, leaning on the edge of the Leather couch she was perched on.

The place was more Lounge than cafe anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Is he always that brutal when he’s honest?” she asked.

“Nope”, Jordan answered dramatically and she heaved a sigh of relief, “He’s much worse”, he shivered as he recalled the verbal beating he’d received, “It’s like a special kind of torture. When he spells words laced with veracity and verity, it strips you raw, leaves you bleeding with scratches, open wounds that burn as his salty acidic words pour forth. Somehow getting shot is less painful”, he concluded.

Leanna stared at him, “But he was brutal”, she hissed.

“Ever wondered why he’s the county’s most sarcastic person there is?” Jordan asked.

Leanna shivered, “I don’t think I ever thought about it in that way. I always found him to be a ”, she sighed, “Anyway, I gotta jet, Seeya around deputy”, she muttered and hugged her elder sister, “Gonna head out now, I’ll take the B route, tell mom, I’ll be back by evening”, she murmured.

“Okay. Drive safely, let us know the soonest you get the offer”, Rosalyn grinned, “Good luck Li!!!” she chirped happily.

“Aye Capitan”, she saluted and then walked away, “Seeya Wolve!!!” she yelled.

Peter and Stiles turned as one, the former grinned waved, and Stiles hummed, going back to his book.

“Peter, could you leave please, I’m trying to study”, he whined, after a beat.

“What? Well I never!!!” he scoffed and then turned away although he buried his amusement in his scowl he affectionately ruffled Stiles’ hair.

Jordan smiled; “Well I’ll be off too…” he bought another coffee for himself and left.

***

Stiles stretched, as the hour drew to a close, it was early evening and he looked and felt like the days exhaust filled coffee beans were all over him.

“Ugh!”

Grimacing he packed up his books and stretched again.

“So… heading home?” Peter asked.

Stiles hummed, “Yeah, I still need a good few hours of sleep before I have to face the whole new school year, personally, I think I’m going to hibernate”, he huffed.

Peter snorted, “And yet you’re still here”, he pointed out.

“You did just fire Elaine, and old man, you need the help”, he raised a brow, even as he pulled off his hoodie, rolled up the loose sweatshirt he’d been wearing, “I’ll wrap up the Café, you clear up the Kitchen, chef!” he huffed hands on hip.

“Eh…  But, it’s almost seven, and Cora—my niece will be over in a few, you don’t need to stay”, Peter assured.

“But?”

“Please Stiles, you’ve done enough. Between the crazy amount of orders you took, during our rush hour lunch time, and then the wrapping up of the sales. Not to mention you relocated from a comfy couch to a stool and a counter. Please, go home, sleep. You need to sleep”, he huffed drily.

“Okay”, he agreed, pocketing his replacement phone, “I guess I can leave early, I’ll need to reprogram the new phone to my specifications anyway”, he muttered mostly to himself.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, bye”, he waved his fingers obnoxiously, with one hand, and blew him a kiss with the other.

Stiles laughed, “Bye, bye pervert”, he waved and left the Café.

***

Winds whistled through the open windows of the Jeep as Stiles drove down the blacktop.

Logically he knew that come the first day of school, he would be reunited with all of them.

He'd soon have no choice but to engage in verbal spats with Isaac, glare at Douchenozzle, flirt badly with Lydia, roll his eyes at the 'Scallison' Love story, and keep his distance from the rest of the school. Layered in layers of shields that gave of the aura, he was a creature of the night, and not another human just desperately trying to fit in.

The sad part was Stiles had already chosen an end of year project to be presented to the faculty advisors and any judges they get from distinguished colleges and universities across US soil—that alone would keep him isolated further more from his meager possession of acquaintances.

Somehow it felt very lonely to have spent three years of his High School career utterly cut away from everyone else.

Even now, Driving, he had mixed feelings when he cherished the longest route getting back home, to an empty room, an empty house, an empty life.

Though Driving had its perks;

First lay the sense of freedom Driving let him be free, Go where he wanted.

Let him hold to the truly lonely, but capitulating freedom of having no ties to hold him down.

Even if it were a ride for as little as 5 minutes, he knew, he held the small amount of power, to go wherever, be wherever

Secondly, the sense of self being Driving lets him decide his own life, choose to keep going straight, straight off the road if he chose to do so. Go off the path, stop living you know.

He had the power, to leave everything behind to just kiss it away and drive away, find a new beginning, something more colorful with vibrant colors and landscapes that gave a new story more meaning.

His story, his life.

Sighing he focused back on driving. He sat there thinking of anything but the phone sitting on his passenger seat, with only one contact in it. 'His dad'.

Turning back to the street, his eyes widened and a familiar shuddering breath released from deep in his soul, and he swerved violently barely able to get back into the right lane, as he hit the brakes.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!!!!!!!

The Jeep veered and skid down the gravel road, burning harshly against the tarmac.

Unbuckling his belt he threw the door open, grabbed his phone and ran to the crashed car ten feet in front of him.

Dialing the only number he had, he spoke harshly before his dad could even greet him, "There's been an accident, ten minutes outside of Hale Preserve, the car is upturned, there's someone inside, send help, Now!!!" he ordered.

Pocketing his phone, still on, he skid down the gravel and smashed the broken-cracked glass.

"Hey!" he called out, coughing at the smoke coming from beneath the car, where something burned, "Fuck!" he yelped at the heat, "Hey! Hey can you hear me?" he called out, he reached out to the young woman, stuck to the seat, seat belt all but strangling her, a gash bled heavily on her forehead, a scratched marked her cheek, bleeding down her neck and dyeing her blonde hair a murky brown.

Even as he took all this in, something exploded three feet to his left.

"Holy Hell!!!"

Scrambling backwards he stood up harshly, "Hang on", running back to his car, he grabbed his keys, and the hoodie he'd draped across the seat, rushing back he crawled through the back of the car, and flicked his Swiss Army knife open, "Come on", he hissed, cutting the seat belt, "Hey! Hey wake up! Wake up Dammit!!!" he hissed.

A groan filtered barely through to him, as the belt gave away, and the woman's eyes fluttered open.

"Wha—"

"You've been in an accident. I need you to work with me, Help is on its way, what's your name?" he asked.

"Le-Leanna", she whispered hoarsely.

"Hi Leanna, my name is Stiles", he greeted her softly, "We're kind of in a bad situation, I won't bullshit with you about that", he smiled at her awkwardly.

Leanna laughed awkwardly in reply, "N-No shit", she hissed.

"Okay, sarcastic humor, I can work with that", he laughed but focused back on her, "Do you see my hoodie?" he asked pointing down.

Leanna's eyes focused on the red jersey and she nodded, "I need you to crawl over it and get out and away from the car, my jeep is parked directly in the back. Listen Li, Listen", he repeated as her eyes fluttered closed, "I know, I know you're scared, and hurt. But you can do this, we both can, come on", he urged and helped pull her out of the car.

Together they unbuckled her belt and pushed it away, as she turned to follow, she was yanked back;

"Ow!" she shrieked, "My Leg!!!" she whined.

Stiles climbed forward and whined, "Oh Come on, really?!!!" he huffed, "Could life be any more cliché??" he asked no one in particularly.

"Ah..." Leanna huffed amused, "I think I know what he-he meant", she tried to pull but her leg was firmly stuck, under the wheel.

“When we’re both safe, I’m going to ask you what that means”, he promised. Climbing into the Passenger seat area, he reached down and pushed her seat back.

“Whoa!” she huffed as the momentum made her dizzy.

“Try now”, he ordered calmly, as he created an inch-two inches gap and kept pushing back, “Pull your leg out sweetheart, you can do it come on”, he coaxed.

Slowly, a little too slowly, they worked together and freed her leg, smoke had built around them, clouding the small space. It was starting to burn his eyes, and cut of their already limited oxygen.

Panic seized his heart.

“Damn!” she cursed, “I think it’s broken”, she hissed.

“Concentrate on that later”, he huffed rolling his eyes, and gently but firmly pushed her to the end of the back, he could dimly hear sirens and another car, going by the engine, a sports car, maybe one of the Hales??

“Stiles”, Leanna called, “I-I can’t see anything”, she whimpered.

Stiles turned then and hissed, “It’s the smoke”, he cursed, “Can you feel sweety?” he asked.

“Y-yes”, she hissed.

“Good, feel down, the material of my hoodie, it’s a soft fleece, between the shards of glass, go. Your cuts will heal. Go!!!” he pushed her and she crawled through the space.

“Go!!!”

Stiles’ vision blurred and he felt the cloying smoke, course through him, the sirens had gotten louder.

“Hey!!! I’ve got you”, a voice spoke and suddenly Leanna was yanked out of the car, Stiles took the offered help and followed Leanna through the narrow space, he coughed as the fresh air, attacked him, suddenly strong arms were pulling him out of the car, several voices screamed around him, and he could feel the air shift.

The more pressure applied stills, and he wonders how much heat a body can stand before it bursts into flame, lines of black, crawl up the stranger's arms, his vision is impaired no doubt and he can't even see clearly.

Blinking, he calls weakly;

"Leanna?"

"She's safe", a warm voice states and Stiles looks up into kaleidoscopic Green eyes, and he blinks at the reddish burn in them as flames climb higher, "Pretty", he purrs and reaches out weakly for the color, hand falling limply against warm stubble skin he hummed once before promptly passing out, with a single stray thought.

I wonder if I said that out loud.

*x*~*x*

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Black Cats and Crossing Streets

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Monday 31^st August, 2015,

Eight PM

Stiles wakes up still on the edge of the road, he was lying on a stretcher, the woods looked way to green from where his eyes blinked open, to his father's frantic voice, and he grumbles even as he curls inward, awake enough to realize he's covered in a dozen blankets or so.

His dad is crying.

"My head hurts," he whines and uses weak hands to clutch to his father's shirt and press his forehead to his chest.

"Oh God," he chokes, and Stiles is being cradled impossibly close and he feels wet tears against his neck, which is enough for him to jackknife up, probably kicking his dad despite the blankets, as he blinks his eyes open and grabs his dad's face, looks horrified into his red eyes and trembling jaw.

"Is everyone okay, is Leanna okay; she's not dead is she???" Stiles demands, hands now pressing against his father's torso, "Are you hurt? Was anyone Hurt?!!!" he asked looking around frantically.

“Stiles! Stiles! Stiles calm down!!! No one is hurt except you and Leanna. But she’s fine; she’s on her way to the hospital. You on the other hand, have to go as well”, he huffed relatively calmer.

“Hurt? Me?” he asked.

“You have a scratch here”, he pointed at his own neck, on his clavicle.

“Oh”, he pulled back, “I don’t remember ever getting hurt”, he blinked owlishly.

“Come on, can you stand?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, “My head still hurts though”, he whined.

“You kind of knocked your head against that currently roasted car”, he pointed at the Prius.

Stiles winced, “Great Scotts! Is that the car?” he shook his head and then whined, when the motion made him dizzier.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend doing that, unless you want to throw up”, the sheriff warned.

Stiles hummed his understanding, and with his dad’s help, managed to stand although he listed to the side, just in time for Jordan to swoop up from nowhere and steady him.

“Easy Little Hero”, he whispered.

“Not a hero”, Stiles grumbled, “What—how did the accident happen? Do we know?” he asked quietly.

“According to Leanna, she tried to swerve out of the way when a black cat popped up in the middle of the street. ‘Like a ghost, one minute the road was empty, the next moment, it’s just sitting there’”, he recalled her quoting.

“By the time she hit the brakes, the car veered left and overturned due to the sudden change in direction. The road being fairly less traveled, she was going quite fast”, John continued, “The case on the other hand, it’s one of those bizarre accidents, we never have a way of actually figuring out”, he muttered.

“No dead animal carcasses then?” Stiles asked easing down gently in the backseat of the cruiser.

“Not even a bone”, he agreed.

Jordan wiped the blood away quietly.

“How bad is she?” Stiles asked wincing slightly at the alcoholic antiseptic being applied. Jordan apologized softly.

“Her left shoulder is dislocated, right leg is broken, a few fractured ribs, a rather impressive superficial gash on her head that bled profusely, and a cut on her cheek, that’s similar to the one you’re sporting. All in all she’s got no fatal injuries”, he listed quietly.

Stiles shuddered, “If I hadn’t… oh God! I think I’m going to throw up”, he paled at the thought, if he hadn’t made it, if he’d taken the normal way home.

Jordan offered him a glass of water, “Drink”, he ordered albeit calmly.

Stiles sipped the water slowly; hands shaking too badly to grip the glass himself, Jordan tilted it accordingly.

“Son, Stiles, kiddo”, John huffed half amused, mostly exasperated, “You’ve been using this road for two years now, and if you hadn’t come across her, one of the Hale’s would have, it’s not ten minutes out, it’s less than five, to there closest greenhouse, the point kiddo”, he knelt in front of him, “Is you’re a hero kid, and I’m so proud to have you as a son, so quit beating yourself over hypotheticals, that are never likely to happen, because you are my delinquent son, and insist on taking the scenic route home”, he shook his head and then roughly ruffled Stiles hair.

“Oi, oi, oi!” Stiles slapped the hand away, “Quit messing with my locks, it took me hours to groom the perfect look”, he tilted his head up and pouted.

Jordan snorted, “Oh yeah I can see the artfully tousled look”, he put on a fake posh accent and hummed, “I say boss”, he tilted Stiles head a bit too far left, “We should shore this half away, the Vamp look is back in season I say”, he offered a flip of his hand over his shoulder and smirked.

Stiles stared at him, and then promptly burst out laughing, John joined in and they snickered at Jordan’s mock-offense that turned into a pout as they roared with laughter.

“This is a crime scene you two”, he huffed, after minutes of their explosive laughter.

Stiles giggled, “Oh God! This is probably the worst place your French—was it even French?—accent could be used”, he sighed clearing his throat, “I don't think my head can take your humor", he snorted.

Jordan shook his head, but continued to inspect his head, “Thank the lord your stitches haven’t broken, well you’re just going to need to get that smoke-inhalation checked out”, he exhaled. “Sir, you can take him to the hospital, I’ll stay with the deputies, and I’ll bring Stiles jeep back”, he added.

Stiles closed his eyes, just for a second, when John laid a hand on his shoulder, “Kid, I need you to stay awake, according to Jordan you might have a concussion”, he warned.

“This is exhausting”, Stiles whined, “It’s school tomorrow, I can’t sleep on the first day, Mrs. Baxter might actually kill me”, he retorted a tad terrified, “Dad!! She makes Lady Primrose seem like a puppy in comparison!!!” he informed dreadfully.

“While I think that’s impossible, sorry kiddo, but given that you were knocked unconscious as soon as Leanna and you were free, due to the blast of her Prius catching fire with the leaked fuel, you woke up just as Hale, escorted Leanna to the Hospital”, he sighed, gently buckling them both up.

“Hale?” he asked.

“One of Talia’s kids, I didn’t catch a name, I think he was either Tristan or Derek—”

Stiles’ heart thumped weakly at the latter’s name, and that caused him to pause in confusion, “Hale—whichever one—was there?” he asked.

“Yeah, he was driving home, he reached probably minutes before the car went up in smoke, Leanna muttered something about you calling her name, she could hear you, but couldn’t wake up, well not until you yelled at her”, he chuckled weakly.

Stiles shrugged unrepentant and let his dad continue, “He pulled Leanna out and settled her close to the other side of your jeep, and then ran to get you out, you were barely conscious”, he huffed, “I’d never been more scared then when I had to witness, Hale all but dive behind the cars—your jeep, his Camaro—cradling you like a dead mannequin as the car behind you went KABOOM”, he let go of the wheel and gestured the explosion and returned both hands to the Crown Vic’s (the car ) steering wheel.

“Dad, I—”

“Don’t even try to kid, you apologize and I’ll have Jordan drive you to school every day, and pick you up”, he warned.

Stiles raised both hands in surrender.

“Maybe the explosion knocked a few brain cells loose; one does not apologize when one dives into a burning car and save the Mayor’s daughter, or any girl for that matter, and then proceed to blame themselves, for being a hero!!!”

“Sorry”, Stiles whispered contrite.

“Just promise me one thing kid”, John urged.

“Yeah?”

“Never ever think of becoming a Firefighter, you near fire, might just give me that heart attack we’ve been trying to avoid”, he shivered, “Fire—bad”, he muttered monosyllabic-ally.

Stiles nodded, “I can guarantee that’ll never happen”, he promised.

They drove in relative silence after that, each a little lost in their minds, Stiles’ fingers itched to grab a laptop and pour out all the weird tumbling-jumblings messing around in his psyche about the last few hours.

“Dad”, he paused unsure of what he wanted to ask exactly.

“Yeah?”

“My phone was on”, he said in lieu of anything else.

“Yeah”, he shivered, “Worst twenty minutes of my life, listening to you coaxing Leanna, the fast breathing, the desperation, the curt orders, jeez kid, for all you’re just eighteen, you sound way too much like a drill major, escorting damsels in distress away from fire breathing dragons”, he huffed exaggeratedly.

Stiles snorted, “Dragons, really dad?” he teased.

“It fits”, he shrugged unashamed.

Stiles snorted, “Are we there yet?” he asked mock-petulant.

The sheriff snorted and pinched his knee, “Hush you little tot”, he huffed.

*

They pulled in to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital (BHMH) twenty minutes later and Stiles wanted to sleep, “I feel dizzy”, he muttered.

John turned to him just as the door that opened; Laura poked her head in;

“Jordan called in with the symptoms; Nurse Clara will take you to the trauma center. Sir we have the press at the Hospital doors, clamoring around, my brother Tristan will escort Stiles with the nurse”, she pointed to someone who looked a lot like Derek.

“Twins?” Stiles asked no one in particular.

“Yes”, she turned back to the Sheriff, “We need to release a statement soon, and Mayor Adams would like to have a word ASAP”, she informed promptly.

Stiles stood shakily, and let Laura carry his weight, “Dad?” he whimpered as they jostled him neatly into the wheelchair.

“Yeah Kiddo?”

“Do I have to be here?” he whined, the thought of spending a night in the Hospital, “Can’t I just go home? Tristan can take care of me at home, right?” he begged.

“Kiddo”, John knelt, “Look I know, son, I know, hospitals and us, we don’t work well together. Now, I know your noggin’ can take a beating, but kiddo, I need the doctors to confirm the same, I need to know, if the doctors agree, and I promise, once they give the okay, I’ll have Laura take you home”, he promised.

“But that might take hours dad”, he whined, eyes drifting to the onslaught of TV cameras and reporters on the other side of the barrier, the deputies were keeping several barricades up, although the media seemed to be practically spilling out of hospital lobby’s waiting area.

The Sheriff and Laura winced in unison.

“I can take you home, straight after a check-up”, Tristan offered grinning at him brightly.

Stiles turned pleading eyes to The Sheriff and the man sighed, “Oh Fine!” he agreed, “But I want you to text me details, and if you have a concussion, Tristan will stay with you, and keep you awake, alright?” he addressed both boys.

“Yes Sir!” they answered in unison.

“Alright then”, he kissed Stiles on the forehead, shot Tristan a curt look, that clearly stated; ‘My kid hurt, you dead’ and followed Laura straight to the spare area in the waiting space, to talk to the several press members gathered and waiting.

***

Stiles blinked as a hand clasped his apparently injured shoulder, “Not now sleepy head”, Tristan scolded albeit gently, “Come on, up and at ‘em”, he huffed amused.

“But I’m tiiiiirrrred”, he whined.

“And you have a concussion, no sleeping for twenty four hours at least”, he scolded.

“Then play a game with me”, he pouted snuggling under the dozen blankets Tristan had all but dumped on him.

“We’ve played everything already, man you’re brutal”, he whined, “And I thought playing Life with Laura was painful, and don’t get me started on the Monopoly game, Mom, and Cora, Never play Monopoly with Mom ever, and Trivial Pursuit, you’re eighteen!!! Children should not know that much stuff”, he groaned, “And Dear Lord, Stiles why, why, why would you tear me apart over Snakes and Ladders dude, why? Why? I ask you”, he burst out crying heavily (well fake crying anyway).

Stiles snickered, “Oh Stop it!” he giggled.

“It’s—sniff—so-horrible—you’re a horrible person”, he sniffed.

“I know, it keeps me awake at night”, he grinned.

“Siiiiiigh…sigh….sigh….sigh…”

“Okay, okay, quit sighing already!!!” Stiles laughed.

“Tell you what why don’t we watch a movie, something adrenaline pumping, so that you don’t fall asleep, okay?” Tristan proposed after a minute of more exaggerated sighing.

“Okay”, Stiles paused, “Wait, Can, can I update something and then we can watch a movie?” he swallowed nervously.

“Sure”, Tristan agreed, “Where’s your laptop?” he asked.

“My room—the one with all the posters on the wall—on the study desk”, he offered.

Tristan nodded, “I’ll be back in one minute, don’t you dare close your eyes, okay?” he warned.

“I’ll use clothes pins”, he promised.

Tristan laughed, “Okay, agreed”, he stated and left quickly.

*

By the time Tristan returned with the charger and laptop, he had already counted the seventeen stains on the ceiling and turned his head as Tristan sat down beside him, taking one of the spare blankets on top of him, and burring under it.

“Okay, let’s see what’s good on Netflix”, he hummed choosing to browse the options.

Stiles watched him idly, before inwardly shrugging;

“Hey Tristan?”

“Hmm”, the model hummed.

“Can I—can I do something first, and then we can watch a movie?” he requested.

Tristan looked up then, “Oh? Uh…is it anything strenuous?” he asked cautiously.

“Not really, I have this thing, it started on a whim, but it helps, get all this”, he waved his free hand in the air, “Kablooey-gunk in my head to siphon out and I get free and lighter inside, and I like it, it’s um—I” he blushed and paused.

Tristan handed him the laptop, “You write it all out?” he asked softly.

Stiles looked up startled and nodded, “Yes”, he whispered.

“Okay”, he stood up, “Be back in ten minutes, if I don’t hear any clickety-clack of the keys being hit, I’m gonna guess you fell asleep, and then I’ll punish you, ten minutes”, he warned.

Stiles grinned, “Thanks”, he smiled softly.

*

Deary Diary,

                Hi, it’s me again. It’s approximately eleven in the night, and I am wide awake—forced against my will to actually be awake.

Not that it’s Tristan’s fault, he has to monitor me, Concussion patients aren’t allowed to sleep till after 24 Hrs have passed.

And God! Am I exhausted!!! So freaking sleepy, you have no idea!

Oh! Yeah, about Tristan, he’s another Hale I met today.

Absolutely pathetic in any board games, as they come, but amazing Guy so far, I like him. He’s probably my third favorite Hale.

My first being *****, Gemma and then Tristan.

Okay, I don’t know why I did that, but didn’t feel like really sharing who I consider my favorite. It could be Mr. Hale if I wanted to. But it’s my secret, I’ll tell you later.

On a strange note, this year my life is witness to a great many introductions to The Hale family. A family I knew existed but never really interacted with before.

Okay, Tristan Hale. A Class Underworld model—utterly down-to-earth, really believes in the ideal, a man’s privacy is a man’s privacy.

Loves his sisters to death, though Laura is his favorite, and would never ever confess to that, not even under the pain of death, can’t really stand his own twin, must be a family thing.

I won’t pry.

I think something happened in the past, and he keeps his distance.

Honestly, I think that’s cruel of him, but I’m an outsider I have no right to say anything.

Stiles paused before continuing, eyes straying to Tristan who was walking to the fridge, and he smiled softly, before continuing;

                I have faith; someday brothers will be brothers again. Really all someone needs to do, is super glue them together and throw them into a locked room, and probably lockdown the room from the outside.

Derek looks way to strong—the guy’s built like a Brick shit house—and might actually break down the door and run away.

On a side note, for all they don’t see eye-to-eye, they’re horribly similar.

But Sssshhhh don’t tell anyone I said that, twin looks of sarcastic wrath, yeah no—I’m good thanks.

On another note of weird encounters, Leanna Adams, the mayor’s daughter, gorgeous as all hell get out, waist long blonde hair, stunning aquamarine eyes (A combination of her Dad’s intense blue eyes and her mother’s shocking green eyes, no doubt), amazing baby pink cupid-bow lips (Never a need to wear chap stick, that’s for sure), and a sense of humor that would shock you in the worst of situations, make you laugh despite utter hell-fire around you.

We’ve never really spoken to each other, like ever.

I share a few classes with her sister, Evangelina Adams.

And trust me all three sisters have utterly unique Names. Evangelina (17), Leanna (21), and Rosalyn (24)…. No seriously I kinda feel like I stepped through time and I’m passing three girls in floor length gowns and parasols.

Heck their dad’s name is Sebastian and mother’s name is Emillina.

Their son though is ironically Fred (27).

No really, it’s like they saved all the weirdly elegant names for the girls, but the guy gets the name; one would name a pet rock.

Though well I guess Fred James Adams, marine biologist has a cool ring to it.

On a side note, going back to Leanna, I—I ended up saving her life today. And though I don’t regret it—and who would seriously?

The problem is, I’m just gripped with these intense feelings of fear—oh my God! What would have happened if I decided to take the short way home, and not through the preserve roads? Oh God…she would have been there, all alone, hurt… or worse.

I feel like I’m going out if my mind, freaking worrying about everything. And What ifs...shudder!!!

Logically I know we both survived a nasty situation. And she’s a little banged up, a dislocated shoulder, a few fractured ribs, a broken leg and other scratches, and I have a concussion and a scratch on my neck too, but there’s this part of me freaking out, like FREAKING OUT in huge neon flashing lights and capital letters.

If, if I hadn’t found her would I have ever seen her smile, because she has a gorgeous smile, and if I had chosen to avoid the preserve like I was thinking about doing, because I wanted to get home early and get ready for school, like I knew I was going to do, if I hadn’t gone down that road……

Concussion or not I don’t think I’d have been able to sleep at all, regardless.

Because I want to be friends with Leanna, I want that. I may not be allowed to be friends with her, but she’s super kickass and I wouldn’t want to have lost her. At all.

I want more friends, I don’t want to fall back on old ones, ones that don’t apparently care of me all that much to begin with, but I’m allowed to have new friends right? I’m allowed to be with other people right? I don’t always have to be the loyal one do I?

I want more… I want it, I want more friends.

Like Tristan, Gemma, Iris, Leanna and more…

I’m allowed to have more!

Stiles paused and then exhaled on a smile;

                More than being allowed, I know I have the right to claim, more people as mine to love.

Anyway that’s all Deary Diary, Hope Leanna gets well soon, and seeing how I’ll obviously be missing the first day of school tomorrow, I am going to visit her.

Until next time, see Ya!!!

***

Stiles saved the entry and then browsed for a movie, “Hey Tristan?” he called out.

The older boy poked his head out, “Hm?” he asked.

“Have you seen Jurassic World?” he asked warily.

“Ah nope, I was on a photo shoot in Paris when it was launched, but Laura raves about it. Although Laura has admittedly terrible taste in movies, is it any good?” he asked bringing a plate of sandwiches in and a tray of cookies.

“I see you found the cookies”, he nodded impressed, “It’s not as scary as the original Jurassic park trilogies, but it has its own kind of excitement in it. Mostly it’s short and good enough to spend some time watching it. I watched it with my Aunt and Uncle, it was fun”, he smiled and let him settle against him.

“They were hidden with ingenious stealth I do concede, but I was raised in a household with, Laura and Cora as sisters, and Ivory too if I think about it”, he paused, “I have the reputation of finding things hidden”, he grinned mischievously, and added, “Okay lets watch it, but before we start we have to make a pact”, he stated earnestly.

Stiles blinked, “A pact?” he asked curiously.

“Yup. If any of the following things should happen, we take it to the grave”, he finished seriously.

“What things?” Stiles asked quizzically.

“A). We Shriek like little girls. B). we cry at any part during a movie scene, and C). We ‘aw’ at any cute moment”, he listed.

Stiles smirked, “I will if you will”, he agreed.

“Of course I will. I have a reputation, I can’t have people besmirch my manliness”, he puffed out his chest just so.

“Suuuure”, Stiles drawled, “That’s the reason”, he agreed.

Tristan huffed, “Well I never. Just play the damn movie”, he tossed his head back and pouted.

Stiles snorted and turned to him to rebuff when he paused and stared at Tristan.

“What?” Tristan asked, “Is there something on my face?” he asked wary of his intensity.

Stiles reached out and cupped his face.

“Stiles?”

Stiles absentmindedly traced the skin just below his right eye, and hummed, the contour and shape of the eye was similar, even the feel of his cheek under his hand, his skin tingled with warmth, but what drew him in were the eyes.

Shocking pale blue eyes reflected back at him, and he tilted his head to the side, “You have blue eyes”, he whispered.

“Yes?” Tristan questioned.

“I see”, he traced the edge one last time, and let his hand fall to his side, and on top of the blanket.

“Why?” Tristan couldn’t help asking.

“No reason”, he hummed idly and pressed play.

Tristan watched him idly, “I kind of feel like I was very kindly rejected”, he muttered.

Stiles hummed, “Nope”, he agreed though.

“But you agree”, he protested softly.

“Watch the movie Trist, it’s starting”, he tilted the laptop towards the older guy, and let their silence fall and overlap each other.

Tristan nodded, but then paused, and very gently kissed his forehead.

Stiles’ eyes closed without his accord.

“It’s gonna be okay Stiles. Whatever feelings are bubbling inside here”, he poked the center of his chest, “It’s all going to be okay, I promise”, he murmured reassuringly.

Stiles nodded and let a single tear fall, somehow freeing him from an unknown burden he didn’t know he was carrying, “Thanks”, he whispered hoarsely.

“Now, enough sentimentality, let’s watch this macho-madness”, he whisper-hollered.

“Macho madness, seriously?” he shook his head, “Such hope, such hope”, Stiles cried out, “The tragic hilarity. Oh My God!!!” he whined dramatically.

“Oh Shut up”, Tristan huffed.

Stiles laughed and loud and happily knocking his shoulder against Tristan’s in silent camaraderie, and for the first time in quite some time, he felt lighter.

Cool…

***XX***

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: A Caterpillar in the Books

Key for this chapter:

Stiles’ Thoughts

Derek’s Thoughts

Diary Entries all begin with Dear Diary

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Tuesday 2^nd September, 2015,

Two PM

Stiles ran into the High school, and skidded around the corner.

The last two days had been hellish; he’d met Leanna, although she was doped up on enough morphine to down an elephant, so their conversation hadn’t made any sense.

Her parents and Rosalyn were super thankful, so thankful he was getting edgy from the whole family. Thankfully, Evangelina had been in school the two times he’d gone to see Leanna, somehow having escaped the—no doubt, possibly strange—meeting with Evangelina, he was grateful.

Sebastian Adams, was  a formidable man, but the guy, was also a klutz. No really, the first time they met, the guy had been rushing to shake him by the hand, and had tripped over two other people. the situation would have been hilarious had the man not burst into tears.

Utterly overwhelmed no doubt, his third child was in the hospital, it would give anyone anxiety.

But where Sebastian was a teddy bear of a man, his wife was scary.

What did say about his life, that he was always surrounded by terrifyingly scary women?

Shaking his head he, and nearly colliding with a wall, he took the next turn and slid to a dead stop, when he came across Matt Lanter and Jeffery Dickenson, heckling no other but Derek Hale.

"Back in town murderer?" Matt—creepy-Matt 2.0—drawled.

Seriously what was even up with that title?

"Or have you come back to have your cunt licked motherfucker?" Jeffery huffed.

And that didn’t even make sense? Stiles huffed internally.

Derek grit his teeth, and "I would seriously recommend shutting up", he warned gripping his knuckles in a fist that would make normal people bleed.

"Or what you going to kill me cocksucker, prove to everyone you're a murderer, tell you what...we won't say anything, if you get down on your knees and suck my cock faggot", he leered.

Stiles rolled his eyes, because what even?

"Don't touch me", Derek hissed when Dickenson groped him, and Stiles was done; especially when Matt moved forward and dragged his disturbingly unkempt nails, across Derek's neck, causing the older man to flinch back violently.

"Lanter!!! Dickenson!!!!" he growled low stomping over to the two juniors, "Touch him again, and I'll be the one breaking your limbs, and what's with that vile language?! Beacon Hills does not tolerate Homosexual slurs, get lost before I set Danny on you", he growled angrily, stopping a good three meters away.

"You can't take us Stilinski, and he can't help you, if lays a finger on us, we'll—"

Stiles let his book back down, gently, and he smirked no longer stomping forward, he glided forward, and in a voice he knew was devastatingly creepy. Tara and Jordan both hated it when he used it mostly to wheedle case information from them that they firmly scolded him on never using.

He moved with the precision of a man with a vendetta to strike terror in the hearts of others.

And he was aware of how his features twisted into an ugly rendition of pure evil.

Going by the boys and their paling pallor he laughed dryly, "Oh?" he asked with an ominous edge dripping over his words, "That's probably very true", he agreed, "Scrawny kid that I am, I have nothing over the muscular advantage you have, but you see, that's what makes this so delicious", he like a snake slithered through the tiny space between them, and caressed Matt's face, giggling a tad hysterically;

"No one would ever accuse little ol' me of hurting two muscular boys", he raked his nails down the tanned shoulders, "How could I when, my attacks were mere defensive? All I could do is claw my way away from two bullies trying to rape me", he whined low and painfully, as he all but fell on Dickenson, hand 'accidentally' hitting him across the face, the red imprint slapping against his face like a loud warning, "No, no, no", he pleaded brokenly, "Please, please, please, Jeffery", he sobbed with a mock whine, "Don't hurt me", he begged, as he pushed them both away, "I won't tell anyone", he sobbed and fell to his knees dramatically, arms up over ears curling in on himself.

Matt and Jeffery took a few wary steps back, scared and freaked out no doubt by his performance, but Stiles wasn't done yet, he looked up then, and smirked vindictively, "I could never take the two of you, and that's why I was so very badly hurt", he stood up then fluidly, knowing when to be confident in his stance, "Now I wonder what do you think Danny, Jackson or Lydia", he listed, "Would think about the Lacrosse team members who tried to assault the Sheriff's only son, and pushed him down, calling him a cocksucking faggot, and assaulted him?" he asked contemplatively, “Hm? Sports career Jocks like you, your future and all the money in the world, I wonder, Tsk, tsk, tsk”, he tutted shamefully, “What would your parents think?” he asked at last.

Mrs. Lanter was an Active—Holy God don’t even ask how active—Gay Rights Activist, ever since Caroline Lanter came out with pomp and circumstance. And Mr. and Mrs. Dickenson ran an unofficial Rape Victim Help Hotline service.

Turning to Derek he hummed, "What do you think? Juvie or Jail?" he asked curiously.

Both boys hissed angrily, "Shut up freak, we were only talking, we'll be going!" Matt said and both boys ran off.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

Derek huffed, and "You didn't have to scare them that badly", he scolded.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, peeved, and "Most people would just say Thank You", he rolled his eyes and retrieved his now sagging backpack.

"I wasn't asking for your help!" Derek huffed.

"Seriously?" Stiles glared, "Well you know what, you needed it, and next time for crying out loud don't make yourself such an easy target!!!" he growled angrily at the lack of gratitude.

"It's not any of your damn business, you don't have to always protect me, and I’m not a helpless baby!!!"

And oh... maybe Peter told him about his defense in Wolve’s diner.

"Then stop being such a defensive moron!!!" Stiles yelled at him, despite thinking about that.

"I wasn't being defensive", Derek growled, "I can take care of myself, I know how to take care of myself, I've been doing it for years, I was just unprepared", he protested a shaking hand went up to his neck as if to wipe away the residual taste of 'Bad Touch'

"So what if you can, accepting help or being grateful for help doesn't make you weak!!! Don't be such a Sourwolf!!!" he snapped suddenly feeling both overwhelmingly protective and damn near pissed off.

"A-a sour wolf?" Derek asked incredulous, shifting their conversation yet again, from angry to shock.

Stiles reared back defensively, "What?" he asked, "Shut up!!! I like wolves, okay!!!" he huffed and flushed for no apparent reason he could discern, and suddenly embarrassed he looked away, only then noting their surroundings.

"Why wolves?" Derek asked curiously.

"Why not wolves?" Stiles huffed defensively, "Wolves are cool okay!" he demanded Derek's attention, "They're loyal, and pack—family oriented, and smart, and they're protective and sweet and they're cute, and I've always liked them, even when I was a kid, and I told my mom and she said I was a good person if my favorite animal was a wolf, and I don't care what you think, wolves are cool, and you remind me of a wolf so shut up and accept it even though you're a Sourwolf", he stressed on the word 'sour' and stomped away, "Besides", he stopped, "You're in front of the library, you can read about how Awesome wolves are", he blushed, "My favorites are Wolves and the Wolf Myth in American Literature By S. K. Robisch and Promise of the Wolves (Wolf Chronicles #1) by Dorothy Hearst ", he snapped informatively, and stalked away.

And as soon as he rounded the corner, proceeded to bash his head against the wall, muttering, “Stupid, Stupid, Stupid”, over and over again, until it sounded a lot like, ‘StupiStupidtupiStupitupid’. Whilst inwardly he was still whining at his childish words;

My favorite is Wolves and the Wolf Myth in American Literature By S. K. Robisch and Promise of the Wolves (Wolf Chronicles #1) by Dorothy Hearst …??? Seriously??? Of all the things to say, I go with my favorite books? On wolves, Oh My God, somebody shoot me now?!!!

“Mr. Stilinski!”

Stiles jumped and turned to find Mrs. Baxter watching him with a raised brow, of exasperation, “Ha, Ha Mrs. Baxter, you’re looking especially lovely today”, he smiled deliberately and cocked finger guns at her.

“Besides being late for our meeting why you are intent on destroying school property?” she asked put upon.

Striking a shockingly put upon figure, with one hand on her hip and her hipster glasses on the edge of her nose, and for some odd reason looked remarkably like a clipart cartoon, with the flowing pink dress and the ruler in her hand. Stiles would have laughed if he wasn’t so freaked out by her sudden appearance.

Stiles blinked, “Um…” he stepped away from the wall, and hummed clearing his throat and “You know, just recharging the few brain cells I have left”, he joked awkwardly.

“I see”, she deadpanned, “Well, if you’ve done that, shall we discuss your Senior Year Project?” she stated not so much asked.

Stiles cleared his throat, “Yes, yup, um yes”, he nodded a tad manically before sighing and nodding once more for old time’s sakes, and as he followed her he wondered;

I can’t catch a break, can I?

****

Derek watched as Stiles made his way around the corner and going by the persistent knock against the wall and the litany of ‘Stupidstupidstupid…’ echoed down the corridor he couldn’t help smiling ever so slightly.

Granted their first impression probably shouldn’t have started with awkwardness, topped with trading vicious barbs and ending with juvenile name-calling, but he was happy. As far as first impressions went, he was relieved, it hadn’t been overly bad.

But well he couldn’t help beating himself up;

Seriously? Snap at him Derek, brilliant job there, absolutely smashing! Somewhere every female I know or am related to; are most probably with no doubt rolling their eyes and sighing in exasperation, even if they don’t know why!!!!

“Mr. H-Hale?”

Derek looked up to see a tiny by all definitions, brunette girl with the darkest blue eyes he’d seen outside of any wolf’s pack, and wearing a pink floral sun dress, and a black cropped jacket—a shrug—if he remembered they were called. The girl was staring up at him nervously.

“Yes?” he ended up barking.

Dog references? God! I’ve sunk to an all new low!

“I-I, um…I c-can’t find the…” she squeaked trailing off warily, scent going from simply nervous to downright terrified, obviously his face was doing something as Cora lightly out it—serial Killer-y.

Inhaling once he shook his head, “What book?” he asked a little less dog-like.

“I-I c-can’t find the book on Geographical temperatures across the Lateral Lines, for my Geo C-class”, she trailed off again.

“Right”, he nodded, “I apologize, as I spent all of yesterday rearranging the library according to the Dewey Decimal System. You’ll find it in the point 7 row”, he politely pointed, and highly aware she just wanted to get part of the horrible ordeal over with, before she checked out the book.

She skedaddled, stopped thanked him without turning around, and ran off again.

Well it was a small gift.

Derek went back to the desk he was setting up before being interrupted by Creep-1 and Creep-2, shuddering at the phantom touch that still lingered he couldn’t help clawing that part of his neck, unaware as blood dripped steadily down his neck, and onto his Henley, it felt too much like the burns and shocks Kate had used against him, against who he was.

Shivering it took him awhile to stop and lower his hand staring at the blood on his hand, he clenched his eyes shut.

“You’re hurt!!!”

Startled by the sudden voice—a voice he thought had already seen him at his weakest—and was now right next to him, “Get the first aid kit!” it snapped.

There was a squeak.

“You idiot”, Stiles, because it was Stiles snapped, “Why didn’t you say you were hurt!” he snapped.

Derek blinked his eyes open, “What?” he stepped back almost losing his balance, he pushed his healing back to the edge, as his eyes flared and he desperately reined in his shock.

“Sit down before you fall you stupid Sourwolf!” he snapped and pushed him into a chair, “Thank you”, he stated to someone else, and this was all so disorienting.

“It’s just a scratch”, he protested trying to stand back up.

“Sit your ass down”, Stiles hissed, and pushed him back down, “Fucking Hell”, he growled and wrestled Derek’s shirt up and off.

The girl from before squeaked, and Derek sighed, “I’m fine”, he sighed, “Like I said it’s just a scratch and I’ll heal”, he stated, “You didn’t have to strip me”, he started to move again.

Stiles tightened his grip on his shoulder and growled—remarkably wolf like.

“I know you can heal you utter moron, we all heal. I’m just going to disinfect the wound, you utter twat!”

“Language Mr. Stilinski!!!”

“How many people are here?” he grumbled, “More importantly why can’t I see?” he grumbled.

“Because you’re an idiot and wiped your eyes with blood covered hands”, Stiles huffed, “Mrs. Baxter is here and Sana Sharma, she’s a Sophomore. Shut up and let me do my work”, he scowled.

“You’re angry?”

“Nope”, Stiles scent shifted, “I’m way beyond pissed off, I’m going to kill Lanter and Dickenson”, he whispered the names, before carrying on.

Derek jolted as a cold cloth of some sort with a disinfectant was applied to his scratches.

“Wow!” Sana whispered, “Those look remarkably like a dog clawed him or a cat”, she muttered.

Stiles snorted, “I always thought Matt was more pussy than man”, he snarled.

Sana squeaked.

“Quit scaring the sophomore”, Derek scolded hissing as Stiles pressed down in retribution.

“Says the Scary Librarian; I was absent a day and you already have a reputation, how did that even happen? You’re a freaking Teddy Bear”, he grumbled, and then shifted Derek’s chin, “Keep your eyes closed Der”, he whispered.

Derek’s heart beat jolted and a soft cloth softly but firmly dabbed across his eye-lashes, his eye lids, and his eyebrows.

“You can open your eyes now”, Stiles pulled the cloth away.

When Derek opened his eyes, he found Stiles practically straddling his lap.

“You are way too close”, he huffed amused.

“Don’t get used to it Big Guy”, Stiles flushed but then he froze.

“Stiles?”

Derek blinked as his hand lifted and as if in a trance Stiles cupped his cheek.

“What are you—”

Derek froze as Stiles leant forward and traced the edge of his skin, beneath his left eye, Stiles stared at him.

“Heterochromia”, he finally whispered after what felt forever.

Derek barely registered Stiles slide of his lap, Sana fill out a form on checking out a book, and Mrs. Baxter scolding Stiles about Public decency.

“What just happened?” he asked no one in particular.

“Hell if I know dude”.

Derek turned to find an exotic tanned youth staring at everything with utter shock.

“Who the hell are you?” he couldn’t help being abrupt.

“Danny my man!!!” Stiles grinned temporarily ignoring an exasperated Mrs. Baxter who was now helping Sana check out her book, “Tell me do you have a spare Tee for James Dean over here”, he flipped both thumbs at Derek who rolled his eyes, “Because Mrs. Baxter is starting to flip her shit and many girls are starting to drool”, he hummed, “Also nothing I own is likely to fit him, and I like my throat just wear it is”, he said in all one breath.

“Shut up Stiles, or I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth”, Derek huffed just about utterly done.

“Kinky”, Stiles smirked.

“You wish”, Derek retorted.

“Tempting”, Stiles hummed, “But I’m pretty sure Mrs. Baxter is about to have a conniption”, he grinned unabashedly.

“You’re a horrible person”, Danny muttered but handed Derek a Black Tee shirt, from the gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“I know”, Stiles agreed solemnly, “It keeps me awake at night”, he answered honestly.

"You-"

"Are a genius", Stiles nodded agreeing, "Also Piper Halliwell called, she wants her line back", he grinned evilly.

Derek growled low and dangerously.

Stiles rolled his eyes, "Oooh Scary", he shook his head and hummed.

Derek sighed defeated, "Simon Curtis had it right, you're El Diablo", he muttered.

"Well... I do try", he grinned all teeth.

Before Derek could counter attack-verbally-Sana turned to Derek then, “I-I hope you feel better”, and ran away.

“I am not that strict, she didn’t have to run away”, he grumbled.

“I beg to differ Der-bear”, Stiles sing-songed.

“Oh go away”, Derek huffed and turned to Mrs. Baxter, “Is there anything you need Mam?” he asked.

“Just to introduce you to Mr. Stilinski, he’ll be working with you in the library after school and between certain times in his school year. Mr. Stilinski had signed up for The Breakout Project”, she informed him kindly.

“Oh Man! Please tell me you didn’t?” Danny asked shocked.

Stiles scent shifted into a bitterness that made his nostrils sting at the acrid taste, “I did”, he stated.

“But why dude! That’ll practically isolate you from the group”, he stated shocked.

“And that’s new how?” Stiles asked curtly. “I was already isolated from the group. And it’s not like you’ve give a two second fuck, Mr. I-like-to-cuddle”, he hissed, “Mind your business Danny. Anyway Sourwolf, I’ll be reporting to you every day at three—”

“What the hell?! What about lacrosse???”

“—and at around noon, an hour before Lunch at least on Mondays”, he ignored Danny’s scandalized tone, “Wednesdays and Thursdays, I’ll probably try on Saturday too, but that depends on my Chemistry classes, or not, I’m not sure yet. I’ll probably be here on any breaks too, so get used to my sweet presence”, he smirked.

Derek nodded as he wrote down the dates, “What subject of The Breakout Project will you be studying?” he asked seriously.

Stiles hummed, “Criminal Law and Anthropology, I’ll probably look into something with Forensics too, but I mean I have ADHD so it’ll probably be best if I study all three, it’ll keep me focused mostly on at least two”, he listed signing up on the form Derek had handed him.

“Stiles—”

Stiles flinched but kept his back to the kid, and Derek inwardly sighed;

“Mr. Danny”, he paused, “If you need a book, I suggest looking for it and try not being a nuisance, if you would like to check out the book, you may come here and Mrs. Baxter will more than provide the assistance you may require. Would you excuse us?” he didn’t wait for an answer and strode into the office he’d been provided.

Stiles’ scent changed to relieved.

“Other than forensics may I suggest you study Medicine, Anthropology may cover that in a spectrum”, he advised getting right to it as soon as the door closed, he stood beside a white board with whatever was written on it-maybe he'd read it later...

“What’s the difference?” Stiles asked settling into a seat, “Is it just a strategic point of view?” he asked.

“Not particularly. I imagine you’re choosing a professional line of Law enforcement after graduation?”

Stiles nodded, hands fiddling with the thread on his torn skin-tight washed out black jeans.

“Well then medical basis should be covered, in case you were to ever end up in a situation that may require instant medical attention”, he quirked a sarcastic brow as he tapped his now band aid littered neck.

Stiles scowled, “Oh Ha-ha”, but he sobered, “I never really thought about it, but I’d like to work on it if I can fit it into my schedule. I have a basic understanding of the program but can you explain it to me anyway?” he asked seriously.

Derek nodded, “I was hired after the project was officially appointed and would only be provided to the student who cracked the cryptographic project we casually slipped into a Chemistry class. The idea was to see on how fast it would take any person to solve the puzzle. I was informed only one student cracked the code in Beacon Hills; we were given the details, of his name and address. Although for the life of me, I can’t pronounce your name to save my life”, he muttered.

“Just be glad you’ve had the privilege to have seen it. Call me Stiles or Stilinski, I don’t mind”, he stated clearly.

“Understood”, he nodded, “The Breakout Project has now started in at least seven schools nationwide. The first code was cracked by a friend of mine, she was the little sister of a roommate of mine, and well she’s gifted to say the least. The second was selected in Ohio, the third in Wisconsin, the fourth Colorado, you’re our seventh, after New England and just on the edge of Alabama”, he counted.

“We’ve dubbed the project The Breakout Project—not very original—but the point was to help the ones who needed a chance to breakout from a situation they couldn’t shake otherwise. An opportunistic moment gamble, they would be given a chance to study subjects not in the curriculum of a standard school system that was a yearlong. And free. These subjects are taught online mostly by only those seven teachers hired and via a group skype session, only the teachers have access to the skype sessions. A student is allowed to leave the project at any time. The qualifying exam is taken by an overseer to whom I and my fellow colleagues answer to directly. We belong to a hierarchy within the Mentorship program offered in NYU, I understand you were accepted?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, “I have a question”, and he hummed.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“Does this mean I give two exams? The traditional finals and the Mentorship Entrance Exam Part 2?” he asked.

“No. Given you’ve already been accepted you won’t need to give the Entrance exam, speaking of, were you bored when you gave the exam in LA?” he asked, curiously. Despite

“Yes”, he answered simply.

Impressive...

“You can give the High School exam then if you want. The reason you would be studying three subjects are the subjects provided for the first semester of the stream you choose. It allows you to be ahead of the rest of your class and an opportunity to graduate early”, Derek informed.

“Can I summarize? It helps me get a clear grasp if I bullet point my thoughts”, he requested, looking and sounding utterly done.

“Please”, Derek insisted instead of the alternate where he would only end up throttling the idiot.

“Okay;

• You and six other people are a part of a Hierarchy at the Mentorship program I was accepted into?
• You and six others are mentors to six-seven special students who solved a puzzle secretly added into a High School Chemistry class?
• You will be heading The Breakout Project in Beacon Hills, personally me.
• We will be spending a lot of time together.
• I don’t have to give the final exams at the High school, but I am allowed to get a final GED based exam, to calculate my GPA.
• I have already been accepted into the Mentorship Program, and I don’t have to give another Entrance exam.
• The idea for my attendance with you in The Breakout Project is to be ahead of normal students at the University.
• The Mentorship Program is only valid in NYU.
• You are my instructor, my mentor?
• I can choose to not go to any of my other classes and I can stay here—with you in the Library?

Derek hummed, “Firstly yes, We’re known as The Seven—boring name as hell—I will be mentoring you that is correct, you don’t have to spend all your time with me—mostly because that might be difficult to explain to my family since they don’t know I’m a graduated member of NYU or a faculty member, or a decorated officer of the Law, a fact I’d like you to keep a tighter than tight lid on. The mentorship Program is a two way street, we keep each other’s secrets. It is only valid in NYU, you can choose to not go to any of your classes, you won’t be serving any detention, and you however will be isolated from the rest of your friends, are you okay with that?” he asked once.

Stiles nodded, “I am aware yes”, and he answered with another nod.

Derek paused, “I won’t pretend or lie to know your circumstances, but you have an allotted time for at least three weeks before you make your decision, you are allowed to think about it some more”, he advised gently.

Stiles opened his mouth to retort but then swallowed, “I—” he swallowed again, and muttered under breath about frogs, but inhaling once he exhaled and continued the pattern.

Derek let him take his time.

“Have you ever been a part of—” he cleared his throat, “D-Do you know in wolf packs, when a wolf even though a part of a pack is isolated from the pack they’re considered Omegas?” he asked.

Derek nodded.

“It’s not really true. Omegas are wolves that stabilize a pack, however Lone wolves are wolves cut off from their own pack, and even if their pack is near, they still feel no connection to them. In that case they always choose one of three options. To find a new pack, to stay close but not overstep, or three travel the world alone. I—” he swallowed, “I don’t want to travel alone, and I don’t want to stay close and pray someone will notice me, because I’ve given them all the chances on the planet, and I”, he shook his head, “I am so utterly done with everything”, he whispered.

Derek stood up and crouched before him, “Stiles? Do you want to be in my pack?” he asked with a curious lilt to his mouth. A not there smile.

“Yes, please”, he whimpered.

Derek smirked, “Okay”, he exhaled once, “Then I think there’s something you should know”, he stated seriously.

Stiles blinked warily, “Okay?” he asked.

*

It took Derek ten minutes to log into his system, and turn the laptop over to him, “I imagine the moniker Black Wolf Diaries means something to you?” he asked.

Stiles stood up in shock, the chair he’d been sitting on scuttled back and fell to the ground with a thump, as he shot forward.

“How the—what the hell??” he slammed forward and pulled the laptop closer, he whined then, as his saw all entries online.

“Before you panic, I have not read one word on this site, that aside it’s not my business, but it was brought to my attention by a friend, her name is Darla, who was looking up something for me. I’d asked her to track any global outbreaks of any Hale’s related to my family, and if they were online or on any news platform—I’m rather protective of my family, especially after The Almost Hale Fire, if you remember?” he paused.

Stiles nodded eyes on him.

“You had apparently written about my family and it’d pinged upon her servers. For that I apologize. She read it”, he informed

Stiles exhaled, eyes watering, “And you haven’t read it?” he asked quietly.

“Stiles your private thoughts are as the words suggest your PRIVATE thoughts”, he stated clearly, “I will never sink so low as to read another person’s thoughts, I already have an annoying situation I was born with”, he looked away as Stiles scent went through a cycle—anger, shock, pain, fear, hurt, wariness, a curious vindictive bitterness, and a strange culmination of relief.

“The point is, I won’t read it”, he continued and closed the lid, leaving just a tiny gap, “You have the choice to take it offline or delete it, and really do whatever you want, it is yours after all”, he stepped back away from the computer.

Neither of them moved for several seconds.

“Hey Derek?” Stiles whispered after a bit, “I want you to read it”, he whispered.

“Stiles I can’t”, Derek pushed away, “You can—actually—you should really take it offline”, he offered.

“Actually I want to keep it online”, Stiles whispered.

Derek stared at him;

What…

***XX***

Chapter Text

The Timeline of this story must be baffling, and now I’m ready to finally answer all your questions.

Well almost all your questions;

First of all, the basis of this story is set in an Alternative World (Obviously). Only those connected to the Supernatural world know of it, literally no one else. At all…

Those in the know are as follows. Although I think I’ve already listed the characters in the know.

WEREWOLVES IN THE HALE PACK:

Talia Hale>> Alpha Hale (Prominently known)

James Hale>> Human

Alex Hale>> Beta Wolf to Talia

Laura Hale>> Beta Wolf (Alpha to be of Talia Hale’s Pack)

Olivia Hale>> Beta Wolf

Ivory Hale>> Witch (Under Training 17 Years old)

Tristan Hale>> Warlock (Under Training 23 Years old)

Iris Hale>> Head Witch to the Hale Pack

Ella Simmons Hale>> Witch married into Hale Pack (Alex’s wife)

WEREWOLVES IN THE DEREK HALE’s PACK:

Derek Hale>> Rougarou Alpha (Currently Unknown)

Peter Hale>> Beta Wolf to Derek

Cora Hale>> Beta Wolf to Derek

Gemma Hale>> Empath to Derek’s Pack

HUMAN’S IN THE HALE PACK:

Vernon Boyd

Alan Deaton>> Druid Emissary to Talia Hale’s pack

Mason>> Human (Yet to be introduced)

WEREWOLVES/SUPERNATURAL ADOPTED INTO THE HALE PACK:

Isaac Lahey>> Human (Currently) to Talia Hale’s Pack

Lydia Martin>> Banshee to Talia’s Hale

Liam Dunbar>> Beta Wolf

Ethan Carver-Caster>> Beta Wolf

Aiden Carver-Caster>> Beta Wolf

Erica Reyes>> Beta Wolf (Currently undergoing training—yet to be introduced)

Brett Talbot>> Beta Wolf

WOLF PACK ALLIANCES:

Alpha Pack (Different History. Deucalion [Emissary—Morell], Kali [Emissary –Julia Baccari], Ennis [Emissary—Damien Blake])

Satomi’s Pack

Yukimura Kitsune Clan

Now to understand those who Stiles will soon shun, even if everything coalesces to drive him damn near insane with shock>> because really, in Stiles’ defense he really didn’t know people in Beacon Hills gave a shit about him.

Stiles’ Previous Circle:

Scot McCall

Allison Argent

Lydia Martin

Jackson Whittemore

Danny Mahealani

Melissa McCall

Stiles’ Circle:

Sheriff Stilinski

Masha Stilinski Averson>> Sheriff’s sister ten years his junior

Axel Averson >> Sheriff’s Brother-in-law

Dean Averson>> Stiles’ five year old Cousin (Mentioned)

Caitlyn Adams>> Stiles’ crush

And I will introduce others later.

Now the timeline is based on the fact that THERE ARE A LOT of secrets. So many, so many, so freaking many; the main ones are:

A). Derek is an Alpha, you’ve all read the tiny parts where his eyes flash a distinct sunset red, reasons currently not given.

B). Stiles doesn’t know Magic exists or that he is a child of a very powerful mage from his mother and father’s side.

C). Gemma is an Empath and can feel most currents and Ley Lines, and is powerful on par with Stiles, even Deaton can’t train her.

D). Stiles is important.

AGES:

Stiles’ age in canon is said to be 8^th April of either 1995 or 1996 (which makes him either 19 or 20 respectively). Unfortunately for the sake of my sanity and unfortunately for this story, his age is 18 and birthday is 08-04-1997.

Derek’s age is either 7^th November 1988 (which makes him 23) or as others say he’s a Christmas baby, and awesome as that may be, I think Derek makes a pretty awesome Scorpio! Like me. And I need him to be 23 for this story.

So, Stiles (18) and Derek (23).

Chapter 15: On The Line

Key for this chapter:

Stiles’ Thoughts

Diary Entries/Anyone else’ thoughts

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Wednesday 2^nd September, 2015,

Three PM

Derek blinked as he stared at the human, his senses literally all over the place.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you, you want me to read your diary and keep it online?” he asked shocked, “As a baby did someone drop you on your skull a lot? Although if it’s you, you probably walked into a lot of walls right?” he wondered in jest.

Stiles flushed, “Shut up”, and then he huffed, “Well when you put it like that, God it sounds so girly, but yes, I would like if you read it, no secrets right?” he asked at the end.

“Stiles aren’t you supposed to take it off the damn site?” Derek couldn’t help but ask instead.

“It’s not like anyone in Beacon Hills would actually read it, it’s a teenager’s angst. Trust me, these people have known me since I was a baby”, he pointed out carefully.

“And yet my sisters are reading it”, Derek pointed out.

Stiles winced, “No. Wait, seriously?” he squeaked though he remained intrigued despite everything.

“In your defense, they don’t actually know you at all, though Cora has met you once”, Derek muttered almost off handedly.

Stiles exhaled after a while.

“This may sound ridiculously vain, but I want people to know what I’m writing. I’ve always been known to be absolutely brutal when I’m being honest. And the point for Black Wolf Diaries was to be honest. I want to keep it online. It feels good—for me, to me, therapeutic, beneficial in certain ways. Thing is I also want to know how many people will break my trust and how many I can open up to, does that make sense?” he asked.

“In a very cruel way, yes”, Derek answered honestly.

“Does my dad know?” he asked.

Derek nodded, highly aware of the scent changing from normal to something acrid and painful, “But I know he doesn’t want to do anything, because he believes its time people learn who you are. And it’s time people give a shit about you”, he informed.

“Well that’s never going to happen. And I guess the only reason your sisters are even reading it is because it was published on a Global scale and not so much on a local scale. I figure when your sisters probably started reading it, they were in New York at the time. The timeline seems to fit. Gemma said you were coming back then. The point Derek, the point is, until it doesn’t become a problem, a necessary trick of delinquency. Something I, we can’t handle, I’d like to keep it up and on the line. Alive as they say”, he grinned weakly having somehow forced the words out.

“You understand you’ll be airing more than your dirty laundry so to speak?” he warned.

“I am aware. I want to, I want—”

“To let people know how much you’ve been hurt”, Derek whispered.

Stiles looked up sharply and he stared at him for what felt forever before he nodded in agreement;

“Yes”, he agreed and then he shuddered;

“Oh God! Danny was right, I really am a horrible person, I’m the worst, I can’t believe this, and I want to actually hurt—”

“Stiles”, Derek started as his scent filled the space with wretched painful heart wrenching sorrow;

“—people, I want them to know how much the pain I’ve been dealt is deep, and I am the worst, the act—”

“Stiles”, he hissed as the kid’s panic seized his breath.

“—ual worst and I should be stoned to death and maybe I deserve their wrath and everyone’s curs—”

“Stiles!!!!”

SLAM!!!!

Derek slammed him—gently—against the office door with a harsh thud, which resounded heavily in the room, echoing briefly around them. “Stop. Talking!” he ordered and then he looked down at their comprising position and already knew Stiles was going to comment, “If you say one word—” he hissed.

“Oh like what, Derek Hale has me up against a door… bring the pitchforks?” he snarked back. Heart rate, strangely enough, calming, the shock no doubt stemming the panic.

Derek stared at him, even as they breathed in each other’s air, this human, has always had the unfair advantage of rendering him utterly speechless, and that was when he hadn’t even met the brat.

Sigh…

Straightening his shirt for wont of anything better to do, he stepped back and watched with a tense air as Stiles returned the favor, straightening his Leather jacket.

“You know for a teacher you sure dress up all bad-boy esque”, he murmured almost inaudibly.

“It suits me, the same way any color of red suits you”, he let his hand fall onto his neck, scent marking his pulse, slowly bringing his fingers to the edge of Stiles’ V-neck red sweatshirt, he felt himself leaning imperceptibly closer.

.

.

.

.

Knock, knock

Derek blinked, his eyes flashing beneath his lids—control was becoming something of a past memory—as he pulled his eyes away from the pulse point he wanted to nibble on—and Holy God!!!

“Sorry”, he hissed and looked away. “Who is it?” he asked aware of how strangled his voice sounded.

“It’s me Mr. Hale, are you and Mr. Stilinski just about done?” Mrs. Baxter asked.

Derek’s eyes slid to Stiles who was flushed and reeking of deep seated arousal, and panic, and relief???

The human made no sense.

Derek stepped away from Stiles, and continued walking backwards even as he answered, “We need another few minutes, I’m”, he swallowed, “Highlighting the curriculum”, he informed.

Mrs. Baxter hummed, “Very well”, she agreed, “Then I shall wait ten more minutes or so...”, she stated.

*

It took exactly five minutes for them both to calm down, and will away their respective hard-ons.

And Jesus when the hell did him fall so deeply in lust with the kid…?

Derek knew he was important, and an anchor, his mate, but he’d never thought he’d be attracted to him in any other way than in a primal wolf-bond way.

Seriously what the hell was going on?

That he wanted to sink his teeth into the juncture of his neck, and take and ravish him.

Fuck…

He was so screwed!

Clearing his throat, he forced himself to address Stiles who seemed to be back to normal; apparently teenagers knew how to control lust related impulse controls. Well if Stiles was anything like Tristan and himself, had been when they were teens, they could be turned on by anything.

Derek didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved about the fact.

“I’ll give you three weeks just in case you choose to not completely isolate yourself from your classmates and friends, in case you do not need the time—”

Because who was he kidding Stiles had already cut himself off from everyone. He worked on the basic instinct forgiveness was everything, and he’d already given all the doubts, benefit and or otherwise. So he continued in the same breath regardless;

“—the schedule and class regime for The Breakout Project if you choose to exempt from school, will begin at two every day. You will report here at two on the dot”, he informed him.

Stiles nodded, “Besides Theory is there any practical subjects?” he asked enquiringly.

“Martial Arts, Tae Bo, Ballroom Dancing, and at all times, there will be a few field excursions, on varied subjects. You will be given homework and assignments in regard to your work”, he listed and handed him a few pamphlets.

“Understood. I guess that’ll be all for now?” he asked.

“Yes”, Derek stood up.

“Derek”, Stiles paused as he picked up his bag, “I wasn’t lying”, he stated.

Confused, Derek asked;

“About?”

“You, I would let you read my diary. You have my explicit permission to read it, even if you do not wish to. I’m just saying”, he stated once clearly and then opened the door, and walked out.

Derek sighed, “You are impossible”, he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah”, he waved his hand lightly.

“Mr. Stilinski, manners for crying out loud young man!!!” Mrs. Baxter scolded.

“Sssshhhh”, Stiles hissed, “This is a Library. Silence is Golden”, and he winked obnoxiously before dashing out of the room.

Mrs. Baxter sighed, “Well you’ll have your hands full Mr. Hale. Good Luck!” she clapped him on the shoulder and strode off.

“Well at least it’ll never be boring”, he muttered.

Mrs. Baxter laughed, “With Stiles? That’s a guarantee”, she smiled kindly, “Welcome Home Kiddo”, and then she left him stunned;

Apparently the water supply has been changed? Or maybe it’s spiked!

****

Stiles stared at his dad for what must have felt like eons but was actually just a few seconds.

“You okay kid?” John asked putting his pen down.

“I’m okay. I was just thinking about something”, he paused swallowed audibly and then sighed, “You love me right?” he asked softly.

John blinked at him and then closed the file he was reading and walked to wards him, sitting beside him, he frowned, and “You know I do”, he whispered cautiously, “Why? Did something, happen kiddo?” he asked softly.

“I—” he shook his head, “No nothing happened. I just needed to tell you some things, and I guess I was feeling insecure”, he whispered.

John clenched his fists, “Stiles you do know you have an eloquent vocabulary at the best of times, and mostly at the worst of times”, he grinned.

Stiles smirked, “I know”, he agreed.

“And though at times we really don’t see eye to eye, you know that if there was something of yours that needed protecting—even from you—I would hold on to that right?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, “But, what if it was important to me knowing?” he asked quietly, amber-whiskey eyes searched his.

Oh. God! He knew…

“You could confront me, and I could tell you”, he stated clearly.

“But I don’t want to, am I selfish for making you carry my burdens?” he asked—voice brittle and almost broken.

“No, no, Stiles… Gosh you’re my kid; you’re entitled to being as Selfish as much as you want, because my darling son, you are my most precious gift. But Stiles, you keep insisting we’re a team, mostly forcing me on a Bunny diet”, he rolled his eyes, “So, you can agree with me, even if we keep secrets we’re protecting each other, right?” he asked carefully.

Stiles traced the curved scratch on their kitchen table (the scratch always lightened both their minds, sometimes. It had been Claudia’s fault, she chucked it the minute she spotted a mouse and shrieked bloody murder, the knife all but flying through the air and ending up buried in the wood, all the while Stiles was running around chasing the lost mouse shrieking, ‘Look dad, its Mickey mouse!!!’ It amused Stiles and John till this day, because most Days Claudia seemed invincible right until she passed on, only to scream bloody murder in vicinity of cockroaches and mice, it had always been damn near pant-wetting hilarious!), contemplatively before answering after a few seconds too long;

“But Secrets aren’t a good thing”, he said.

“Sometimes, they’re the best kept ones that guide others to experience or witness greatness”, John hummed, “Your mother told me that once”, he stated.

“Mom did?” Stiles perked up.

John felt his heart clench.

God, when had he last spoken about his wife?

Going and judging by Stiles expression he may have shut down so much about Claudia, it almost seemed as if Stiles had been gifted a precious jewel.

“Oh Yeah”, he cleared his throat; “Never let it be said your mom couldn’t keep a secret. She was quite the secret keeper, oh we had fights about her secrets, yelled and screamed and laughed and cried about all the ways we drove each other mental. I remember it was about a year after you were born, you were this toddler crawling about and your mom hid it from me that I missed your first attempted to walk steps, of course you crashed into the coffee table and got a nasty scratch on your forearm, and she kept you in full sleeves until finally you entered your I hate clothes phase and tore ‘em off. Now, imagine my shock when I find my two year old kid, with a scar on his left forearm, in the shape of, and here’s the kicker kiddo—”

“A paw print”, Stiles pulled his hand up, “What the—how?” he stared at his wrist.

“We did own a coffee table with a smattering of paw prints, your mom bought it at a flea market. It was made of Rowan wood or something. Do you remember me walking you into the study and switching on Cartoons?” he asked.

Stiles shook his head.

“Your mom and I had a fight and that’s when she yelled, ‘For crying out loud John, he’s been marked so what, it’s not the end of the world, he’s my special boy. He’s going to grow up terrifying and do great things!!!’ end quote”, he huffed.

“But, but, what does that have to do with secrets?” Stiles asked baffled.

“Exactly what I asked kiddo, and she smirked all spiteful and hummed mysteriously, ‘The best kept secrets are the ones that guide others to experience or witness greatness’, which well, you kind of plodded up the stairs somehow (and Jesus kid, that scared us both. You were two for crying out loud! How did you even get out of a locked room?) And opened the door, and screamed ‘FOOD’, and that fight went away”, he shook his head, almost amused by the turn of events.

“Well with a Secret Keeper I guess you needed a peacemaker around”, he grinned sarcastically.

“Kid, you are every bit the peacemaker you don’t think you are, and really I salute you”, John stated very seriously.

Stiles flushed and then hummed, “Then to keeping secrets”, he raised his OJ bottle.

John pulled him in for a hug, “People need to learn”, he whispered.

(A/N: Please just imagine the clothes and hairstyles are the same as in the story!!!!!)

“People haven’t given a shit ever”, Stiles pointed out.

John sighed, “Maybe it’s about time they learn to”, he ruffled his kid’s head, “Stiles, you’re a hero and a gentleman, and a Guardian and a warrior, and mostly you’re my kid, my precious gift”, he hummed.

“Have you—”, he choked and stopped.

But John understood and shook his head, “No”; he answered clearly, “No one has, except Laura. But she had already read a few before she realized who you were”, he specified.

“You should read it then”, Stiles said.

“You’re not stopping then?” John wondered.

“No. I want them to see I guess”, he huffed weakly.

“I forgot to mention you’re too damn brave”, he sighed and squeezed his kid and released him.

“And selfish”, Stiles added cheekily.

John cuffed him gently, “And that”, he agreed. “So”, he started after a beat of enjoying a rare silence, “You wanted to talk to me about something?” he asked.

“Yes”, Stiles sat his bottled down, “The Breakout Project”, he started.

“The what?”

Inhaling Stiles nodded once, “Last year at the end of the year final exams, Professor Anna McClain, added a question in the Chemistry paper, which Lydia—adamantly vexed about being the mother of all sins”, he stated.

“Why?” John asked quizzically, having no idea where his son was going with this.

“Because it wasn’t a part of any curriculum we ever studied, and with good reason. It wasn’t a Chemistry question, more of a puzzle actually”, he explained.

“A puzzle?”

“To be specific it was a calculated composition of a car bomb”, he answered.

“What?!!!” John stood up.

Stiles stood and pushed him back down. An act he conceded to, given his legs practically turning into noodles.

American Schools were dangerous…

“Which all the students got wrong, even those who answered it. One of the reasons Lydia went into a tizzy. The calculated chemical compounds are similar to a Molotov cocktail, but the question wasn’t based on its Chemical structure, but was a question on how to dismantle and or disrupt the Chemical field on which it was based. No Student of a normal Chemistry or AP Chemistry class would have known the answer to that question, and especially no one who studied Chemistry at School or college. The composition, on which it’s based, is only ever explained to Bomb Squad members. Army or Local enforcement”, he clarified.

“Why put it in an exam questionnaire?” John asked stupefied.

“Because of The Breakout Project, let me explain”, he took a sip, “The first thing is it’s a first step enrollment program for any of the colleges linked with The Best Schools in Law Enforcement, including the NYPD, Scotland Yard, Interpol, The FBI, Russian Secret Service, etc. The puzzle was placed and I solved it. It wasn’t until later I realized what it was for”, he huffed.

“And what is it?” John asked half wary half curious.

“Entrance Exam for the Mentorship Program in the Criminology Division, at New York University”, he answered,

“The what?” John gaped.

“I got in, I don’t have to worry about colleges, apparently not having much friends to distract you, gives you ample time to give entrance exams. I have acceptance letters for Berkeley, NYU, Cambridge (UK) and UCLA. I could choose any other one, if NYU is too far”, he muttered quietly.

“Let’s talk about the Mentorship Program in the Criminology Division, at New York University and The Breakout Project first, kiddo?”

“TBP (easier to say), is like I said the first step, to the Mentorship Program in the Criminology Division, at New York University, and that’s a mouthful, let’s just say NYU for now, eh?” he begged.

“Agreed. Continue”, John ordered.

“I have a mentor, a top notch Detective. Head Detective, on leave after he got shot (forced to take leave—and I can almost imagine how that would have gone down. Ha ha)”, he shrugged amused, “He’s my mentor”, Stiles handed him a file, “Derek Hale”, he informed.

“Derek? Hale? Neither James nor Talia ever mentioned he was a cop” John croaked.

“That would be because they don’t know. Technically no one knows. I was given permission to tell you because I asked. I’m allowed to tell one person only, I chose you naturally”, he rolled his eyes and went to get him a glass of water.

John felt inexplicably proud at that moment, but he hid it well.

“Why is it a secret?” John asked instead.

“Family tension, I don’t know the Hales and I won’t pretend I do, but there has been tension between them ever since the Almost Hale Fire. I’ve met Laura, Gemma, Iris, James, Tristan, Ella Simmons Hale, and Derek. And what I’ve managed to gather so far is despite being twins, Tristan and Derek are not close, Tristan loathes his brother on the basis of maybe Derek not confiding in him about Kate, or grieving with him regarding Paige”, he paused,

“I’m going to guess it’s due to Kate. According to the reports on that case, Kate had him isolated from everyone else, after his girlfriend died. It cut him off further from his siblings and parents, and what I can garner he was sent away straight after. I don’t pretend to understand their reasoning so I won’t condemn their logic, but the whole family pushed him away. I imagine he kept his distance”, he shrugged and handed him a glass of Jack.

John watched Stiles carefully.

“Take it from someone who understand being pushed away, sometimes, the walls we build around us, can’t be broken by ourselves”, he swallowed.

“Stiles”, John grit out.

“It’s okay Dad, I found something better, and something I understand. A good pack”, he grinned.

“Ah wolves again, been awhile since I heard you talked about wolves. You stopped I think after you turned eleven”, he hummed.

“I have a good reason behind that, maybe someday I’ll tell you about it”, he conceded.  

“I’ll wait. Moving on, what will you; be doing, in TBP?” he asked feeling silly as he abbreviated the project title.

“Studying mostly, I don’t have to take the senior exam, but if I choose I can take a GED exam and calculate my Final GPA score. In TBP I’ll be taking a group Skype-based lecture with six other individual and mentors across US Soil. I have a few subjects outlined for the first semester. It allows me to be a little ahead of the class in general. Beside the Theory we have the exams of Martial Arts, Dancing of all things”; he shook his head rolling his eyes, “Field excursions, Tai chi, meditation, etc. Aside from that, I have the added responsibility to keep it all under wraps. According to the rest of the school TBP is a boring job as a Librarian and school will be night classes, an internship in Library science under Head Librarian Derek Hale”, he nodded at what was no doubt his disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” John gawked.

“Nope”, he answered, popping the ‘p’.

“But why?” John asked.

“The Mentorship Program in the Criminology Division, at New York University was offered to only seven students, it may cause unnecessary problems. Also the mentors are prominent cops, fixers, detectives, Interpol agents or currently undercover professionals. I already signed the legal documentation sealing all secrets in”, he informed.

“You made up your mind then?” he asked.

“Yes”, he answered.

“Good. I’m very proud of you Stiles, and I know your mother is up there throwing confetti around and rejoicing with the angels yelling that’s my son, that’s mine!!!” John laughed.

Stiles grinned blindingly, “Thanks dad”, he hugged him then.  

John grinned and pulled back. “But, I’d like to meet this Librarian fellow of yours”, he huffed with a no nonsense tone.

Stiles snorted. “First of all he isn’t my fellow anything—and seriously what are you, an eighteenth century dame? Who says fellow anymore? Second of all I think he lives downtown in an Industrial Loft, I get to sometimes bunk there if the situation fits, and mostly because he has a secluded space for my martial arts, and I’m not comfortable at school or the public Gym”, he grinned excitedly, “Thirdly he has to be the worst Librarian ever, the Sourwolf arranged the Library according to the Dewey decimal System, half the school including Mrs. Baxter can’t find any books”, he grumbled.

He continued grumbling though John was amused, he was wary of the fondness his son used when talking about Derek, and more importantly;

Sourwolf? What the hell??

***x*x***

Chapter Text

AGES:

Stiles’ age in canon is said to be 8^th April of either 1995 or 1996 (which makes him either 19 or 20 respectively). Unfortunately for the sake of my sanity and unfortunately for this story, his age is 18 and birthday is 08-04-1997.

Derek’s age is either 7^th November 1988 (which makes him 23) or as others say he’s a Christmas baby, and awesome as that may be, I think Derek makes a pretty awesome Scorpio! Like me. And I need him to be 23 for this story.

So, Stiles (18) and Derek (23).

 Chapter 16: Old Married Couple

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Monday 7^th September, 2015,

Two PM

“The theory of relativity isn’t based on the subjectivity of Time!”

Derek growled, “I know that, Albert Einstein, in his theory of special relativity, determined that the laws of physics are the same for all non-accelerating observers, and he showed that the speed of light within a vacuum is the same no matter the speed at which an observer travels”, he explained tersely.

“Then why do you keep stating it’s based on time?!” Stiles snapped angrily.

“Because you incompetent brat! Measurements of various quantities are relative to the velocities of observers. In particular, space contracts and time dilates. Space-time: space and time should be considered together and in relation to each other. The speed of light is nonetheless invariant, the same for all observers”, he snapped.

“Um… excuse me?” a timid voice tried to garner their attention as the two men argued loudly and passionately, in the High School Library.

“Well that entirely depends on which study one is studying”, Stiles pointed.

“And that’s exactly what I said!” Derek hissed exasperated.

“No, no you stated that they were the same thing, whereas the theory of relativity was representative of more than a single new physical theory. There are some explanations for this. First, special relativity was published in 1905, and the final form of general relativity was published in 1916.

Second, special relativity applies to elementary particles and their interactions, whereas general relativity applies to the cosmological and astrophysical realm, including astronomy.

Third, special relativity was accepted in the physics community by 1920. This theory rapidly became a significant and necessary tool for theorists and experimentalists in the new fields of atomic physics, nuclear physics, and quantum mechanics. Conversely, general relativity did not appear to be as useful. There appeared to be little applicability for experimentalists as most applications were for astronomical scales. It seemed limited to only making minor corrections to predictions of Newtonian gravitation theory", he explained thoroughly.

“Uh… Hello?” Caitlyn Adams, a young woman with short blonde hair tried to get their attention, “Is it just me or do they sound—”

“—like an old married couple?” her friend Alicia Winters huffed amused, “You have no idea”, she giggled as she watched Derek his hand down on the table and leaned so far into Stiles’ space, it was practically indecent.

"By that definition, bunch of definitions really; it's exactly the same thing. I told you, the mathematics of general relativity appeared to be very difficult. Consequently, it was thought that a small number of people in the world, at that time, could fully understand the theory in detail, but this has been discredited by Richard Feynman. Then, at around 1960 a critical resurgence in interest occurred which has resulted in making general relativity central to physics and astronomy. New mathematical techniques applicable to the study of general relativity substantially streamlined calculations. From this, physically discernible concepts were isolated from the mathematical complexity. Also, the discovery of exotic astronomical phenomena, in which general relativity was relevant, helped to catalyze this resurgence, and really has anyone ever mentioned how insufferable you are?

The astronomical phenomena included quasars (1963), the 3-kelvin microwave background radiation (1965), pulsars (1967), and the discovery of the first black hole candidates (1981)", Derek argued relentlessly.

"What the Hell then, does this have anything to do with Cultural Anthropology???”

“I wasn’t the one who stated it had anything to do with Cultural Anthropology in the first place, I only started on the Goddamn definition that Anthropology is the study of humans, past and present. To understand the full sweep and complexity of cultures across all of human history, anthropology draws and builds upon knowledge from the social and biological sciences as well as the humanities and physical sciences. And that’s when you started arguing on the basis of the Theory of Relativity!!!” he snapped huffing breathlessly.

 “Oh my God!!! EXECUSE ME!!!”

“What?!!!” They both snapped and blinked at the blonde and her friend.

Caitlyn raised a brow, “I’m trying to look for the book on Sociological Changes in Society?” she requested quietly, “I can’t find it”, she whispered at their twin glares.

“It’s in the point Two-O’s and under SC”, they answered in unison.

“O-Okay”, she stuttered, and took a step back at their twin glares, and “I’ll just go look for it then”, she nodded and walked off dragging Alicia with her.

Alicia snickered, “I kind of feel like a scolded kid”, she giggled.

“Fine”, Stiles muttered, “I admit I went down a long line of questioning, you didn’t have to encourage me!” he snapped.

“Now you’re pissed off at me, for engaging you? Jeez what do you want you damn brat?” Derek whined.

“Shut up and answer the question, Sourwolf!!!”

“And they have cutesy nicknames for each other”, Caitlyn giggled as she found the book and took it off the shelf, their voices reaching her despite the distance.

Alicia agreed quietly snickering into her scarf.

“What question?” Derek huffed utterly done with everything.

“You know what I forgot”, Stiles paused, “Anyway do you your damn job, I’ll figure out what it was, and then I’m going to come back and pick your damn brain!!!” he stomped his foot once and stalked off.

“Well take your damn time!!!” Derek retorted just about done with everything.

“I will”, Stiles growled.

“Thank you!!!” Derek yelled after him.

“Um…”

“What?” Derek snapped turning back to the girl now in front of him.

“My name’s Caitlyn, and I’d like to take this book”, she lifted the book and hummed, “If you and Stiles are done verbally killing each other, could I have you help me issue it out?” she snarked.

“Why am I here?” Derek whined pitifully staring at her, “I was Happy in New York you know, blissful, sure I was lonely, but I didn’t have an immature brat drive me completely mental every five fucking minutes!!!” he yelled even as he grabbed the book from Caitlyn and issued it out.

“And you should be thanking me; I make your life interesting!!!”

“At what cost? My sanity is not your playground!!!”

“I beg to differ!!!”

“Shut up, Stiles!!!”

“Um…” Caitlyn raised her hand, “Book?” she asked.

Derek thrust it at her, “Did you know, I was born on a November 7^th, I’m a scorpion, we’re vindictive people, so tell me why, seriously, why have I not throttled this damn brat?!!!” he asked.

Caitlyn bit her lip to stop the giggles from escaping and shook her head, “No idea”, she squeaked.

“You”, he growled, “Are a terrible liar, a liar who lies”, he stated simply.

“Oi, Scary Librarian!!!”

Caitlyn, Alicia and Derek looked up to find Stiles stalking forward, “First quit scaring Caitlyn, secondly, I need help”, he promptly ignored both girls, “What terminology defines, it is the belief that ones ethnic or cultural back group is centrally important and all others are measured in relation to one’s own?” he asked.

Caitlyn and Alicia looked at each other baffled.

“Ethnocentrism”, Derek answered, “An easier definition of it would be, evaluation of other cultures according to preconceptions originating in the standards and customs of one's own culture”, he explained and turned his back to the girls and walked Stiles back to the little nook he had set up in the corner of the library a section entirely made just for him, with the words;

THE BREAKOUT PROJECT NOOK

Written above him in bold capital BLACK and RED colors, the area was secluded by a section of two shelves that had books on subjects no one learnt at school. Like Cultural Anthropology etc. It was hosted directly behind The Librarian’s main desk, and crept into the office, that used to belong to Mrs. Baxter.

As Caitlyn walked down the corridor towards the Cafeteria, school closed in one hour and she wanted to catch the last Lunch rush, she wondered if there was anything good left to eat. Otherwise the vending machines it was.

“Hey”, Alicia started, “Do you remember their first fight?” she asked slowly.

“Which one?” Caitlyn snorted, and “They start one every five minutes”, she laughed.

“The first one”, Alicia whispered as they passed a few of the Lacrosse team members.

“Sweetheart”, Caitlyn sighed, “Everyone knows about the first fight they had, they were loud. And in front of the library, which is the center of the school, allowing all factions of Beacon Hills High to reach”, she pointed out.

“I know, but do you ever get the feeling that there’s something more at play here? Like it’s not that I doubt it, but does it really feel like Stiles is interning under Derek to be a Librarian?” she asked cautiously as they made their way past The Lacrosse Team Captains and walked to the empty table adjacent to it.

“No idea. This is about a guy who has no idea he accidentally published his own thoughts online”, she pointed out, flicking her pixie-cut blonde her over her left shoulder.

“But do you remember it?” Alicia asked.

“Vividly”, Caitlyn answered closing her eyes even as the memory surfaced;

                //// “Dammit Stiles, didn’t I already explain this to you? You won’t get another chance to choose. A part of me believes that you’re making a swift decision and that is wrong!”

Stiles dropped his back, “And you think this is easy for me?” he raged, teeth clenched.

“I think you’re being too strict”, Derek argued, “I’m not exactly the paragon of—” he waved his hand around as words failed him, “You know”, he settled on instead. “But I know, I know what it feels like, the only difference is you have the option to stay. Stay close to—”

“It’s not fair that I have to choose!!!”

“Yes. It is!!! Believe me Stiles it is. I have been down this road before. I, I of all people know what it feels like!”

“Then you should understand why I can’t—”

“Dammit Stiles”, Derek growled, slamming him up against a wall, “Don’t you get it!” he begged.

“We have got to stop meeting like this”, Stiles snapped.

“Oh shut up”, Derek snapped, “Quit deflecting with your sarcasm!” he growled hand curling into a tight grip. “Don’t you get it, I can’t watch you fall into a dark lonely pit”, he whispered loudly, “Watching that happen to you, it would hurt too much!” he shouted.

“And you think, standing by in a group of people I have called my friends since I was in diapers, or met in kindergarten or sat with, in classes or played Lacrosse with”, he yelled, “DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THEY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ME?!!!!!” he screamed.

“What?”

“I was alone for two months. The whole Summer Vacation, not one call”, Stiles hissed as tears started to gather, “I have never been more alone, than the day my mother died, I don’t have any friends!” he hissed, “Not one single friend called”, he ended it on a whisper, “Do you know what that feels like?” he cried, letting the tears fall.

Derek cradled him closer, gently guiding him to himself.

“I”, Stiles sniffed, “I want to stop pretending that they care, they don’t”, Stiles fist Derek’s jacket and sobbed, “I want to be able to feel free, maybe just a little”, he whimpered, “I don’t want to stand there surrounded by them and end up feeling so lonely and alone”, he cried, helplessly, “I can’t do it again”, he sobbed, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, please, please, please, don’t make me go back”, he cried, begged really, “You’re all I have Derek, I can’t be away from you, I’m scared to even stand next to them and be ignored, I can’t be ignored. I don’t have the strength to be all alone again”, he nuzzled under Derek’s chin, and sobbed.

Derek sighed, and shook his head, “First of all, quit wetting my shirt”, he pouted, even as he pulled the kid closer to him.

Stiles laughed a wet gurgling cough of a sound, “Okay”, he muttered but didn’t ease his grip on Derek.

“Second of all, we’ve apparently wasted a lot of time”, Derek huffed, “And your courses aren’t going to learn by itself. So, chop-chop”, he pulled back and turned him around, all but frog-marching him back into the library, “By the way you are so playing for my laundry!” he grumbled.

“Hey that was your own fault, Sourwolf!!!”

“If that’s the way you see it ya damn brat, you need an eye check up!!!”

////

Alicia turned to Caitlyn, “I didn’t like hearing him scream he didn’t have any friends”, she whispered.

Caitlyn nodded, and “No one did”, she whispered eyes straying to the center of the Cafeteria where Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Scott McCall and Allison Argent sat, all of them horribly subdued since the last week.

Caitlyn sighed, “I didn’t know him very well, but I want to become his friend, so”, she pushed away her carton of yogurt and stood up, “The first thing I’m going to do is apologize to him, and then I’m going to ask him if it’s okay to be friends with him. I’m done ignoring him”, she stated strongly and then with a dramatic turn stalked off.

“Oi wait for me”, Alicia hissed and followed her.

Caitlyn hummed;

How do you apologize for ignoring a person you didn’t actively know you were avoiding???

***

Derek watched Stiles, it was a mesmerizing thing to witness. Not that he was doing anything mind boggling, but Stiles for all his haphazard way of studying, it looked magical, as if he were a wizard, magicking things to himself, and the books, pens, and other stationery would simply float into his hands.

As he shifted back and forth, every few minutes knocking his leg against the foot of the opposite chair, a constant drumming, a steady pulse, a tune that went well with the and humming of what Derek slowly realized was the song Centuries by Fallout Boy.

Derek tilted his head to the side and smiled as he watched him pen down a few stray thoughts, then move forward and almost as if he were a composer he lifted another book, turned several pages and found another paragraph to write down, between that he would turn to his laptop and then he would go back to the original book.

It was dizzying, but it had a strange form of uniformity. For all Stiles looked like the book stacked on the table were in a random pile, the truth was, in that chaotic mess, there was order.

And Derek was starting to realize slowly, that pretty much defined Stiles to a Tee: very quick minded, intelligent and clever if somewhat impractical but always exceptional. He’d be coveted if he could get an actual read on what Stiles was.

Derek’s phone vibrated as if on cue and he excused himself.

‘Yo’, Darla’s deadpanned voice filtered through.

“Hello. What’s wrong?” he asked warily.

‘With me? Nothing, I thought you needed me, are you by any chance in need of me?’ she asked now confused.

“How the hell do you do that?” he sighed put upon.

‘I’d say magic, but I have no idea what has your knickers in a twist’, Darla snarked.

“First of all I don’t wear knickers, and second of all I need you to get a read on Stiles”, he sighed, and “I get the feeling he’s not entirely on the normal scale”, he sighed suddenly feeling like he’d aged ten years.

‘You have a gut feeling? You? Are you sick???’ she asked for confirmation.

“I am not sick, and what’s wrong with me having a gut feeling?” he growled.

‘I’ve known you for eight years Derek; you are not someone in possession of a gut feeling. You find facts, you never make a plan and you rush in, like a normal fool. Gut feeling Ha! For a werewolf, your instincts pretty much suck’, she drawled.

“Aww love you too Darla”, he rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘Thanks, but no amount of you rolling your eyes is going to dissolve the truth’, she pointed out.

Annoyingly enough, Derek sighed, “Yeah, well, can you get a read on him?” he asked seriously.

‘If I can have one skype session with him, but you’ll need him to touch something, attached to the system’, she explained.

“How would that help?” he asked.

‘Techno magic. I can combine magic and technology in various ways and to various extents. Beginners can create, control and mimic technology via magic. Advanced users can infuse technology with magic, granting it considerable edge and versatility. True masters can fuse magic and technology entirely, retaining all of their strengths and none of their weaknesses. You don't really understand Techno Magic do you?' she asked for the very first times, since he'd known her.

"Not specifically, I am aware it consists of Cyber Mind, Electronic Communication, Mechanical Intuition, Scanner Vision, Technological Possession, Technology Manipulation, Data Manipulation, Nanite Manipulation, Roboticization, Technological Constructs and Medium Level", he answered according to what he'd studied, when he learned what she was.

'In many ways that's all true, but those are all techno-jargon', she informed, 'I can use my magic via, Techno-Spell Casting (replicate technological effects), Energy Blasts, Force-Field Generation, Missile Generation, Physical Restoration, Techno-Shapeshifting, Bionic Physiology, Gun Limbs, High-Tech Exoskeleton, Nanite Mimicry and at an Advanced Level; there are

1. Techno-Magic Enhancements and Evolution: auto-upgrade once new technology becomes available,
2. Extrasensory Perception: enhance detection and analysis via ESP,
3. Infinite Supply: unlimited ammo and energy for weapons and devices.
4. Infusion: enhanced weapons with supernatural effects.
5. Invulnerability: strengthen materials against physical damage.
6. Energy Resistance: strengthen materials against energy damage. Supernatural Resistance: strengthen materials against supernatural effects.
7. Mode Switching: change form and weapons to fight different enemies.
8. Reactive Adaptation: spontaneously adapt to enemies/situations.
9. Regenerative Healing Factor: fast self-repairs after taking damage.
10. Reforming: self-reconstruction when destroyed.
11. Replication: limited self-duplication (number caped or cooldown between uses).
12. Rule Bending : multiply the unit's power and speed, notably projectile attacks.
13. Sequenced Teleportation: automatic retreat to safety after taking too much damage.
14. Flash Step: instant move from on point to another on the battlefield.
15. Targeting: correct the trajectory of projectiles to always hit their targets.
16. Transformation: temporarily upgrade into better versions of itself.
17. Weapon Proficiency: automatic mastery of the weapons.
18. Adaptive Replication: assimilation of exotic technologies/supernatural effects', she finished listing.

"Explain how that works, when you're usually in a different part of the world. I remember Ian explaining you would be incredibly useful, in any fight, and he'd let you fight on the basis, you stayed at home. That literally never made sense to me", he stated, "Though you did create a storm when Matt was being hunted", he acknowledged.

'For that you need to understand, I'm currently working on a Master Level;

1. Superior Adaptation: automatic adaptation to fit any purpose.
2. Limitation Transcendence: overcome the limitations of Technology and Magic.
3. Omnifabricating: creation of any construct with any properties/effects:
4. Erasing weapons
5. Mass Power Erasure generators.
6. Reality Rewriting via Interfaces
7. Wish Granting machine, complete with intent decrypting programs.
8. Potential Creation via infusion of techno magic nanites.

In short I can magically send data to you via the systems binary code, but the magical element infused in the ones and zeros, zing across the surfaces of certain things, for example that storm, was created in New York, but I could send it to Beacon Hills, through a system, maybe it didn't register to you, and I sort of can understand why, you've been busy, but every electronic devise in the vicinity of the storm ended up fried', she informed.

"I wouldn't have noticed I was in wolf form then", he stated.

'Yes. exactly and it would have only happened on a small scale, i think the only thing that may have ended up fried would have been the deputies phones or the Sheriff's', she explained.

"Wakie-Talkies?" he asked.

'No. WTs are based on radio frequencies. The idea is if the world does ever end, they'll be the new phones', she informed.

“Okay. What do I need to do?” Derek asked.

‘My magic allows me to reveal the mechanisms of the mind that enable these principles, to uncover the why rather than just the how, I need him to touch something, give him a digital pen to play with, a freaking mouse, a keyboard anything', she listed, 'Once connected to the device and his hand, my magic will zing through to him, deliver a shock so to speak. But that will be enough, the connection will be made, and I won't need to meet him. And I can get you the information you need', she explained softly.

“Understood!” he hummed, “I’ll connect with you via my laptop”, he answered and went back towards Stiles, “Hey Brat…oh”, he trailed off at the site before him and couldn’t help the smile that formed across his lips.

‘What happened?’ Darla asked confused.

“He fell asleep”, he huffed an amused laugh, and “How about I call you tomorrow Darla?” he asked.

‘That works, see ya’, she hummed once and then disconnected the call.

“Oh baby”, he huffed amused and walked towards Stiles, gently lifting the out cold human, he settled him easy on the window seat out looking the preserve at the back of the school, Sleep well”, he murmured and tucked him under a blanket.

Knowing he hadn’t had the best sleep last night, a strange nightmare he’d said, something that didn’t make sense. But he was sleeping now, and Derek’s main responsibility was to take care of Stiles, and he sat beside him, Stiles head on his lap, pillowing the human, he grabbed a novel from the stack he had and started reading.

A few lines from the song Stiles had been humming came to him, as he looked down at the boy and he couldn’t help the somber mood that befell him;

Remember me for centuries (FAllout Boy) Clearly do not own...

He wondered idly, as he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, the movement jerky at best, what that said about his life, as he kept his hand on Stiles head and pet him, because the truth in those words spoke loudly in his head, as if someone else, Stiles, that is was saying them back to him;

My shadow's over you ‘Cause I am the opposite of amnesia! And here's the frozen proof We'll go down in history… you will Remember me for centuries...

***X*X***

Chapter Text

                    Chapter 17: Ambushing Pixies

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Friday11^th September, 2015,

Noon

Stiles had been called to the school early, and he yawned even as he stretched leaning against his jeep, something about Field excursion time, and he was exhausted.

Yesterday Derek had been damn near brutal he’d tripped and fallen on his ass, no less than twelve times at tennis of all things. Hell he didn’t even know the school even had a tennis court until yesterday.

“Hi!”

Stiles yelped at the sudden voice in his ear and he spun around to only come face to face with Allison.

“Dear Gods why?!!!” he cried out, his hand rose to his chest, “Would you do that??? Are you trying to give me a heart attack??” he whined, his heart going a mile-a-minute.

Allison grinned—although it was tempered with an apology—“You would have handled it, you’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’m aware of several super-human people”, she stated easily, and then twirled around to face him, fully. “I owe you an apology”, she started.

Stiles couldn’t have stopped his eyebrow to raise, even if he wanted to, “Huh?”

“Actually I owe you several apologies. Over the course of two years, I have hurt you terribly. I had no intention of doing so, but it happened”, she started facing him with intense seriousness.

Stiles sighed, “Allison it’s, okay—”

“Don’t!” she demanded before forcing herself to take a breath. “I know what I did. And I shouldn’t have been so callous with your kindness. I knew you were trying to give your best friend ample amount of time to spend with me, and you were being ignored, a fact I ignored, because I thought you could handle it. I am sorry!” she apologized, and bowed as formally as one could, “The truth is, I should have been careful, with you and my relationship with Scott. I was taught that no relationship can work, if there is no balance, for the agony and loneliness my actions put you through, I deeply apologize”, she stated earnestly.

Stiles flushed, “Will you please stand up”, he hissed looking around as everyone paused what they were doing and were watching them. “P-people are look-looking”, he muttered uncomfortably, “Allison, please straighten up”, he stepped forward and placed both hands on her shoulders, and pushed her up, “Look, could you please straighten up?” he requested again.

Allison straightened but kept her head bowed.

“I don’t think you’re wrong for being selfish”, Stiles sighed heavily, “I understand why you were possessive and I get it, it’s okay, really. I accept your apology”, he huffed.

Allison shook her head, as if unhappy with his acceptance.

He was starting to feel more than a little exhausted.

“She’s right, it’s not enough that you accept our stupid apologies.”

Stiles turned to find Lydia and Isaac standing to his left, and he inwardly groaned;

Oh God…What now?

“I’m sorry”, Lydia and Isaac stated in unison and then glared at each other, for apparently stealing each other’s thunder.

Stiles watched them, “Okay”, he raised his voice over their verbal—silent—banter, “I get why she’s apologizing”, and he pointed at Allison who still had her head down, the gesture strong enough to give him a ten times more powerful migraine than the one ten seconds ago. “Why are you two here?” he asked.

“For my insolence”, Isaac answered.

“For my disregarding of you”, Lydia answered.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, “And what suddenly brought on this sudden regard for my feelings?” he asked.

Lydia and Isaac exchanged startled glances.

“Oh?” Stiles smirked, “Is this your guilt speaking or common logical sense? Or no, wait; is this a test on your popularity quotient? Did you hear my screams??” he scoffed suddenly feeling hurt beyond anything he’d felt before.

“No, no that’s not true at all”, Lydia started, “We—I don’t care about anyone else’ feelings, I care about what I did to you, I should have listened to you, I should have been there, and listened. All those photos of Allison and Matt, and the ugliness of it all and I should have been more aware of my surroundings. I apologize for dismissing your thoughts”, she started her apology.

And then Isaac stepped forward, “And for me, it’s based on the fact that I should have stopped being a horrible human to you and I should have listened”, he prattled the same over-used apology both girls had spoken.

Stiles felt a woozy stir start up and he whined low, too low for human ears, and he stepped back, “This—this is—” he stepped back again, and crashed into the hood of his jeep.

“Bro”, another familiar voice called.

“Oh My God?! What?!!” he turned to find Scott and his eyes nearly bugged out if his head, he was starting to feel uncomfortably ambushed.

“I’m sorry!”

Stiles blinked, and he stared at Scott, “You—”, he blinked up at him owlishly, and then he stared at Allison, Lydia and Isaac, “Did he just apologize?” he asked all three of them.

“Uhm…yes”, Lydia frowned.

Stiles whirled around and stared at Scott, “You—I’ve known you since we were ten—” he shook his head, “W-well since I was seven really”, he blinked and shook his head, “You’ve ne—”

“Stiles!!!”

Stiles looked up and felt his heart seize in his throat and he exhaled with relief. “Derek”, he breathed on a sigh.

“Hey”, he jogged over carrying several things, and looking frazzled, “I am so sorry I’m late”, he heaved even as he threw all collected paraphernalia on the passenger seat.

“What’s all this?” he couldn’t help ask.

Derek pulled off one of the straps around his neck, “Books mostly, files, and other stuff, we’re heading to—”, he blinked at their audience, “Uh…what??” he asked Stiles.

“Nothing”, he shook his head dismissing the trio of trespassers, “So we’re taking my car?” he asked.

“Yup, it’ll be easier on the terrain”, he agreed and slipped into the passenger seat.

“Okay”, Stiles agreed and walked around the stupefied trio and climbed into the driver side, “Where to?” he asked.

Derek hummed, “Ten miles from the edge of the Hale preserve, it’s an area called Black Field”, he informed.

Stiles hummed in acknowledgement, and turned the key in the ignition, and pulled the gear shift and shifted his foot and reversed the car, in one fell swoop.

They drove for at least what felt was twenty minutes, before Stiles, hit the brakes and swerved the car into parking right in front of a Froyo place.

“I just need a pick me up”, he muttered and then slammed out of the car with the intent of drowning his sorrows, and the panic sitting on a knife’s edge inside his chest.

Derek grunted monosyllabically, and gave a sharp nod, probably instinctively aware he was extremely wacked out of body, mind and spirit.

***

Derek waited as Cora showed up, “You took your time”, he hissed.

“You said bring the red file on my desk Cora. The red file he said”, she repeated, “What do I find, a green file. Not blue one, not a black one, not a red one, but a green file”, she indicated as she lifted said file, “How I supposed to know it was a file literally called THE RED FILE!!!!” she screeched. “I almost tore your room apart trying to look for a god forsaken red colored file!!!” she snapped, slamming it down on his desk, and effectively scaring a freshmen three feet away.

Derek rolled his eyes, and picked up the file.

“It’s not my fault it took you forever to figure out what I meant”, he placed the file in his backpack, and hummed, “Yep, I think that’s everything”, he nodded and turned to Mrs. Baxter, “I’ll leave the Library in your care then?” he stated once.

“Yes”, she agreed.

Cora hummed, “Explain it to me once, what field excursion warrants a need for studying Library Sciences?” she asked even as she followed him.

“It’s a study on the different kinds of trees one would need to use for paper, for books, the reasons Libraries exist”, he muttered sarcastically.

Cora nodded, “Yeah, see that’s my point, again why? He can study that indoors, he doesn’t have to go to the woods to study that, besides mom has put us all on lockdown remember”, she hissed, lowering her voice as she added, “Especially after the Trickster Fae put a black cat in the middle if the road, hurting unsuspecting innocents!” she whispered-yelled, and looked around warily.

“I’m aware of the threat Cora, it doesn’t escape my awareness, and studying paper isn’t just a skill for a librarian, it can be useful to people who want to work as archeologists, or anthropologists’, etc. and I’ll be there, I’ll keep him safe, or do you not trust me?” he asked judgmentally.

Sometimes he wondered when the pain would end.

“You know I do”, Cora whimpered stopping him and hugging him in the hallway, “He’s not the only one I’m worried about”, she stated easily.

Derek huffed and kissed his little sister’s forehead, “Fine. Could you let go of me now? People are starting to stare”, he hissed.

Cora grinned, “It’ll be good for that bad boy image you have, what was, it dubbed as”, she mock-pondered, “Oh wait”, she recalled with a mock ‘Eureka’ with her right fist on her left palm, “Scary Librarian”, she recalled and leaned in—to how others would consider—suggestively, “By Stiles”, she teased.

Derek sighed, “One day, I am going to end up putting glass in your food, for your cheek”, he warned.

Cora snorted, “Love you too big brother!!!” she kissed him on the cheek and skipped away.

Derek sighed with one part exhaustion, three parts relief.

As he made his way towards Stiles, who was waiting at the school’s entrance—parking lot—he wondered if the bothersome human population extended to any other weird situations, unlike the one he was facing with the pointing and the staring.

Meddlesome sisters were so annoying.

Derek paused as he reached the entrance doors, mentally counting the bags on him, when he heard what was unmistakably, Stiles voice—except hit was laced with a low-grade thrum of violent anger;

 Is this your guilt speaking or common logical sense? Or no, wait; is this a test on your popularity quotient? Did you hear my screams??’

Derek winced; whoever he was talking to was obviously getting a full brunt of his rage.

Derek sighed as he walked forward and opened the door, as soon as the shields of wood and glass released him; he was faced with the full brunt of Stiles’ panic.

The scent of his fear, and pain almost forced his knees to buckle, and he loathed the fierce wind of rage practically swirling around him in torrents.

Stiles…

Derek grit his teeth against the torrents of feelings, he was experiencing. That feeling that Stiles wasn’t entirely human resurfaced with a force, of a wrecking ball, all but wrenching the air straight from his lungs.

It hurt.

‘Did he just apologize?’

And that was his cue, he jogged over to the human and he called out;

“Stiles!!!”

Stiles looked up and his heart seize in for a second before his relief coursed through him.

“Derek”, he relieved.

“Hey”, he jogged over carrying several things, feeling oddly exhausted, “I am so sorry I’m late”, he heaved even as he threw all collected paraphernalia on the passenger seat.

“What’s all this?” he couldn’t help ask.

Derek pulled off one of the straps around his neck, “Books mostly, files, and other stuff, we’re heading to—”, he blinked at their audience, “Uh… what??” he asked Stiles, though he already knew their mediocre apologies had struck a nerve, they’d be lucky if Stiles talked to them again, never mind acknowledging their apologies. Ever again… he almost felt sorry for them…almost.

“Nothing”, he shook his head dismissing the trio of trespassers, as if they weren’t even worth his attention, “So we’re taking my car?” he asked instead—if Derek hadn’t the senses to see, scent and hear beyond that of a normal human, he would have just as easily been deceived by the calmness his expression exuded.

“Yup, it’ll be easier on the terrain”, he answered and slipped into the passenger seat, without further comment, allowing Stiles to take control.

“Okay”, Stiles agreed and walked around the stupefied trio and climbed into the driver side, “Where to?” he asked simply.

Derek hummed, “Ten miles from the edge of the Hale preserve, it’s an area called Black Field”, he informed.

Stiles hummed in acknowledgement, and turned the key in the ignition, and pulled the gear shift and shifted his foot and reversed the car, in one smooth maneuver, usually clumsy, he seemed to suddenly

They drove for at least what felt was twenty minutes, before Stiles, hit the brakes and swerved the car into a parking right in front of a Froyo place.

“I just need a pick me up”, he muttered and then slammed out of the car with the intent of drowning his sorrows, and the panic sitting on a knife’s edge inside his chest, Derek could understand the sentiment and he nodded once, with a grunt.

Somewhere Laura was complaining about cavemen, without realizing why.

He waited patiently for a few minutes before calmly walking into the place, and finding Stiles staring at the menu, with unseeing eyes.

“Can’t decide?” he asked curiously.

“More like wondering if different flavors can be mixed?” Stiles hummed easily.

Derek smirked, and “Vanilla goes well with everything”, he answered simply.

Stiles shuddered, “Ugh! You plebian! Talk about being a simpleton”, he shook his head as if disappointed in him, “Hey Lisa”, he called sauntering over to her, unknowingly oozing pheromones left and right.

The blue haired pixie-cut tween looking girl looked up and grinned, “Stiles!!!” she vaulted over the counter scaring half the customers, and jumped on Stiles, who cleanly stepped back, and avoided her. The girl landed on all fours, uncannily like a cat.

“Stiles”, she pouted that was mean.

“And you vaulting over the counter, is a guarantee to a crushed larynx, no thanks I pass”, he picked up two small cups and walked towards the help-yourself fro-yo machine, and began filling them.

“And who might you be?” startling pink iris’ stared up at him.

“I’ll answer that on the basis of an answer to my question”, Derek answered.

“Tit-for-tat”, Lisa agreed. “I agree. Answer me”, she waved her hand elegantly.

“My name is Derek Hale, I’m a Detective”, he hissed the words, eyes trained on Stiles as he moved to the toppings table, and “For the New York Police Department”, he swallowed painfully, “I’m also that brat’s, Incognito Guardian”, he answered and then flashed his eyes once.

Lisa blinked, and “Oh now, isn’t that awesome”, she grinned, “I am Litha—as opposed to Lisa—I am an Elf, and I apologize”, she bowed once.

“What are you apologizing for?” Stiles asked joining them, and handing Derek a Lemon flavored yogurt with graham crackers.

Derek blinked at his and stared at him.

Stiles flushed, “I know you like sour stuff”, he muttered sheepishly.

“So, my nickname, sour-wolf”, he blinked, “That was because you know I like sour stuff??” he blinked again in shock.

Stiles flushed bright red and stuffed his mouth with what Derek could scent was salted caramel, “Idonknwatchytalkinabt”, he muttered with his mouthful, and then swallowed, “But never mind that, why is Lisa apologizing to you?” he asked focusing ton them both, and then he blinked, “You’re wearing your pink contact lenses again?” he asked.

“Oh you know me, when the light is way too bright”, she pointed to the shuttered windows, “I need all the help I can get”, she shrugged.

“I sometimes have to wonder if you’re part Vampire”, Stiles shook his head, “So apologies?” he asked again.

“Awww… Geez!!! You’re like a dog with a bone!!!” Litha whined.

“That’s one way of putting”, Derek muttered and then he promptly took a bite.

Stiles pouted, “Nosecwets”, he mumbled around another mouthful.

Derek grinned, “She was apologizing for being rude, other than that”, he leaned in and into Stiles’ space and “No secrets”, he hummed on a promised.

Stiles turned to him and shot him a grin so blinding he couldn’t help the laugh that burst free, “Come on brat, we still have work to do”, he paid Litha and escorted him out of the shop, much to her muted shock.

Stiles nodded, “Do you want to drive? Given you know where we have to go?” he asked as he offered him his keys.

“That would be ideal”, he nodded and took the proffered keys, pocketing them as he finished his cup in two bites, and tossing the litter away.

Stiles nodded at him, and walked behind him still spooning the frozen treat.

*

They had been driving for approximately ten minutes, before Stiles hummed, “Thank you”, he murmured.

Instinctively aware of what he meant, he nodded, “Anytime”, he promised.

“It’s not that I-” Stiles swallowed, “I—” he stalled as if he couldn’t find the words.

“Stiles”, Derek started, “I think what you experienced was an ambush”, he stated, it would make it easier probably, to point that out, at the get go.

Stiles nodded, “Yeah”, he agreed, “It’s not like I didn’t want to forgive them, but all of a sudden I just couldn’t breathe, it was exhausting, and I just felt like it was a buildup on my rage”, he sighed.

Derek nodded, “I know what that feels like”, he said.

“Tristan?” he guessed correctly.

“Actually Olivia and Ivory. They tried apologizing, it didn’t end well, and I walked out. A little late thinking, pissed me off”, he shrugged, “And that entry about locking me and Tristan in a room, seriously Stiles?” he glared at him.

“In my defense, I didn’t know people were reading that!!!” he raised both hands in surrender.

“Fine. I can concede that, but thankfully I overheard Laura muttering about locks and doors and my name and Tristan’s and I know Laura, so I just, well, I jumped out the window—literally, thank fuck we have a tree right outside my childhood room, I scaled down the tree, called out I need to run an errand and I ran—well drove off, with intense rubber burning speed”, he shook his head. Just realizing how juvenile it had all been.

“How many times has she almost locked you in a room with Trist?” he asked curiously, scent oddly smug.

“Fifteen times, since the entry you posted”, he grumbled.

“Three weeks then, she’s diligent”, he noted.

“That’s one word for describing Laura, another would be vexatious”, he grumbled.

Stiles laughed dryly, “You love her very much”, he retorted amused.

“I do. I love my family Stiles that will never change. But my family abandoned me when I was sixteen, I was—well I don’t always trust them, but I do love them. And If you write about this, I will murder you”, he promised, “My favorite is Cora, and Peter and Gemma. And above all those Tristan”, he whispered.

“Tristan?” Stiles balked, “But he hates you!” he retorted carelessly.

 Derek flinched.

Stiles winced, “I’m sorry”, he sighed and “I was careless”, he huffed.

Derek nodded, “I know. It’s okay. And it’s true, he does hate me, and I don’t really have a clue as to why, but if it’s Tris, it’s his misguided feelings of protection”, he shook his head.

Stiles hummed, “Protection?” he asked softly.

“Tristan was born—”, Derek paused,

Stating him as Human would probably have him looked at funny…

“Was born??” Stiles coaxed gently.

“Weaker”, Derek choked out the word, “As compared to me, and Laura or Cora. He wasn’t strong enough, and almost didn’t last the night”, he chuckled then a tad wry, and “Mom used to call me a vampire, when we were kids”, he shook his head.

Stiles frowned, at the digression but kept his mouth shut, a fact Derek was entirely too grateful for.

“I as a baby I latched onto Tristan’s neck and I”, he flushed, “Sort of sucked on his neck??” he shook his head.

Of course, calling it a bonding bite, may be stretching it, given he didn’t even have teeth then…

“You sucked on his neck???” Stiles repeated incredulously confused.

“I don’t know! I was a new born baby, but that’s how mom tells it. That I saved his life or something, you should probably listen to her screech about it. The point was that, me kissing my twin’s neck or whatever”, he flushed bright red and stared straight ahead at the forest terrain, “I somehow think my nudging made him cry loud enough for the doctors not to declare him still born, or something”, he swallowed.

“Derek…”

“I’ve always been damn near over protective of him, even as kids, I practically test-tasted his food, before I’d let him eat it. But after Paige and Kate, especially after Paige”, he swallowed.

“She died in your arms, and you lost a bit of your innocence”, Stiles whispered knowingly.

Thankful for the shades, Derek’s eyes flashed a tad alarm, but Stiles scent only altered from interest and curiosity, to sadness and shrewdness.

“Yes. I couldn’t explain it to him, why it hurt, or how much I hated the words, ‘I’m sorry’, it just hurt too much…”

“And it created a rift. And Kate planned it that way, so the rift escalated to absolute distance”, he sighed, “I revise my assassination plans”, he muttered.

“Assassination, what now??”

“Never mind”, Stiles waved the statement aside, “But now, that’s the second time”, he paused, “You’ve haven’t read my diary have you?” he asked seriously.

“Your tangents are making me dizzy!” Derek gruffed, almost confused with the sudden change in topic.

“And you’re avoiding the subject; I gave you permission didn’t I?”

Derek ignored him, long enough to drive the last few meters.

“Derek!”

“…”

“Derek”

“…”

“Oh My God! Sourwolf, why not!!!!” Stiles demanded.

Derek hit the brakes and exhaled, as he parked the car under a birch tree.

“I know okay! That may be true, you gave me permission and all that, but dammit Stiles. I have issues with consent, and I haven’t had the courage yet, so you need to give me some time. I can’t just start reading it! Give me some time! Please!!!” he begged, practically out of breath.

They sat in silence for a while, after that.

Stiles nodded, “Thank you”, he whispered after a while.

Derek nodded. And then they seemed to realize the intensity of their silence, and Derek coughed;

“We’re here. We just have to hike a few meters ahead and we’ll be at the spot I marked”, he informed.

Stiles nodded, and took three of the seven bags and slipped out of the car wordlessly.

Even as they walked Derek idly wondered if he’d ever have the courage to read the entries, rather than be subjected to Laura’s fan-girling moments.

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles asked after a beat, as he walked behind him.

Derek hummed, “Laura”, he answered bemused.

“Laura?” he prompted, as he deftly jumped over a tree root.

“Before that, how is it, that you so easily are able to walk over roots and protruding tree limbs, but give you a concrete floor, and you trip over nothing??” he asked utterly shocked as Stiles started walking—well jumping—from one protruded rock to another, like a traditional grade school-er would wont to do.

Stiles shrugged, “No clue, I’ve always been like this. Give me a flat surface and I’ll fall flat on my face, something skewed or rough, and I’m as graceful as a gazelle, my mother used to joke I was part were-something”, he laughed and sobered at the memory of his mother.

Derek nodded, “About earlier”, he started, wanting to get rid of the sadness emanating from the human, “Laura seems to follow you as diligently as Cora follows Black Veiled Bride and I following 30 Seconds to Mars. The point is, you’re practically on Rockstars level”, he scoffed, “You? I mean if she knew the real you, she’d probably faint, or may be screech at decibels, most bats would envy”, he sighed, “Now, that I think about it…Thank God! I moved out”, he groaned part genuinely relieved.

“O-Oi!!! I happen to be awesome!!!” Stiles protested pulling up beside me, “You mister wouldn’t recognize something good if it wore a strapless tutu and pirouette around here like a duck!!!” he sniffed disdainfully.

“Ducks don’t dance”, Derek hummed helpfully.

Stiles face-palmed, “Well that just goes to show you! Never heard of princess Tutu have you!!!” he scoffed.

“The animated cartoon about a duck that transforms into a girl and takes on a crow, via Ballet”, he hummed, “Yup, never heard of it”, he agreed solemnly.

Stiles gaped at him, “You—You, You….” He sputtered; “You know Princess Tutu!!!!” he blinked owlishly.

Derek nodded, “I’m surprised you do”, he looked up then just to tease him, when his eyes fell on the ground, and instinctively yelled, “Stiles! Stop!!!” he grabbed the human’s left arm, and pulled him back violently.

“Whoa!!!” Stiles yelped losing his balance and crashing into Derek, they both went down hard, Stiles on top of Derek, knocking the air out of his lungs.

‘Oof!!!’

Derek sighed again inwardly and all…

Well... Bloody hell…?

***xXx***

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: Speaking of Pixie Dust

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Friday11^th September, 2015,

Two PM

Stiles whined, “What the hell was that for?” he asked sitting, up.

Derek moved his jaw, his healing kicking in, after Stiles’ head all but fractured it, “Poison Oak”, he muttered.

“I’m sorry what?” Stiles stared down at him, both hands on Derek’s chest.

Derek cleared his throat, “You were about to step into a circle of poison Oak, I reacted instinctively, sorry”, he shrugged apologetically.

“Oh.”

Derek looked up and blinked, as feelings returned to all areas, the bruising on his back healing as well, leaving tingling after effects that played havoc with his senses, especially since he realized Stiles was practically straddling him.

His need to instinctively buck up, warred with his responsibility and he shuddered instead, the tremor broke through and Stiles grinded down, unthinkingly, given his attention on the scattered bags, and the papers on the ground.

Derek grits his teeth, “Stiles”, he hissed.

Stiles turned to him confused.

“Could you get off me? You’re cutting off my air supply!!” he just barely choked out.

“Oh!!! Shit, I’m sorry!!!” he scrambled off, hands grazing Derek’s thighs almost suggestively.

Derek inwardly whined, as his cock twitched.

Jesus…

Derek nodded, even as he stayed practically reverse prostate on the ground.

“Are you okay??” Stiles asked nervously as he gathered the stray pieces of paper, not making eye-contact, scent dangerously tinted with arousal, heat and embarrassment.

“Peachy”, Derek hissed.

“I’m really sorry”, Stiles murmured apologetically, pained at the thought of rendering Derek in pain.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just rearing back my energy”, Derek hummed, and sat up, “It’s okay”, he added as he sat cross legged willing his semi to go down, by picturing Cora kissing Peter, and yup…that did it, effectively.

No doubt, Peter was retching violently in a tub somewhere.

“You okay?” he asked after shaking his head to get rid of the metal image.

“I’m fine, are you okay, not only did you fall on rocks and tree limbs, but I landed on top of you? Gosh, your muscles may prevent innate bruising like a peach, but gods, you must be in a little pain”, he hummed as his hands hovered uncertainly over him.

Derek looked up, “Just a few aches, I was lucky, we landed in a more downy patch of grass”, he informed; “Are you okay?” he asked trying to avert Stiles’ attention on his healing skin.

“I’m fine. So, um...how much further, are we from Black Field’s marked spot?” he asked looking around.

Derek straightened up and stood in one fluid movement, reaching out for Stiles and pulling him, up, one arm around his waist to steady him, “Not far, we’re just a five minutes hike that way”, he pointed to his left.

Stiles turned in his arms, and nodded, “Okay. Let’s go”, and slipped free from his grip trudging back up the hill-y surface.

Derek nodded, “I’m right behind you, just have to get that bag”, he stated as his fingers slipped over the temporarily exposed skin, heat seeped onto his tips, before; his hand fell idly down to his side.

Derek smirked as Stiles huffed up the slop, before turning and glaring at the Fairy circle Stiles had almost stepped in, “He’s under my protection, cheat him again, and I’ll forget the Hale Treaty”, he growled through his fangs, at the malevolent pixie cursing up a storm at his failed attempt at entrapping Stiles in his magically made circle.

“You are forgetting your promise Hale!!!”

Derek allowed the crimson color of his iris shift and enter his eyes, “I do not forget. I can promise you that. Inform your Queen; if she does not reign in her Trickster Fae, Talia will not be the wolf she deals with”, he allowed his features to shift, “Rougarou Hale will enter into contract for now. Release your bonds with Talia and stay within my contract. Do we have an accord?” Derek asked.

The circle flashed white once in an answer and Derek smirked vindictively as the pixie paled dramatically, at the answer from the Fae Queen, through the portal Gates.

“Understood” the pixie nodded rapidly and popped out of existence, as the light shimmered down.

“Oi!!! Sourwolf, did your old man bones kick the bucket??!!!” Stiles called out.

“Sorry!!” Derek answered, “Tying my shoelaces, be there in a second”, he answered, he pulled a Crow feather from his pocket and laid it down beside the circle, and murmured softly, “Contract Sealed”, in Fae-Language and stood back up jogging off to Stiles, as the last light dimmed to nothing.

“Is this it?” he asked looking around, as Derek reached him. “How do we study paper in a barren clearing that has an edge we could very well fall down?” Stiles asked looking around confused.

“We won’t be studying paper”, Derek chuckled, “Come with me”, he said, and walked to the edge, “See”, he grinned at Stiles pointing down, just a few meters before the edge.

“Oh…” Stiles gasped at the cut of earth, and down into the tunnel like orifice, “Where does it go?” he asked.

“Let’s find out eh?” Derek jumped down without waiting and whooped as the tunnel rushed down and under him, “Whoooooooohooooooo!!!!” he howled.

His howl was answered by Stiles joyous exclamation, of;

“GERONIMO!!!!”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

SPLASH!!!

Derek landed in a pool of water a minute later, and grinned moving a few paces away as Stiles laughingly landed three seconds later, “You could have fallen into a ditch he warned playfully”, Stiles teased, “Well lead the way Sensei!!” he grinned at Derek.

Derek grinned, and started walking again, the way was ragged and pointy, and mostly underground, except for the pieces of light shining through tiny gaps and holes, he reached out of Stiles hand, and led him through the tunnel, into an open cavern.

“Oh My God! Beacon Hills has a waterfall?” he asked looking around with barely concealed excitement.

“Deep into the preserve through the Hale Land, you come across a lake, cut off from the Beacon Hills River end, if you follow it, you reach the waterfall. We’re under that, and actually by all accounts no longer in Beacon Hills, but in Beacon County’s cut-off border”, he announced turning on the spot and grinning at Stiles shocked awe.

“Derek this is—” he grinned then brightly, “Awesome!” he cheered.

“Leave the bags, here, I packed extra clothes, well mine anyway, you could wear them, and I called The Sheriff before heading out, it’s an impromptu picnic-slash-camping outing. We’ll be here for a week. For safety we’ll be keeping everything inside the cavern behind the waterfall, it’s relatively dry on that rock”, he pointed to a rock protruding upwards, “Or if you want we can pitch the tent outside?” he asked, even as he pulled of his Henley.

“Outside!” Stiles stated simply, “Easier access, but before that, how do we get back to my car?” he asked.

“We don’t, Deputy Parrish will be picking it up, around now”, he looked at his watch, “And once our week ends, The Sheriff will be picking us at the end, I guess in that case, we should pitch our tent on land. I am so glad these bags are water proof”, he sighed.

“Why?” Stiles asked stretching even as the backpack he wore, was the heaviest.

“Really. For a genius you do ask the dumbest questions”, and before he could retaliate Derek continued, “We’d have to swim across right, to pitch a tent on dry land, the water outside this cavern is still falling, so I think”, he stuck his head outside, “Roughly five floors down. We’ll have to dive straight down, thankfully there aren’t a lot of rocks down there”, he shook his head, water fell free.

Stiles nodded, pulling off his shirt and Tee-shirt, “Maybe we should throw the bags out first? Closest to the land”, he stuck his head out and returned two minutes later, “There’s roughly five to eight feet of water closest to the land, at this distance and with the weight of the bags, they may reach?” he wondered out loud.

“Five of the seven should, they’re mainly documents, and our clothes, we’ll have to hold onto the other two, they have our food, we can’t risk any damage to those”, Derek said even as he pulled off his jeans.

“Okay!! Then hold onto me, you’re stronger than I am, I’ll pitch ‘em, you just make sure I don’t fall, okay?!” he turned to Derek, paused and then looked away.

The water washed away most of his scent, and Derek basically could only smell dank, water and earth, with algae. He had no idea what that look was for.

Derek nodded, “Gotchya, but to be safe”, he pulled out some rope and tied it around Stiles waist, “Your jeans are your anchor”, he said as he looped the rope between the belt-loops. “Be careful”, he gripped the rope, as Stiles nodded.

One by one, they relayed the bags and Stiles tossed them out, with each burst of strength, he slipped a tiny bit forward, the strain pulled at Derek’s wrist, but he kept the human anchored, so he wouldn’t slip off the edge.

“Four of them reached the shore, the fifth just barely, it’s already washed back into the lake, hopefully it won’t be too difficult to fish back out”, Stiles informed shivering just a bit and began untying the rope.

Derek swallowed heavily, not at all prepared for the sight of a soaking wet, Stiles.

Water dripping into his eyes and onto his flushed cheeks, he stood almost held tantalizingly on display.

His mouth was open just slightly, his lips red and slightly wet. His eyes were closed peacefully, and his eyelashes were a dark contrast to the flush of his cheeks. His tongue darted out, and unconsciously licked at his lips, parting them further.

Jesus Derek was getting hard again, and he crouched hurriedly as he folded his clothes neatly into one of the bags.

"I think I should go first, that way if anything happens to me, at least you'll be there to save my life", Stiles stated stretching again.

As he moved, cracking his back, and letting his jeans ride lower a few inches down his waist, showing off the dark trail of hair that disappeared down below the button of his fly.

Derek sucked in a breath and turned back to the bag, as Stiles disappeared to the edge, waiting.

The hair on Derek's arms stood up, and he stepped back, eyes now trained on the bountiful spots littered across the lithe man's back, forming patterns and constellations, Derek wanted to bite, wanted to trace with his tongue...and Derek inwardly whimpered;

Oh God...

His eyes were caught helplessly, as Stiles tilted his head to the side, revealing even more of his skin, neck on display.

Derek could practically feel his fangs drop, and he looked down, fiddling with the zip, "Yeah", he choked out, voice heavy and slurred, "You go first, I'll follow", he promised.

Stiles nodded, and jumped.

The moment he was out of sight, Derek let the change wash over him, releasing a pent up growl of need.

“Fuck! I am so screwed!!!” he cursed.

***

Stiles shook his head, digging in the bag for drier clothes, wondering if there was an award for self-control.

Fuck…

He had wanted to climb Derek like a tree, screw the rules, and their student-teacher-mentor-mentee relationship, he was tempted then, to just slam the guy down, and rip off his clothes, especially in the car when Derek had insisted they needed time to learn about each other, before it was okay to pry into each other’s life, regardless of the permission granted.

Stiles had forced his heart to not gallop away at breakneck speed, almost afraid Derek would have heard the thundering roar of his soul.

And worse than that, he was terrified. Terrified he was telegraphing his thoughts out loud and with bright neon lights. Like a hooker at a strip club.

Practically begging wordlessly, for Derek to bend him over and just take him.

Oh God!!!

Jesus, he almost lost his control in that damn cavern, as soon as Derek stripped, he stuck his head under the waterfall, on the pretense to look for land. Because had he not, he would have quite literally thrown all caution to the wind, and licked those goddamn abs on display.

Finding a pair of black sweats, he ducked behind some foliage to change, a tad irritated his boxers were wet too.

“Changing first then?” Derek asked quietly from behind him.

Stiles almost screamed, “Jesus Derek, give a guy some warning!!!” he griped.

And when the hell did he magically swim over?

“What’s going to find you out here? Squirrels don’t talk!” he rolled his eyes.

Stiles averted his eyes and began the arduous process of peeling off his wet jeans, “Shut up and put some clothes on”, he huffed, and “Your nipples could take someone’s eye out”, he huffed disdainfully.

Derek snorted, “Staring at my chest are you?!” he teased.

“Don’t flatter yourself!!!” Stiles flushed and looked away.

Derek chuckled even as he began to look for his own dry clothes.

Stiles changed quietly after that, wondering why this was his life, why was he always attracted the seriously hot and unattainable people. He was some kind of masochist wasn’t he? First Lydia, then Danny, and now Derek, maybe he should have stuck to people like Caitlyn who at least liked him for being an oddball at times.

One week with Derek,

Alone in the forest, near a lake,

Where he would be subjected to a more wet-Derek,

Apparently this wasn’t a picnic,

This was Hell on Earth.

*

If Stiles had known Derek was thinking the same thing, maybe they could have tackled the problem together—either that or they would have tackled each other and made things one of two;

Very awkward or very intimate, Carnal in a sense,

Maybe it was better neither was aware of the truth.

*

Stiles pulled on the Black Henley and NYU hoodie, after slipping on the sweats.

“Hey, I know this isn’t a normal camping trip, so what’s on schedule for us?” he asked stepping around the bush.

Derek stretched and turned his back on Stiles to dig for something, his back had a curly-curvy-twisting and turning tattoo on his back. It was at least two to two and half centimeters thick in inkiness, and seemed to be almost powerful in some way.

“It’s not just a camping trip, that’s true, we’ll be here as a continuation to your training”, he hummed, “The first day as in now, we’ll rest, and then tomorrow your training begins”, he yawned, “We set up the tent and then eat something, the books and files are for your reading, and besides that three days will be Theory, three for practical and the last day we’ll do something fun. Any questions?” he asked.

“What does your tattoo mean?” Stiles blurted out and then realizing what he’d said he blushed, “I’m sorry!” he looked away, “I’m sorry I asked, I meant no disrespect. I know tattoos are significant and private. I’m really sorry!!!” he apologized profusely and moved to the bags, looking for the tent.

“Stiles”, Derek sighed, “It’s okay”, he reassured. “It’s a Triskelion, it’s a Hale mark. We have it on everything. Cora has a similar mark on her left shoulder, Laura her right Ankle, Peter is on his right shoulder and my mother has hers on her right wrist. We all have it somewhere. Tristan has it on his left arm, usually covers it under wrist bands and cuffs. Dad has it on his neck”, he pointed to the back of his neck, and “Grandma Iris has it on ring finger, a very small one. The kids not of age wear pendants or lockets, etc. It can mean many different things, but for me it means Alpha, Beta and Omega”, He said, “You’re not the only one who likes wolves. When you called me Sourwolf, I freaked out thinking you found out my horrible fixation on wolves”, he shrugged as if embarrassed.

“It reminds me that while we can rise we can also fall, a Beta wolf can become an Alpha or an Alpha falling back down to Omega status, when abandoned; where Omega is the lone wolf thing. Evaluation of other cultures according to preconceptions, originating in the standards and customs of one's own culture, I guess”, he swallowed and pulled on another Black Henley.

“Okay. That’s pretty cool. On a side-note”, he started, “Are all the clothes you own, a variation on white and Black?” Stiles asked curiously.

“As opposed to everything you own being either plaid or red?” Derek asked.

“Exactly! Color! Maybe not colorful, but color!!!” he retorted cheekily.

“Pitch the damn tent!” Derek growled grumpily.

That’s already happening…

Stiles looked down and groaned;

This is why people need underwear!!!

Stiles walked to the bags, “Uh the tent which bag is it in?” he asked staring at the four wet bags, as he forced himself to think of other things, and force his erection to go down.

God… the embarrassment might just kill him.

“Blue-green bag”, Derek answered gathering their wet clothes and placing it on a few dry rocks, the sunlight warming them up.

Stiles pulled the strap and watched as the tent unfurled, and opened up.

“It’s wet”, he pointed out.

“The interior will be dry, trust me”, Derek hummed, “Why don’t you go look for dry firewood, by the time you’re back I’ll have this set up”, he promised.

“Okay”, Stiles nodded, and jogged into the trees.

^^^

~~~

Thirty minutes later Derek had built a fire and their clothes were arranged around the two of them and drying steadily. The sun had disappeared behind some clothes, and most of the files and books that had ended up wet, were also drying beside the fire.

Derek was cooking something over the fire-pit while Stiles sat by and removed two sleeping bags.

“I can’t believe you carried the heavier equipment, or that the jeep already had more stuff in it, I didn’t even notice”, he stated as he stirred the beans.

Derek shrugged, “I’m used to it, when we all were still together, mom used to take us out hiking. Most of us had to carry heavy stuff, and I got accustomed to it. It’s no big deal. That aside, we’ll be sharing the tent, you don’t mind right? Because if you do, I can sleep by the fire and you can take the tent?” he offered.

“First of all don’t be an idiot, we can share a tent. It can fit us both pretty easily, and really, you’re already tactile, so it’s not like it’s a bother”, he stated pointedly as Derek hand sat idly on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry”, Derek pulled his hand away like he’d been burned, “I apologize I didn’t notice”, he repeated.

“I’m pretty tactile too dude, quit freaking out”, he laughed, “I don’t mind you touching me anywhere, everywhere”, he stated easily.

It took approximately three seconds for the words to sink in when both men froze at the unintended innuendo and scrambled away from each other.

Derek stood up suddenly, “I’m gonna go do a parameter check and yeah…” he trailed off and jogged off looking back once and then retreating further into the trees.

Stiles fell onto his back and stared at the slowly purple-ing sky;

“Oh My God!!!” Stiles whined, “Shoot me now, please”, he groaned at the horizon.

Or Fuck me…

***xXx***

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Blah, Blah…Wolf? Wolf??

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories, spoken out loud thoughts…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Friday11^th September, 2015,

Two PM

Derek had been gone for fifteen minutes now, and Stiles was getting antsy, “Not, that I can blame him, he just ended up on the receiving end of a sexual innuendo, from a spazzy teenager”, he grumbled, “Could I be anymore stupid? No, it’s not like every day falling on my face that made him walk away from me, oh no, it was me practically telling him, ‘Dude I’m, game, Rrrrrravish me’”, he rolled the ‘R’s and sighed completely drained.

“Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, Stupid”, he chanted on a loop as he went about looking for some food, as his stomach protested loudly.

“Could this day get any worse? I mean first the Ambush—with a capital ‘A’, then the suffocating sexual pressure Derek Hale oozes, it’s like his pheromones, have pheromones and are pheremoning away—like a blasted Siren and all”, he hissed, as he dug through the third bag, finally coming across, camping utensils and packed food. “Ah! Eureka, now let’s see what I can cook from all this”, he muttered and pulled out a few of the items that were sealed in a plastic bag.

He had to admire the man’s ingenuity; everything was packed with meticulous care;

1). Fruits:

• Bananas >> Half a dozen (6)
• Canned Peaches >> Two Cans
• Strawberries >> Half a Kilo
• Lemons >> One Dozen (12)

2). Vegetables (Based on a seven day trip— roughly one kilo each, more or less):

• Parsley
• Zucchini
• Fresh Rosemary—A small bunch.
• Tomatoes
• Green Peppers
• Chili Peppers
• Onions
• Garlic
• Potatoes
• Mushrooms
• Red Bell Peppers
• Kale
• Spinach
• Green Onions
• Sun-Dried Tomatoes
• Baked Beans >> Two Cans

3). Absolute Junk Food:

• Peanut butter Cookies
• Nutella
• Reese' Peanut Butter Cups >> One Row of a Package (16)
• Chocolate Chips
• Coca-Cola—Two Pet Bottles
• Sprite—3 Cans

4). Condiments, Dairy and Spices + Flour:

• Brown Bread >> One Loaf
• French Bread >> One Loaf
• Burger Buns >> One Dozen
• Milk >> 1 Liter Tin
• All Purpose Flour
• Garlic Powder
• Brown Sugar
• Tea
• Mineral Water >> 10 Bottles
• Ketchup
• Butter
• Jam
• Eggs
• Salt
• Pepper
• Cayenne Pepper
• Italian Seasonings
• Balsamic Vinegar
• Honey
• Brie Cheese, Parmesans Cheese, Cheese
• Kosher Salt
• Olive Oil
• Cheese
• Ground Cinnamon
• Dried Fruit
• Sugar
• Sliced Cashews
• Roasted Almonds
• Maple Syrup
• Mayonnaise

5). Meat:

• Italian Sausage
• Beef Patties
• Pork & Pork Rinds
• Bacon

Going by the several utensils and food packaging—air sealed bags, the Dry Ice Packs to keep the milk products fresh, or the meat cold and relatively fresh, Derek had carried the weighty bag, it made him wonder, what the hell the man couldn’t lift, he stared at the assortment of goods and wondered where to begin, there was enough food to feed an army of men.

“Well let’s get to it”, he muttered to himself.

Idly he couldn’t help wonder where Derek was.

Removing the plastic wrapping on a skillet (and gathering all the Plastic bags, he carefully put them safely in the bag) and he hummed as he repeated making a smaller campfire close to the original one, using a few of the smoldering coals, from the original bed, he picked them up with a pair of tongs, and went to the edge of the lake-shore. Collecting a few large semi-dry rocks, he created a kiln like Stone-stove/oven approximately half a foot tall.

Dropping a few bits of grass from the edge of the campsite, he made sure they were dry and old as well as a few fallen leaves. The entire collection took him over ten minutes to complete. Lighting the twigs, leaves and grass he opened up a tiny gap at the bottom of the makeshift kiln, about two inches square like, blowing air in, he used his hoodie to muffle the smoke from choking him, repeating the motions a few times, he finally managed to build it hot enough to settle the skillet onto the oven top.

“There that should do it”, he coughed roughly and took a swallow of the water sitting idly by.

Finding the vegetables he began with a simple methodology of sautéing the veggies with the crisp butter, and added the salt, pepper, Garam-Masala and an extra pinch of oregano.

Moving back to the main campfire, he set a Miniature grill above it, and then placed six burger patties on the barbecue sticks and began roasting a and cooking the meat.

Setting two paper plates, tissues, wooden utensils (forks, knives, spoons) beside them, he went to the water bottles and set two aside.

He returned to the vegetables and after they cooked he began the stir-fry procedure and hummed to himself.

Cooking eased him and he worried less about Derek, and their weird relationship-friendship-thing.

Changing the meat sides, he started stirring a few different ingredients and wondered how everything suddenly changed. He went from being supremely all alone to having a friend who respected him more than anyone he’d ever met.

Setting six sheets of cheese on the grilled patties he lifted the grill a tad higher and let them melt onto the burgers, finding the buns, he grilled-toasted the three and carefully kept three fresh ones aside.

“Wow!”

Stiles looked up to see Derek jog back to him, “Hey, everything good out there?” he asked as he picked up the skillet and idly set the grill on the oven top, he settled six marshmallows on sticks above the campfire, close enough to burn far enough to not melt to goop.

“This looks all amazing. I’m sorry, I was supposed to help you cook, but well I narrowly missed a bear trap”, he muttered sheepishly.

Stiles’ head shot up, “What”, he let the skillet go, gently, and moved to Derek, “Are you hurt, are you okay?” he asked warily.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m okay”, Derek raised hands, in reassurance, “I missed stepping on it by inches, but yeah I wouldn’t recommend travelling west at all, many traps, littered around. Really rusty, I think hunters left them there to rot”, he shook his head, “I called Laura, told her to send a crew to have ‘em cleaned up, and she retorted I should avoid iron teeth”, he sighed.

Stiles snorted, “Here Burgers are done, you wanna wash your hands?” he asked pointing to the lake.

“Yeah, be back in a second”, he nodded and walked there.

*

Thirty minutes later they both sat beside each other and started on their dinner.

“So”, Derek started, “Who taught you how to cook?” he asked softly as he bit into his burger.

“Dad”, Stiles swallowed, “He’d been in the army, and had to learn how to fend for him-self obviously, and well mom, she couldn’t really make much besides toasties, and she royally screwed those up most days”, he grinned a tad sadly but still amused by the memory. “Anyway after”, he swallowed audibly, “After”, he paused, “I learnt a lot of how to cook, via several cookbooks, mom’s recipes, my grandmother’s and several others. It was a helluva lot of Trial and Error”, he snorted, “Serious Trial & Error!!!” he laughed.

Derek grinned, “I get it. I can cook. Actually when it comes to the Food management in our family, I’m pretty sure my family would have died if Peter hadn’t known how to learn how to boil water, which when my sister tried managed to blow the pot up”, he muttered.

“How the hell—”

“We till date have no idea how she did it”, he chuckled and took another bite, they paused as he swallowed took a sip of the lemonade, “Actually because of that, only Cora, Peter and I know how to cook and we pretty much kick everyone out”, he paused, “Well Uncle Alex can bake, so there’s a plus. Though he rarely does, unless a special occasion, actually bake”, he added after a pause.

Stiles handed him a paper plate, with a burger and a few sautéed-stir fry veggies on the side and an empty paper-glass.

He placed barbeque sauce, ketchup, mustard and other condiments in front of them. He placed a jar of Lemon Juice he’d made, and hummed, “Bon Appetite”, he smiled softly.

They ate in tandem discussing random things.

“So are you a Marvel or DC fan?” Stiles asked.

“It depends, Marvel movies, DC Comics, duh! Although I like all the Batman movies till now, even the really terrible ones, like Val Kilmer’s and George Clooney’s” he grinned at Stiles utterly betrayed look, and bit down on his burger, and moaned, “Fuck! This is awesome”, he answered after eating.

“Thanks. It was one of my Babcia’s recipes barbeque sauce and caramelized onions on a Medium rare patty”, Stiles grinned as he bit into his own burger.

“It makes sense in a way; Cora always did say honey tenderized everything”, he smirked, “Wait you used honey right?” he wondered.

“Of course, sugar kind of just burns when not cooked properly and let me tell you making it over a fire-pit, would have just been torture”, he muttered.

“Agreed. Oh, I should treat you”, Derek grinned and he picked up a few stray sticks, ripped up a packet of marshmallows and roasted them against the fire pit, “S’mores with a twist”, he promised.

“So who has been the biggest influence in your life?” Stiles wondered.

“My Uncle Peter and yours”, Derek asked as he turned the marshmallow sticks.

“My dad, your turn ask a question”, Stiles hummed as he polished of his second burger.

Derek smiled softly, “What kinds of things really make you laugh?” as he picked up his second burger.

“Old comedy movies kinda like Monty Python or all those ‘Carry On’ movies, Oh, I actually really like those old B-Horror Movies”, he answered.

Derek snorted, “Speaking of B-Horror movies, I like all werewolf movies ever made”, he smirked and smiled an almost secretive smile.

Come to think of it, pretty much most of Derek’s smiles were secretive—maybe someday he’d be let in on all secrets…maybe.

Stiles forked the veggies into his mouth and smiled softly, “What’s your favorite place in the entire world?” he asked.

“Trees”, he answered.

“Trees?” Stiles stared, “What?” he asked confused.

Derek laughed, loud and boisterous, head thrown back. Stiles smiled involuntarily at the wild abandoned happy look and waited as he gulped down some more lemonade long enough to regain a form of control.

“I like trees, forests, any place where there are a lot of trees. My favorite place would be in a tree, under tree, running in a forest etc. What about you?” he asked, as he went about collecting their trash.

“Hm”, he paused as he gathered their utensils and walked downstream to wash them, between the two of them they polished away three burgers each, and Derek went about making their ‘s’more with a twist’.

“So?” Derek asked as he plated the desserts.

“I don’t really know. I mean I guess I like being around books, paper, I like learning new things. I’m already pretty much a freak to everyone I know, but I guess I’ve always been comfortable in libraries, my room, the laptop an internet High-speed connection and a helluva lot of research of subjects”, he chuckled, “I once wrote a paper on the History of the Male Circumcision, because I deviated from an Economics subject based on something about the economic uptake”, he laughed.

Derek snickered, “I know. Finstock warned me about your deviated attention span. Gosh, he rambled more than you ever do when on a subject”, he teased.

Stiles smirked, “But other than, I like going to this Tactile Gun Range, in Sacramento. It’s about 90 miles down south”, he informed, “It’s called Team Three Tactile”, he paused as he zipped up the remaining patties, placing them in the cooling space with the dry ice.

“You can shoot a gun?” Derek asked surprised.

Stiles raised a brow, “Sheriff’s son hello?” he waved sardonically.

“In my defense, you trip over thin air”, he reminded.

“I lack focus”, he paused as everything was sorted. Derek lifted the food bag, and placed it into the tent, in one of the corners, and he waited picking up one of the Nutella + Banana S’mores he’d fixed together for them.

“Yeah”, Derek agreed, “But you have a pattern”, he stated.

Stiles looked up in shock—no one had ever notice he had a pattern. Most people just took him to being an erratic hyperactive mess.

“What?” Derek frowned, “You do”, he misunderstood the teen’s shock, “You can’t study unless you have a pen or a Highlighter cap in your mouth. You open six books, and study each one in a certain pattern. I’ve actually seen you open a Chemistry Book with the Exercise book, World History a random notepad and English book, with laptop and highlight them based on where and what you want to read, or where you last read. Each subject has an assigned highlighter color. Blue for English, Orange for all the Social Studies ones (Economics, History, Geography, Political Science, Economics), For Science you have an Orange one (Chemistry, Physics, Biology) and between those colors you have Green for things you need to learn, Yellow for somewhat—may appear on a questionnaire and Red for either its baffling to you or makes zero sense, and you’ll get back to it later. Between all that, you listen to music. You need something Classical like Rachmaninoff to actually get into a headspace to memorize the subjects. When you write a paper it always either Rock or some kind of Psychedelic music that has no lyrics and when you’re reading just for fun it’s some pop think form the US/UK Top 40 I think”, he stopped and then flushed as he realized he’d been full on rambling.

Stiles offered him a S’more and smiled softly, “Thanks”, he grinned at him once and then bit into the gooey-delicacy moaning as the marshmallow and chocolate Nutella played havoc with the citrus-y taste of the almost over-ripe banana.

“Its good right?” he grinned at him and Stiles nodded. “Good. I’m Glad. Well if there’s one thing Laura can make its S’mores. So she’s not a complete fail. Who is your best friend? What do you like about him/her?” Derek asked after a small contemplative pause over his sister’s dessert making prowess.

“You and dad. I think Dad will always be the overprotective friend and you’re a really attentive person, and you’ve spoiled me rotten in these last few weeks, so there’s that. And you?” he asked genuinely curious.

“Probably Cora, my Uncle Peter and you. And Gemma, she’s my favorite”, he grinned brightly, “Cora’s always been ridiculously snarky but she’s good to me. Peter’s a bucket of sass, it helps keep me on my toes, Gemma’s like my own personal cheerleader, she cheers me up”, he paused and turned to him, Green kaleidoscopic eyes arresting him, with a bemused sort of wonder, “You”, he paused, “You make me laugh, and I don’t how long it’s been since I’d laughed before I’d met you. You make me feel alive”, he stated honestly.

Stiles swallowed and smiled oddly pleased, “You”, he shook his head, “You should have been in theater what with those lines to make a person swoon”, he muttered, “What is your favorite way to spend a Saturday?” he asked changing the subject.

Derek smiled, “As an actor I’d probably have failed, I’m not too good with people in my space. And Saturdays; if I’m here in BH”, he snorted both aware Derek had been home to BH in eight years. “I liked waking up to Uncle Alex’s baking cinnamon buns, and playing board games in the family room with everyone. By the way my mother is evil and nasty at Monopoly. And Laura cheats at Snakes and Ladders, and dad really is a riot with Trivial Pursuit”, he paused, “At least they were”, he murmured quietly.

“For me I sleep till noon at least. The one day I can actually catch up on them zees”, he grinned cheekily, given tomorrow was a Saturday.

“Not a chance in hell”, Derek laughed amused. “What should I know about you that I’d never think to ask about?” he asked curiously.

“If I believed in Magic”, Stiles answered promptly.

“Do you?” Derek asked softly.

“Yes. My mother used to say there’s magic all around you, you just have to believe”, he answered, “Mom, had a way with certain things, she couldn’t cook, but she had an amazing herb garden. Rosemary, thyme, basil, it was as if the herbs spoke to her. She was super clumsy, but when on things like skates, it’s like she was made to be on ice. My mother couldn’t sing to save her life, she sounded like a dying cat, but she could play the piano as if there was magical fairies dancing on the keys”, he smiled lost in remembrance. “My mother was magic to me, I guess like most fairy stories, the ending is always there”, he whispered.

“I believe in magic too. I believe I’m a part of it”, Derek stated knocking their shoulders together, “But my answer is, I believe in hope. Even when everything’s crashing and burning around me, I’m the idiot who still believes there’s good in people, I hope for it”, he whispered staring up at the sky, his head on Stiles’ left thigh.

Stiles hummed, and tapped him once as he got up, muttering about a second as he darted to the tent, “Do you have any pet peeves?” he asked as he returned with some supplies.

“If you ask my siblings”, Derek paused waiting as Stiles leant against a moss covered boulder, a blanket and pillow cushioned against it, “Laura says I’m a neat freak”, he settled back on Stiles’ thigh, whilst the teen draped a thinner blanket over them both, and settling back casually. Right knee pulled up and fingers absently playing with his hair, “Cora thinks I’m just Spartan in my life, Uncle Peter rants about my freaky brooding skills”, he laughed settling easily against him staring up at him.

Stiles chuckled, and handed him another s’more, “When it comes to me, I’m messy, but when I’m nervous or angry, I clean a bit like a man possessed. Bleach, acid the whole shebang. I’ve been known to get yelled at when the bleach comes out, or when I polish the floor. Dad once yelled about replacement hips being expensive”, he laughed brightly.

Derek chuckled, “Did you always—or recently—have a nickname? What’s the story behind it?” he asked cautiously because let’s face it no person would name their kid ‘Stiles’ Stilinski.

“Well since you’ve actually read my name, let me tell you asking a class of ten year old's to pronounce Żołnierz Păzitor Stilinski, was just asking for too much in my opinion”, he stated amused as he took a sip of water.

“That—wow”, Derek sat up and turned to stare at him, “A very sexy name, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to repeat that and not butcher it completely”, he shook his head and settled back on his thigh, “So Stiles?” he asked.

“It was in the third grade when Mrs. Florence actually butchered it I just yelled; ‘Oh My God Woman please just call me by my surname. Or you know shorten that—call me Stiles!!!’ It kind of just stuck, I actually eventually broke into the Principal’s office and whited out my name on all the documents and wrote Stiles everywhere!!!” he screeched dramatically, a fist rose to the high heavens.

Derek chortled, “No way you did that” he laughed shocked.

“I did, I was given a detention for a week and suspended for a month, but God was it satisfying”, he laughed as well.

“But your school documents have your birth name”, he stated confused.

“Yup. But everyone either calls me Stiles, or Stilinski and Coach yells Billinski, so yeah the point, the point was made”, he crowed victoriously.

Derek chuckled wryly, “Well Laura used to call me Der-bear, and mom used to call me Bunny”, he grinned all teeth to emphasize the point, and “You call me Sourwolf”, he smiled and nuzzled his thigh, turning to face his stomach (?) and “And I have to confess till date I actually prefer yours”, he laughed amused.

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t start calling you Sour-puss, Dear Wolfy”, Stiles teased.

“You’re cruel, but you’re not that cruel”, he attested.

Stiles smiled, his hand moved to caress Derek’s scalp, and the man hummed, purring almost, but chose not to comment.

As they continued to ask questions and get to know each other some more, under the starry sky, they relaxed, no longer a symbiotic team of mentor—mentee but one step closer to friends. It was nice.

Half of him wanted to stay here forever, under the protection of the sky, with the scent of Leather, Grass, Forests, and a dense scent of a Thunderstorm. It was strangely comforting and soothing. Actually if he was honest, he never wanted to leave.

It was safe…

~xXx~

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: Blah, Blah…Wolf? Wolf?? Pt II

(A/N: Do Not Own the Art!!! This Gorgeous piece is by Yiji at yijitumbles . tumblr . com and I am borrowing, without permission, so there!!! It's just so CUUUUUUUUUUTE!!!!)

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories, spoken out loud thoughts…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

Friday 12^th September, 2015,

Nine AM

Stiles stared at his laptop, as he sat outside under the starry sky, Derek had long ago bid adieu and was now asleep inside their snug tent—a whole other can of worms he wasn’t going to even think about.

Biting his lip he checked the portable Wi-Fi connector, and sighed once long and truly weary;

“Well here goes nothing”, he muttered on a heavy exhale.

                Dear Diary,

Hey DeeJ, it’s been awhile.

Guess where I am?

Right, I forgot you’re a non-sentient listener…

I am camping in the woods—for a week—next to a Goddamn Adonis.

 Speaking of which, I will one day have the bloody courage to ask Talia Hale, who the fairy that blessed her genes was, because the whole family is so freaking gorgeous, its intimidating. It’s like Tinker Bell especially came up to their gene pool and tinkered with it and gave them all Princess Aurora Qualities, you know like Beauty, and happiness and well I don’t think anyone knows what Thistlewit’s gift ever was.

Anyway I digress, the more imperative question is Why, with a capital ‘W’ am I camping?

It’s a part of my curriculum. I am student of the Breakout Project which is really sort of complicated and I don’t actually want to get through it.

Wait… No it really isn’t.

I am here with Derek Hale—who is teaching me all about the fine art of paper making.

It’s dead boring, and somewhat interesting at the same time.

Lying about TBP was exhausting, but most everyone knew him as a student of Library Science, so Paper making seemed plausible. It was better than stating he was training to be a detective and this was Survival Camp—Step 1.

Nope, better he lied. Besides since Laura actually read the BWD it was better no one knew what exactly Derek did, or he was in reality—not until he himself told his family. Till then lying was key.

Shaking out his hands he went back to typing.

                The truth is it’s all really fascinating.

Besides learning about the enchanting ways of how the Egyptians figured out, how to make paper, I’m actually learning a lot about Derek Hale himself. Like how he is such a Superman fan (0).(0), and he loves his sisters and his cousins

 ;D

And how he really misses them… How he has a brother complex a mile wide—and is decidedly over-protective of Tristan. I’m not even joking… he gets this really scrunched up look on his face, and glares if he even thinks someone would want to hurt Tristan

 It’s endearing, comically really, because they can’t stand to be in the same room. And well it’s not like I’m going to actually take the initiative of locking them in a room.

I like my throat the way it is—somehow having a thin Red line marring it as garrote is strung over it? Yeah…No, I pass…

I asked him a question today, when we were asking each other 20 Questions, ‘If he had cut the remaining Hales out of his family, and why. Because he really only talks about Cora, Peter and Gemma’, and the answer I got back, it hurt me—and I hated that it was a painful response, because the Guy clearly loves his family, he’s protective of Laura and worried about Tristan, and he cares deeply for Olivia and Ivory and his parents, and loves his grandmother.

So why then would these words hurt?

                ‘They gave up on me Stiles. They believed a freaking Vet as a source of Psychological Perception, over an actual doctor, or actual therapy, because he sometimes advised them on things. They shipped me off without a second thought. I begged, I fought, I attacked my uncle—almost killed him, and I prayed they’d call me back for years. Eight Years Stiles, I was sent away and I was kept away for 8 bloody years. And then they sic’d my sister on my ass to babysit me. A

nd it wasn’t like Laura didn’t care, it’s more she cared in the way I felt like I was Rapunzel stuck in a tower.

They never asked after me, what I was studying, or talked to me.

I made a mistake for falling in love with a Hunter—a psychotic woman who clearly preyed on the young, who almost killed my whole family. You would think the guilt, for that act alone would be punishment enough.

And then started the obscenities of ‘Abandoning the Family’, ‘Running away’, etc., accusations upon accusations upon accusations, and all I had for a companion was Cora who was sent away because she voiced her opinion.

So tell me Stiles, would you not cut away those who hurt you?’

And the truth is—I did, I did the exact same thing. Because though I was never sent away—I was pushed away. And I get it, I understand why; he would rarely speak about the other Hales, because why would anyone want to deliberately sabotage their own heart.

And it sucks that I get the reasoning or why it hurts, or knowing it hurts. Because dammit that’s just not fair!!!

Stiles paused and swallowed;

                Our lives remind me of all the songs that never made sense, but now do. Something a little like, ‘Frozen by Madonna’. The lyrics of which are:-

Frozen

"You only see what your eyes want to see

How can life be what you want it to be,

You're frozen

When your heart's not open"

  The truth is I don’t know if I can, I’m not strong enough. And I’m not a Hero, I just I’m me. 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones—sarcasm is my only defense.

And he doesn’t deserve my sarcastic taunts. And I won’t do that to him.

I just want him to heal…which is probably why I was stupid enough to kiss him on his forehead the minute he fell asleep. Well may be not the minute—more like an hour after.

It’s the same ‘Magical’ spell mom used to use on me. I know it originally was just a word, to calm down a five year old, but mom always said there was magic all around us, and if the intention was good, magic could be real.

He paused and then smiled softly;

                Besides how can it not be, when we teach children, our kids from the get go that Magic is out there?

Disney would cease production, if kids stopped wanting to watch stories of fantasy unfold, and told to all; Cinderella’s gown would have no power to seduce The Prince, Sleeping Beauty would forever be in a coma, Ariel would be forgotten under the sea, Tinker Bell would never have been born.

Isn’t Belief that tool upon which mankind stands fast? How do you have hope, if you don’t believe in the Power of Hope?

What was it Peter Pan did, to resurrect Tinker Bell?

A three times charmed wish… I Do Believe in Fairies… I Do Believe in Fairies… I Do Believe in Fairies…

Does that make me a kid who just wanted to heal his heart just a little? What’s the difference between me and Gemma… will my ‘Power’ not help?

Will my reckless abandon to fuel a powerless spell of no actual magical power be of any use?

Is all I have, my hopeless belief?

If so… does that excuse my actions?

Stiles snorted, “Of course not. Non-Consensual anything is bad for business”, he stated stupidly.

It doesn’t… but I won’t take it back!

So if all I have to give is a whispered wish to purge his darkness, even if it’s without his consent, and is practically the definition of ‘Bad Touch’, does it change what I did…?

I don’t care…

If it’s for him, I’d go through Hell and Keeping going to prove he is absolutely worth it;

So for Derek… ‘ Uzdrowić’ I sealed the words with a chaste kiss to his forehead, and bid him a good night, with Sweet dreams…

And now I have to ask,

 Dear Diary, Coyotes… seriously?

Wolves you keep from California, but Coyotes are game? Coyotes—family relation to wolves??? Mother Nature makes no sense…

Anyway it’s late, and we have a planned discussion on the Merits of Papyrus to discuss, and if I have to actually learn more about Paper I might actually kill Derek, ignoring all thoughts of wishes and healing spells.

.

.

.

Yes, I was rolling my eyes… shut up!

And that’s all for now…

Goody Night!!!

 Stiles saved the entry and shut down his laptop, and smiled softly, even as a coyote howled in the distance. Well between the bear traps and Derek, he doubted the coyotes would get to him. Sniggering in the knowledge he was safe, in the most bizarre way, he packed up the bag, and stowed them with all the other bags from the water, their own bodies and any mad critters, it sat hanging from the tree branch, where Derek had hung up the rest of the bags.

It was a strange place to put their bags in a way, but he conceded it was probably safer to leave it there, than to put anywhere close to the water. At least if any animal were to wander close, between the fire pit and the two of them, it would at least be wary.

“Well here’s to hoping”, he muttered and strapped it safely into the hammock and walked back to the tent, “One down, now this”, he muttered staring at Derek who was sprawled out of his sleeping bag, more on top of it really.

A random spare blanket—with wolves patterned on them—oh he was going to enjoy teasing him about his blankie, draped over him, and curled around his pillow, and Stiles’—it was ridiculously cute.

Without stopping to think, he took a photo and smirked as he added it as Derek’s profile photo in his Contact List.

Scary Librarian my ass… He’s a big ole marshmallow…

*X*

Derek’s eyes snapped open as he heard quiet sounds of a woodland critters—going by the sounds—rabbits or maybe squirrels, he couldn’t really be sure, but then again, he didn’t really care. They skittered the minute he awoke, his heartrate changing clue enough for even them to realize, predator, and big, strong, different, run!!

Rolling his eyes he moved to get up, only to blink at the weight pinning him down.

Turning his head he came to see, Stiles in his sleeping bag—thank God for small favors!—wrapped around him like a burrito, snuggled to his side, Derek’s left arm wrapped around him protective, possessive, whilst his right arm, was pinned down by Stiles’ head—The reason apparent, because thankfully, there was another barrier between their bodies, in the shape of Stiles’ pillow.

Derek flushed because it made sense, Derek had always slept curled up around one pillow, and given the state of his sleeping bag, had sprawled out of it, and Oh Dear God! He stared at the blanket—Cora’s scent lingered on the material and he internally whined, “Dammit”, he cursed softly—careful not to wake Stiles up.

Cataloging the situation he made a mental bullet list, because exactly like Stiles he needed order to understand what the hell was going:

• One, he slept a bit like a toddler. Curled up around a person. Unfortunately for him, he’d been abandoned by his family at sixteen, a fragile time period for any testosterone fueled male, so clearly sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles, parents, any person he dated was a rare thing, so he never he really had that. Up until last year he had the rare moments of Cora sneaking up to his flat—the one above Laura’s and curling around him. Probably sensing his need. She’d also bought the wolf blanket as a gag-gift last Christmas; even though they both knew he couldn’t really sleep without it. The center had one of Peter’s woolen scarfs sown into it, Gemma’s old gloves, and one of Cora’s cashmere shrugs. How she had it made, where it was made, or if she did it herself, and got some help through a friends, was a mystery. But it had been his anchor when the moon and the night would get to him. When he would hole up into his room, terrified and still struggling with his guilt.

• Two, when he in rare cases couldn’t sleep without a person and Cora was unavailable, or Laura had needed her for some reason, or she was at work or on a shift, or at a friend’s place for a School Project. Those nights he would curl around a pillow. Any pillow. It got to the point his wolf needed the blanket and him-self needed the pillow.

• Three, he somehow managed to crawl out of the sleeping bag. Something he’d forced himself into deliberately—and yet his subconscious had easily deterred through. How?? He would have to tackle that later on.

• Four, he’d grabbed Stiles’ pillow and snuggled into it. Oh Dear God, How embarrassing—okay, he was so going to ignore that, if asked he’d feign amnesia.

• Five, his blanket was out into the open, and somehow over him and Stiles—despite the sleeping bag—and now had more than just his pack’s scent but Stiles’ too. Holy Hell his wolf was giddy.

• Six, and because he’d held Stiles’ pillow hostage, his arm, was now held hostage.

• Seven, he was going to hell, because despite the pillow, blanket and sleeping back barriers, Derek was achingly hard. Harder than he’d ever been. And Stiles’ warm scent was slowly killing him, and he really wanted to keep the human trapped in the sleeping bag and grind down on to the human—and mark the pale neck on display. He wanted to mar the skin with bites, and licks, and give him beard burn, he wanted to scratch, and bruise and ruin the pale stretch of skin. He wanted to ravish the human, and take him. Roughly, desperately, callously, uncaring of the human’s release. He wanted to make him his—his only.

Okay!!!

Derek pulled back—gently—but desperately pushing away from the human, sliding the pillow under Stiles’ head. He needed to get out of the tiny confines of their tent, or so help him God, he was actually going to kiss Stiles—either that or bite—or something.

Swallowing he crawled out of the tent and loped out, practically jumping onto the nearest boulder and taking off running, into the woods, making sure he grabbed a pair of sweats, far enough to drape them on a tree—mark said tree, and shift into his wolf form, before tearing away like the tree was going to suddenly sprout hands and toss him back into the damned tent.

There was an advantage to running in his wolf form; actually there was an advantage to him being in his full form period—it freed him from the responsibilities as a human, it decreed him to be wild and free, and innocent.

It had been a release, a relief, a pardon.

He cherished his wolf form, and paused under a random tree, resting as his thoughts of ravishing the human ceased. He wanted to protect the human, and his wolf knew that better.

He loved his wolf form. It eased all his doubts. Because he was his wolf, and it set him free.

Settling down, he flopped onto his forelegs, and relaxed into a comfortable squat. He wasn’t too far away from the camp and he wasn’t too close to be caught. So he would enjoy the solace of the trees before he had to tackle human-into-human interaction. Especially in close quarters with his mate. His wolf always calmed him down.

It wasn’t like his mom; she’d only shift into a full wolf, on full moons. It hurt to see her sometimes deny that side of her, as if she didn’t want to be a freak more so than she already was.

Hypocrisy…?

*

When he’d been a small child probably five maybe six years old, he’d never understood that fact.

But as he grew older a part of him resented her for her hypocrisy. It grated against everything he was. How could she sprout knowledge and words, that ‘Just because he was part wolf, it made him a predator not a monster? And as a predator it never meant he was a murderer. His instincts were just enhanced’. He loathed that knowledge.

At first he hadn’t recognized that it made him feel like it was a lie. Like he had no choice but to accept her words, because she was his mother—more so she was his Alpha, but it was a lie. And yet, every time when he’d asked for her to go ‘full wolfy’, she would shake her head and state;

‘No pup, it’s not right. I am a werewolf that is true but I am not a wolf. I am a shifter but I have control over my wolf. To do this I must not give into to the urge to shift’, she advised him

And it had annoyed him to death, because he could feel his own wolf growl inside his head that trapping her wolf under all that iron-fist control was making her weak.

So when he’d turned eighteen, things began to change, his control after two years under Shahida Khan, the Alpha of The Khan Pack, in New York, took him aside. They’d gone camping and she’d help him focus on himself.

He’d been shipped off, against his instinct, he fought he did, he tried, but nothing helped.

‘Have you ever thought about, what you Center is Derek?’

‘My-my center?’ he asked baffled. ‘Like an anchor?’ he asked confused.

‘No. No not an anchor. An anchor is something that pulls you back into a semblance of control, so that your wolf doesn’t take over’, Shahida explained.

‘So a center is?’ he asked intrigued, sitting up for the first time in a really long while, as if he’d spent decades curled up in a fetal position as opposed to just three days. 

‘The definition in general is a point that is equally distant from every point on the circumference of a circle or sphere', she explained.

‘I—I don’t understand’, he muttered confused.

‘Sweetie, you are who you’ve always been. Now tell me, Derek honey—what are you?’ she asked quietly.

‘I’m a werewolf’, he answered bemused.

‘Good. And your center?’ she asked.

‘My wolf’, he answered promptly—paused and then swallowed audibly, and ‘Oh’, he blinked, ‘I am a wolf’, he answered.

‘Exactly’, she grinned at him.

‘But, mother always said, her wolf should never take over her person’, he answered baffled.

Shahida blinked at him, ‘Oh My Darling boy is that the rule by which you’ve been living?’ she wondered.

‘It’s what mom taught us, that just because the wolf is a part of us, doesn’t mean we should let the wolf take over us’, he explained.

‘No, no, no darling child. That logic would only work for a werewolf. As a rougarou like your mother, I thought you were made aware; there is a very big difference my child. The wolf and you are both souls in different bodies. You’re evolving child. When you shift, your wolf will come to the surface, as a wolf now, not a hybrid human. And as Human, your wolf will stay dormant within you. It is true in both cases that your presence as a ‘Human’ in the Wolf shift will be around. So you won’t completely have the animal soul take over. In that same context child, your wolf is a constant with you in your Human skin as well’, she paused, ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Yes. Like I have a best friend I share myself with, but only in my head—like an imaginary friend?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Exactly like that. Your wolf and you are one. One cannot be without the other’, she warned sharply, ‘Never keep your wolf away again sweetie. Just remember to let it out. Your first shift with your wolf, I will be right here if you need me’, she smiled and kissed his forehead gently, ‘I’ll just be on the settee reading—Jane Eyre’, she scowled at the thought, ‘Because of course Jason likes Jane Eyre. He couldn’t have picked Pride and Prejudice—mind you that isn’t any better. But sheesh what’s a girl gotta do. Trust her boyfriend’s taste in literature in a Hunting Cabin, out in the woods, he couldn’t have pick John Grisham, or Steven King, or Harry Potter for crying out loud’, she ranted manically.

Derek giggled as she continued whining about books.

*

It took a while after that, to let the shift take over, and as soon as his world view tilted to a different height and altitude he whooped in excitement—only for it to sound like a yowl, making Shahida jump.

He’d apologize, but apparently he didn’t really possess the correct vocal chords.

‘Oh My Gosh, you’re gorgeous’, she crept closer and paused as Derek stood on shaky legs.

He barked once—a warning; and she stilled, sitting cross-legged and waited as he walked around her in a circle, occasionally sniffing her face, neck, hands, and even her sock covered feet.

Shahida waited patiently as he finished—inspecting, for a lack of better word, as he continued trying to walk and not trip in a circle around her.

Eventually he stopped after his third circle, settling in front of her on his haunches. He yipped once, and she surged forward wrapping her arms around him.

‘So, so, so, sooo Cute!’ she gushed squeezing harder, ‘Super-duper adorable, man you’re gonna have to work on your growly-broody face, because your street credit has so gone down!’ she giggled, ‘Oooh wait, I wonder if the eye-flare thing works now that you’re a wolf. Hang on just one second—’ she got up and dug for her phone, ‘Found it!’ she shrieked triumphantly and bounded back towards him, tripping over the rug, and landing on the couch—somehow.

Derek yipped and rushed towards her, not aware of his Supernatural speed; he crashed into the couch as well.

‘What a pair we make’, she giggled scratching her hand through his fur and leaning down to kiss that special space that belonged to her, his forehead. It had always soothed him, as her warmth travelled into him, and destroying the murky darkness always trying to take over.

Nuzzling under her as he jumped on the couch, he picked up a book and placed it in her lap.

Shahida picked up the blue cover and grinned, ‘Now we’re talking literature’, she whooped delightedly, as she started reading ‘Arms and The Man’ By ‘George Bernard Shaw’.

Derek settled as he listened to her voice reading the words out loud. She’d been right; he was just as much a part of his wolf as his wolf was a part of him.

His senses had always been heightened, as a wolf, they seemed more normal. He felt at ease having heightened senses. Feeling normal for the first time ever, like he was comfortable in his own skin, and more than that, he was still present, his human empathy for Raina shining through as she excitedly wondered about the war and the Chocolate Cream Soldier’s weary droll as he fell for Raina without knowing.

So when it came down to it—his center was himself. Even if his anchor shifted between Anger towards his family and Deaton, and now, because he preferred his center to his anchor, he felt a whole lot calmer than he’d ever been.

Closing his eyes he dozed off to accompaniment of Shahida’s voice. An Alpha allied to him.

*

Derek sat up as the memory ended and he stretched yawning big and sleepily, before making his way back to the camp, he’d barely reached the site, when for no reason he could figure out, his wolf crouched down.

Derek blinked, and then realized why, because Stiles was taking a bath—more appropriately skinny dipping in the lake—almost, he was actually behind a seriously large boulder, obscuring his sight of the main area, where the smoldering coals, were heating—coffee—he scented, and scrubbing away downstream.

As the honey scented bath wash, filtered into the clearing. He could see Stiles under a tiny waterfall rivulet, square shaped rock outlet, arms stretched over the rock.

His wolf whined, actually he whined out loud and everything.

Stiles shook water out of his hair and stretched before jumping into the lake and swimming to shore, where a towel and his clothes sat on said previously mentioned boulder.

As Stiles climbed out, he grabbed the Black towel and wiped down, and good God did he wipe down, it almost seemed as if he was trying to capture every single droplet and essence of moisture on his person. Taking his discarded shirt he used it towel his hair dry, and cracked his neck to clear off the pain, he seemed to be having.

Derek’s eyes zeroed in on his jugular and growled sub-vocally at the pain-filled area.

Within ten minutes, Stiles had pulled on a pair of jeans, his converse, and a tee-shirt pulling on his hoodie, he shivered and muttered about being cold, walking forward he paused and muttered, “I’ll give it back”, and then picked up Derek’s jacket.

Sitting on his haunches a thrill shot through him as the boy unconsciously swaddled himself in Derek’s scent, whilst chasing the cold away.

Hunching down he started on breakfast then.

Settled at the comfort of watching his mate prepare food;

Wait what…mate???

**xXx**

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: 

The Mage, The Black Wolf and the locked words of a Diary?

Key for this chapter:

Thoughts

Diary Entries

‘Old dialogues, memories, spoken out loud thoughts…’

POVs

““Not an Actual Speech or Thought””

Warning: Alternative POVs

S aturday 12^th, September, 2015,

Ten AM

Stiles yawned as he cooked the cheat peach-cobbler is mother had once invented with ordinary cake mix and sprite. It seemed to be a popular idea, because Derek for some inane reason had a box of yellow cake mix.

The recipe was pretty simple all they needed was, 1 box of yellow cake mix, two 30 oz. cans of peaches, or fruit of choice—drained, 1 large (depending on country, USA had the large thick ones, other places had the thin small ones, so two of those) can of sprite, a Dutch oven (which was basically a large cauldron shaped pot with a lid, and thick) and Hot coals, which campfire was plenty.

The idea was to toss everything but the coals into your Dutch oven.

You’d think the coals would be a duh… but you’d be surprised! Actually Christmas with Scott, he’d added the eggshells to the batter. It was cute, but they’d had the crunchiest cake ever. Scott had pouted for weeks, and Stiles had to unveil his secret stash of Choco-chip cookies, to make sure actual dessert was there.

Scott surprisingly was fifteen then, you’d be surprised a fifteen year old could screw up that badly, but mom had been twenty nine, when she’d added coals to the burgers one Summer Barbeque long, long ago.

Afterwards mix everything up, in a special tin-foil base, and thirty minutes later…Voila!

Your Cheat-sheet Peach Cobbler is ready to serve.

Derek had woken up hours ago and had probably gone for a run, a part of him was super nervous waking up and not seeing him anywhere, a much larger part was super-duper relieved the man wasn’t present—his morning wood, could have poked a bear’s eye out.

Thank The Lord for the Lake, the first thing after trying to imagine Finstock and Greenberg making out, he’d even thought about his dad, but it just wouldn’t go away, and then to triumph all boner-removing methods, he dreamed about kissing Jackson—his insides shriveled but his boner stayed steady.

He whined then, and stripped, and jumped into the lake, almost as if the bats of hell were on his ass.

Now, unfortunately for him, he hadn’t thoughts things completely through, as he sat shivering despite the fire, his hoodie, and Derek’s jacket he pilfered from the man’s belongings.

“Did you jump into the lake?”

Stiles jolted and yelped.

Derek snickered, “Maybe you don’t need the lake, air seems to do it for you”, he joked.

“You—I swear bells, I’m gonna buy you a cow-bell mark my words Hale, Bells!!!” he vindicated hands in the air, “You will rue the day, to mess with a Stilinski!!!” he crowed viciously.

“Sure you big puppy”, he tossed the wolfy blanket on him, “Wrap that around you, and pull up a makeshift hoodie, don’t want you dying”, he muttered.

“Of the Cold?” he wondered as he pulled up the blanket after wrapping it around him.

Derek crouched before him, “Of anything. Don’t want you dying period”, he murmured softly and adjusted the blanket to cover his wet hair, and check his temperature. “Good. You won’t catch a cold, but let’s make sure you don’t take anymore cold showers, wait till the afternoon sun, next time, eh? The water will be warmer than”, he pulled him to his side, and hummed, “I run hotter than most creatures, so stay by my side”, he looked up then, and Stiles nodded. He smirked, “So what’s for breakfast?” he asked cheerfully settling cross-legged beside him.

“Um…pie”, he offered the finished pie to him, and grabbed two forks, “Dig in”, he smiled snuggling into the strange warmth that seemed to be radiating from Derek.

“Peach Pie! Awesome! Marry me Stiles”, he cheered and dug in.

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat, “Uh sure”, he muttered and dug in himself and took a bite of the cheat-pie.

*

If either of them had even been remotely aware of the Magic of the place they were in, or the bond of friendship between them, they would have noticed a slither of white light bound their wrists together, a bow tied upon their wrists, they would have noticed, two tendrils of light slithered from both ends of the tied ribbon edges, and connected as rings on each little finger and bound them together.

*

Stiles hummed as he ate the peach pie, “Oh Thank God”, he muttered.

“Something wrong?” Derek asked as he ate his own part of the pie.

“I was wondering about the amount of Sprite needed, thankfully just one can was enough”, he hummed pleasantly and demolished his side of the pie.

“Wait you made this with Sprite??” he asked baffled.

“Yep”, he gave a rundown on the ingredients and method, and quickly told him how to make a cheat-peach cobbler.

“Would that work with Apples?” Derek asked, “Or is it just citrusy fruits?” he asked taking another bite.

“It would work with any canned fruit, I just prefer peach, also you just had peach”, he shrugged.

“Yeah because I like eating it straight”, he shrugged himself.

“Like that?” Stiles made a face.

“What?” Derek gaped.

“It’s sweet, like ridiculously sweet”, he grimaced at the phantom taste.

“I like sweet things”, Derek pouted.

Stiles leaned in and kissed his cheek—pulled back and blinked, he coughed and looked away, staring at the pie…because…WHAT??!!!!

“Understatement”, Stiles stated forcing the word out, despite his internal sputtering—because and he had to repeat—What. The. Hell?!!

Derek choked on his pie, but thankfully continued their weird as fuck conversation, “I also like sour things, like Sour Patch, and Sour Patch Kids”, he retorted.

“Good Lord”, Stiles turned to gape at him, ignoring the tinge of pink of pink on the man’s ears, because that way laid madness, “You know what I just pictured you as a Skittles dude”, he shivered, “Oh. My. God”, he whined, “My world view has totally shifted”, he looked up at heaven, the blanket hoodie falling back.

“Oh, shut up”, Derek huffed ruffling his hair.

Stiles unconsciously leaned into the touch, “It’s just you like Sour Patch Kids!” he whined.

Derek snorted, “Thanks for the pie”, he murmured softly.

“Anytime”, he whispered and then finished his end, “So what do we have on Agenda?” he asked as he scraped the plate clean.

“Hmm… I think we’ll start with a little jog, we’re going to start with working on your Martial Arts training, and we have a week. The reason I chose this area; A). It’s the farthest from civilization, so no interruptions. B). the ground is soft thanks to the water, so at least you’ll be falling into a lot of mud”, he smirked cheekily, “Mostly I think you’re relatively fit, what with you once being on the Lacrosse team, I think, we just need to build up on your lithe figure and add a little musculature to your skeleton”, he hummed.

“Okay”, he agreed, and stood up, he folded the blanket, “So, if we start with Jogging, how do we continue as on that?” he asked.

Derek hummed, “Most workouts in a gym, or anywhere really go through a sequence you build up your stamina as you start on cardio, you move on to muscle work outs, via leg curls, leg extensions, calve raises, etc. divided into Upper and Lower body workouts”, he started and accepted the Leather Jacket, gentling easing it beside the wolf blanket, and he continued, “There are muscles in both parts of the body Upper and Lower body muscles need to be aligned perfectly, before all one can properly learn to fight. If you aren’t strong enough, a simple punch could break your knuckles and or other bones”, he grinned cheekily, “Which mind you will hurt like hell”, he promised.

Stiles swallowed audibly.

“What-uh what exactly do I have to do?” he asked.

Derek chuckled, “You don’t have to look so terrified, it’s just a routine filled exercise, so trust me, you’ll be okay”, he promised.

“Well, I guess I’ll be in your care then”, he agreed and nodded, “So what’s first?” he asked curiously.

“Running”, he grinned with all teeth.

Stiles groaned, “Nooooooooo”, he whined.

Derek laughed and started forth, “Come on, follow me”; he grinned and took off for a light jog.

Stiles followed reluctantly, and enthusiastically, man his feelings were way out of whack.

Well, this is gonna be hell, he wouldn’t survive this for sure…

*xXx*

Derek had his mouth is pressed thin, trying to hold it back, but his shoulders are shaking silently, and his striking eyes are sparkling with amusement.

The man opens his mouth, apparently trying to say something, but immediately snaps it shut again, raising an arm to muffle his laughter.

Oh, Stiles was right.

He is going to die.

Of embarrassment…

“O—oh s-sh-sh-sh-shuuut-ttt-t u-up”, he wheezed between breaths, all but panting hoarsely as he sank to his knees, practically merging with the forest floor.

Derek couldn’t help it, his laughter all but burst out, resounding boisterously as he watched the teen merge with the earth.

"I think I'm dying", Stiles whined, "I think I'm dead", he stated easily, and flopped down reverse turtle prostate on the ground, eyes closing as he tried to force oxygen back into his lungs, and reset his pulse back to seventy two beats per minute and not a hundred miles per second, fueled on Nitrogen Gas.

"Well then", Derek hummed mysteriously, and he scooped Stiles up, in a Bridal carry, mindful of the possible flailing, he held him close and smirked as Stiles' eyes shot open and he did in fact practically flail.

"Wha-what are you doing?!!!" he yelped.

"Why hon-ey", Derek drawled deadpanned as ever, "Carrying you over the threshold darling", he stated easily.

Stiles kicked his feet out, but the man had a good grip on him, "Oh come on, put me down, please pretty please", he begged flushed high.

"Oh I will", Derek grinned wickedly.

"Oh No! Hale!! Don't you dare!!!" he fought harder as it was apparent Derek was headed for the lake.

"Don't I dare what?" he asked innocently and waded closes to the edge of the lake.

"I will take you with me Hale, so help me God", Stiles squealed, "Mark my words, if I go down, you'll go down with me!!!" he warned.

"Ooooooh... that was almost Kinky Stiles", he relaxed his grip and bent his legs ready to launch him.

"Der-ek!!!"

SPLASH!!!!

*

“I can’t believe you actually did that?!!!!”

Stiles laughed and splashed a handful of water straight at Derek’s drenched shocked expression, almost liked he was a deer in front of Headlights, he’d unintentionally purely on accident, back-flipped  or somersaulted or something, as he pulled Derek into the depth of water with me, allowing both of them to splash into the water in synch.

“It was pure instinct, plus you totally know what that was for”, he huffed as he wiped water out of his eyes.

“Oh Yeah”, Derek smirked and with a burst of unknown water, maybe the water buoyance helping splashed a torrent of water straight at him, re-drenching his upper torso.

“Why you—!”

And then what proceeded would be the most childish splashing fight, this side out of animated show.

Stiles laughed as Derek tackled him and gave him a noogie, and he retaliated by ducking under and swimming close to under and behind him, as he pushed him face first into the water laughing as Derek emerged sputtering.

Coughing Stiles offered his hand palm up, “Truce?” he asked.

“Truce”, Derek grinned and pulled him forward deceptively.

Stiles squawked, “Hale! That’s Che-cough-ating”, he sputtered and coughed as he accidentally swallowed water, when Hale pulled him forward, the water rising like a small wave.

Derek chuckled and hummed, as he leant down and whispered in his ear, “All’s fair in Love and War”, he blew air into his ear and relaxed as Stiles whined at the cold, leaning closer to his wolf-warmth.

“Derek its cold”, he muttered, as he smooshed his body to Derek’s.

Derek pulled him closer to his own wet body, and hummed, “We are standing in a cold lake, under the Winter’s sky and well…wet”, he pointed out.

Stiles chuckled as he nuzzled under his throat, “Very true, and who’s fault do you think that is?” he snarked.

“Yours”, he answered.

Stiles squawked, “What?!” and he looked up, “You threw me into the Lake?!!!” he pointed up, but snuggled closer as Derek chuckled.

“Yup”, he agreed, “And if one of us remained on land, like we were supposed to be, you would have attacked on dry land”, he pointed out simply.

“Well I never”, he huffed and leaned up to bite on the meat of his neck.

Derek’s wolf perked and he grinned, “Marking me are you Stiles?” he asked cheekily.

“If that’s what you call a subtle attack”, he looked up eyes glittering dangerously, he smirked and Derek’s breath hitched as his wandering hands climbed higher and higher, with intent, pressurizing strokes, “Tell me Derek”, he murmured hands tangled in his black hair and pulled his head back exposing his throat, “Who’s fault is it really, to throw a teenager into a cold lake?” he huffed against his throat, tongue peaking as he licked a line up his throat, and reached his ear to whisper, “Getting a little hot isn’t it, allow me to cool you down”, he hummed, and pushed Derek with all his strength laughing uproariously and swimming away, “See you on Land”, he called and moved away.

Derek coughed and spluttered, “I’ll-cough-get you back for this!” he called out.

“Promises, promises”, Stiles called out.

Finally reaching the shore and crawling out of the lake and flopping onto his back, reclining on his elbows as he watched Derek swim towards him, and settle next to him, he sighed, “Well that was fun, what’s next?” he asked curiously.

“Have lunch?” Derek hummed letting the sun warm his skin.

“Not hungry, strangely”, he hummed stretching idly after pulling of his wet clothes, and remaining in his boxers.

“Hm”, Derek hummed stripping off his own clothes remaining in his own boxers, and tilting his head back, “Likewise”, he agreed, “Man I have to admit, you’re awesome”, he exhaled happily.

“That I am”, he sat up paused and turned to Derek and “Why am I awesome?” he asked curiously.

Derek chuckled and sat up facing him cross-legged, “Because Stiles no one and I mean no one has ever been able to keep up with me”, he muttered and he’d used wolf-speed alternately, “Tristan needs exercise daily for his body and physique to stay in top shape, what with his modelling and all, and he still can’t keep with me, and Laura and Cora, or even Peter can’t keep up. My mother used to be able to”, he paused, this wolf moon run, on the night of Matt’s death and Allison’s shock, she’d been rather shocked when he’d run forward and away from her, and he’d been on two legs while she’d been on all four.

“Not anyone, ever?” Stiles asked intrigued despite the bizarreness.

“Nope. Whilst in Combat training Laura’s stronger than me, I’m faster and I can always anticipate where she’s going to move, before she strikes. Cora’s a bit unpredictable, and Peter is downright impossible to figure out, Uncle Alex is very easy to get, he always dodges left, before pivoting right, and Aunt Ella always ducks under the first strike and pivots back like a somersault but no more like a handstand back, or something it’s a bit difficult to explain, and more something that can only be shown. But it’s true, no matter how hard my family tries, I can always outrun them. It’s a bit lonely”, he muttered weakly.

“Until me though”, he muttered and Stiles cocked his head, “Is that a good thing?” he wondered softly.

“Yes”, he agreed quickly, “Very”, he murmured, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore”, he whispered.

“Good. Because neither do I”, he stood up, “But dammit Hale, how many times do I have to get wet on this trip, I’m already borrowing your clothes!” he pointed out and offered his hand palm up, “Well come on then, I am hungry now, and I’m starting to get cold, I am so taking your blanket and I won’t even share, so ha!” he huffed and pulled Derek up as soon as their hands locked in a clasp.

“Well next time don’t flop onto the ground like an injured rabbit, a wolf like me will just eat you up”, he leered.

“Try it”, Stiles knocked their bare shoulders together and he turned to him amber eyes laughing, “As soon as you’re close enough to take a nibble, this little rabbit will transform into his true self”, he mocked gathering his clothes.

“Oh? And person who speaks about himself in third form”, he rolled his eyes, “What are you?” he asked.

“Well why don’t you guess”, he prompted.

“Why don’t you quit deflecting and simply answer”, he waggled his eyebrows playfully.

It was odd this human almost always forced him to de-age into his sixteen year old lost self. Someone who’d become unfailingly too rigid. He’d laughed, and confessed and smiled and lived these last few weeks with Stiles, more than he’d lived in the last eight years.

Stiles huffed, “Well if you must know I’m probably a dragonfly”, he muttered a bit shyly.

“Well you do give of the feeling of carrying an almost transcendence, an illusion to others”, he agreed.

“Yeah”, he muttered weakly.

“But you’re kind of wrong and I would never call you a dragonfly”, he disagreed.

“Oh? Then what am I to you?” he asked honestly curious.

“Baffling”, Derek answered simply.

“Huh?!” he asked blinking owlishly even as he took Derek’s offered black towel.

“You have several qualities one could never put in one animal ever. For example, you’re a Secret Keeper, Guardian and Guide which not many people realize, those are the characteristics often under the Lynx”, he listed, “Then, you also have Courage, Leadership and Foresight, that’s Mountain Lions for you”, he shrugged and pulled on a Blue jumper.

“Mice are known for their scrutiny, organization and order, and your well you-ness is very chaotic to people who don’t pay attention, but there’s a helluva lot of order that makes a certain sense if you follow the pattern carefully. Opossum are known for their strategy, diversionary attitude and are often deceiving, an owl, which are known for clairvoyance and insight, Porcupine are known for innocence, companionship, trust, then there's the Raven: introspection, courage, self-knowledge. Sharks; are hunters, survivalists, adaptability", he turned and smirked as he pulled on a pair of socks, "The Skunk: reputation, presence, strength", he teased and smiled as Stiles' blush deepened.

Then there's the Snake: shrewdness, rebirth. The Squirrel: planner, gatherer", he hummed, "And these are just the few animals of which you possess their qualities of", he yawned and stretched under the sun, "And well you're a bit like a Turtle, not that you're slow, I mean I think we proved that with your running and tackling a person one hundred pounds heavier than you. You're a turtled because of your nature as nurturer, protector and that mother-like energy", he pointed out seriously.

Stiles looked up and stared at him.

Derek smiled softly and continued, "Whales have wisdom and are provider, Weasels or ferret; strength, energy, ingenuity and stealth. Then there's the wolf: loyalty, perseverance, success", he paused, "Wolves have been long regarded by Native Americans as teachers or pathfinders. Wolves are fiercely loyal to their mates, and have a strong sense of family while maintaining individualism”, he explained at Stiles’ curious look.

"You're a bit like a wolf you know", Stiles commented.

"I am a wolf", he answered, "But we're talking about you. Besides being a wolf you're also, like a Fox, you're agile, cunning and quick-witted", he finished.

"But those are so many animals", he stated obviously.

“Yup”, he popped the ‘p’ and st up, “That’s why I said super baffling”, he stated.

“Well, technically you just said baffling”, he snarked cheekily.

“Yes, you cheeky brat. But I would never call you a Dragonfly. You’re not an illusionist; you’re more deceptive than a person who lies behind curtains and shadows. The strange part is in broad daylight, it just seems you’re invisible. But that’s only because people around you are completely blind. I don’t think you’ve ever been anybody but completely straightforward with whom you are as a person. People just have never taken the time to listen to you”, he muttered.

“Derek, please stop”, he whispered, eyes glittering hurtfully.

Derek turned to him and shook his head, “I won’t. I’ll never stop”, he promised and continued; “You gave my cousin a spell to ease away my darkness, to purge away the loneliness and pain. Won’t you let me cast a spell on you?” he tilted the teen’s chin up, green eyes bore into amber. “Can I not ease away your pain?” he whispered even as the first tear fell, “I’m no mage, I’m a wolf”, he said and flopped his head on the amber-eyed youth shoulder, a semblance of privacy offered, “I can’t charm away your hurt”, he murmured, “I can’t take away this pain”, he sighed, “I can’t do anything but remind you, of who you are. Stand beside you always. You said you would take me with you, take me down with you. You’d never let me be alone. Then Stiles you should know I could never leave you. You’ve anchored me from the tides that always try to swallow me whole, won’t you let me be yours?” he asked.

The first sob broke free, and then as if a damn had broken;

Stiles was clutching him, crying into the Derek’s shoulder. He poured out everything he’d held inside. He told Derek about his mother’s death, how Scott didn’t have time for him anymore. He told Derek how jealous he was of Isaac and Malia and their friendship with Scott, and Jordan's relationship with his dad (Don't get him wrong, the man was like a brother too, like Scott but Darn it, he wanted his dad to look at him like that too... Like he wasn't only an exasperating trouble-maker)how hurt he was that Lydia never acknowledged him. He babbled about how he felt betrayed and alone, weak and unimportant, how hurt he was that no one was there for him. Hurt, because he was used by everyone.

Sometimes against the people who looked at him with hate and exasperation, and sometimes flinched, even days later for merely existing, why it sucked that no matter how quiet or how he would try to mold for someone, it was never enough. How he’d given up, and turned more obnoxious as a result, bordering on pushing people away even more at his blatant disrespect and insufferable-ness.

Derek didn't say anything; he just curved his body sheltering from the elements and lay him down, on the blanket and held Stiles under him, until he stopped shaking, held him, and warmed him.

Stiles started to fall asleep slowly. He didn't let go of the solid weight on top of him, basked in the support it silently offered. He didn't know why, but it made everything seem a little bit better, a little less broken, and like he was a little less alone.

What did that say about the destiny of two lost souls finding each other?

The Mage, The Black Wolf and the locked words of a Diary?

**xXx**

A/N: Super Important Notice:

I've already written chapter one for the part 2, yeah I couldn't handle being late on that update, either. Anyway I have a favor for all my readers.

Please Send me an idea of what you lot would want Stiles' spirit animal to be, Because with all the characteristics Derek's provided I'm just so confused. I've narrowed it down to Fox, Lynx and Mountain Lion, and Crow/Raven... But I feel like besides The Lynx all the other animals have at least been used as a Spirit Guide/Familiar...

I want something unique So PLEASE, Send me a animal and tell me Why, based on your own reasoning and not Derek's!!!!

THANK YOU!!!

;D