It's been many years since Gerard stole everything from him. Years that Deucalion has spent in an angry red haze, killing off his own kind to prevent them from returning the favor. His own pack had turned on him in his weakest moment, and he'd had to kill them all just to survive. Afterwards, he'd wandered around half blind, miserable and unable to trust anyone for fear that someone would take the opportunity to finish what Gerard started. At one point, Deucalion created his own pack again, an alpha pack.
They'd been powerful, but far too power hungry. In the end he'd been glad that he'd never trusted any of them, because they'd turned on him just like his first pack. After eliminating them all, he became stronger than ever before, but he was lonelier as well. Tired, and world weary, he'd allowed himself to go feral, not wanting to suffer the pain of having his pack turn on him ever again. He was done with trying to lead, and resigned to going mad just so he wouldn't feel miserable anymore. He stayed in his full shift wolf form, roaming the woods as a lone red eyed wolf.
He would have stayed that way till the day he died, if he hadn't smelled an alluring wisp of what was undoubtedly his mate. For a moment in his half feral state, he pondered running away. Surely it would be better to run now, than to bear the pain of his mate turning on him. But then Deucalion realized that he didn't want to live in a world where even his mate would turn on him. No, if his mate wanted him dead, then he'd let them do the job others had failed to do.
He hoped that it wouldn't come to that, because he'd do whatever it took to please his mate. He'd do anything and everything to ensure that they would care for him in return. He'd murder every last person on earth if it meant that this creature that he had yet to lay eyes on would love him.
Inhaling deeply, he runs towards the source of the enticing aroma, shifting back to his human form for the first time in ages. Red eyes dilating with excitement, he dashes towards the musical thumping sound calling to him like a siren.
Stiles is always lonely now. So god damn lonely even though he's surrounded by people. Scott is supposed to be his best friend. He's supposed to be here with Stiles today, but he isn't. Scott has now failed their friendship like he's failed most of their classes. Failed with a capital F. Apparently sneaking off to see Allison is more important than helping Stiles make it through the worst day of the year.
Tugging his coat tighter in a useless attempt to stave off the cold, Stiles stares down at the two granite stones before him. Sniffling, he tries to hold back tears and fails. Stiles was young when he lost his mother to cancer; a disease that took her slowly but surely away from him. She'd lost her mind to the sickness, and stopped being able to recognize her own son as it progressed.
It took months of seeing her in pain and slowly slipping into madness, before Stiles just couldn't take it anymore. He'd used a discarded needle to push air into her IV like he'd seen on TV, and watched with a mixture of guilt, grief and relief, as she finished fading. The doctors said she'd passed peacefully in the night. His dad hadn't ever said anything to Stiles afterwards, but somedays he'd look at Stiles strangely, and he wondered if his father knew what he'd done.
Stiles never found out, because at sixteen his dad died on the job. He'd gone to work, and just never come home. Stiles had thankfully been emancipated due to his age, inherited his house, and got a decent amount of money from his fathers passing. Enough to get him through high school and a fair amount of college since he'd graduated early.
Scott and Melissa were all he'd had left. Had, as in past tense, because now that It's Scott's senior year there are werewolf problems to deal with, and hunter girlfriends for Scott to angst and pine after. Obviously there isn't time for Scott to say so much as a hello or adieu whenever they see each other. Not that they do see much of each other. The only time he sees Scott anymore is during pack meetings snice they don't go to scool together, but they don't even get to talk then because Isaac takes up all of Scott's miniscule attention span.
For fucks sake, it's Scott's senior year. They're both eighteen, and nearly adults, but Scott still manages time and personal relationships like a twelve year old, which is not at all. Stiles is sick of it, but he has no one else. To fill the huge amount of time he seems to have now, he's been sneaking books from Deaton's office. He always takes them back after he's amassed a huge quantity of notes, so he doesn't really feel bad about borrowing them.
He's learned a lot from the texts he acquired. Some very useful spells and a multitude of wards. He loves having the ability to be untraceable to his furry acquaintances and other supernatural beings when he feels like it. No scent, no heartbeat, nothing. A blank slate. It's kept him alive several times now. He wishes he'd known these things back when the Kanima was around. Maybe he could have escaped Gerard.
It's been months since then, and nothing's happened, but Stiles isn't letting his guard down. He's proud to say that both his house, and his person have been warded against pretty much everything. He doesn't have any spells on to muffle his scent or pulse at the moment, because he forgot to raise them before leaving the house, and he just isn't in the right mood to 'believe'. Stiles wonders idly if Erica and Boyd would have stayed if he'd known how to protect them, but there's nothing he can do about it now. Besides, even if they'd stuck around, they'd probably be ignoring him too.
Wiping his cold, wet face off, Stiles wishes that he could find someone who wouldn't ever leave him. A companion who would love him more than anyone else, and put him first. He'd kill for a person who would just ask him if he's alright after he's been kidnapped and beaten. A partner who would just trust him, and listen to him before going off half cocked on their own and listening to a creepy old man instead of him. Someone loyal.
Shivering from the cold, Stiles makes his way back to his jeep, resigned to going home to his empty house full of depressing memories. Stiles is just begining to open the door to his car, when he feels hot, moist air against the back of his neck. Tensing, Stiles resigns himself to a painful end because he'd been stupid enough to leave home without his wards, and turns around.
"...Fuck," Stiles breathes. Bright red, unquestionably alpha eyes, stare at him from behind long matted hair and an equally scruffy beard. Stiles heart thumps in fear, even as his brain is overloaded by the fact that he is about to be killed by a dirty nude alpha hobo. Because that is the story of his life. Shaking from the cold and fear, Stiles tenses up further when the filthy alpha leans in- and nuzzles into the crook of his neck.
Because that's what's happening now. The crazy creepy hobo doesn't want to eat him, but to snuggle into his side.
Several uncomfortably silent moments of physical contact later Stiles squirms and tries to get out of the strange situation he's found himself in.
"Um. So. Look, you seem very nice for a dirty hobo that I thought was going to eat me, but I am extremely uncomfortable with this arrangement, and, um, you're kind of getting- no ok you ARE getting dirt all over me. I would really prefer it if you could not do that, and maybe acted like a normal person, but I guess if this is the only alternative to you feasting on my liver, then you just have at it with the cuddling dude. Perhaps you heard that Stilinski's give the best hugs and had to affirm it for yourself, -but there will be no groping! I am a prude good sir, and we prudes do not make with the groping till at least the third date if you're lucky, but I'm shy, so that ship isn't gonna sail for awhile, so if you could please just stop it with the sniffing, and the touching, that'd be great," Stiles babbles to the strange man who just blinks at him and whines. It's such a sad whimper that it crushes Stiles resolve to remove the crazy clingy alpha.
Well, almost crushes it, because this is a NAKED man snuggling him, and Stiles does not approve. Not in these circumstances anyway. Then again, the poor guy does seem crazy, and Derek said werewolves go Feral when they're pack less. It figures that he would find the feral alpha wolf, not the omega, which means serious complications if the dude feels bitey.
"So; questions. You're obviously feral, but can you understand what I'm saying? If so I would again ask that you kindly release the Stiles. I realize that this is a great thing that I ask of you because I am totally huggable, but I make it a point not to hug people before at least introducing myself, because that is rude. Not to say that you're rude, just that maybe you've forgotten some social niceties in your journey over the river and through the woods. ...I really hope you didn't go to grandmas house. Any-who, yay or nay on the understanding me front?" Stiles asks as he tries to wriggle away from the warm body that is attempting to, and succeeding in pulling him closer.
Another pitiful whimper from the scruffy alpha makes Stiles pause in his escape attempts. Slumping, Stiles realizes that the guys answer is probably in the negative, because the alpha clearly doesn't understand a single thing he's saying. Huffing, Stiles runs his fingers gently through the guys tangled mane in an attempt to soothe him like he would any other distressed creature. A low rumble vibrates against Stiles neck, making him tense up, expecting a bite or worse, until the alpha buts up against Stiles hand. Lips quirking with amusement, Stiles starts gently petting the guys hair again, fighting the urge to coo and coddle the big guy like a distressed puppy.
Realizing that he isn't going to be able to just leave the feral guy here alone, Stiles wonders what he's supposed to do with him. He could let Derek and Scott know about the guy, then let them take care of it since it was wolfy business, but thinking of Scott makes his shoulders bunch up angrily, and Derek had left a bruise on Stiles shoulder the last time he'd slammed Stiles into a wall, so Derek wasn't in Stiles good graces either. He really doesn't want to talk to either of them, so telling Derek, or Scott is out of the question. Deaton also isn't an option because Stiles doesn't trust the guy further than he can throw him, so that leaves one option, and a frustrating question: how is he supposed to drag the stray he's picked up home?
Keeping one arm around the guy, Stiles finds it surprisingly easy to coax the alpha into his jeep and then drive to his house. It probably isn't a good idea to drag a feral alpha home, but Stiles decision making eight ball is missing, so he is relying on his gut, which is less reliable but sometimes right.
Taking his coat off, Stiles wraps it around the guys waist and drags him quickly into his home, hoping his neighbors don't see anything or get flashed. Tugging his new companion along, who seems strangely happy to follow his lead, Stiles leads him to the bathroom and points at the shower.
"YOU. TAKE. SHOWER," Stiles states slowly, pointing repeatedly at the tub and then making scrubbing motions on himself. The man just blinks his pretty red eyes at Stiles. Slapping his face, Stiles realizes that if he doesn't want anymore dirt tracked through his home, then he is going have to do this himself. Taking a steadying breath, stiles moves the guy to where he is sitting in the tub, then starts the water.
One very uncomfortable hour later, he has a very clean scruffy man sitting on a towel rumbling happily while Stiles fluffs his long hair dry with a towel.
"When you get your brain back? We-" Stiles says, gesturing between them, "Are never speaking of this again." Reaching under the sink, he pulls out a pair of scissors and a few different sized clippers to trim up the guys fluffy mane, then gets to work. In the end, he has a VERY attractive man, sitting nude in front of him. Who knew that all that matted hair was hiding this? Flushing, Stiles swathes him in several towels to cover him up. Beautiful red eyes, full of adoration, never leave him as he shuffles around putting things away and sweeping up the messy floor.
"Huh. Putting clothes on you may have been the easiest part of this whole frigging process," Stiles states, grinning at the big beautiful guy that he's barely managed to squeeze into some of his dad's old pjs. "Uncomfortable, but easy," Stiles says, proud that he's wrangled an alpha into clothes. Then Stiles realizes that he's been ordering an alpha around all day... Doesn't that make him an alpha? Puffing up, Stiles grins, and pointing at big and beautiful, he says, "That's right big guy- I'm the alpha now!" He doesn't get a reaction, but Stiles takes the slow soulful blink to be an acknowledgement of his alpha hood.
"No!" Stiles says firmly as he pushes the alpha's grabby hands away from the cooking meat he is making for their dinner. "I don't care how crazy or feral or alpha you are, you are not eating raw meat in this house mister. Medium rare? Fine. Raw? No," Stiles says firmly, trying to remain stern to enforce this rule. There is no way he can just sit and watch the guy eat raw meat for dinner without vomiting. They are going to eat real food and that's that.
Red eyes stare him down, but Stiles stays strong, and when he's done they both enjoy a well rounded meal. Even though Stiles has to force feed big and beautiful the vegetables, and continually make him sit in a chair, it's nice to have company. A small but growing part of Stiles hopes the man will stay even after he gets his marbles back.
"No. I don't care how pretty you turned out to be under all of that gunk, you are sleeping on the couch mister, and that's final," Stiles states, for the umpteenth time pointing at the couch. Confused wide eyes stare at him uncomprehendingly. Growling out of frustration, Stiles slinks off to his room, aware that he has a stubborn cuddly shadow behind him. "This is the only time I'm going to let you sleep on my bed. But this is not because I am a pushover, it is because I am a very kind soul despite all contrary evidence," Stiles says as he slips under the covers and holds them up for the big puppy.
Deucalion rumbles happily as he joins his mate in their new bed and wraps around him. He could die of happiness at this point. His mate hasn't abandoned him like he'd feared, nor has he once threatened to kill him or even smelled seriously angry. Instead, Stiles -as he's learned his mates name is, had taken him into his den, gently groomed him, fed him, and now he is going to sleep wrapped up in Deucalion's arms. Deucalion is in heaven.
He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of Stiles kind touches and smiles. There is no way he'll ever leave his mate willingly. He'll die first. Snuffling the sweet scent that clings to the back of his mates neck, Deucalion drifts off to sleep.
Stiles spends the rest of his winter break taking care of big and beautiful, whom he's come to think of as his puppy. He acts like a puppy, and Stiles had taken him in like a stray, therefore he is Stiles puppy. He's even gotten a tracking collar so that if his puppy wanders off or gets lost, Stiles can find him again with the gps on his phone. The collar even has a tag that says, 'if found return to Stiles Stillinski', inscribed on it. Some days Stiles wonders what is wrong with him, only to come to the conclusion that he just has very few morals and his compass is clearly screwed up. The eight ball is no help.
Dubious morals aside, his puppy seems pleased with the collar, therefore Stiles feels no guilt over claiming ownership of him. Stiles has fed him, clothed him (he went out and bought some deep v neck t-shirts because obviously that's what werewolves like to wear), housed him, and even bathed him, therefore, this man is Stiles'. Obviously. Puppy seems to agree. Stiles would have named the guy, but that seems like a little much considering he probably already has a name and he just can't remember it.
(Stiles also questions the odd places he draws the line at.)
Tugging his puppy behind him, whom he's finally deemed safe enough to take outside as long as he is covered in wards that hide his alpha-ness, Stiles walks them into Deaton's clinic. He wants to make sure there is nothing seriously wrong with his new companion.
Entering the back room with big and beautiful in tow, he waves to Deaton who is gaping at them. Red eyes glare at Deaton and Stiles companion releases a deep growl.
"Hey! None of that! We need Deaton's help, so no growling," Stiles reprimands him, pointing the spray bottle he carries around at him threateningly. (Stiles knows it's fucked up, but it was the less violent way to remove the alpha who for some reason was intent on humping his leg. The big guy had looked so betrayed when he had been sprayed, and Stiles had nearly died laughing.) Deaton looks at him with clearly horrified and judging eyes as he understands what the spray bottle is for, but he's also looking extremely confused over this whole situation, which makes Stiles grin. It's not often he gets to one up Deaton in the giant secrets category. A few tense moments later, Deaton just sighs and glares at Stiles with clear exasperation.
"Stiles. Why do you have Deucalion, the world's most powerful alpha, wearing a collar that says to return him to you if found?" Deaton asks rubbing his forehead. Stiles blinks, and gives himself a mental pat on the back for out alpha-ing the strongest alpha of all of the alphas.
"I did not know that, but now that I do, I can get Cali a new name tag," Stiles muses. Deaton face palms at the nickname and how easily Stiles is taking the news. "Ooh! I should get a shirt that says my alpha is better than yours... But that's not why I'm here! I need you to check him out and make sure that other than the feral thing he's rocking that he's ok," Stiles explains. Deaton has yet to remove his face from his hands.
"Just because he's a werewolf doesn't mean you can treat him like an animal," Deaton insists, looking up at him sternly. Stiles blinks and raises a brow.
"I don't treat him like a puppy because he's a werewolf. I treat him like a puppy cause that's what he acts like. You don't see me treating any of the other wolves like I treat big and beautiful," Stiles huffs, placing his hands on his hips.
"I see," Deaton states warily, clearly NOT seeing. Deucalion is still glaring, but instead of growling he's leaning his head towards Stiles who pets him absentmindedly, dragging a purr out of the alpha. Deaton blinks and says, "Interesting. Knowing you, you're probably aware that werewolves have mates, but did you know that in a feral state a werewolf will react aggressively towards anyone who isn't their mate? It seems Deucalion believes that YOU are HIS."
Stiles hand freezes in Deucalion's hair, shocked. That explained the humping. Huh. Stiles finds this a VERY pleasing turn of events. Wishes do come true it seems.
"Awesome. Now, would you please examine my MATE," Stiles states, lingering on 'mate' with gleeful satisfaction. Deucalion seems to perk up at the word, scooting closer and looking at him with happy, love filled eyes.
---and next is a general idea for the end---
Deaton actually helps for once by showing Stiles ways to bring Deucalion out of his feral state.
Later Deucalion is less feral, is even more in love with Stiles, and has even started talking occasionally.
Stiles finds a spell and fixes his puppies eyes. Deucalion goes completely head over heels for his kind, loving Spark. He'd kill anyone who so much as looked at Stiles wrong.
Jennifer does show up on a werewolf killing spree, and tries to take out Derek and Scott's packs.
Jennifer has all of the wolves captured and chained up until Stiles whistles for Deucalion. Jennifer doesn't know that Deucalion is in town, but she is looking for him though.
"Why are you whistling?" Jennifer hisses angrily.
"I'm just calling in my back up," Stiles says grinning.
"You have back up?" Scott asks looking confused and hopeful, while the others look disbelievingly at Stiles.
"Damn right I have back up. You mean you don't?" Stiles cackles. Every one glares at him.
"If you had back up why didn't you say so earlier, or better yet call them before this witch chained us up?!" Derek growls, eyes flashing.
"I'm not a witch I'm a Darach you moron!" Jenifer hisses.
"She's right Derek, you really need to get your labels straight. How would you like it if someone called you caterpillar instead of Derek because of your massive eyebrows of doom? Whatever, we'll get back to that later after we beat the Darach. Oh Cali~! Where are you boy?" Stiles shouts, looking around expectantly.
The pack is looking at Stiles like he's lost his damn mind, and Jennifer is about to gleefully accuse him of bluffing when the room vibrates as an inhumanly powerful howl roars from outside. Paling Jennifer and the pack look behind her and see the biggest Alpha form that they've ever laid eyes on.
Grinning, Stiles says, "Sick em Cali." All hell breaks loose. Within moments Jennifer is dead and Deucalion is clawing what's left of her to pieces. The pack watches shocked.
"All right Duke, that's enough big guy, now how about you help me get down?" Stiles asks shaking his chains. The huge wolf lumbers over, transforming into his nude human form, and easily destroys the chains, catching Stiles in a tight hug and nuzzling him. Falling into their usual routine Stiles starts scratching Duke's scalp and cooing, "Such a good smart puppy! You came right when I called! I'm so proud, guess who gets treats and belly rubs when we get home?"
Deucalion grins and leaning into the scratches asks happily, "Me?"
Stiles pets his back and says, "That's right big n beautiful, you get tons of prezzies and treats once we get home! Who's my good puppy?"
"Me," Duke rumbles happily, nuzzling Stiles.
As Stiles looks up and sees the others watching their interaction with strange faces, he nervously falls back on sarcasm and asks, "Yeesh, can't a man and his wolf get some privacy? You're all a bunch of creepers."
"You can't just keep a werewolf as a pet Stiles!" Scott says glaring, "He's a person, with feelings who-"
"Who prefers to be treated as my mates property, or really just had in whatever capacity he'll have me." Deucalion deadpans interrupting Scott and protectively moving to block Stiles from view, "I may be an alpha, but I've chosen Stiles as my master and anchor. He's a good person, and I love him enough to kill for him, so be careful what you say boy."
"...You LIKE being Stiles pet?" Scott asks looking incredulous and reluctantly curious.
"Yes, but don't get any ideas boy. I don't like sharing, so you're not going to be welcome in our pack. Plus, Stiles may be powerful, and loyal, but you're a lying, sneaky, two faced piece of scum, who only cares about his mother and an Argent. I won't sit back and let Stiles be grievously injured and abandoned like you did, and I'm not going to stand by and watch you hurt him again either, so you're not ever getting an invitation to join my alphas pack. Stiles is much too good to be seen with rubbish like you, but he'll make his own choice there. I certainly can't keep him from socializing," Deucalion puffs looking down on Scott, who is rotating between guilt and rage.
"Alright, c'mon, stop measuring dicks and help the others down," Stiles huffs exasperatedly. Deucalion immediately moves to follow the order, and sets everyone free.
Moving back to Stiles, Deucalion asks, "can we leave now?"